Prota was worried about John. He’d been avoiding her the past few days, leaving to go somewhere, leaving her all alone. It was weird. Granted, it wasn’t like there was any reason for him to stick around, nor was there a reason for him to be paying attention to her, but it was still strange behaviour from someone who enjoyed staying in bed all day. Therefore, it wasn’t all that much of a concern to her.
The only times she particularly wished he was around was when the princess came to visit. It seemed that the path between the Windwalker’s household and the royal palace was safe enough for her to travel alone, and she kept showing up to visit Destiny. Whatever relationship the two had was of no interest to Prota, but what did bother her was the princess’ strange fascination with her.
“She’s so cute!” Celeste said, reaching out to Prota, who leaned back. “I wanna pinch your cheeks. Please?”
Prota took an involuntary step back.
“I… I don’t think she really likes being touched, Cel.”
“Come on, let me poke her cheeks. Just once.”
This happened more than once. Celeste might’ve been the scariest thing Prota had ever encountered. The demon king? Doctor? They could be defeated. What were they going to do about Celeste?
“Save me, John…”
~~~
“You want me to make not one, but two things?”
John had thought Haze was playing with him the first time he’d been brought here. The magic device crafter was an old elf huddled in shawls, sitting in the back of a small, run down shack. There were plenty of trinkets John didn’t recognize, and he didn’t have much interest in analyzing them. On the table in front of him were Prota’s staff and cloak. He looked down at them, then back up at the elf.
“Well, think of it this way. You’re not making things. Just, uh… upgrading them?”
“That’s a tall task. These things already have enchantments on them.”
“They’re really stupid enchants!” John protested. “It’s, like, temperature control and mana storage. Is that really that much of an issue?”
“...it could be. Why do you want these so much anyway? It’d be easier for me just to make you better versions of these tools. What was it you wanted again?”
John picked up the staff, tracing its edges with his finger. “Increased mana storage in this, if possible. Maybe make it a little easier to carry around.”
He put it down and put his hand on the cloak.
“This is a little more important. I’d like it if you could put protection of some sort on it. Physical, magical, it isn’t too important, but if it could provide some degree of protection that would be great. But the more important thing would be a self restoration feature.”
“...it’d be easier to do that on a new cloak. Sonny, tell me one more time why you want this cloak specifically?”
John scratched the back of his head. “...does it really matter?”
“If you want me to do this for you, then yes.”
The old lady looked up, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She leaned back, making it clear that she’d wait for a response.
“...well, sometimes the history of the item matters more than the quality of the item itself, right?”
John was having a hard time explaining what he really meant. These items were precious to the person he considered to be his sister. It was the idea behind them that mattered more than the items themselves. He couldn’t bring himself to say that, though.
“Look, remove the enchantments, add them, whatever, but can you at least just fix the cloak?”
The old elf took her glasses off and tucked them away, then got up and hobbled around the table. She took out some kind of analyzing tool and peered through it, then put it away and nodded. John watched in confusion but became even more confused as the elf put her hand on his shoulder.
“You’re being honest, aren’t you?”
“...yes? Wait, what do you mean-”
“Good boy.” She gave him a smack on the back. “You’re lucky the Windwalkers are endorsing you. I’ll do it.”
John felt the tension in his body practically melt away. His gift was taken care of.
“How soon do you need this?” the lady said, feeling the fabric of the cloth as she talked.
“Is within a week alright?”
“A week? Pshaw, this’ll take me three days. Come back then.”
~~~
“I heard you’re going to go to Scholaris. Are you ready for the exams?”
Hart was sitting a respectful distance away from Prota on a bench in the garden, watching as birds flew from branch to branch. Prota was snaking on a pastry Hart had given her. It seemed that she was easily tamed with food.
“...exam?”
“There are exams. Did no one tell you this?”
Prota stopped chewing. She remembered something about an entrance exam being mentioned, but with [Resets], demon kings, Doctors and all the chaos that’d been going on, she’d somehow completely forgotten about it.
“Is it hard?”
“Mm… not really?” Hart smiled. “It wasn’t too much of an issue for me.”
That didn’t really ease Prota’s worries. Hart was clearly very talented. She’d been raised in a prestigious family, and had likely received a lot of tutoring and training. Her training was from Mystic, yes, but how good was she really? On top of that, the only education she’d received was from John. What if she couldn’t pass the written test? Was there even a written test?
“From what I’ve heard, you’ll be fine. Des spoke very highly of you in his letter, saying that he’s never seen such a talented caster. Scholaris isn’t the kind of school to take in skilled people. They’re the kind of people to scout for talent. Believe me. They don’t care about much else.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, did we not tell you? I’m already attending as a student. I’ll be in my third year once I return.”
Prota nodded slowly. That made sense. Hart wouldn’t have found the exam easy if she wasn’t in Scholaris. Right. She slowly resumed munching on her pastry.
Suddenly, something hit her. Hart was in her third year. She was… fourteen, if Prota remembered correctly. Two years older than Fate, who’d be twelve, right? Then how was John, who’d been passing off as an adult this whole time, going to go with her?
“Scholaris is a wonderful place. It’s not just young people there. I have senior students who are younger than me, and there are first year students who are older than me. Trust me, Prota. They won’t care about you. They just care about your talent and skill.”
Prota blanked out. How convenient. Just as she’d been worrying about something, the answer had been revealed to her. It almost seemed orchestrated, somehow. She closed her eyes and frowned. Orchestrated. Something about that rang a bell.
“Well, I suppose it’s normal to worry,” Hart said, misinterpreting Prota’s frown. “For now, you can just take it easy.”
Prota nodded slowly, but it was still bothering her. Orchestrated. Now that she thought about it, hadn’t a lot of things that’d happened felt convenient? Felt planned? She’d never paid any attention to it, but the more she thought about [Story] and [Plot] and all those things, the more something didn’t feel right.
She shook her head. There was no point in worrying about it. She finished her pastry and hopped off the bench, wandering deeper into the garden.
~~~
As the week went by, Prota was sure that something was happening. She just didn’t know what. John was getting up early, for one, which was unusual in itself, but he never bothered to stay for breakfast. The first day he’d gone missing, he hadn’t spent that much time out, leaving late and coming back relatively early. The second day, though, he’d left late but returned just as late. From that point on, it seemed that he was just rushing about.
Initially, Prota hadn’t been too bothered by it, but she was getting more and more curious. What was going on? Curiosity turned into concern, which then turned into anxiety. Where was he going? Was he getting himself involved in something dangerous?
After a full six days, she knew something was up. There were bags under his eyes, and he was changing quickly, without letting her see anything. Prota had been spending time with Kit, practicing more magic in secret, and had been visiting the library in her free time, but John was never there for any of it.
She was also thinking about her birthday. She’d only remembered because it’d shown up in her system. She wasn’t sure why it’d shown up in her system, but it’d been there, so now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Last year John had done something special. It wasn’t much, but in Prota’s eyes, it’d been the greatest gift she’d ever received.
Was he going to do the same thing this year?
So on the day of her birthday, she got herself up early just to make sure. Just to see if John had something different going on.
“...John?” she called out as she opened her eyes. She could hear him getting dressed.
“Oh. You’re up? I’ll be back later, so go have fun today, alright?”
Before she could even say anything, he threw his hoodie on, the symbol on his back fading in as he ran down the stairs. Prota walked over to the window to see him running off somewhere. With a heavy heart, she sat down on her bed.
Maybe nothing was going to happen this year.
Now that she thought about it, John wasn’t the most thoughtful of people. If he’d forgotten, it wouldn’t be all that surprising. Besides, he did everything he could to help her in other ways, right? So something like this was nothing. One day out of a year wasn’t anything special.
She told herself these things, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
~~~
“Seriously, you said this was gonna take three days! What the hell?!”
“Watch your mouth, you punk,” the old lady growled.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
John had gotten to know her a lot better over the past few days. For one, her name was Lillium, and she’d been employed by the royal family for over fifty years. Her expertise in her craft had made a name for her, but unfortunately, with fame also came some downsides.
“How was I supposed to know that thieves would be targeting that shipment?”
“You can’t do anything about it? Tell the king, for one?!” John exclaimed. “Seriously, you can’t just ask for some guards? Is that so hard?”
“You wanted this done, so you’d better put the work in for it! Besides, if I go to the king, I’ll have to tell him what you did, and neither of us want that, right?”
John had gotten mixed up in what he’d called “a stupidly convenient series of events.” The situation was anything but convenient. This was a comedically ridiculous situation.
The first day, he’d shown up, just to look around. The old woman seemed annoyed, but she let it slide. Lilium had ordered a special rune to integrate into Prota’s cloak, one of self-repair. It was a rune that wasn’t commonly used due to its incompatibility with higher levels of defense, but since John had said that repair was more important that defense, Lilium had gone and ordered it anyway, and so the first day was spent chatting away.
The next day was where everything had gone wrong. It’d just so happened that a group of roaming thieves had been looking for that specific rune at that very time. So on the second day of preparation, Lilium had sent John to go look for it. He’d successfully retrieved it, leaving a somewhat bloody mess in the process, but he had ample experience in cleaning his tracks. Besides, he was sure that explaining things with the king would clear things up if necessary.
Unfortunately, the thieves still wanted that rune. And so they’d been trying to attack Lilium’s shop every day in an attempt to get revenge.
“I’d like to analyze that weapon you use, by the way,” Lilium said as she stitched together the cloak. She was almost done.
“Seriously? You’re bringing something like that up now?” John complained, peeking out the reinforced windows.
He’d found out that the old shack was actually quite secure. While the wood looked old and flimsy, it was actually enchanted with numerous defensive properties, and the windows had similar enchantments on them, making the place practically impervious to anything smaller than a cannon. John knew a cannon could get through since one actually had broken a wall.
Despite this, the attacks didn’t stop. The thieves didn’t dare to attack in broad daylight, but they were good. They’d gotten into the small shop multiple times, brandishing knives and swords in an attempt to claim what they believed to be theirs.
“Ah, you young’uns,” Lilium muttered. “I wish I still had your vigor.”
“You’ve got enough vigor to yap all day, so shut it,” John grumbled.
“Have you no respect for your elders?”
John flinched as she threw a sandal at him. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so, and both of them knew that neither meant the words they said. Neither was the type to engage in fake bullshit. Both said what was on their minds. In this way, they’d somehow come to engage in a relationship built out of understanding and respect.
That, and the fact that they’d both been put into a scenario of life and death.
“You’re almost done, right?”
“Yes, yes! Will you leave me alone?!”
John peeked out the window again. Someone was approaching. At least, that’s what he felt. It was just a feeling of “instinct,” something that felt off. There was nothing other than that, but this “instinct” had saved him multiple times in the past week.
“Hey. Get down,” John said quietly as his gun appeared in his hand. Lilium nodded and crouched down below her table, then pressed a button, sealing it shut. She’d managed to stay unscathed like this.
John paced back and forth, his thumb tapping the hammer of his weapon. He was waiting for the intruder to enter. It wasn’t that he was looking forward to fighting or killing or anything, but the faster he dealt with them, the fast Lilium could get back to finishing the gift. It was already Prota’s birthday, and while she hadn’t said anything about it, he’d rather give it to her today than not.
Suddenly, there was a short gust of air. It was barely noticeable, but it was like a strong gust to someone like John, whose nerves had been on end for a while. He whirled around and ducked, barely avoiding a sharp dagger that’d been aimed at his head.
“Where are all the others?!” the masked elf yelled, jumping out from the shadows.
“Argh, seriously! Just leave us alone!”
John raised his gun and fired, immediately killing the elf. With a sigh, he picked up the body and tossed it into his pocket dimension, then took out cleaning agent and began to wipe the blood away.
“Really? All this over a self repair rune?” he muttered as he scrubbed away. A rattling noise told him that Lilium was coming out of hiding as he continued to clean, but he didn’t turn to face her.
“...I know I’ve said this already, but you really are a strange one. Are you sure you’re not some psychopath serial murderer?”
“What? No! Where did you get that idea?”
“You’re so… comfortable with this,” Lilium said gruffly, getting back to work. “I’ve seen good men fall. Good men lose everything to some kind of pain. Killing is never supposed to be easy. But you’re doing something strange. You’re not just letting them go, are you? I won’t ask where you put the bodies, but…”
“Don’t worry about it,” John sighed, getting rid of the last of the blood. “And stop calling me a youngster, alright?”
“What are you if not that?”
Lilium sighed and threw another sandal at John.
“Where do you get all these-”
“It’s done.”
John turned around and looked. The cloak looked exactly the same, patched up and worn, still white in some areas but a little stained in others, but…
“You fixed it.”
“Well, obviously.”
John reached out slowly and grabbed the cloak. The fabric felt softer somehow, silkier and smoother. He checked it inside and out. It was still the same cloak.
“Watch this.”
Lilium picked up a knife and threw it at the cloak. John flinched but then opened his eyes as he heard a clanging noise. The knife had fallen to the ground, the cloak unharmed.
“It’ll reflect most minor physical attacks like this. It’s resistant to heat and cold as well. The temperature function is still in place. If something does rip it, it’ll heal. Big rips might need some patching, but… it’s done.”
She picked up Prota’s staff and handed it over.
“This, too. The mana storage function’s been expanded. This one was no issue at all. It should be easier and lighter to carry now.”
“...thank you,” John said quietly. It was done. Nothing else to be worried about.
“Yeah, now get outta here! You’re bad for business. I can finally ask for some guards, and they’ll take care of the rest, so scram!”
John nodded hurriedly and dashed for the door but stopped as Lilium called his name out.
“Oi, sonny. If this is a gift… the receiver sure is lucky to have you.”
“...thanks.”
~~~
It was getting late, and John still wasn’t home. Prota wasn’t worried, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. She tried to console herself. It was fine, right? If she missed her birthday, it wasn’t like anything changed. John was still John. She would still love him. He would still love her. Besides, she’d never celebrated his birthday, right? So maybe this was fine.
Despite telling herself things like that all day, she couldn’t help but feel distressed. She knew she was acting spoiled, but she couldn’t help it. Something like this was important to her, because her birthday was the day everything had changed. It was the day John had become family. And so surely her birthday this year would be just as important.
Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. She ran down the stairs and out the front door.
“Prota!” Hart called out, getting ready to go after her, but Destiny put his hand out.
“She’ll be fine. I think something’s going on between the two,” Destiny said quietly.
“What? What makes you say that?”
“John is… usually with her. She gets a little stressed when he’s not around, and I think he knows that. So for him to be gone for so long is…”
Hart nodded.
Prota, unaware of all this, was still running in John’s direction. Her system. She hadn’t ever considered using it, but she’d realized she could find John. She could go to where he was. Apparently, he wasn’t very far. There was a shopping district not far from the castle that sold various high quality goods and services. Hart had taken her there once, just to look around, but that visit was now coming in handy.
John was on the move, but she’d intercept him. She needed to know. What was he doing? Where had he been these past few days? She used mana reinforcement to make her legs go faster. She wanted to see him. To hug him. She wanted today to mean something, even if it was just a little something. It was already four in the afternoon.
She wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear John wish her a happy birthday. To smile, even if that smile was fake, lift her up, give her a hug… she wanted something peaceful. Something quiet and nice.
Something with just the two of them.
Suddenly, her body yelled at her to move. She leapt out of the way just in time to avoid a steel tipped arrow, its head narrowly missing her leg.
“I thought you said no one was coming this way!”
“I didn’t check this path! The only people coming from there are royals!”
Two hooded elves emerged from the bushes, swords drawn. Prota eyed them suspiciously. What was going on? Why was she being attacked?
“Hey. You. Go back home. I don’t know who you are, but you’re clearly not an elf, so scram.”
“...” Prota frowned ever so slightly. If she turned around, she wouldn’t be able to join John.
“Hey, are you deaf? I said move!”
“Man, you’re helpless. Stupid kids like her need to be taught a lesson.”
The elf walked up to her, swinging his sword side to side. “Hey, little girl. When an adult tells you to do something, you do it, alright?”
“...”
“Hmph. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. There are punishments for bad children like you.”
Prota’s legs bent as she readied for combat, her hand instinctively reaching for her staff, only for her to realize that she didn’t have it anymore. Right. John had taken it. Why? No, that didn’t matter right now. Her eyes glowed as she opened her mouth, ready to chant a spell, but both parties were interrupted as a third elf came running.
“Go! Run! He’s killing us all!”
“You’re telling me you can’t deal with just one brat?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s got this weapon that no one understands! It’s beyond us!”
“Tsk… what about our A-rank core members?”
“They didn’t think it was worth it to come! We just have C-ranks!”
There was a loud crack, and the nervous elf ducked. “Let’s get the hell outta here!”
“Without the rune?”
“They don’t have it anymore! It was already used up! He’s not attacking anyone that isn’t attacking him, so let’s just get the hell out of here!”
Prota’s eyes widened. The dot on her map was getting closer and closer. She could hear sounds of yelling and fighting coming from further down the road, and saw someone being mogged down by half a dozen people, flashes from some kind of weapon going in sync with echoing explosions.
“Get the hell off of me!” a familiar voice yelled, audibly exhausted.
“Tsk. Let’s just fight him here!” the elf threatening Prota said, forgetting all about her. “We can steal the thing he made. Surely that’s worth more, right?”
“You idiot! It was the rune we needed! Are you dense, or what?”
John came into view, running as he held two things tightly in his hands, firing wildly around him. His head was spinning around wildly as he fired shot after shot, but his gaze stopped as he saw someone familiar standing right in front of him.
“...Prota?”