"Send Us Out, Professor."
Following Almond's exchange with the students, the purple-tied senior in his fourth year put an end to it all. With an elegant gesture, he dabbed at his mouth and fixed his gaze on Snowrobe's troublemaker.
"If it's a student representing the school for the Magic Tower visit, this should be simple enough to resolve."
Maness quickly grasped what the senior was aiming for.
"It had better be."
Prove your worth. That's what the man at the pinnacle of current Snowrobe students was saying. Maness couldn't delve into his true intentions—it might have been resentment at a first-year representing the troublemaker, or perhaps high expectations for a junior getting an early Magic Tower tour on a professor's recommendation. Any number of possibilities. But Maness knew he had only one answer to give.
"As you say, it won't take long..."
"Isn't that obvious, senior? You know better than anyone what I'm capable of!"
Abel cut in before he could finish, but the point had landed.
"Ha... "
Almond let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temple in thought before pulling trinkets from her pocket and handing them over.
"Take one each."
"...Professor? Why'd you give us two?"
"You stay here, Boltman. I don't want to waste a one-use magic tool on you."
As the two students each took a tool, Boltman couldn't hide his resentment. He hadn't pieced together that she saw him as dead weight—just the regret of missing his shot at village hero status stung.
"Remember, you're wasting not just our time, but the scholars' too. Run late, and it's points off. Fail the subjugation and tarnish the school's name? More points off."
Her threat, spat in irritation, was no bluff. Stepping up for something unrelated to the schedule was one thing—dragging in off-campus scholars was grounds for punishment.
"What if we hit the time and nail the subjugation?"
But swallowing that without pushback didn't add up. Flip the math: success would elevate the school's prestige. You only took risks for commensurate gains. The relic was the goal, sure—but that was beside the point.
"...On the way back, treat everyone here to a feast."
That sealed it. Soul's Footsteps. The real reward was the relic from their target anyway.
"You promised?!"
The senior, eyes glazing over at the thought of roast turkey, was satisfaction enough.
*
"Lucky break."
Maness slung the leather bag over his shoulder with a satisfied grin as he exited the general store. When he explained it was for subjugating the monster terrorizing the village, the owner handed over the materials free of charge.
Though it's weird they even stock this stuff.
The bag held rarities unseen in a small village. Then again, it made sense. Far in the future—or rather, in the original story—the same materials were needed for the monster's defeat, and the only local source was this store. If you nitpicked, it was a plot hole born of the location's constraints.
Before meeting Abel at the village entrance, Maness ducked into an alley and murmured low.
"Come out."
Recalling the staff in his subspace. As if recognizing him, faint light particles assembled into its form.
Tap—
Snatching the floating staff from midair, Maness checked its condition before approaching his warming-up senior.
"Got it."
Abel, finishing his neck rolls, let out an impressed whistle.
"Whoa, you hauled a ton."
"Can't overprepare."
The bag on Maness's shoulder did indeed feel hefty.
"Fair enough. But where'd the staff come from?"
"Borrowed it from the mercenary resting upstairs at the inn."
Before the store run, Maness had split tasks with Abel: he'd hit up the mercenary, senior the guards for info. That way, he could plausibly know about the monster and have the staff.
"Doesn't look like your average stick, though."
As Abel eyed it closely, Maness swallowed dryly. The guy's sharp eye for gear could lead to awkward questions.
"Fancy staffs like this usually lack substance."
"...Whatever its specs, it'll help a bit."
Luckily, Abel wasn't the nitpicky type.
"Shall we move? Time's ticking."
"You get an exact location? Guards were vague."
"Not much intel, but I've got a way."
Hurrying onward, Maness led them out of the village to a secluded spot.
This should do.
After scouting a suitable area, he set down the bag. Abel's jaw dropped at the tools he pulled out.
"Where'd you snag these?"
"General store."
"...They sell this at a general store?"
A compass-like tracker, alchemy mixer, white powder, stickyweed sap. Mostly alchemical gear.
"This is..."
Abel picked up the white powder pouch, squinting.
"Bone dust?"
"Precisely, powdered from a necromancer's bone model."
"How'd you even score this?"
Handing over the pouch, Maness got to work. First, sifting the finest bone dust into the mixer. Carefully cracking it open lest the wind carry it off, the powder slid down the glass walls.
"Sap, please?"
Abel obliged, watching intently as Maness mixed it in and sealed the lid. Steam quickly filled the chamber.
Handy gadget.
Normally, you'd need a matching magic circle and mana infusion for the alchemy. But tools like this mixer let even non-mages handle basics. Sourcing weird ingredients was still on you, but hey.
This oughta do it.
"Urk—what's that smell?!"
Maness had plugged his nose preemptively; unprepared Abel gagged and turned away. Necromancy stuff always reeked. He could've warned him, but focus had consumed him.
"Alright, then..."
Ignoring the retching, Maness uncapped the tracker and poured in the liquid—all nose-plugged. The rest he sprinkled on the ground. As a reagent that lost potency on non-magic-tool contact, no eco issues.
Click—
Only after sealing it did he unplug his nose. Spotting this, Abel approached from afar.
"Finally breathable. You didn't brew poison, right?"
"Sadly, soul wolves don't drop to cheap poison."
Flipping the tracker needle-up, a sharp needle thrashed wildly inside.
The fresh reagent detected dense clusters of lost, wandering spirits—common for necromancy. With no recent necromancer traffic per the store owner, one direction only.
"It stopped."
Following Abel's remark to the still needle, their eyes shifted. Mid-mountain on the towering range—east from the village gate.
*
The destination was obviously a cave. Zentina's private necromancy lessons had been in one too. Spirits gathered in damp, dark places.
Are this world's caves death magnets or something?
Even lich-turned Amanewt's lair was accessed solely via desert cave. No wonder caves gave him preconceptions.
"Kinda wild you had a fix ready just knowing the species."
Abel nailed the point amid small talk.
Experience dictated his answer.
"Comes with the trading company background—seen and heard a lot."
"Makes sense."
Maness inwardly grumbled at his body-swap misfortune, but the merchant roots? Always a boon.
"Trading company folks run into monsters like this often?"
"Wandering everywhere, yeah."
A grin spread across Abel's face—excitement thick in it.
"Not a bad gig."
Pure Abel. His cart intro screamed battle maniac. Born in the Hero Era, he'd have etched his name in history—a mage who learned magic solely to fight. Still could, really. Demons would invade again soon enough. And like Kyle's crew, this senior would make his mark.
"Magic battles must have their charm."
"Damn right!"
Abel threw his arms wide mid-hike, whooping.
"Personal take, but mana feels dull day-to-day. Only in fierce clashes do you become a true mage!"
Maness had heard similar. Raw instinct unlocked talent. Abel's ramble echoed that.
"Counting on you this time too. Mercs got taken out—ain't no pushover."
"From what I know, yeah."
Head-on, sure. But cheats were in play. Starting now.
"Hold up."
Maness halted Abel as the tracker's needle shivered.
Target close. Bag down again—this time, subjugation gear. Key items: two. Lure-pheromone horn for drawing the nocturnal soul wolf out, electric trap for emergencies. Materials prepped, quick work.
Abel crouched, watching Maness sort coarser leftover bone dust.
Nothing like the rumors.
Thought since the cart meet. Only first-year Abel noticed amid the newbies' indifference: Pictri Trading heir, "mad in his own way." In person? Calmer than anyone. No different from elegant fourth-years or second-year stars. Aura aside. Not punchably arrogant like other prospects, either. Shockingly polite, given the hype.
All tangled into one question, which Abel simplified.
Damn mages.
Freshmen rumors, nothing more. Otherwise? Unfathomable.
"Hm?"
Snapping from thoughts, Abel sensed something and pressed a hand to the ground. Maness held his breath too.
"...Something up?"
Ignoring the question, Abel probed the earth's mana before speaking cautiously.
"You didn't use that horn yet, right?"
"Not yet."
Earth-affinity mage. The third-year rep grinned anew.
"Weird."
Thrill rising. A massive something stirring—he was sure. The beast had clocked them.