“Always glad to accommodate people of power,” Dallion repeated. Magic certainly made people, and organizations, change their attitude towards someone. In the past, the Mirror Pool had mugged, blackmailed him, even tried to kill him. They’d made him the star of a game in one of their gambling dens. Now, they were acting like servants.

A small part of Dallion was tempted to root out this den of villainy. He had the power and the political backing to ensure that there’d be no consequences. Just a few hours and the most ominous underworld organization of Nerosal would be no more. No one would come to harm—at least no one that didn’t deserve it. People might even praise him. However, doing so would make him no different from the last Star.

Closing his eyes, Dallion took a deep breath. He’d recite the names of the Moons if he thought that would make things better. Sadly, it wouldn’t. Thinking about it just risked worsening his mood.

Err, the thread is moving towards you, Gem said. It’s getting longer.

Dallion split into ten instances.

“I see it,” he said. Quite brave for his spy to venture so close to an open space. “Gem, I want you to move so you're on the other side of the thread.”

Hmm? The aetherfish sounded confused.

“Just make sure that it’s between you and me.” Dallion stood up. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Something in his action must have alarmed his pursuer, for the aether thread quickly moved away. Unfortunately, it was already too late.

Trip up everyone! Dallion ordered, using his empathy trait.

A split second later, he cast a flight spell and darted in the direction of the thread.

Beneath him, people started tripping. For the most part, it was that non-awakened that started tumbling down beneath him. There was no logical reason or it—just a freak coincidence turned epidemic. Most of the people even found it humorous, though not much so the performers who struggled to remain on the ropes above the plaza.

Focus on furies, Dallion clarified, rushing after the thread. A few moments later, the glow vanished, as the person he was chasing cut off the air current like a lizard’s tail. A good strategy, though pointless. Dallion had no doubt that his target was a fury and furies relied on air currents to move about. Even with one gone, more would appear and Gem was going to sniff them out like a bloodhound.

The threads vanished, the aetherfish said.

“Stay there,” Dallion ordered. Even after all this time, Gem still wasn’t the most reliable being when it came to tracking things in the real world. “Get ready, Ruby.” Dallion’s fingers cast a new spell.

A portal emerged in front of him. Using the aetherfish as an anchor point, he teleported half a mile from the plaza and immediately burst into instances. Hundreds of him spread out, covering several blocks of the city, and then Dallion found it: the unmistakable emanation of magic that had been spying on him since his room. He only glanced at the figure for a moment, but it was enough. Two new spells were cast. Clusters of lightning engulfed the area, draining magic from everything they touched. At the Academy, this would be a devastating spell; here it was a scalpel only noticed by people with magic—in other words, furies.

You don’t have to go overboard, the armadil shield said.

“It won’t hurt them much,” Dallion replied as his own flight spell lost its strength.

With all magic in the area gone, gravity pulled him back to the ground. For someone with a body trait of over sixty, that was hardly an issue, though. Dallion spread his arms and legs, letting himself glide for a bit. It wasn’t exactly gliding, and it merely slowed his fall for fractions of a second, but enough to hear the thump of someone else hitting the ground.

Got you! Dallion thought, as he crashed down moments later. Rolling forward on contact, he quickly jumped up, dashing in the direction of the sound.

Only two of his instances sprained an ankle. The rest took different routes in an attempt to catch up to the fury. Alas, by the time they had reached the point of impact, there was no one there. The only thing that remained behind were a few marks on the ground.

Clever, Dallion thought.

A while back, the neighborhood was bustling with shops and mid-tier guildhalls. With the changes the countess had imposed, the guilds must have moved or closed down. No one had said it openly, not even the overseer, but the internal conflicts must have reduced the awakened population significantly. On the surface, the buildings remained almost the same they had been years ago, but it was all an empty shell. In all likelihood, it would take years to fill up again—possibly even decades considering the greater war taking place. That made it the perfect place to hide.

Hundreds of Dallion’s instances checked the doors. A few words with the guardians was all that was needed for him to see whether someone had gone inside. The answer was always no, but in one case Dallion spotted an inconsistency: a trail of fresh dust leading to a building and an area guardian that insisted that no one had been there for months.

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Ruby fluttered off Dallion’s shoulder, ready to slice up the door open.

“No,” Dallion whispered. There was no need to kill anyone. A quick spell and the lock opened.

In five of Dallion’s instances, the door burst open, as a wave of ice pushed him back. In the rest, Dallion shattered it with a measured point attack.

Ice fragments flew everywhere, shooting out of the building’s windows. Taking advantage of the momentum, Dallion rushed in. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of someone rushing down the staircase to the building’s basement.

Nice try. He cast a zap spell and sent it in the person’s direction. Had it been a normal bolt, it would have hit the wall, causing no harm whatsoever. Unfortunately for Dallion’s target, before that happened, the bolt curved, spinning down the staircase.

Dallion was just about to follow when a large figure in full metal armor blocked his way. A massive broadsword slashed three quarters of his instances, making it clear that he wouldn’t be able to win this on magic alone. Of course, that wasn’t a reason for him to give up.

Five aether barriers formed between Dallion and the blade, slowing the attack down. The strength of the attack was impressive, for all five of them were shattered without issue.

Leaping back, Dallion drew his harpsisword. Metal clashed again, metal, as blows were exchanged faster than the eye could follow. In mere seconds, hundreds of attacks and counter attacks had taken place, after which both Dallion and his opponent stopped.

“They said you were nowhere to be found.” Dallion took a step back, still holding his harpsisword.

“No one really looked.” The person in armor removed her helmet, revealing March’s face.

For several seconds Dallion just stood there, not moving a muscle. Even with all his magic, he knew that the woman could end him if he let his guard down. She’d already done that to at least one mage Dallion knew of. In the past they had been guildmates, more than that—they’d even been friends, but time and war had a tendency to change anyone. Maintaining a few dozen instances at the ready, Dallion tried to determine how things stood between them. When March put away her weapon, he let out a mental sigh of relief.

“You’ve improved a bit,” she said. “I thought that after joining the Academy, you’d only rely on magic.”

“Lucky that I didn’t.” Dallion didn’t expect their first meeting to be like this. “I heard you were dead.” He lowered his own weapon. “Or imprisoned somewhere.”

“I’m always imprisoned.” March tapped her armor. “Part of my punishment. You’ve done pretty well for yourself. From fugitive to mage. Usually, it’s the other way around.”

Dallion forced a semi-smile.

“And where’s Vend? Still among us?”

“Oh, he’s alive, just not in the best of shape. He’d have liked to see you, but…”

“I can heal him,” Dallion said without hesitation. “I have the skills now.”

“I know. Maybe later. He never got along with authorities, even you. Nothing personal.”

Dallion’s first mentor didn’t want to see him and that wasn’t supposed to be personal?

“You didn’t have to spy on me,” Dallion quickly changed the topic. “If you wanted to talk, I’d have come see you.”

A faint purple glow covered March’s face. It lasted a fraction of a second, but Dallion noticed it. And the moment he did, he reacted. His harpsisword thrust forward, flying towards the woman’s chest. Caught by surprise, March barely managed to move to the side, letting it scrape her breastplate. The action was uncharacteristically sloppy, giving Dallion enough time to prepare a new spell.

“You’ve not March,” he said in a firm voice, a nine circle-spell near completion around his left hand. “Who are you?”

“Stop!” a voice said. While there was no one nearby, Dallion noticed the thin thread of magic coming from the basement. It was the same that had been spying on him all day. “I was spying on you!” A fury emerged.

The moment he saw her, Dallion’s eyes widened.

“Di?” he blinked. In his mind, it had been yesterday when he left her in Hannah’s care. In truth, over a year had passed and in that time, she had become unrecognizable.

The punky teen was a full head taller than what he remembered. Slender and elegant, she resembled a young woman. If it weren’t for her white skin and blue hair, one might almost mistake her for Jiroh.

“Skye,” the fury said. As she did, March’s face changed color, then the shape turned into a cloud. The creature flew out of the armor, leaving the empty husk to fall to the floor with a loud clang. Regaining its fox shape, it curled around Diroh’s neck.

That was Skye? Dallion wondered. He should have felt the creature despite its disguise. Instead, it had completely fooled him.

“Guess you’re not the only one who’s changed.” Dallion ended his spell, causing it to fizzle away. “I remember you being nicer.”

“Oh, she still likes you. She just gets overprotective at times. And I had to learn a few tricks to keep her, and myself hidden.”

Some tricks. Dallion knew mages that weren’t as capable as that. Now that the cloud puff had left the armor, he could sense some of its emotions. As the fury had said, he still felt a lot of positive emotions towards him, along with vicious protectiveness.

“Blocker items?” Dallion asked. “Blocker armor?” he kicked the armor with the tip of his shoe.

“Hannah told me not to try to see you, but… I thought I could pull it off without you noticing. It always worked in the past.”

“There weren’t any mages in the past,” Dallion said.

He was half right. Even with Adzorg gone, there was one person who had the potential to become a mage—Diroh herself. It wasn’t the standard type of magic. The trait didn’t seem to be as defined as his; rather, she seemed to have acquired a new unique set of skills which she could control—like a crimson fury, only different. More importantly, though, he could tell she had become a double digit.

This is an unexpected turn of events, the armadil shield said. Didn’t see that coming.

Which part? Dallion asked.

All of it. A self-taught ice fury is even more impressive than you.

Nil had said something similar at the time. According to the old echo, such furies weren’t supposed to exist, but came about due to some accident or other. The crimson furies—or blood furies, as some called them—were supposedly created by the Imperial family. In a way, they were like the emperor’s Praetorian guard, loyal to him above everything else. Di, on the other hand, was the result of an accident due to a hunter hiding the skill gem of magic within her realm for years.

“Don’t worry.” For the first time in a long while, Dallion felt a natural smile come to his face. “Everything is fine now.”