Banshee (2)

I kick the door down. The rickety wooden door topples entirely. Kyle, having smashed through it with his body, is already lost to reason. He draws his sword in an instant and charges ferociously at the man before him.

But the man who called himself Elthus doesn't so much as twitch. He clearly senses Kyle's approach. Yet it's as if they're in the same space but different worlds—the man shows no interest in Kyle whatsoever.

I push aside the fleeting sense of wrongness. Kyle swings his sword.

The blade flies toward the man's shoulder, slicing into it. But the swordtip passes smoothly through his body.

Only then do Kyle's eyebrows tremble. Pop...!

The man vanishes. As if he'd been an illusion from the start, Kyle's sword pierces only empty air.

Meanwhile, the bound maid remains very much real. The moment Kyle cautiously approaches her—

"Don't interfere."

The maid rises and grabs Kyle's wrist. She should have been unconscious, but she stands as if nothing happened, brushing off the chains binding her body like mere dust.

The rusted chains crumble into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dust and disappear.

"......"

Still shrouded in darkness, Kyle and the maid stand facing each other there.

Kyle can't make sense of the situation. He can no longer tell where reality ends and illusion begins.

The maid facing him floats into the air. Her face, hidden by hair, is invisible. Her form shimmers as she hovers.

Her dark hair shifts to blue, and she transforms into an entirely different being.

"We're borrowing this girl's body for revenge. We'll burn this rotten Arsen to the ground."

It's a face Kyle knows well.

...Lara Steelhiden. The unfortunate cadet now robbed of her body.

"...Revenge?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"More precisely, purification."

As Kyle confronts her, Lara Steelhiden gazes down calmly.

"Burning Arsen by hijacking bodies? You know that kind of revenge leaves nothing behind."

"How would you know?"

Kyle glances at his watch. It's malfunctioning, not responding at all. No way to know what Shion's sending.

In the end, Kyle bows his head. From here on, he has to handle it alone. He can't rely on Shion forever.

"The wicked eventually get their due. What's past is past."

"Elthus van Zikheim hasn't gotten his yet."

"So you're doing it yourself? By taking over innocent cadets' bodies?"

"No."

Lara Steelhiden shakes her head. Her calm, cynical voice gradually shifts to a neutral tone.

"Not me. We."

A cryptic answer. Kyle reflexively looks at Lara Steelhiden. Countless shadows writhe behind her. Their features are indistinct. But they all wear consistent attire—male servants in uniforms, female maids in dresses. Some look like kids his age, fresh into Arsen.

"Arsen won't change. It's rotten to the core. It needs purification."

"No. The moment you hijack innocent cadets' bodies, this isn't purification."

The possessed Lara Steelhiden still gazes down at Kyle. He's looking up, but he doesn't yield.

"It's not purification. Just venting."

Grind— The sound of Lara Steelhiden grinding her teeth echoes.

"What can you do? You're just a newbie freshman. What do you think you know, getting in our way?"

"You don't know yet. What lurks in this Arsen."

"No one could stand against the former head butler. Kidnappings, brainwashing, experiments happened in secret, and no one stopped them. Everyone conformed to the present and turned a blind eye to Arsen's injustices."

"Countless people were sacrificed. The dead were buried in the gray zone, and research facilities were built over it—not graves. No one cared about us. We died without anyone's help."

Lara Steelhiden spreads her arms. Innumerable hands rise behind her.

"And so we were born. If we have any sin, it's that we just cowered. We refused to pass on to seek revenge and atonement."

Kyle simply listens to Lara Steelhiden. The banshee before him isn't one entity. It's a mass of vengeful spirits fused from unrested souls.

Kyle looks at Lara. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He meets the hundreds of grudges dwelling in her blue eyes.

"Even so, your way is wrong. It won't work."

Kyle stands. Still gripping his sword, he approaches Lara Steelhiden.

"What sin do Arsen's cadets suffer for your actions? You're repeating the past tragedies."

"What choice do we have? The wicked still live freely, repeating their evils. How can we close our eyes? No one but us can judge them."

"No, there is."

Kyle shakes his head.

"So let the other cadets go."

"What?"

"Maybe some were wronged like you say. Maybe someone's suffering right now."

"You know that and still block us? That's the contradiction."

But— Kyle cuts her off.

"I can promise this: Not everyone's just watching. Look at my friends who came with me—they're fighting you."

"Sure, we're green like you say. We don't know what's ahead. Maybe we're overreaching. But we've saved people because of it. From Shanellia Hall to Titania Hall and Ardent Hall—no cadets died, only injuries. That's proof."

"See? Kids are trying to stop tragedy even now. Even small power matters to someone, like it did for you."

"It might not show yet. Might seem too tiny to change anything. Might crumble like a sandcastle even if built up."

By now, Kyle stands right before Lara Steelhiden.

"Still. There were kids who tried, regardless of results."

For example, the entrance exam. Cadets challenged the unbreakable Serin Anette.

"Kids startled by screams and rushing out."

The first screams—kids who opened doors then. Results were bad, but intentions pure.

"Kids who sacrificed willingly to get me here."

Like Sion ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Illeionhart drawing spirits from above the dorms, and Iri de Sugamond.

"And now, I'm facing you."

Kyle speaks humbly.

"Sure, some got no help. Some need it now. Can't save everyone, but can save those within reach."

"......"

"If there's wicked harming others, there's good trying to save. It's weak now, won't change much yet, but still."

Lara Steelhiden gazes down with emotionless, dry eyes. Kyle looks up with steady warmth.

"Pile it up bit by bit, and maybe the Arsen you resent will change a little."

......The illusion fades.

Grand Saint Hall returns to normal. Kyle still faces Lara Steelhiden, sword raised, eyes locked.

The banshee's true form shimmers like heat haze, now visible. But instead of slashing, Kyle calmly lowers his sword.

Lara stands motionless like an emotionless doll. But a single tear silently trails from her lifeless blue eyes.

"Then......"

"......"

"We'll watch."

Her final words. The faint haze scatters into the surroundings, then vanishes completely. The eerie chill, felt knowingly or not, washes away.

Kyle watches the banshee depart. Exhaustion hits. Doubt creeps in—is this right?

He just said what he could. Spoke to the grudge with sincere heart, like soothing spirits.

......!

In that moment, staggering Lara Steelhiden collapses limply. Still unconscious.

Elin half-faints; Essili Silvergaden and Iri de Sugamond rush in late.

Kyle slumps to the floor and checks the message.

A short one-liner. But to Kyle now, it hits deepest. Only then does his tension fully release, body going slack.

The faculty arrives minutes later, assessing the situation.

***

The ghost uproar in the first-year dorms settled only after dawn.

Thanks to cadets led by Serin Anette and Kyle Ivanstair fighting valiantly, only minor injuries—no severe cases.

By the time dorm supervisors and professors arrived, the culprit banshee had passed on.

Apparently, they were inspecting student council facilities for first classes, delaying response.

Things couldn't have gone worse. At least damage was minimal thanks to brave cadets.

"Kyle Ivanstair, and Serin Anette."

"Yes!"

"Yes."

At Shanellia Hall's entrance, the dorm supervisor bows personally. Passing cadets freeze at the sight.

"Thanks to you, casualties were low. We thank you."

"Just doing our duty as Arsen cadets."

"Of course. But you've set an example for others, so points will be awarded."

Then Kyle raises his hand abruptly.

"Dorm supervisor, what about Shion, who's not here?"

"Absent cadets qualify too."

Kyle, Serin Anette, and those who helped minimize damage get points. Sion Illeionhart too, though absent.

......And in the infirmary.

"Ah......?"

Cool morning breeze stirs Lara Steelhiden awake.

"What... is this......?"

Bandages everywhere, hands plastered. Startled, she jolts the bed.

Pulling curtains reveals white walls. Stark infirmary.

Other cadets around, all bedridden like her—but only she's conscious. Memories hazy; thinking brings headaches. No clue why here or injured.

As she reaches for her watch, the door opens. A man enters.

"...Awake now?"

A face she's seen once before.

"You're that... Shion......"

"Illeionhart."

"......"

Sion Illeionhart's a mess too—maybe worse. Her bandages and bedrest pale next to his casted arm and two facial plasters.

"...What happened?"

"Long story... but short: you were possessed."

"Me?"

Lara Steelhiden echoes, stunned.

"Those cadets there? All because of you."

"Uh, th-that... yes......?"

"No need to dwell now. Don't worry."

Only then does Lara notice the ring on her finger. Her other items on the table—but this ring stays on.

"That ring helped you snap out quick."

As Shion glances idly, Lara hides her hand fast.

"Why'd you come?"

"Just."

"...?"

"Wondered if you were still out."

The inexplicable kindness feels alien to Lara.

"I'm fine. I... want to rest alone. Lots to think about."

"Yeah, sure."

Shion retreats cleanly. Seems he just checked her status.

Door closes; Lara reveals her hand again. Leaning on pillows, she stares long at the ring on her ring finger.

"......"

Lara Steelhiden's affinity rises slightly.