-Chapter Eight-

A brewing storm.

Taylor awkwardly ate his breakfast, sitting at a stool at the dining bench. Sitting on stools both sides of him, uncomfortably close, were two other Trinity members, nonchalantly eating their food as well.

As Taylor just focused on his food, Mercy tapped him from behind.

“Once you’re done, get dressed and come with me,” she told him.

A few minutes passed and he joined her at the front door.

“Don’t stay out past curfew,” one of the students joked at them on their way past.

Taylor didn’t respond, his eyes only focusing intently on Mercy, following her through the narrow doorway, and being led down the stairs.

He stared at her long raven hair, her pale white skin, picking up a scent of exotic fruit from her. He didn’t let any ill thoughts invade his mind.

After they were a few dozen metres away, Taylor let out a groan, walking by Mercy’s side.

“They’re a little bit mean spirited. Or is it just me?” he remarked offhandedly.

Mercy sighed.

“They’re just being playful. Some of them already know you’re a Successor, so I’m sure you’ll be accepted in no time.”

“Hold on, isn’t it 32 students though? Are you telling me to knock someone off their position? Is that why they’re all so mad?” Taylor wondered as they came to the main highway road.

“No, not at all, silly,” Mercy broke into a giggle. “Like I said, they’re just being playful,” she waved her hand at him. “And the number 32 is just the current number of members, it’s by no means a limit of seats.”

“I see.”

“Maybe they might disapprove, because they have also signed Life Mete spells but don’t involve their partners in Trinity affairs. I don’t have much of a choice though,” Mercy shrugged. “Someone has to look after you, after all,” she suddenly hopped up and rustled his hair, laughing loudly.

“Yeah…” Taylor chuckled, feeling his face heat up. “I’d be in a load of trouble.”

“Don’t you worry!” Mercy spun around again, humming to herself and pulling out her wand.

“Connect to the Ira Archive… Mana Probe, Request Bypass,” she casted at the air.

After a moment of silence, a window of light suddenly opened up in front of them.

“Request received. Identification please,” a man, wearing a uniform, coming through the screen, said to Mercy.

She summoned her and Taylor’s Mana IDs for him to see. He briefly inspected it, before nodding.

“What is your destination?” he asked her.

“Excel Academy Gates,” she smiled.

“Of course. Have a good day.”

He waved his hand, and a flash of light enveloped them, and suddenly Taylor found himself experiencing the same gut-turning sensation again, and then returned to stable ground, gasping in surprise.

Mercy took his hand and immediately pulled him past the black metal gates, so quick Taylor didn’t even have time to see them.

Dozens of students dressed in the same uniform as Mercy wandered the campus grounds, and Taylor looked around him in awe.

“Right… an Academy.”

Mercy took him to an isolated building near the centre campus, which had a modest reception area.

But then, they took a staircase descending down, heading into what seemed like underground.

Upon reaching the bottom, Taylor found the space opened into a large stadium made out of strange white material.

“I’m going to bring the Headmaster here, to introduce you, and we can try to work out what your thesis is. Until then, maybe practice here. I’ll be right back!” Mercy turned around and gestured to the room.

“What’s a thesis?” Taylor asked her.

“Ah… Right. Yes. Well, you see,” she began to say. “Magic is like a Science, or a Language, in that to cast spells, you have to craft all components of the spell starting from Mana output to directional input, and it’s done through a code. That is to say, the code is Magic.” Taylor raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded, letting her continue.

“A thesis is an aspect unique to each individual. It’s like a telescope, it lets you zoom in on the star that is yours, out of the endless ocean of stars, to give an analogy. There is an infinite number of theses out there, but one of them is yours. A thesis is a concept, but also an ultimate goal you will strive toward. As a Magician, you primarily pursue the pinnacle of Magic, and to that end, you master your thesis. Makes sense?” Mercy explained.

“Hmm… okay, so do I just pick whatever?” Taylor asked her.

“No… you already have a thesis. We all develop one by the time we’re in our teenage years. It’s just a matter of ascertaining it, and making it known to yourself.”

“What’s your thesis?” He asked her.

“My magic is in the Ira Atheneum.”

“Right, what’s that? I hear you say it all the time,” he cut in.

“Ira means wrath. There are a total of seven Atheneum, where Magic comes from. Your thesis will be among one of these seven Atheneum. My thesis is… contempt. Hatred. Malice,” she answered to him.

“That’s sort of… dark? What sort of childhood did you go through to develop that sort of thesis- oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories…” Taylor stopped himself.

“No, no, silly. I had a great childhood, that’s why my thesis is contempt. Your thesis is something you study, you understand. Your thesis is always… the aspect that is the furthest from you. That’s the unique property of a thesis,” she smiled to him.

“Oh… So the furthest aspect of your being is… contempt?” he asked her.

“Yes. And contempt goes under Wrath.”

“I get it. Huh… I wonder what mine would be?” Taylor wondered.

“Well, I already know you’re in the Invidia Atheneum.”

“What does that mean?”

“Invidia means Envy,” Mercy answered.

“…Yikes… why do all these names have such bad connotations?”

Mercy giggled.

“Magic inherently comes from desires, and the seven sins. Magic is to aspire to godhood. Just to set that straight.”

“Okay,” Taylor nodded.

“I gotta go now!” Mercy patted him on the back and waved, leaving him alone in the stadium.

Taylor sighed, looking around him, in his lonesome now.

“This shit is still so hard to believe. I got piss-all sleep last night,” he groaned.

A few minutes passed while Taylor waited in the room.

He occasionally tried to cast some Magic, but was completely unable to. It just looked like he was insane.

As he stood, scratching his head, looking out over the rest of the stadium with his back to the door, he heard footsteps approach behind him, with the slam of the door.

“Oh, Mercy, you’re back already-?” Taylor turned around to see it wasn’t Mercy who entered the room.

Instead, it was someone hidden with a hood over their face, standing tall some distance from Taylor.

“Have you returned?” the cloaked figure said to him, his voice domineering and demanding, but it was another young man’s voice.

“What? Sorry?” Taylor raised an eyebrow.

“You…” the figure looked up at him for a brief moment, before they turned away. “Tch. Nevermind. Wrong person.”

Taylor looked in confusion as the cloaked figure left the room.

“Hmm…” Taylor frowned. “That was definitely weird. I should try to follow him.”

He stealthily slipped across the room, keeping behind each corner where he thought the figure was.

The figure took a few turns in the building before stopping at a corridor.

Taylor hid behind him, around the wall, listening intently.

There was a sudden bang as the figure punched the wall, and Taylor felt his breath seize.

“Fuck! How long do I have to wait? Am I the only one left? The rest are all fakes.” The cloaked figure remained still for a long moment.

“I need to find Diana. I had hoped Taylor at least would’ve made it. Damn it, find him and Andrew after that… we can’t delay any longer now… The war has already begun,” the figure muttered, wandering off down into the dark corridor.

Taylor remained still until he thought the figure was gone, processing the things he just said.

He called them… fakes?

Taylor made his way back to the stadium, and when he got there, found Mercy had already returned, along with another man in his thirties, dressed fancily, wearing a saint-like smile.

“Taylor…!” Mercy groaned when he entered. “Where did you go? You kept the Headmaster waiting,” she sighed.

“Oh… sorry. When you were gone, there was this weird guy,” Taylor answered.

“What?”

“He was muttering about fakes and finding me and Andrew or something. He said he had been waiting for me for a long time.” Taylor nervously stole a glance at the Headmaster, whose expression remained unchanged, though his gaze remained on Taylor. The young man felt a tingling of frustration from the mockery and amusement he could feel from the Headmaster’s smile.

“That’s really weird… I wonder who that was…” Mercy wondered.

“I’m sure it’s just someone spouting nonsense. Often, there will be some students who experiment with time, they go a bit kahoots,” the Headmaster chuckled, approaching Taylor.

“So, this is your spouse, Mercy,” the man commented, looking at Taylor. “Young man. If you have to kill, will you do it?” he suddenly asked.

“…Is that the norm here? To kill?” Taylor responded, looking up into the eyes of the man.

“As expected of a Successor. To be chosen, you must possess a strong will, after all,” the man shrugged his shoulders. “Isn’t it the norm to kill in your homeworld too? The World Wars, the countless fighting, you name it, really. Isn’t that killing?” the man asked.

“Those times are behind us,” Taylor answered.

“Heh, I don’t blame you for not knowing. But you should prepare, child. Take it from me, a sincere bit of advice,” the Headmaster smugly spoke to Taylor. “Our world is currently on the verge of war. If we falter, the humans will be the next target of Magic. Well, you’ll figure the rest out,” the Headmaster drew a circle in the air, before Taylor.

“So you mean, there’s a War about to happen?” the young man asked the older.

“It might, it might not,” the older nonchalantly answered, before humming as he finished the spell.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Very well. Now, you may awaken your thesis. Fall into slumber.”

Taylor fell backward into darkness as the world fell black.

Thoughts and memories began to rush through him.

Every detail, second or moment of his life came to the forefront of his mind. His very being.

A loveless upbringing, which led him to dedicate himself to sports. Learning sword arts, mixed martial arts and various forms of boxing, he took his loveless and lonesome upbringing and made it into a kingdom, where he sat upon a throne.

His only aspiration was to train and temper himself, to become stronger. It was a path where you could know no friends nor loved ones, because you are alone, standing on the precipice where no one can reach. Most of all, he always kept his heart closed. No one could approach them because they knew what he was capable of. A national high school league champion who would act with disinterest toward everyone else.

So he remained alone. And continued to refine his skills. No one could even rival him.

His existence was on an endless journey of solitude. He had no capacity for others in his life without direction. It was all set in stone already by his mother.

Like shackles chained around him.

His shitty life was already all laid out before him, he often found himself thinking at times.

Graduate. Go into work, to make money so that they’re no longer piss poor. Continue refining his sportsmanship.

Eventually, his mother will be gone. But after so long, after so many years, will her clutch release him? Will he be free at that point? He knew that her clutch would remain. Because he wouldn’t even know where to start in correcting his crooked life.

He’ll continue to stumble, lost and wandering until his final day on earth, and die on his bed in complete regret and sorrow, that his life was… meaningless and what he was, his being, was nothing more than illusion. He did not truly exist. No one will remember him.

He was nothing more than a manifestation of what his mother turned him into.

Of course, that wasn’t the life he desired. But he never considered running away. Because this darkness laid on his shoulders like an achnhor.

Would he ever be able to live a normal life, free from anxiety and his hauntings? Love a person, have children, be a good parent?

No, he wouldn’t be able to. Because he wasn’t a whole person. He was empty, with nothing inside him. He could not give anyone anything.

He was a loveless being.

That was until his shackles were broken, he was whisked away magically from the place of his terror, and his life was connected to another’s.

It will fill him up.

It will give him ambition and aspiration to become whole, and in doing so, he will become whole.

His aspiration, the furthest thing from him, was none other than affection. Love. Fondness.

Taylor’s eyes opened, and he found himself staring at Mercy’s face.

She blinked, glancing at him.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

He blinked back, feeling his head resting on something warm and soft.

“I’m awake,” he responded, carefully sitting up and noticing Mercy had been letting him rest on her lap.

“…Thanks…” he felt his face flush and he turned away, taking a deep breath.

The room was empty now, it seems the Headmaster had left.

“How long have I been unconscious for?” he asked.

“Hmm, ten minutes,” Mercy responded. “So, what’s your thesis?” she then asked him.

“Ugh. This is embarrassing,” Taylor said, averting his gaze away from her’s. “You said that one’s thesis is the furthest aspect from them, and what they will aspire toward, right?” he asked.

“Mmhmm. That’s correct. So in other words, it is the thing that is least present in your life, you could say,” she nodded. “So, what is it?”

“It’s…” Taylor’s voice dropped quietly. “It’s affection.”

Mercy blinked at him, before she tilted her head.

“You… have to learn how to love?” she raised an eyebrow.

“It appears so?” Taylor answered in the same tone of confusion.

“Have you never been loved in your life, Taylor?” Mercy asked.

“Mmm… I’ve never really thought about that up before now, actually,” he crossed his arms. “Hmmm. What exactly does love look like? And what does being loved feel like? I’m wondering if I have any memories of examples I can make comparisons to…”

Mercy facepalmed next to him.

“Goodness, Taylor. You’ve already started to try to define your thesis. Slow down a bit, I asked you a simple question,” Mercy cut in and grabbed his arm.

“Huh? Nah, I’m not trying to define it, per say. I’m just trying to get an image of what it looks like in my head,” Taylor responded with a chuckle.

“That’s… exactly what…” she sighed as her voice died away. “It’s okay, I already know the answer to my question. Listen, Taylor,” Mercy shot a finger up in front of him. “Normal people can define love immediately, because they have a comparison to go off of. They live their lives with people that both love them and do not love them, and it’s very easy to see the difference. But in your case, you’re struggling so hard to think of whatever it is you’re trying to remember right now. The fact that you cannot instantly respond with what love is, means you’ve most likely lived a life where… nobody loved you.” Taylor remained silent, watching Mercy who nervously pulled her hair behind her ear. “It’s funny, now that I think about it. My thesis, contempt, is probably the thing you know best. And your thesis, affection, is probably the thing I know best.” Mercy chuckled. “Don’t worry, Taylor,” she leaned forward and gave him a hug. “I don’t know what life you’ve led up until now, but it’s all in the past. I will help you learn your thesis,” she whispered. “This world is simply… too cruel.”

Taylor’s hair had grown a bit longer. His purple eyes now looked natural with his black hair.

His face had also aged slightly, but it was more a mental development than a physical one.

He was more like a butterfly out of it’s cocoon.

The tactical base was now familiar and his home. Mercy had her room extended and gave him a separate room and a comfortable bed.

It was all under the Academic’s expenses, so Taylor felt he should repay Mercy and the Headmaster someday.

The room around them, the main dining room on the second floor, was a traditional brown oak.

The long table before them, both for meetings and meals, stretched out far down the room.

Taylor sat at the head of it, alone.

Breathing calmly, he simply patiently waited.

Far within, further into the house, which was built with spatial magic to make housing more efficient, Taylor could hear echoes of shouts and chatter.

They gradually drew closer, but the first to arrive, long before any of them was Andrew.

He stopped briefly when he arrived, lingering at the door frame, his eyes darting around, before he entered and took the seat next to Taylor.

“Listen up Taylor. This one’s serious. If you’re not up for it, you’ll not only get yourself done in, but Mercy, and probably Aira, and then me. You can drop out now, if it’s not too late.”

Taylor smiled.

“I’m sure you won’t let Aira die,” he responded. “Besides, how bad could it be? Are you saying they’re stronger than you?” Taylor asked.

“No… but…”

“Then it should okay, no?” Taylor sat forward. “After all, we always come to a draw,” he chuckled.

“You’ll see who’s more useful when we go on a mission in the Woken World,” Andrew shook his head, and leaned back.

Taylor smiled, knowing Andrew had no more to say.

“That’ll be in the future, after this one, right?” Taylor winked.

“Yeah but this one will be meddlesome. It’ll be hard even for me,” Andrew groaned in frustration.

“And that’s exactly why you need all the help you can get,” Taylor shrugged, and the other young man fell silent.

Others shortly began to arrive.

Mercy finally arrived, coming in with a crowd of three, but she quickly broke off from them, running to Taylor’s side.

“Sorry you waited, I got caught up,” she quietly told him with her hand resting on his shoulder.

“Are you confident and sure you’re ready?” she asked him with somewhat of an encouraging smile.

“One hundred percent.”

“Alright then. Let’s do a great job,” she quietly cheered before taking a seat next to him, before shuffling it close and leaning close to Taylor.

They have gotten rather close over the months. There seemed to be some sort of natural affinity between them. It was incredible. Could it be due to the Life Mete spell? Taylor had wondered, and Mercy thought it was a good question, too. In the end, they couldn’t find any conclusive evidence indicating any explanation. So they could only run with it, they both thought.

At least, spending time together wasn’t that bad. Get meals together. Work together. Live together. After lots of time of just the two of them, they began to bond quite a lot.

Now, they were comfortable with each other.

It helped that Taylor had proven himself to be more than just a burden. It was all thanks to his abilities as a Successor.

Finally, a significant portion of the Trinity Council arrived.

“Umm,” Mercy began to speak up. The members were silent.

“Today, I, with the permission of the Headmaster, admit a new member into the Trinity Council. As a Successor, Taylor, like Andrew, has no requirement to be a Head of a department and manage Academy affairs. He’ll mostly be aiding me, but if he’s free and anyone needs help, you can perhaps get him to tag along. If you’re concerned about his capability, you have my consent to put him to a test. Please, no being mean though. Being ill-spirited toward fellow students is displeasurable. Now, the main topic of why we are gathered is to discuss another matter, which Aira will explain.”

Mercy nodded to Aira, who appeared behind Taylor, between him and Andrew, standing at the edge of the table.

“I will give the explanation.”

Taylor was shocked at the amount of what Aira began to say. But the other Magicians listened on intently, as if they were soaking up every detail.

Taylor glanced at Mercy and noticed she was using some sort of Magic.

Frowning, he wondered, were the other’s too? It appears they were all using thought processing enhancement Magic to quickly grasp the brief.

Why didn’t Taylor think of doing the same? Magic can be used in such unorthodox ways. But that’s the basic principle of Magic he was taught. Throw away all logic. Logic is the enemy of Magic, and the ultimate enemy Magic acts against. Though unpredictable, because Magic defies expectation inherently, the formula for function of Magic can be reversed from saying:

Magic cannot operate within logic to Magic operates illogically.

And to be illogical is a logic in itself.

So comes the basic steps of Magic comprehension.

Taylor, with the Magic cast, began to tune into Aira’s discussion.

“Recently, I have been researching space tear-down phenomena,” she spoke as she waved her notebook around. “Particularly, the result of extended exposure to corruption, similar to that of World Collapse.”

The others nodded.

“The reason for this research is related to the incident of Andrew’s origin, where a World Collapse took place twice in the same radius. This was three years in the past. Since then, the space has begun to show signs of corrosion, specifically a leak and metamorph into what is currently estimated to be… the neutral element.”

The Magicians gasped.

“The neutral element is spreaded across all the space that spanned the blast of the collapse. It is both an organism and a principle, absorbing all forms of attacks directed at it, and swiftly developing a counter measure. The worst thing about is its ability to rapidly regenerate from even a small piece, by rapidly corrupting material around it, and granting that material the same counter measures the others had already evolved to counteract.”

Faces around the room were turning uncomfortable.

“The neutral element frankly… poses a threat to the enter world. The Headmaster has requested all Members available to come on the mission with us for a full assault. This is related to the activities of Antithese, and we most likely will also have reinforcements from the Federation Military,” Aira paused.

“Shit…” groans released from the room.

“How in the world did it come to this?” Some of them exclaimed.

Taylor remained seated in silence looking at Andrew.

He was deep in thought, sitting at the seat, looking into space when Taylor called out to him.

“You good?”

Andrew looked back to him and immediately asked, “have you seen them?”

Taylor raised an eyebrow.

“Seen them?” he asked.

Andrew nodded ominously.

He leaned close to Taylor’s ear.

“The Six Shadows.”

Taylor’s eyes widened and he backed away from Andrew.

It was true. He was having nightmares at times. Horrific ones. Mental torture. It felt like it was consuming his very soul.

“You do…” Andrew sat up, clutching his chest. “Do they whisper to you about becoming a Magic King?” he continued to ask Taylor.

“No…? They just tell me I can’t outrun my fate…” the other young man answered.

“Taylor, listen to me,” Andrew placed a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “It’s these Successor elements we have in our bodies. They are not a blessing. They are a curse. Since the very first day, this power was a curse for me. I-I… it doesn’t matter. Now, you have appeared, and you are caught by them too. They have you in their palm. They’ve had me for a while. They think it’s probably ripe time. This neutral element, I know it’s their doing, from the two World Collapses,” Andrew nodded at Taylor in dead seriousness.

Taylor thought he was crazy before, but maybe it was actually all real?

It felt real.

“Right now, it’s my reckoning they have arranged for me. If I make it past this, they’ll send another one at some point,” Andrew told Taylor. “But don’t think that while they’re busy with me, you’ll be safe. Taylor, get stronger,” Andrew said firmly. “Because after this one settles down, if we all make it through it, or maybe not, but at least you and Mercy. After that, it will be your turn.”

Taylor swallowed.

“Why. Why… why? That’s fucked up,” Taylor hissed. “What are we, haunted by fate?” he asked Andrew, who grimaced as he listened.

“What about our partners? What the hell happens to them?” Taylor asked. “Don’t tell me… the visions come true?” he uttered in horror, the dreams flashing in his mind. A horrific scene of Mercy’s corpse, and utter destruction.

“We’ll change that. So what if it’s fate, Taylor? We have to overcome it. You fucking hear me? If you don’t want your Mercy to end up dead in your arms,” Andrew growled. “You gotta get strong enough to protect her.”

Taylor nodded tensely.

“I simply want you to understand. This mission is only the beginning of a lifetime to come. Antithese are practically their puppets. They want something from us, but I have no idea what it is,” Andrew whispered. “So watch your six.”

He finally leaned away and leant back onto his chair, resting his head and taking deep breaths.

What they had just discussed was deeply disturbing.

“Keep it a secret at all costs, okay? You’re not that stupid, right?” Andrew asked.

“No. Stupid. but not that stupid,” Taylor smiled.

“Ha. Good,” Andrew chuckled, shutting his eyes and pulling a cap down over his eyelids. They tuned back into what Aira had been saying.

“The operation named Counterstop will take place at the location tomorrow at 0500 hours. Make sure to be ready for full on war. We won’t be operating with a leader, each team is free to do as they please but please don’t waste time meaninglessly, and use your own discernment to annihilate the problem. That is all. Dismissed. Thank you.”

Aira closed her book, leant off the table and disappeared behind them up the stairs again.

“This is a fuckshow,” Taylor heard someone utter, as well as various other comments.

“Andrew, we’ll overcome this,” he turned back to Andrew and told him with determination.

“Heh. Say less,” Andrew smugly responded.