“We’re taking the picture!”
The lights flashed, and everyone put on a smile for the occasion—though Demund’s was forced. Even now, he couldn’t get his mind over the outcome. While people came to Enariss to talk with her and Edan took pictures with various visitors, He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, wondering if all of his hard work had been for naught.
He looked great—Edan had styled his hair masterfully, and his clothes were wonderful. But he’d never felt so empty inside before, so stricken with depression and the feeling that he’d failed. What had gone through the judges’ minds? Had they considered his project as ‘just another superpower’?
Maybe he should have told them the truth that he had memories from another world. He’d thought of it as being more superpower-related, but perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe the judges would have considered that to be better instead of ‘forming powers after an accident’.
When someone came into the bathroom, he quickly washed his hands, dried them, and headed out. His expression was fine right now; he didn’t look grumpy or dejected. He couldn’t look like that while Enariss was celebrating her win.
“Where were you? We’re heading to lunch soon,” Mr. Hothman said, spotting him. “There will be all sorts of famous people there.”
“Yeah,” Demund answered. Mr. Hothman patted his shoulder with a look of sympathy.
“You did very well,” he said. “Making it to the top five is an accomplishment in itself. Maybe they didn’t want two students from the same school taking the prize.”
“Do you think so?” Demund asked.
“You could ask the judges,” Mr. Hothman replied. “They will be eating with us.”
“Maybe. Thank you, Mr. Hothman. For everything.”
“It was my pleasure.”
Ms. Clarn was next, again with a sympathetic look. She smiled sadly.
“Are you okay, Demund?” she asked. “I hope you weren’t too disappointed.”
“I’m fine,” he told her. “Top five isn’t bad.”
He glanced over at Edan. Despite being disqualified early, there wasn’t the slightest hint of worry on him. But of course. He wasn’t the one that had to worry about getting a scholarship.
He hated that he was thinking so negatively. Pessimistic thoughts had crowded his mind as of late, earned from the other world. Now, some from this world. Who was he to blame—his project, himself, the judges, or the participants? The answer was unclear, so he was sticking to himself for now, and it didn’t feel good.
“Will the schools please group together for the banquet,” the announcer spoke. “The drones will guide you to your respective locations.”
Demund sighed. Maybe he was worrying too much.
“Let’s go! We’re finally done,” Edan whistled, stretching his arms out wide. “Enariss, could I expect you to hold a celebration once we get back?”
“I’ll be heading to the Islands, so no,” Enariss said with a smile. “I suspect I’ll stay there for a few months.”
Demund felt his heart drop. A few months? When she had said a while, she’d meant a few months?
“I guess Demund and I will have to celebrate without you,” Edan muttered, slinging an arm around Demund’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”
“Sounds great,” Demund nodded. “But how? Do we eat some cake?”
“What? No!” Edan laughed. “We’re going to hold a real party. My house is large enough. I’m sure the smart girls would love to talk to a Junior’s Advancement finalist.”
A party. He’d never seen a house party before.
“When did you two become close?” Enariss frowned.
“Eh, things happen,” Edan shrugged.
Demund’s eyes met Enariss’s, and for a second, she seemed to give him the questioning eye—she kept a blank stare, inspecting the two of them.
“I see,” she said.
She didn’t speak any further. It wasn’t like her. She would usually continue to question him, but then again, she’d been distant for the past few months while they’d prepared for the Junior’s Advancement.
Demund wasn’t sure why her lack of interest hurt him.
They were led to a circular table, and Demund sat down with Enariss to his left and Ms. Clarn to his right. Edan sat next to Enariss, Mr. Hothman being next to him and Ms. Clarn. The other schools made themselves comfortable as well, and looking around, Demund could see that they had been placed by their rankings. Because of Enariss, their table was positioned at the center front with the other winning schools to their left and right, while the schools that didn’t win all sat behind them in the large banquet hall. The remaining tables at the front were for the other important people, whom Demund guessed were the judges and the related individuals who’d prepared the Junior’s Advancement.
Though he wanted to feel happy to the fullest, he couldn’t. Thoughts of loss plagued his mind like a flea infection. He was surrounded by celebration, but he was far from it.
“So, you’ll be gone for a while,” Demund asked Enariss, leaning towards her. “I thought it would be a few days, like a tour.”
“It could be, but I’m planning to ask for a prolonged stay,” Enariss told him. “I have some issues I need to resolve.”
“When are you coming back?”
She paused, pursing her lips to one side. “Who knows?”
“And school?”
“That’s not as important. You could become first in my place.”
Demund smiled weakly.
“Welcome, welcome to the party!” a male speaker began, taking the microphone at the front. “It is my pleasure to see all of this year’s great minds concentrated into one location. The future looks bright, and I’m sure individuals who will leave a mark on the history of mankind will emerge from this room. But enough with the talking; you must all be very hungry. Today, we have brought the greatest chefs around the world, and a surprise awaits you as you digest your meals. Let us begin the banquet!”
There was applause, and the side doors opened, bringing forth carts stacked with delicacies Demund had only seen on the internet. The smells were glorious—a mix of melting butter and oil, the aroma of grilled meat, and the sweet scent of sparkling drinks and fruit, combined with spice and cheese. Demund’s eyes widened as the plates were placed before them. Edan had already taken out his phone, though Enariss looked unaffected.
“This is the best thing I’ve seen in my life,” Demund muttered, his hand reflexively inching towards the fork before him. It had been too long—far too long since he’d eaten something exquisitely delicious. He’d never thought that he’d eat such meals as Demund.
“Pff.”
When he looked at Enariss, she was covering her mouth, holding in a laugh. She cleared her throat when he shrugged.
“You’re satisfied by the simplest things,” Enariss commented. “All of your disappointment is gone because of food.”
“Did it show?” Demund asked, touching his cheek. “Darn.”
“I can tell,” she replied.
“If you hang out with me, I can buy you delicious food every day,” Edan promised, putting his phone down. “What about it?”
“He doesn’t like being indebted,” Enariss answered instead.
“What? Nah, it’ll all be on me,” Edan grinned. “What do you say?”
“If I have time,” Demund said.
“Fair, fair.”
Demund sighed deeply, looking at the dishes before him. Delicious food, lots of experience, being friended by a celebrity, sightseeing Zone 1, getting to know Edan, spending time with Enariss—what was there not to like? He slapped himself on his cheeks as his stomach growled in anticipation.
He’d enjoy the things he had. For now, that much was enough. Just for this moment, he could be at ease, not worrying about the future, not worrying about grades, school, or his disability…
The initial food portions had been small, but when more carts emerged, Demund couldn’t help but squeal internally in glee. By the time the fourth course came out, people around him had leftovers on their plates. He’d finish it all, even if it killed him.
Someone tapped on the microphone, drawing everyone’s attention to the front. It was a speaker again.
“I hope you are all enjoying your meals,” he said. “Dessert will soon come out, and expect a surprise. This was not originally part of the schedule, and there had been a speech prepared, but I’m sure all of you would find the event more entertaining. After dessert, feel free to walk around, both inside and outside; there will be no further events. The building will close at nine. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.”
There was less applause this time. The food had made them heavier. Demund’s nervousness had melted away, and now that everything was behind him, he could truly be at ease. They’d sleep here tonight and leave tomorrow morning. Once he arrived at school, he’d tell his friends everything that had happened.
When the lights dimmed, everyone grew quiet. Demund had a confectionary halfway in his mouth when the stage brightened, revealing a familiar face from behind the curtains.
He flinched. Hundreds screamed behind him when the girl appeared on the large screens along with catchy music.
A concert. They had the best view, and it was a shame he didn’t care about celebrities much. But this person, he recognized.
Aia Laia, who’d visited him days ago. She was back to rock the day. Was it his imagination or had she winked at him?
“It’s only me and you-oo-oo!” She began.
“And that makes it two-oo-oo!” the crowd screamed—including Edan. Enariss—well, she was her usual self. Demund didn’t know enough about Aia Laia to be excited. But he could still grin from seeing a world-renowned singer.
The hall was soon filled with cheering and dancing while Aia Laia hopped around the stage, making sparkling hearts and stars when her hands and feet were. The next thing they knew, Aia had come downstage, a dress of light forming around her. Though the hall was dark, it lit up as the singer moved around, waving and singing, leaving glowing shapes of the rainbow everywhere.
All Demund could think about was how much mana she was expending, but by the second minute, it was clear that Aia Laia was a possessor of a high-ranking ability. She soon returned to the front, high-fiving Edan’s outstretched hand and waving too obviously at Demund. He waved back right as she turned to go back upstage and felt his cheeks flare up.
They weren’t recording this, were they?
The girl finished her song, and the hall grew completely dim. The crowd roared, and the lights came back on, Aia smiling in front of the microphone stand that had magically reappeared.
“Thanks, everyone!” she said happily. “I hoped you liked the surprise concert!”
She waited until the crowd died down to continue. “I’ve always liked the Junior’s Advancements, but this year was more exciting than usual, thanks to someone. I give this song to you who didn’t win but tried their best. Don’t give up!”
Gentle music began to play, and she began singing again.
Demund swallowed. Had she been talking about him?
She had a beautiful voice—even he could tell. Demund leaned back, enjoying the concert. Even if he didn’t win, some people would have appreciated his work. That was encouraging to think about. He hadn’t failed completely, right?
“Oh, right.”
He took out his camera to take some pictures. He needed proof to show his friends. After taking a few, he placed it down to enjoy the rest of the song.
It was a nice song. When it finished, he found himself clapping along with the rest of the audience.
“Thank you, everyone. That will be all!” Aia Laia bowed, and people cheered and whistled as she vanished into the curtains. Demund had been worried and expectant that she might have come to talk to him, but his thoughts went unfulfilled.
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Everything was finally over.
The speaker came up once again, notifying them that the dining hall would be open until 2 in the afternoon. Now that the official events were over, people began to get up one by one, moving around the tables to talk to faces they recognized.
“Congratulations on winning.”
Demund turned around to see a familiar man—likely one of the higher-ups—looking at Enariss. He had a file in his hand, which he handed to Enariss’s extended hand. She opened it, glanced over the contents, and nodded once.
“Thank you,” she replied. “Will I be going today?”
“Yes,” the man agreed, looking to the side. “You must be from Tartis.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caridan,” Mr. Hothman said, shaking hands. “When will Enariss be leaving? She didn’t let us know beforehand.”
“The plane leaves at three,” the man said. “Will there be complications?”
“None at all.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hothman.”
It felt so sudden, so natural that Demund could only wonder what was going on. How was it that she already had plans to leave when her victory had been announced today?
“I will see you fairly soon,” the man told Enariss. “Don’t be late.”
“I won’t.”
He left, and Enariss got up, retrieving her items and trophy from the ground.
“I’ll need to prepare now,” she told everyone with a smile. “Thanks for everything. It was very meaningful.”
“You’re going now?” Demund asked. “I’ll go with you.”
She paused, as if thinking, then nudged her head to the side. So Demund got up after asking for permission, and when they went out of the building, Enariss pushed all of her items on him, making him carry them.
“Could you take these to my house?” she asked. “I won’t be needing them.”
Demund looked at the trophy in his hand. He’d dreamed of carrying it, but not like this. It felt heavy in his arms.
“Sure,” he said.
Demund waited while Enariss changed clothes in the bathroom, emerging in a hoodie and comfortable pants. Her dress had been folded, and she placed it within a suitcase—a different one from the one that had been placed to the side of the room. He’d wondered why she'd brought a lot of baggage, and he’d assumed that it was for her project, but no—she’d been expecting to win and leave for the Islands.
“It’s almost as if the winners were selected beforehand,” Demund muttered. He hadn’t meant it for Enariss, but her eyes locked onto him, making him feel uncomfortable. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, you didn’t,” she said softly. “The judges receive participants’ files long before the actual screenings begin.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not set in stone.”
She finished packing fairly quickly, dragging the suitcase to Demund.
“Can I count on you?” she asked.
“Any time,” he said. “Well, uh, good luck. I hope it won’t be too dangerous there.”
“As if anything could win against me,” she snorted.
“Deion?”
“He was a special case.”
They headed outside, leaving the suitcase behind. Enariss’s only items were her smaller carry-on bag and her backpack, which she had placed the files she’d received into. They navigated the grounds through Enariss’s phone and eventually neared the back area of the buildings where lower, storage compartments stood. Unsurprisingly, Demund could spot small planes in the distance.
They sat down on the stairs, and Enariss texted someone while they waited.
“You can go if you want,” she told him. “I’ll have to wait around twenty minutes.”
“I can wait,” he said.
“It’s cold. You don’t have a jacket.”
“You’ll be gone for a few months. I can wait.”
She looked at him, then turned her attention back to her phone.
“When you meet the person responsible for your mom’s death,” Demund said, “what are you planning to do?”
“Give him a punch on the head,” she replied.
“Is he a prisoner?”
“No.”
“Why is he in the Islands in the first place? And is he your only reason for going?”
Enariss sighed, lowering her phone. “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t want to get involved.”
“Why?”
“We live in different worlds, Demund,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “Even more so now. You—you can stay here. It’s peaceful and kind. You won’t have to worry about anything.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Have you heard of the Pathfinders?”
“Pathfinders.” Demund blinked. “No.”
“They’re a group of criminals,” Enariss told him, fumbling her hands. “Quite notorious among those involved with superpowers. Very dangerous, but very capable. They never leave any traces, and they magically appear where they want to. Strangely, they haven’t done much yet.”
“You’re planning to meet them,” Demund breathed. “Or capture them?”
“Sorry. Anything more is better not said.”
The wind blew across them, whistling in Demund’s ears. It was as if nature itself was telling him not to get involved, to go back inside because his hands were becoming chilled to the bone.
He wanted to ask her more. But what would he be able to do? He was only a student who knew little about the world, without wealth, without status, without connections. His chance of changing that had been taken from him, and he could only sit there, wishing time would pass more slowly, hoping that the seconds left until Enariss had to leave were longer than he had counted.
“It was fun,” Enariss said. “I didn’t think it would be so fun to watch you improve.”
“Improve,” Demund repeated. “Have I improved?”
She smiled. “You did.”
Demund furrowed his eyebrows. “Why do you sound like you aren’t coming back?”
She didn’t correct him right away, and it made his worry deepen.
“I will,” she eventually said, placing her hands on her knees. “When—when I come back, maybe I’ll tell you about it.”
“Make it a promise,” Demund insisted.
“A promise?”
“Yeah.”
Enariss paused, but she nodded. “Okay.”
She reached out a hand, and he shook it. It was cold, much colder than he’d expected it to be. Colder than his, and she was more densely clothed.
“In exchange, keep my words to yourself,” she requested, letting go. “It would be a pain if the school found out.”
Demund nodded. “Does your dad know about it?”
“He does.”
“So he allowed you to go meet this…murderer.”
“Oh, he doesn’t know that much. No one knows that much. It’s only you.”
“Why me of all people?”
“No one would believe you anyway. And no one would believe me except you. I’ve told you, haven't I? The Pathfinders don’t leave any traces.”
“But then how did you—oh.”
An image dashed through Demund’s mind, one from months ago, back when he and Enariss had been going home in her car.
“Before, there was a hooded person you chased,” Demund recalled, putting together the pieces. “Are they related to this?”
“You remember that? I’m surprised.”
“It’s because, after that day, you became more distant…”
He trailed off, seeing a van coming in their direction from the corner. It slowed to a halt, stopping in front of them. Its side door slid open, revealing a man—Mr. Caridan—who gripped his coat tightly around himself before stepping out. There was another person within the vehicle, but she remained within. Demund couldn’t quite make her out due to the strongly tinted windows.
“Time to go,” he muttered, and Enariss got up, Demund following her. “Are you ready? Said your goodbyes?”
“I’m ready,” Enariss confirmed. The trunk of the van opened, and Enariss placed her suitcase within it, and it closed automatically. Without missing a beat, she headed inside, looking at Demund once she sat down.
She didn’t say anything. She only waved, and he waved back. This would be the end.
“Would you like to ride with us to the plane?” Mr. Caridan offered.
So yet again their final goodbyes were delayed. They didn’t speak much while the van moved. Maybe it was because Aia Laia was behind them, looking through her phone, and he could feel that she was among people he’d never have been able to meet if not for this occasion. Enariss was blankly staring out of the window.
“Make it back safely,” was all Demund was able to say as Enariss ascended the stairs. She looked back, waved once, then disappeared into the plane. The door didn’t close, and the plane was far from leaving, but Demund knew that this was the end. This was where they separated.
“Let’s get you back, shall we?” Mr. Caridan said.
It was quiet again on the way back, and Demund didn’t have the courage to speak to Aia Laia. He was surprised when she spoke to him, leaning forward from her chair.
“I was rooting for you, you know,” she said, leaning her chin on her hands. “It was a cool idea, and if you had won, many things would have changed. I’m sure of it.”
Demund saw Mr. Caridan glance at them through the rear mirror. But the man didn’t speak.
“Things related to superpowers never win,” Aia muttered. “Say, is what you said true? Will people be able to use magic?”
“Yes,” Demund replied. “I was going to teach my friend—the girl you just saw—how to use it, but she left.”
“How tragic.”
“Tragic, indeed,” Mr. Caridan said. “I’ve never heard of a transferable superpower.”
“It’s not a superpower,” Demund argued. “It’s using SAP to create a program that shifts the rules of nature.”
“Superpowers are programs—inexplicable ones—aren’t they?”
“Well—”
“Teach?” Aia Laia asked, raising her head. “You can teach other people?”
“I haven’t tried it yet,” Demund replied. “But I think it’s possible.”
“So it’s not proven yet.”
“No.”
“Huuu.”
She fell forehead-first on her hands, sighing deeply. “If you manage to teach someone, you can message me,” she said without looking up.
“Uh, okay,” Demund said. “Are you alright?”
“Tired,” she muttered.
He eventually got off, and the car drove off elsewhere, leaving him alone behind the buildings. He walked inside again, but by now, people had begun heading outside, and the place seemed relatively vacant compared to before.
That was when he got a call from Mr. Hothman, telling him to return to the dining hall as quickly as possible.
It was Dr. Folar from the Islands who’d come to visit him, wanting to discuss more about his project. So Demund spent the remaining time talking with the doctor, explaining his ideas and presentation until the man was satisfied.
“You stated in your presentation that you gained your abilities to manipulate SAP after your accident,” he said, touching his chin. “But I remember you saying that you had memories from another world.”
“About that, both are true. I never tried replicating things from the other world because it didn’t work at the beginning. I guess after the accident, something clicked, and…well, I began to try extra hard.”
“Hmm. Could your ‘magic’ be related to your brain structure?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. I was going to test it out with a friend, but she went to the Islands.”
The doctor tapped his fingers on the table, looking—almost glaring at him.
“Did I say something wrong?” Demund asked.
“No, not at all. I simply don’t know what to do with you. Do you truly have access to another world? Or is it a creation of your mind?”
“If it was only my imagination, I wouldn’t have been able to use magic,” Demund said, understanding what the doctor wanted. “Even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that I was able to recreate it.”
“Yes, of course.”
“What are you planning to do with me?” was what Demund would have liked to have asked, but he kept his mouth shut. He was close to an opportunity—he could feel it.
“I’d like you to join our team of researchers—”
Demund knew his time had come—
“—after you’ve graduated high school.”
His heart sank.
“At the Islands?” he asked. The man nodded.
“If you apply for a university in Aeon, I can write you a letter of recommendation. After speaking with your advisor, I’ve heard that you are a diligent student. We would love to have someone like you on our team.”
Aeon—the capital of Portanary, the main island of the Preliminary Islands. Rumors said that every single piece of revolutionary technology was made there and that only the greatest of minds could reside in the metropolis. University—it felt so far away, he’d never thought of it. Then again, that was how he would have fulfilled his promise with Jothan had he decided to stay at the Islands after high school.
“Why not now?” Demund asked. “I’d love to go to the Islands now.”
“There’s no need to be impatient,” the doctor said. “Hone your mind, graduate at the top of your class, and come to the Islands.”
And that was the end of it. No solid promises—just hopes for the future. Enariss was on the plane, and there wasn’t anything he could do to follow her to the Islands. At least through the Junior’s Advancement, he’d discovered new paths for the future. It hadn’t been completely smooth, but he’d earned something from it, even if it hadn’t involved any trophies.
It was just that—
Just a little, he felt—
Demund felt like a giant hole had been carved out from his chest.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
When the bell began to ring, Shaden knew something had gone wrong.
Never once had he heard its dreadful note—the dull, low gong of metal clanging with metal. It spread throughout the fortress, permeating through stone, earth, wood, and bones. By now, Shaden had learned what the sound meant.
Death. Whenever someone died, the bell would ring, thrice for each soldier. And the bell kept ringing—thrice, four, five, six times—nine times. It echoed from the northeast tower, its final note lingering in the air.
“Attention!” roared Benavon.
Every soldier had been gathered at the main grounds, blasting rods ready in their hands. Shaden knew they wouldn’t use them, but they’d held them with the intention of using them.
“Weeks ago, Squad Leader Pillen had encountered a group of hostile beastmen roaming beyond the border and was attacked. A team was sent to retaliate. Piev, Anasa, Terki, three men have been killed. The animals have crossed into our territory and have killed our men.”
“Blood!” Someone shouted. It was met with other cries of agreement.
“It is not yet winter, yet their cockiness has boiled over,” Benavon snarled, slamming his blasting rod into the ground. “The blizzard has not come, but they have come to our doorsteps.”
“Blood!” the soldiers cried, slamming their weapons into the earth. “Blood! Blood!”
“Bring out the prisoner!”
From the side, a beastman was brought on stage. Shaden looked around, feeling uncomfortable by all of the growling and anger that had infected the soldiers. The beastman looked at them with hatred, and his canine eyes seemed to glow with fury.
With a crack and a gross, fleshy sound, Benavon drove his dagger into the beastman’s skull, right between its ears. It was a quick and painless death, and the beastman’s eyes rolled over, lifeless as a pair of rocks.
“They have broken the peace,” Benavon announced, and two soldiers dragged the beastman away. “The fault lies in their hands.”
“Blood! Blood!” the soldiers chanted. Never had they been able to speak out of line, but the current situation was different. There was a kind of ritualistic pattern to it—this wasn’t the first time this had happened.
“One of ours for ten of theirs!” Benavon roared. “We ride in a week. Captains, prepare the soldiers.”
“Yes, sir!” the captains saluted.
Compared to the fervor with which they had been gathered, it wasn’t that eventful afterwards. Shaden’s squad continued with their training, which Shaden had joined once more. The squad members had accepted him quickly enough. It was strange how abruptly they’d stopped ignoring him like he’d been freed from a curse of invisibility. He didn’t get it, but according to Patran, it was their ‘culture.’
“At last,” Dilli said, cracking his neck. “It begins.”
“A bit earlier, but that makes it better,” Gel grinned. “How many mutts do you think you’ll catch this year?”
“Over ten, I hope.”
“Ten?” Enov frowned.
“I’m fulfilling the quota,” Dilli said.
“If you get less than me, you’re in for a beating,” Hinz growled. “Get more than ten.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shaden couldn’t believe his ears. Had they been planning their revenge, it would have been more understandable. But they were talking about the beastmen like they were prey for sport.
“Anyone that gets more than me will get a gold coin!” Pillen said, cracking his fingers. “Show the animals what we’ve got. Don’t think about losing to the other squadrons. Shaden? You can do well, can’t you?”
“Me?” Shaden winced.
“Why? Can you not?”
The soldiers’ eyes were on him, and he couldn’t think of a proper way to reply.
Murder.
Was it inevitable?