3-4

The morning marked the eighth day of the Spatial Moon, marred by bright yet colorless nights. It was a time when Subar, the god of space, liked to leave his tricks behind for the mind’s eye. The warm comfort of the sun was replaced by a certain brisk stiffness and uncertainty.

The Spatial Moon was Reba’s least favorite time of year. The nights were long, and the days even more so. Subar’s moon seemed to shift the world in slow motion, and time ticked by just a little slower.

Sachaea Academy was positioned at the top of Armonia’s highest hill on its north-eastern side. It was a castle-like structure with four pointed towers on each corner. Upon them hung the multicolored flags of each realm. In the middle was the tallest tower, which held a painted image of the late Saint Eisenia, founder of the Church of Eisenia, in which all the world worshipped.

It was clearly visible from wherever one was in the city, with its high cathedral and its walled-off inner circle. Reba knew exactly where she was heading, but that didn’t make the walk feel any less unknown.

“Is that it up there?” said Cen. For some reason, she hopped around on goat legs with horns on her head. A satyr.

“Yep. That’s where all Archas Knights are trained.”

“Ohh. This is so exciting. I feel like I should have something better to wear. Something a little bit flashy. Ya know, but not too much. Don’t you feel that way? Shouldn’t you wear something a bit more, I don’t know… nice.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“By all means, you dress no different than a potato. No wonder you have such a problem with them. They steal all of your clothes.”

Reba frowned. She didn’t have much more to wear besides her usual sleeveless off-white tunic and striped leather shorts. Her boots were a bit dingy, but it was hard to find cheap, well-fitted footwear.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone. Unless you’ve got some fancy armor hidden in your fur, this is what they’ll get. But you’ve got bigger things to worry about than what I’m wearing, you know. Like, why you’re hopping around the street as a whiny goat girl.”

“There’s no one around. It's so early, even the early birds haven’t had time to break their morning wind. Like I said, I’m just a bit excited.” She frolicked. “I really didn’t think I’d get this close to the Archas Knights. Even where I’m from, this is where the most famous heroes in the world are born. And you get to stand right next to them, you lucky goat.”

“I don’t feel too lucky. I don’t see anything up ahead but smelly perfume and entitlement.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your face resembles a sloth after an irritable nap?”

“Has anyone ever told you that, along with the face, you also have the breath of a goat?”

“I don’t. Do I?” the bashful fairy said, covering her own mouth.

Reba smirked at how easily swayed the girl’s emotions were. She was the embodiment of wearing her face on her sleeve.

She zipped around Reba’s head. “And… And has ever told you that you are… mean and not nice and rude.”

“I think the goat had better material.” Reba plucked the fairy by its hair. “In you go,” she said, popping Cen into her bag.

“Hey! No! Not in the bag!” she squeaked.

“Yes, in the bag. Since you like to sneak around in bags and crates anyway, it’s the perfect place to keep you hidden. You should be fine in there, as long as I’m not suddenly carrying a hundred-pound girl. I don’t have to worry about that, do I?”

“No. I can keep my form for a while if I… stay emotional. Like the other night—I could stay the Direwolf pup the entire time we fought that nasty Coin Mimic. And I’ve found that most people in this realm can’t even tell I’m a wrath if I can stick to one form.”

“We?” Reba recalled Cen being at most a distraction. “Is it really that easy though?”

“It fooled you, now didn’t it?” The satyr bounced around Reba, suddenly full of energy. “You carried me around on your back, thinking I was just a normal dog. Hey, hey, do you always talk to things that can’t talk back, or are you just weird? Like, for a moment, I thought you figured me out, but then you just kept going on and on. Bet you’re the type to talk to rocks more than people, eh?”

A sharp flick to the forehead got her to change back, her hand flying to the red mark left behind. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m going to… do nothing about it and apologize,” Cen said. “Anyway, it's fine. Let’s just say being around others makes me incredibly… anxious.”

Next thing she knew, Reba was carrying a backpack with a nervous wolf pup inside, trying her best to act inconspicuous.

The streets began to stir with other candidates all walking in the same direction, like a pack of herd animals, which made Cen retreat inside the bag. Reba continued on.

The walk to Sachaea Academy was unwittingly long, with the Scrappers’ District being at the southernmost point of the city and the academy being at one of the northernmost, it took her a whole hour just to get within a stone’s throw of its walls. And now a long road coiled around the hill before reaching the academy’s front entrance.

But even at the bottom, Reba could look up and see what many saw as a pinnacle of the world. A symbol even among the capital. And she clutched her invitation in her hand, remembering the name it said. “Reba Kotter.”

Soon, she was blended into a crowd of hundreds, all with invitations that read their own names. Many of them were carried by large, elaborate horse-drawn carriages.

The others walking at her level were carried away by idle chit-chat, talking of this strange new city they were in or complaining about the lag from crossing a sea.

More gaudy highborns. They came dressed in sharply crafted armor and expensive furs. They were decorated with jewels and animal horns enchanted by their natural archaeas. They hardly blended together, each flaunting the perks of being raised in the top echelons of their realms.

Reba was the odd one out. She seemed like the only candidate for Armonia’s greatest fighting force who was from Armonia. Her eyes flattened as she tried to ignore the condescending looks and scowls.

“Mother’s mercy. Let this be painless.”

But then, from nowhere, she was tackled to the ground. By not just one but a group of Attian boys who pushed her flat to the ground.

“What the… Get off of me!” She struggled.

They had her hands pinned behind her back and her face buried in the dirt like she was getting mugged. She couldn’t even get a look at their faces to know why she was being attacked. In the worst-case scenario, someone saw Cen peeking out of her bag. But in the struggle, the bag had been tossed over to the side of the road. And Cen was still inside.

What was happening then?

“Did you really think you could escape judgment, wrath lover?”

Slowly approaching, as if he were already some revered great knight, came the Attian boy, the one from the previous night who had nearly killed Cen. His hair was black as oil, while his robes were the purest of pristine whites. A royal blood in every sense of the word, from his dress to how his eyes looked down upon her. He narrowed his eyes, kneeling above Reba.

“Order will always be restored, and the will of the gods has delivered you right back into my capable arms. Where is the wrath so that I can finish what I started?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just a dog.” Reba smirked, having realized that they had no idea that Cen was in her bag just out of sight.

“You think I’m blind.” He pointed at his own temple. “It was a wrath clear as day, which makes you nothing more than a common criminal. I could report that to Armonia’s finest. Or if you just allow me to get rid of it, I might be willing to look the other way. I know how things go. She was a friend of yours before. You think she’s still got some semblance of a soul left in her. But the spirits have her now…” He cocked his head, waiting for Reba’s reaction, but there was none, at least none that satisfied him.

“Just so you know,” Reba started. “Attacking another Archas Knight’s candidate without some sort of proof probably wouldn’t fly well with Ardentia Kimble.” Reba didn’t know if throwing out the name would work. She didn’t know what else to do, and she had to prevent them from doing any sort of search of her.

The name, though, was enough to give them pause.

“Roia, sir. Look.” One of the other boys picked up her invitation that had fallen out of her hand when they tackled her.

Reba again smiled at his concerned face when he saw it. “This is… an invitation from the second shield? Who in their right mind would…”

“That’s right. So let me go, or the headmaster will have words for you.”

Then suddenly, he, Roia, lost himself in laughter. “Oh. I almost let myself be taken advantage of. I should really know better. An obvious forgery.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Of course it is. Conjurer’s archaea is a tricky one. I hear you all learn forgery before you learn to talk. That’s why sina has to be made with such intricate designs. Who's to say you didn’t also find a way to copy this invitation and forge your name on it? I cannot let this stand.”

Holding the flat letter in his hand, he let a puff of white fumes form around it. The envelopment of the paper and the pure controlled archaea started to eat its edges.

“Wait! Stop! What are you doing!?” Reba shouted. “That’s mine!”

But the boy didn’t stop feeling clever in his own cruelty. Meanwhile, Cen watched from inside the bag. She recognized the boy and hated him from the moment he spoke. This situation was her fault; she knew it, but when she saw him threatening to destroy the one thing that she knew she needed. The one thing that would allow her to be saved and smiling for it, she let herself feel the one thing she vowed to never allow herself to feel again.

There was a sharp stream erupting from Reba’s bag. Reba, seeing, turned her attention. It was the same smoke that appeared when she transformed, but this time it lingered with an awful violet tinge to it.

“What’s going on here?” another voice called. Then, all of a sudden, Roia stopped, and the steam stopped. The voice had come from another Attian boy. This one with hair of pure white and a face strong and striking like that of a powerful nobility. Though his dress was plain, a beige shirt embroidered with several moons and black pants, he spoke as if he were a prince among them.

Roia bowed his head. “I apologize. We were just administering the proper punishments to a common criminal.”

“Nonsense. Is that any way to treat a young girl? Certainly not a way befitting of a knight. Especially an Archas Knight. Let her go.”

“Of course,” Roia said.

Then, at a moment's notice, Reba was let free from her captors as Roia handed over the partially burnt-looking invitation to the white haired boy.

“Now go on,” he said, and the others retreated to their mounts with their tails tucked between their legs. Roia was the only one who tried to maintain his regal appearance as he rode up the hill.

Reba scurried to find her bag. “Are you alright?”

The pup nodded, and Reba stretched her neck to ease her tension.

The white haired boy then turned to Reba, causing her a great sigh. She secured Cen on her back, making sure she couldn’t be seen, and approached him, ready to take back her invitation. But when she reached for it, he suddenly pulled it away.

“Ah… Are you sure this isn’t a forgery?”

“Yes. I’m sure Nagic, now give it back already.”

“First, just tell me that you didn’t get your invitation by any nefarious means.”

“Okay. I didn’t get my invitation by nefarious means. Whatever that means.”

“It means you didn’t steal or force it out of someone.”

“And why do you think I’d have to do that? Is it really that hard to believe that I earned it?”

“Well, you’re definitely not the knightly type. But I heard the rumors of what happened at the Blacksword’s Tourney. I thought the man who said it was you was delirious.”

“Oh yeah? You sound like you want a fight.” She snatched the invitation from his hand, throwing it right next to Cen. “What are you even doing here?”

Reba was surprised to see someone that she knew here, let alone Nagic. Despite his white hair and regal face, he was only from a little way up from Reba. It was a district called the Scrappers’ Edge, named for surrounding the Scrappers’ District on all sides. Despite the name, it was a slum occupied by non-conjurers.

She had a few run-ins with him every now and then, but where the Scrappers’ name ended is where the commonalities did, too. He was a tall, athletically built boy, one moon cycle her elder.  He was well-liked wherever he went and had the attitude of someone who knew it. But Reba always figured he was too soft to be a fighter, and so his walking among the candidates felt odd.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” he said. “Never in a million moons would I have thought someone like Reba Kotter would be cozying up to the headmaster and second shield.”

“Someone like me? What, a builder?”

“A rapscallion from the Scrappers’ District. That scrap a moment ago, wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been in trouble with the law, now, would it?”

“Well, I don’t see how it's any of your business what I get up to.”

“Always so combative.” Nagic grinned. His tone always made everything sound trivial, which Reba hated, but it was oddly comforting. At least with him, she had fewer chances of being randomly attacked. “Well, me, I managed to convince Oldin’s parents to pull a few strings with the remaining connections they have in the city. Likely the last favors they’ll ever have, truth be told. But between me and Oldin, I don’t think they’ll need any much longer.”

“Oldin? He’s here, too?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” a hazy voice behind her said.

Reba jumped as a figure appeared, dressed in a black cloak. Oldin, younger than his face presented, was even further hampered by the pale and mysterious air of the Piam people. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she snapped.

 “I didn’t mean to.” Oldin seemed to shiver in his own skin. “I just didn’t want to get involved. Now everyone will think we’re associated with you.”

She fixed him with a glare, and he flinched. If Nagic wasn’t a fighter, then Oldin was born to be a baker. He was sharp-minded but always timid, set off by the slightest possibility of danger. He never intended to sound condescending, but everything he said came out like a lecture from an old man who had spent his entire life self-imprisoned in a closet.

“Well, not like I asked you to come over here,” Reba said.

“Well, you know me,” Nagic said. “Never one to leave a poor, helpless girl in need.”

“Not hopeless. Poor, we can talk about.” Reba scowled. “And I wasn’t in need. I would’ve been just fine without you.”

“Sure. Sure. Whatever you say,” said Nagic.

“Those boys were quick to back off when you showed up, though,” said Oldin.

“Probably intimidated by my handsome face and knightly appearance,” Nagic said.

Reba immediately grew bored with his personal showboating. “Oh my, he’s so handsome. Is he a friend of yours?” the fairy whispered in her ear.

“Hardly. Just some jerk I’ve run into a few times. I’m keeping clear of him,” Reba turned and walked away as the two boys talked, hoping to be unnoticed.

“But he just helped you get your invitation back. Seems friendly to me.” Cen said.

“Did you forget we’re trying to keep you hidden? The further we keep away from people, the better.”

Suddenly, an Ishai girl flew into their view. “Sorry, I’m late. You wouldn’t believe the morning I had, Nagic.” She dove headfirst at him with her arms wide open, but just before, Nagic sidestepped. She went crashing into Reba’s abdomen, and Reba found herself on the floor in a complete, overheated embrace.

Reba groaned as the heat from the Ishai girl’s body instantly made her sweat. From on top of her, the girl looked to see that the person she had tackled was not Nagic but someone she didn’t recognize. Instead of doing the reasonable thing and getting off in embarrassment, she stuck a hand out while still straddling Reba. “Oh, hi! I’m Anastar Sunburst. I’m a hugger. Nice to meet you. How do you know Nagic?”

Reba’s eyes nearly crossed as the girl’s weight on her stomach suffocated her. “Get... off... of me,” she gasped, pushing the girl away.

The girl was short and slim, with flaming red hair, wide eyes, and a broad smile. She was dressed modestly for an Ishai, wearing a yellow poncho that covered the top half of her torso, emblazoned with the Ishai spiral sun. It looked like the same material as a potato sack. Below, she wore common red pants and plain traveler’s sandals.

Despite the aggression Reba showed when pushing her away, Anastar stood up with impassioned vigor, excited at the prospect of making a new friend.

“Yeah, that’s Anastar,” Nagic said. “She’s from Scrapper’s Edge, like us.”

“Oh, so we live near each other! That’s great!” Anastar exploded. “I can show you all the best food spots around. Do you like potatoes? What about dancing? How about a dancing potato?”

“Anastar, can you keep it down? We’re starting to get stared at,” Oldin pleaded.

“You need to stop worrying about that kind of stuff, Oldy. You know, fire archads, we wear our burns on our bellies.” She rubbed her flat, tan stomach. “We don’t worry about what everyone else thinks.”

“Well, maybe they should.”

“No wonder you’re so sad all the time with that attitude.”

“I’m not... sad.” Oldin’s face flushed with embarrassment, and his head sank into the dirt.

“You need to perk up that nose. Otherwise, you’ll fail these practice fights before a man says go.”

“I’m not the fighting type. I’ve already accepted I was doomed from the start.”

“Flame over brain, mister.”

Reba rolled her eyes toward Nagic, who simply shrugged. “Aren’t they a lively bunch?” he said.

“Sure.” But something caught her attention in their exchange. “What did she mean by practice fights?”

“The determinations, of course. They test us through a kind of mock field battle, and they use that to determine who is fit to stay in the academy.”

“It varies somewhat, year to year. Sometimes they’ll even make a trek through the mountains or some pocket of minor spirits.” Oldin added, unashamed of the shiver in his voice.

“What are you talking about? The determinations are in the Immortal Spring Forest.” Reba let it slip, but she immediately realized that maybe she shouldn’t have, as all their faces turned gravely serious.

She hadn’t thought that she was the only one who knew. She figured if a wrath from Myr knew, then everyone but her likely did. Maybe it was to be held as some big secret, and she didn’t realize. Or maybe it wasn’t true.

“That’s silly,” said Oldin, holding in his fear. “Everyone here is just a candidate. Not even the real knights go anywhere near the forest. Reba’s just trying to scare us, right?”

“Oh, sounds like you didn’t know.” Reba seemed to gloat.

“She can’t be serious. Nagic, tell her to stop lying.”

“Lying isn’t good for you, Reba,” said Anastar, pouting with her little red face.

“Believe me or don’t, but you’ll be in for a rude awakening if not.” Reba, casting an air of indifference, started up the hill so she could finally rest her legs after all this walking.

Both Anastar and Oldin looked to Nagic, who was deep in thought until he said. “Reba, you were recommended by the headmaster, weren’t you?”

Then they were all following her like a group of concerned, hungry puppies.

“I was...”

“And did he tell you that?” asked Nagic.

“Again. None of your business.”

“It's plenty of my business. If that’s true, then not only us but hundreds of candidates are heading to the most dangerous place on the planet.”

“And? If you’re scared, then go home. Bye-bye. Try again next year.”

“And you think you’re just going to waltz in the forest without a problem?”

“Watch me.”

“What do we do, Nagic?” asked Oldin.

He sighed. “We wait to hear it from the headmaster, and we’ll find out the truth of it and whatever else he has to say. I imagine that’s what the openings are for.”

Reba continued to ignore them. For it wasn’t long before they arrived at the gates of the illustrious academy. They were the same size as the gates under the charmed walls, like they were made for giants to step through. The other candidates freely flowed through them as the four of them were swept into the mob and pulled into the academy grounds.

The first thing she saw was a wide-open space filled with candidates, some accompanied by attendants, standing around and awaiting whatever happened next. Many were sparring amongst themselves. Some were meditating. But overall, the crowd was lively.

The grounds themselves were multi-layered, with several staircases leading to the main halls and towers of the academy. Much of it was crafted from cobblestone, a favorite among Armonian nobles. The grass was greener than the healthiest of forest trees, with tailored rose bushes outlining the grounds. Everything was pristine and finely cared for. It seemed the opposite of the poor district she came from. Inside this academy, it felt like another world entirely.

 “I’ve never seen so many prestigious people in one place.” Said Oldin.

“Is that word made up?” asked Reba. She could usually assume what words fancier people used meant. Uncle Kreo used strange words all the time, and she never wanted to seem stupid by asking what each one meant. But she didn’t care as much with Oldin, who frowned at her.

“No. I’m saying there are people here from great houses and even royalty from other realms.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I think it's clear why that is, don’t you, Oldin?” Nagic said.

“They’re all eager to meet Naciere Strongbow.”

“Mhmm...”

“I don’t see the big deal,” Reba said. “She’s nothing like her father and not even half the size.”

“But she will be one day,” said Nagic.

“I’ve heard that she slayed her first spirit when she was but ten years old,” said Anastar.

“No way that’s true. There aren’t even stories like that about Osher Strongbow.” Reba answered.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, right. The Omni-Knight is the greatest hero who has ever lived and ever will live. I should know, I’ve met him.”

“You did? Is he as big as they say?”

“Bigger. With hair dark as shadow and arms strong enough to lift mountains from the earth.”

“Wow,” Anastar was wide-eyed, looking up to her like Reba’s siblings would, which made her slightly uncomfortable.

“Yep. So this Naciere has a lot to prove before she even comes close to him.”

“Well, speak of the saint…” said Nagic.

In the next moment, the raucous crowd quieted.

As soon as she arrived, a stiffness emerged among the participants. In all their minds, she was the one they were here to impress. Not the headmaster. Not the king, but Naciere Strongbow.

She was a direct line to her father, and her name was one of the few that had reached every corner of the known world. From the depths of Piamon to the high reaches of the Magmat plateaus, Osher Strongbow was a beacon of light and hope in the world’s battles against the spirits. Naciere was the second coming, destined to take up his mantle and end the spirits’ reign upon the earth.

The determinations of the Archas Knights would reveal whose name would be etched in the history books alongside hers. Those who failed would fall into ruin, defamed by mediocrity. The future competitors eyed each other now as enemies in pursuit of this.

Though Reba herself scoffed at the big deal. Until she stepped out of her great carriage at the gate.

She was dressed in the fine Armonian blue and white leathers of a military uniform. Her jet black hair was full and long, flowing freely down her back, tied together behind her thigh. Bells were tied in her hair inside shining charms and lightly chimed with every step she took, and a red silk scarf wrapped tightly around her porcelain neck.

And then there were those eyes. Colorful, vibrant, and ever-changing. For the moment, they were golden, but Reba remembered the look of their violet fury when they turned. They were hiding that same fury now, even though four years had passed.

She gazed around the public, no one having the fortitude to approach her unannounced, and she seemed to revel in that. She was untouchable to all these people. Even to those untouchable in the places they were from.

Then came the Ardentia and Headmaster Athi Kimble, dressed in his own cerebrally tight-knit military uniform and fine pressed jewelry wrapped around his fingers. He looked straight ahead without regarding anyone other than Strongbow.

The crowd parted as they and their entourage made their way through and up the steps overlooking the field where they stood. A few more figures appeared at the top of the stairs to the academy. Some of them were holding the shields of Archas Knights, and others looked to be instructors of the academy. They stared down carefully, scrutinizing the crowd. Until it was the eerie eyes of Athi Ardentia Kimble and Naciere Strongbow that took their place.

Reba looked up at the ardentia, and through the wide cast of the crowd, she felt as though his eyes were directly on her. Even when he turned away, she could still feel him scrutinizing her every move. It was like being accused of a crime she hadn’t committed and feeling coerced into confession. She shrank back, her boots feeling heavier.

Nagic patted her lightly on the shoulder. “I think we’re starting.”

The ardentia began to speak. His voice didn’t seem like it was yelling or even talking that loud, yet everyone in the audience heard him perfectly, without any strain on their ears. It was unnerving just how clear the sound was from so far away. His voice was meticulously poised and uninterrupted.

“I truly wish to thank everyone for coming from far and wide to meet us here at the illustrious Sachaea Academy. Your journeys to this point must not have been easy, but be sure that it will not get any easier. As you all know, the Archas Knight’s duty is to the gods and to mankind. It is to be their shield and protector from the spirits that turned their backs on the gods and now exist to bring an end to humanity. This common enemy has united us here in Armonia and built the greatest city in the world, holding the might of every realm and every archaea to create a lasting peace between archads. It is also the Archas Knight’s duty to protect that peace.” He paused.

“You are all here for the chance at something greater than yourselves: the All-Mother’s plan. The peace in the world that she so desperately sought before the end of her time. It continues to this day. And its final steps rest within this city and the Infinite, Naciere Strongbow.”

The girl herself took a step forward, taking her place among the determiners. She held her head high as he said her name, posturing as if she were a knight of many years.

Kimble continued. “She and her father have been chosen by the gods themselves to fulfill that plan. And she has now come of age to take her part in it. This means that the current generation of Archas Knights will be the ones to make history as the greatest heroes of the world. She will be participating in this determination with you at the request of her father, so as not to put herself above any of you.”

There was murmuring among the crowd.

Kimble waited for the sudden excitement to die down. “She will be trained to be a knight under King and Mother, just as those special few of you will be. But first, we must weed out the weak and keep only those who I can assure will be strong enough to carry out their duty.”

He was coming up to what they all wanted to hear: the start of the determinations. It was what many of them had traveled worlds to participate in, and the rules on how they would be judged. Reba and the others leaned forward. But the Ardentia held his ground, knowing the regret some of them would feel when he said his next words.

“But I cannot see that through trials against one another or mach battles,” he said. “Your duty, first and foremost, is against spirits, not man. And so, for your determination this year, you will be required to fight through two layers of the Immortal Spring Forest in the heart of the Heavenly Realm.”

At first, there was silence. A deep cloud of darkness hung over the heads of the competitors. What they had just heard was akin to many of their worst nightmares: the Immortal Spring Forest. A land flush with spirits of all archaea, in the forest, said to be the final resting place of the All Mother herself. It was taken over by spirits and was forbidden to all mankind for its danger.

“You can’t be serious,” one of the candidates called out. “You space archads are as crazy as they say.”

Kimble addressed the boy's concerns. “I am serious. The accommodations are being made as I speak.”

Another candidate called out, “That place is infested with spirits. Going in there would be suicide.”

“For those of you unprepared, you are free to forfeit your invitations and return to where you came from. In all honesty, I don’t see this being a zero-casualty affair. Though we will do our best to ensure the safety of the competitors, I cannot control the nature of the creatures and spirits that rest within that forest. But as is the life of an Archas Knight, you’re expected to lay down your lives for the thirteen realms, regardless of your affiliation or archaea. Those who are not prepared to do so are not fit to join this academy.”

He scanned the sea of candidates like a teacher looking for any more questions. When he saw no more willing to voice their concerns, he said, “We ride out immediately. I’m assuming those of you here have made long-term preparations already, since you are here. If needed, please inform an instructor, and they will send letters to your families. The journey will last up to a fortnight, barring any major issues. As I mentioned, those who pursue this venture will go face-to-face with the demons of the Neri. I cannot say for certain how many of you will return. But thus is the risk we take as defenders of the Mother’s peace. Make your own peace accordingly.”

He walked away then. Naciere Strongbow lingered a moment or two with a strong, sly smile.

The air had been siphoned from the grounds. The dark cloud had only gotten darker. And a mass panic ensued.

Nagic watched everyone around him closely. The sudden realization that this determination wasn’t going to be as easy as it once seemed hit hard. Collectively, everyone had to come to terms with the new reality. To become an Archas Knight, they would have to face the world’s toughest trial. The reactions were as he expected: fear, terror, anger—

Except for one girl.

When he looked to his left, Reba Kotter, who was undoubtedly the most ill-equipped to take on such a challenge, was laughing.