Frederick thrust his training spear at Fable as hard as his now tiring arms allowed him. As his practice partner blocked his attack with his shield, he attempted to counter it with a more aggressive flurry of strikes, only made possible by his speed-enhancing wind magic... once again, all blocked before they could reach past Fable's guard.

The exhausting speed of his moves left Frederick out of breath, forcing him to leap back out of Fable's attack range. However, Fable had yet again caught him by surprise, dashing at him at a shocking pace, swinging his own practice blade towards his chest. Frederick had only managed to parry it away by a hair's length with his own shield.

As Fable wanted.

In yet another display of seemingly inhuman speed, the shorter boy swept his leg at Frederick's, sending him slipping onto the ground. Frederick tried his utmost to get back up, only to face the tip of Fable's sword, thus ending the practice duel.

Frederick groaned. He had once again underestimated Fable's combat prowess. Or for that matter, had he ever even seen him being pushed to his limit? Even back to his duel with General Flamehart, he didn't seem to feel all that challenged.

"You're getting better at this already," Fable reached out his hand to help Frederick back up, "It's honestly kind of surprising that you never tried other weapons."

"Well, it's hard to see how much I've improved when you keep beating me," Frederick said as he wipe the dust off his back.

"I get that, but..." Fable looked at his practice blade with discomfort, "I'm having a hard time getting used to this thing, so it's not exactly easy to hold back."

"How long did it take to get used to your Railcannon Blade?"

"About two months. On top of the weight, the mana consumption was nuts..." the boy sheathed his sword as he turned to Frederick, "Speaking of mana, there's something weird I noticed about your wind magic."

"Weird? What do you mean?"

"Well... how do I put this..." Fable scratched his head as he deliberated on his next words, "It's... all over the place."

Frederick remained silent for a moment...

"Sorry... I don't quite get it."

"Yeah, I figured..." he held up his chin in thought, "Alright, when you cast spells, what's your trigger memory?"

That... was not a question Frederick would've wished to hear. But, after a moment of hesitation, he answered:

"My public duel with my brother. The humiliation I felt in that moment. My desire to surpass him."

"Oof... That's... definitely a strong emotion. But... I'm not sure that's the right kind of emotion you'd need for support magic."

Frederick said nothing. Perhaps Fable was right. He may have passed the combat test, but he wasn't improving at a rate he could be satisfied with. The more he thought about that moment... the moment when he felt that he could never face his mother again, the more his blood began to boil... and the more shameful he felt. Wind magic, especially spells meant for support, never performed well under such emotions.

I knew that, but...

"I didn't have anything else that was strong enough."

"It doesn't have to be a super strong memory, Fred. Support magic is just that... support, like a helping hand... at least that's what my moms taught me."

"I... I see. I didn't consider that."

Well, the truth was that Frederick did know that, as it was own butler, Philip, who taught him that. He simply wasn't in a state to take it to heart at the time. Looking back on it now, the boy wanted to punch himself in the gut for neglecting something so obvious.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out. For now..." Fable resumed back to a fighting stance, "How about one more round? Winner buys lunch at the Tabeso's."

"I'm not sure that's exactly fair..." responded a flabbergasted Frederick, before sighing as he did the same with a smile, "But why not? You're on."

----------------------------------------

"I don't know about this, Lester. Why did the general send us, of all people?"

Rona fidgeted as she stood in front of an apartment building, and a rather decrepit one at that. Although the capital's residential sector was relatively safe compared to other places, this part of town at the far side didn't exactly give off a homey atmosphere.

"Don't ask me..." Lester replied with a wry sigh, "I doubt this is gonna go smoothly, but... Well, here goes nothing..."

"W-wait! I'm not-"

Lester rang the doorbell before she could finish.

"...mentally prepared yet."

Rona's fidgeting started to get worse.

"Don't be so nervous. We're not even sure if he's guilty."

"Hey, I don't wanna believe it either, but... From all the intel we gathered, he's the only who's-"

They were quickly interrupted by the door opening to reveal a stubby man who looked like he had just woken up from his own grave. His breath reeked of alcohol, and he held his head as he struggled to keep himself standing straight. Rona's immediate impression was that she could never trust this man to be her landlord, no matter how cheap the rent.

"Ugh... The hell you want... this early in the morning?" The man asked, still too hungover to speak clearly.

"Um... sir, it's nearly noon-"

"HELLO! D-does Taio Gress live here? We were hoping we could maybe see him? We wanted to invite him to our 'term-starting party'!" Rona spoke up as she covered Lester's mouth to shut him up.

"Huh...? Gress... Gress..." The man scratched his head as he tried to recall if such a person lived in his building, "Oh... yeah... room three oh four. Get your business over with and get the hell out."

The supposed landlord didn't even bother closing the door and went back to his room, leaving the two speechless.

"Ugh... I can still smell him form here," Rona commented as she covered her nose.

"The sooner we finish this, the better..." Lester turned to her with a raised brow, "Also, 'term-starting party'?"

"I was nervous, okay? Let's just get this over with, please."

Lester sighed as he led her up the stairs. The building was in such poor condition that he couldn't help but wonder why it hasn't dealt with by the authorities.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Who would willingly choose to stay in a place like this?" Rona asked the question for him, "I mean, magifauna handlers don't have the best salaries but... When you're working at the Imperial Academy, it should at least be enough to live somewhere better than this dump."

"I don't know... Maybe he has his own circumstances?"

"Bad enough to stay here?"

"Well, why don't we just ask him ourselves?"

Lester knocked on the door to apartment 304... No response. The two looked at each other with uncertainty.

"Okay... I... guess I'll try again."

He knocked again... No response. Rona then stepped forward and spoke up.

"Um... Mr. Gress? We're Rona Alisson and Lester Herm... We work at the Imperial Academy... There's something I was hoping we could discuss with you?"

No response.

"Hmm? Wait... is the door unlocked?" said Lester, as he turned the doorknob.

"Wait! Lester, don't-"

Before she could stop him, Lester had opened the door by a fair amount, only for both of them to be surprised by a bright and disorienting flash of light. As they fell onto the floor, rubbing their eyes while an agonizing ring sounded in their ears, they could just barely make out the sound of running footsteps, followed by the sound of someone landing on what the two made out to be the next building.

"Wait! He's... getting away!" Rona grunted, the ringing still hurting her ears.

"It.. should... be fine!" Lester responded, standing up as he began to recover, "The General... should be able to handle this... since he was... already waiting for him to-"

"Agh!"

Somewhere outside the building, the two heard what sounded like General Flamehart groaning.

"You gotta be kidding me..."

----------------------------------------

"Huh? What's going on over there?"

Fable and Frederick were just about to split up to go to their homes and take a quick shower, before they were stopped by a sudden series of flashes on top on one of the nearby buildings.

"I don't know..." Frederick replied, "Do you think it's something serious-"

"Out of my way!"

The two boys were interrupted by a browned-haired man who landed from the building in front of them. Caught off guard, they jumped out of the man's path, both unsure of what just happened.

"Boys!"

As the two heard an all too familiar voice, they turned to see Alsen jumping down from the same building, only he seemed to be dizzy with his hand covering his ear, struggling to stay up on his feet.

"Boys! Stop him! He's the test saboteur!"

Fable stood still for a second, before giving the general an acknowledging nod and turning to Frederick.

"Fred, I need you to get to the place we practiced before. I'll divert him so you can get a clear shot."

"Wait, what?" Frederick could not hide his hesitancy and disbelief, "You want me to throw my spear at him?"

"Don't worry, just cover the tip like before," Fable turned to chase after the man, "And remember! Supporting memory!"

"Be careful! He's got a flashbang spell!" Alsen warned.

"Got it!"

Fable upped his pace in attempt to catch up to the suspect, but the large crowds of people on the roads were preventing him from doing so. The suspect, on the other hand, looked to be using his knowledge of the streets to navigate through.

Alright, let's try for a different approach.

The boy channeled mana into his legs and leapt up towards the top of a nearby building as onlookers watched on in confused astonishment. From up here, Fable was now able to keep the suspect in his sight without bumping into people. The only problem was that he had watch his step so he didn't trip himself and fall off.

Despite the crowd below, Fable was impressed at the suspect's ability to seamlessly run through. If he was perhaps something like an instructor or a magifauna handler, that would explain his speed, as well as how he was able to sabotage Frederick's test.

As Fable began to close in on the suspect, he realized that they were almost in Frederick's line of sight. He needed to make sure the man didn't take another route. He weighed his options based on the information he was given: Approach him before he can blind him, or find a way to counteract his spell.

As the boy jumped down into an empty street, the suspect was now heading towards what Fable made out to be an old service tunnel, possibly his escape route. However, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Frederick standing at the park they were practicing at, ready to throw his spear.

They only had one shot at this.

Damn it! Worst time to not have my Rail-... Wait a minute!

Fable stopped in his tracks, unsheathing his training sword. After a second of hesitation, he imbued it with as much magic as possible, causing the blade to start convulsing.

Sorry, Aron! I'll pay you back!

With all his strength, the boy threw his soon-to-explode blade onto the entrance of the service tunnel, hoping it'll collapse and block his escape.

----------------------------------------

Frederick panted as he stood at the edge of the park, where he had a clear view of this side of the residential sector. He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

Regaining his breath, he took off the training spear strapped to his back and wrapped in thick cloth as Fable instructed. He then looked across the area to try and spot Fable or the suspect.

After an agonizing moment of uncertainty, he finally spotted Fable running on top of the buildings, chasing the suspect whom he presumed was down on the street, which seemed to be headed to a tunnel.

The only problem being...

You expect me to hit him from that far away?

From such a distance, Frederick was far from confident that he'd even be able to throw the spear so far, let alone with enough force to subdue him.

Having not the time to think about it, Frederick quickly shifted to a stance where he could ready his spear.

Come on, think! What kind of memory fits a support spell?

Perhaps by trained instinct, the first thought he recalled as he channeled mana into his arm was of his losing duel against Edwyn. However, all the negativity of that memory made his arm shake.

Damn it! I need to clam down!

As Frederick tried to do his breathing exercises, he spotted the suspect now out of the cover of the buildings, with Fable close behind him. They were getting closer to the tunnel.

He only had one shot.

Frederick tried as hard as he could to recall. A memory of support... of his hand being held. But did such a memory ever exist in his mind? All his life he was either neglected, or scorned, or laughed at.

Except... No, it wasn't.

In his rage and humiliation, he had forgotten the two people who never abandoned him. His mother, who taught him to read, who taught him to cast magic to fly a kite, who held his hand even in her dying breath.

His butler, Philip who, perhaps in an effort to make sure his young master could take care of himself, taught him to use a sword. Despite his age, he still chose to personally serve him breakfast every morning and prepare him fresh clothes.

The feeling of someone holding your hand... of supporting you...

Remembering this feeling, something sparked inside of the boy.

Something he didn't quite understand yet... something he could not put into words...

But right now, in this moment, it was something that he could channel into his spear.

As Frederick readied his spear with his newfound strength, he watched the tunnel now collapsing thanks to Fable throwing his sword which he deliberately set to explode, the suspect was forced to stop in his tracks and turn to face him. In another effort to escape, he attempted to use what Frederick could only assume was his magic tool to blind Fable.

However, Fable, being somewhat prepared, covered his face with his repentelite shield which, perhaps out of sheer luck, reflected the light of the spell back at the suspect, blinding him instead.

And Frederick took the opportunity.

With all his might, the boy threw his spear, tearing through the air with the roar of a storm, clearing a distance that was otherwise impossible for it to cross. And thanks to Frederick's wind spell, the spear was able to head straight for its target, hitting him in the abdomen and sending him flying onto a wall, knocking him out in an instant.

Fable opened his eyes to see the man out cold on the ground. He turned towards Frederick, making a thumbs up gesture, though he wasn't quite sure he could make it out.

As the momentary feeling of exhilaration wore off, only one thought came to Frederick's mind:

I... I didn't hit him too hard... did I?