John’s nerves were jumping as he followed the Mystic into another room nearby. The place immediately struck him as some kind of noble’s room. Candles sat in gold candlestands, lit with blue flames. Light gleamed off the gold leaf coating the intricately carved tables, which in turn sat on deep, fluffy animal hide carpets. Red velvet cushioned chairs sat around the room, made so well that John could’ve mistaken it for the throne of a lesser king. Lupin indicated for John to sit at a table with a tea set, seemingly made of fine china, painted with a deep hue of blue.
“Would you like a cup?”
“...it’s tea, right?”
“Yes.”
“Um. Yes, please.”
The old man slowly poured a cup of the fragrant drink into the cup. The liquid was a light pink, bits of petals floating around in the tea.
“This is goldenrose tea. Its true properties are unknown, but it has been said to have a calming effect.”
“Um. Thank you.”
John wasn’t sure what to say. Was the Mystic not trying to intimidate him? If so, why give John a drink to calm him down?
Would the old man going to get to the point?
“John Quarta. I hope you were aware that I was observing you, to the point where I decided to intervene and test you personally.”
“Yeah. That was really cool.”
“I see your attitude is the same as always.”
“Again, how do you want me to act? Just let me know. Until then, I’ll be saying what I want.”
“No matter. I called you here to tell you something.”
John’s ears perked up. The old man wanted to tell him something? Him? Not Destiny?
“You should not have gotten in.”
John’s heart sank. This wasn’t anything interesting. It was just a normal scolding, probably one that would turn into a lecture. This also probably meant he’d gotten in, but at the moment, the lecture he would receive wasn’t worth it.
“You may be skilled, but your talent is nowhere near what I was looking for. There were at least a dozen applicants who could’ve taken your place. But they didn’t. I chose, of all people, you.”
“Um… thanks?”
John was confused. He was grateful that he’d gotten in, sure, but he could think of no realistic reason as to why he’d been accepted. There was no way the [Author] had done such an asspull that the Mystic was going to let John in for no reason at all, right?
“There is one reason, and one reason only that you are here. You alone have no fear.”
“...what?”
“The fear of death. It haunts us all. No matter how much one trains, one cannot truly erase the primal instinct of survival. It is what drives us. Only those who have given up on life can truly press on with no fear. But those who have done so are haunted by something dreadful. You, as far as I can tell, are not. And yet you do not fear death. In that aspect, you are unique.”
“I- uh-”
“Not because of your skill or talent. Do not mistake my words. So I am calling you here to let you know, as a warning.”
Lupin looked John dead in the eyes, and at that moment, John truly felt the presence of a hunter. The wolf in Lupin was stronger than the human form he was currently wearing, and the Mystic wasn’t afraid to let John know who was predator and who was prey.
“Should you slip up in any way. Should I ever stop paying attention to you. You will immediately be expelled from this academy. There will be no second chances. Do you understand?”
“...you called me here to say that?”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No, it’s just… I don’t know. It doesn’t really seem like you particularly like me. And you don’t give special chances to people you don’t like. So what’s up?”
The old man let a smile slip through.
“I see you are not entirely stupid. I do not hate you, child. And perhaps my judgement of you is wrong, although I severely doubt it. Perhaps you are a hidden talent beyond any of our minds. So I am calling you in to let you know that your entrance was a granted privilege, and that privilege can be taken at any time. It was not a threat, nor a gift. I was simply stating the facts, so that you may be aware of them.”
John was stunned. Although the old man seemed quite crabby, he seemed to be the secretive, soft sort instead?
“...thank you.”
The gratitude from John was genuine. The old man didn’t seem like a bad person.
“You may go now. And, perhaps, if I might suggest? Learn a few things before coming back. I’d hate to see you gone before you even start.”
~~~
“Home, sweet… ah, well, it’s not really home, is it?”
“What are you even saying?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Danjo had left by boat to return to the village, leaving with a fond farewell. Destiny and the others went through the portal they’d come through, finding themselves back at the castle. Celeste was immediately taken by carriage to the castle, with her parents hoping to hear the news, but Destiny and the others would walk back to the Windwalker house.
“Seriously, though. Is that all that happened?”
“I told you, he just said that I’m weak and that I need to watch myself.”
“They wouldn’t have called you for just that.”
“I mean, that’s basically all that happened. Really. Why would I lie about that?”
Destiny shrugged. “It just seems odd. A Mystic called you to give you a simple warning about school? It’s just, knowing you...”
“Trust me, Destiny. There’s only one thing I’d ever lie about, and it won’t ever be something related to anyone else, alright?”
“...there’s one thing you’d lie about?”
“Well, yeah. What, do you think I’m a fountain of truth? A pioneer of purity? A beacon of virtue?”
“Got it.”
Destiny seemed disappointed for even trying to ask. On the other hand, though, it seemed that he was learning the proper way to deal with John.
“So what now?”
“Well… I don’t know. Whatever we want, right?”
“You never had any intention to train, right? Just wanted to get that out of the way.”
“I’m just here for Prota. Seriously, I’d rather not go to school for the billionth time.”
“...I don’t even know what to say with that. It’s your funeral, I guess.”
Their conversation was cut short as Destiny’s father came barelling out of the house, wrapping him up in a giant hug. The ladies came out in a much calmer fashion, but there was a palpable excitement in the air.
“You made it, right?” Hart said, smiling.
“Of course.”
“That’s my little brother. I never doubted you for a second.”
The family celebrated cheerfully, leaving John and Prota to feel like third wheels. That didn’t mean they lacked respect, though, and they tastefully moved to the side to leave them to their own celebration.
“Anything you want, Prota? You know, since we’ve got a couple of months to kill.”
“Hungry.”
“Oh. Um… here.”
John pulled some kind of triangular ball out of his pocket. Prota could see the grains John had cooked with the soup he’d made on her birthday, something called rice, but it was wrapped in something she didn’t recognize. It looked like paper, but it was green, flaky, and a little see through.
“Dried seaweed,” John said, noticing her interest. “Well, technically, it’s- ah, it doesn’t matter. Just try it.”
Prota bit in, bits of seaweed flaking down all over the place, but her eyes opened in surprise as the snack was surprisingly tasty. There were bits of fish inside, adding both flavour and saltiness to the whole thing. The seaweed, whatever that was, was remarkably flavourful as well, adding an excellent texture to the soft and moist rice.
“It’s called onigiri. I used to call it something else, but I’m pretty sure that’s the original name for it. You like it?”
Prota nodded, taking another bite.
“Hey. Just to make sure. You remember the whole point in this, right?”
“...nn.”
Despite the cheerful scene in front of them, there was always that sober reminder of what they were fighting for. The Demon King had taken away a valuable tool from them not too long ago, a stark reminder that they’d have to stay on their toes.
“Doctor was strong. But there’s always going to be stronger people. You remember what happened to us.”
Even though she was strong, Prota knew she was still lacking. Forget facing off against Doctor; even someone like Hart was a goal to aim for. On top of that, there were the Mystics at the school she’d be going to, and even a dragon, supposedly the originator of her abilities. No matter how strong she thought she was, there were always those who would be stronger. And if John was going to involve himself in fights, then that just meant that she had to work even harder to protect him.
“But at the same time… well, it’s not too bad to have a little fun.”
“John’s only point is to have fun.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
Prota just looked away. “Lazy.”
“H- hey!”
~~~
Despite Prota’s words, John spent the next few months doing nothing. He read. He did a little research to his credit, looking into various things that would potentially be useful, but there was simply nothing for him to do.
Lupin had told him to train, but what did that look like? Clearly, Lupin had meant training regarding mana issues. John had shown a pretty decent set of martial skills, or so he hoped, so if his theory was correct, then there wasn’t much he could do about the issue anyway.
Prota, on the other hand, was almost overwhelmed with things to do. Her current arsenal of skills was vast: fast reaction times, a strong battle instinct, the ability to sense mana, efficient mana usage, and chantless casting, all of which were incredibly useful and unique.
Despite all of that, something still felt off.
That something was a variety of spells. Although her range of magic was vast, most of her spells were still at the first to second circle. Fireballs, icicles, and ice walls were all very nice, but even if they were more powerful than normal, they were still at a very rudimentary level. No matter how fast one is at addition, they will never solve a more complex problem unless they are taught the proper formulas.
“You can’t keep relying on your Blossom or Frozen Flame. Those take too long to prepare. In a real fight, where you’re on your own, you won’t have time to set something like that up. Your fighting is too simple, Prota. You need to learn new spells.”
So she trained. It wasn’t smooth sailing at first. The more she trained, the more she realized her body wasn’t used to the new spells. Her old fighting style had been the result of dozens of deaths, achieving what John liked to call “limit testing.” Prota understood at an instinctive level just how close she could get to the enemy, how many icicles she needed to throw, how quickly she needed to put up an ice wall, all small but valuable things.
But with the new spells, she no longer had that advantage. She no longer knew just how close she could cut it.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
On one hand, such a strength was something few others could obtain. Typically, someone with a fighting style like that would be a seasoned warrior with dozens of battles under their belt. After all, it was the strong who survived.
On the other hand, a diverse range of spells would surely come in handy. Prota wasn’t quite sure how she’d use them in battle, but it was about time she stopped using the same four spells over and over.
Time flew by. Even though it was a whole two months, it hadn’t felt like it. A few days before they were to go back, the Windwalker family threw a small party for the students who’d be going to Scholaris.
“Congratulations!”
Destiny’s father blew on a party streamer, something that apparently existed in this world, as his mother carried a cake into the dining room, placing it in the center of the table.
“Wh- what’s all this?” Destiny said, shocked as balloons filled the room.
“Destiny. My boy,” Allen said, getting down on one knee. Destiny waited for some deep speech, but his father just grinned like a fool. “What’s wrong with an excuse for a celebration?”
“But Hart didn’t-”
“It was my idea.” She smiled at him warmly. “Des. I know you had a hard time the past year. Isn’t it fair that you get something in return?”
“Guys, I-” Destiny started, then choked up. The family gathered together, embracing each other in a warm hug.
“...John?”
Prota looked up at her brother, who had a strange smile on his face.
“It’s good to see,” John said quietly, putting his hand on Prota’s head. “That they’re happy.”
“...?”
“There are tons of stories where the protagonist lives a life of nothing but suffering. It’s not a bad backstory, to be honest, but if you ever think of them as “real people,” well, it would suck balls. So… you know. It’s not bad to see someone with a happy family.”
“John-”
“No. I had a family multiple times,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve practically gotten sick of it at this point.”
He pulled a fancy bottle out of his dimensional storage and flipped it in his hands.
“Well, no point in being all gloomy and shit. Celebration calls for a good drink, right?”
“...what is it?”
“Mystery juice.”
“Mystery… juice?”
“You don’t want it,” John assured her.
He wasn’t really a drinker, partially because he couldn’t get drunk, but also because he wasn’t particularly fond of alchohol. This drink, however, was able to get him tipsy in just a few sips. He took a glass off the table and poured himself a cup, then downed it all in one go.
“Ah, you brought drinks?” Allen said, hearing the cork pop. “Say, aren’t you a little-”
“You… ah… don’t want any of this,” John said, already feeling a little off. “It’s a little strong.”
“I can hold my liquor-” the big man started, but his wife quickly put an end to that.
“You,” Haze said coldly, “will not be drinking tonight.”
“...yes, honey.”
The servants started coming out, serving dishes of food, but as Haze was busy directing them around, John stumbled over to Allen.
“If you want a glass later, I can let you try. I warn you, though, it’s quite strong.”
“You’re a good man.”
The meal wasn’t like the one John and Prota had when they’d first come to the Windwalker house. It was loud, cheerful, and messy. Even Haze, despite her icy appearance, was smiling warmly. The group was sharing stories, laughing, embarrassing each other, and to Prota’s surprise, John was laughing quite genuinely, smiling with his flushed cheeks and messy hair.
A few hours later, the meal was coming to a close. Everyone was getting tired, and one by one, they headed off to bed, leaving the servants behind to clean up the mess. John excused himself and went outside, going to the porch outside the kitchen.
With a deep sigh, he sunk into the cushions, pulling the bottle out again. He looked at it with empty eyes before tossing it back into his pocket dimension.
“...what do you want?” he said into the air.
A rustle of grass announced Prota’s arrival. She got into the chair next to him, looking up at the stars alongside her brother.
“John… what are you doing?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m getting drunk.”
“John doesn’t drink,” Prota pointed out. “John doesn’t get drunk. That drink… is special?”
“Yeah? It sure is.” He was too tipsy to come up with a convincing argument. “What about it?”
“Why?”
“...why, what?”
“Why did John do it?”
“It helps me forget,” John said, pulling the bottle out again. He looked at it for a while before putting it away.
“Forget the kind of world I’m in. If I don’t have to think about it, then… well, this life isn’t really that bad, is it?”
“Then why doesn’t John forget?”
“Because…”
He trailed off, leaving the answer unfinished. Without another word, Prota crawled into his chair and sat on his lap. It was clear John was uncomfortable, but he didn’t push her away, either.
“Prota. They’ll probably die, you know.”
“...?”
“Destiny’s parents. They’ll probably die. One of them, at the very least. Or maybe his sister. I don’t know. But it’ll be someone close to him.”
“Like Olivia?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
Prota thought back to the scene she’d just witnessed. A bright and cheerful family, one that truly harboured love for one another. What would happen if it was ripped apart? If one of them were to fall, if one of them were to be torn away from the others?
“What do I do, Prota? Do I try to stop it? Can I stop it? Is there even a point?
John laughed drunkenly.
“Ah, why am I-”
“John said no more sad endings. You want to stop it. Right?”
“I-”
“If John wants to stop it, then he should stop it. John… is John scared?”
A shudder ran through his body. Scared? Was he scared? What could he possibly be scared of?
“John doesn’t need to be scared. Because… John has me.”
Another shudder ran through his spine, sending electricity through his veins. It was enough to snap him out of his drunken haze and into a sobriety he hadn’t had in a while. Prota, of all people, was telling him not to be scared.
“Yeah.” John closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands, before bursting out into laughter. “I’ve got you. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
~~~
The next day, Haze was leading the future students to the royal castle. John wasn’t sure what was going on, but Destiny seemed excited, so it must’ve been something good. They wandered through an older section of the halls, all the way to an old, rotting wood door. A guard stood outside, although as far as John could tell, the place wasn’t really secure anyway.
“Is she in?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
The king’s bodyguard rapped on the door twice, then stepped back as if she were respecting whatever was inside. A minute later, the door opened with a creak.
“In you go.”
“Not you?” John said, getting a little concerned.
“She only reads fortunes once.”
“...fortunes?”
John had a bad feeling about this.
They walked in, and the door closed behind them. The place was like a little cove of sorts, with bookshelves lining the walls and a small but functioning kitchen in the corner. A bed sat on the other side of the room, and a door that seemingly led to a washroom. Most of the place, however, was filled by a low table with a singular candle resting on top. A fireplace sat at the back of the room, the fire inside the only light source.
“Ah, you’ve arrived.”
An old, wrinkled elf came out from the shadows, a cane helping her hobble her way forward. Her voice sounded as old and decreipt as her appearance. With saggy cheeks, a mouth without teeth, white wrinkled hair, a hunched back and old rags, she looked like it would take but a gust of wind to knock her down.
“Come, younglings, come.”
“Thank you, madam. It is a great honour,” Destiny said, bowing.
“Ah, yes, yes. You first, young halfling. Come, sit at the table.”
Destiny nodded, folding his legs under him as he sat on the cushion. The only sound was the crackling of the fire.
“...should we leave or something?”
“Ah, you know everything about him already, do you not?” the old elf said. “Stay, stay. There is no point in you leaving.”
“...what the fuck?”
The old elf ignored him after that, focused solely on Destiny. She pulled out a bag and extracted some sticks, some cards, a few leaves and a handful of bones John didn’t recognize. She hummed a tune of sorts, and the items on the table began to move on their own. Prota was alarmed, holding onto John’s arm, but neither he nor Destiny seemed to be scared. The light of the flames suddenly darkened, a sort of wind picking up in the room around them.
Suddenly, the woman’s eyes shot open, but instead of pupils, they were filled with light.
“You walk a lonely path. But the end of that path is filled with loved ones. You must ensure that you do not stray, lest you lose what you aim for. Oh, lonely hero, you aim to bear the burden of the world on your own. Trust in your comrades, for they will keep you steady. And beware the end of the world, for you will be the one to save it.”
A singular card came out of the deck and flipped face up.
“You, the hanged man, will sacrifice yourself for the world. But will the world sacrifice itself for you?”
Suddenly, the light in the woman’s eyes died down, and the tension in the room vanished.
“...thank you, madam Vespera.”
“I pity you, young man,” the woman said quietly. “The path you walk may be lonely at times. But hold fast to your beliefs, lest you waver in them and lose your convictions.”
Destiny got up, looking at John and Prota.
“Well, good luck, guys.”
John nodded as Destiny left the room.
“Young girl. You next.”
Prota was scared, but she did as she was told and sat on the cushion Destiny had just been sitting on. The wind picked up again, and the bones and sticks rattled on the table in front of her.
“You… have suffered incredible pain. Incredible loneliness. And there may be more in the future. But your suffering will only be as great as you let it be. A deep and potential power rests inside of you. You may be the saviour of the world or the one who harbours its doom. But when that day comes, I hope you remember those who truly loved you.”
Once again, a card came out of the deck. A woman was kneeling with one foot in a pond, the other on land, one large star and several small ones sitting above her head.
“You, the star, have been abandoned. Have lost much. The thief comes at night, and the thief takes all. But there is hope in your future yet, little one. So follow the light in the sky that leads you.”
Prota sat, shaken to her core. She hadn’t expected something like this, not from anyone other than John. Getting up, she nodded as a form of thanks before returning to John.
“...so what now?”
The woman looked at John, tilting her head to the side.
“You… well, I suppose it is worth a try.”
“What do you mean, worth a try?”
“I cannot see you. You… are like a clouded window. I cannot see into your future. But I may as well try. After all, this was a request given to me by some I consider precious.”
John hesitantly sat down. How much would be revealed? He hadn’t known what he was getting into, only that Haze had told him this was a rare opportunity. He wasn’t particularly fond of what was going on here. In fact, he wasn’t fond of fortune telling in the first place. It was cool, sure, but unless there was some kind of defying fate involved, the prophecies would always come true. After all, it was the [Author] who created the prophecy, and the [Author] who created the [Story].
That wasn’t all of it though. His main reason for his distaste toward the act was simply that he and fortune telling didn’t get along.
The elf closed her eyes, going through her rituals a third time, but as time passed, she began to frown. Something was wrong. Just like before, the wind started to pick up, but it didn’t calm down. Instead, it got stronger. And stronger. The firepit burst into an explosion of flames before snuffing out like a candle, items being thrown around the room as the wind grew more and more powerful.
“Enough!” Vespera cried out, and the storm stopped.
“You… who are you?”