And thus our worlds grew smaller year by year, as communities fracture apart, divided by the ever-spreading menace.
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Jair woke the next morning fully invigorated and ready to go.
Before anything else, he ran through his spell imprinting routine, repeating his calculations to follow the patterns of the previous night exactly. It would be weeks yet before anything visibly impacted his mana flow and he could do away with the guide diagrams.
Once that was done, he spent another hour in stretches and exercises. His already strained body protested vehemently, to no avail. He’d ignored worse for a whole lot longer. These early days would be the foundation of a whole new sequence, no way he’d leave out any preparation that could help in the future.
Ran poked his head in twice. First to see if Jair was up and berate him for sneaking off alone the night before, though Jair’s lack of injury somewhat mollified him, then later to see if he would be coming to class.
Jair sent him to go ahead on his own. He didn’t need to attend classes he could lead better than the teachers.
He needed to think.
His timeline was a tangled mess of causality, running back past where he could have any effect, through the present and his current slate of decisions, into the future with its eternally compounding dire perils.
Ran’s looming encounter with an angry dragon was seeded in deep history. Somehow. Exactly what was going on there, he’d never been able to learn.
In addition to questioning the angry dragon, Jair had tried tracking down Ran’s mother to ask personally why she had such a ticked-off dragon hunting down her family, but any trace of the woman’s whereabouts had long since vanished.
Regardless of the reason, the threat remained.
He would attack the problem in three stages.
First, purely physical and personal. He needed to test the extent of what Maelstrom could do in every circumstance, and learn exactly what he could expect from fighting a dragon head on. Ideally, this phase would be the only one needed, but he’d been eaten by this particular dragon too many times to count on it.
Second, he’d revisit the issue of ‘convince the headmaster to organize the school’. Their relationship remained antagonistic, but this time Jair had something the headmaster coveted. Nothing could convince Jair to surrender Maelstrom from his soul - such an act would be irreversible, even with Temporal Reversion - but he might be able to lend it out in return for favors. A legendary ascendant blade, even with its properties unknown and rank potentially crippled, could be a powerful bargaining tool.
The full strength of the academy was enough to eventually wear down and defeat the dragon even with its anti-magic properties. The problem was the attacker’s single-minded nature. Killing the dragon was relatively easy, but short of a pre-planned and entirely focused defence, nothing would stop the dragon from eating Ran before it went down.
If Larenok could be convinced to bring everyone together and tackle this problem head on, that might be the most likely route to success.
Third, explore his new status among his fellow students and search out any connections they may be able to avail themselves of. None of them could solve the problem themselves, but many of them had relatives or allies in high places.
He’d never convinced anyone of anything in his former status as a social pariah, but as the ascendant genius? He suspected quite a few new avenues of potential resources would be open to him now.
New options, new relationships, new directions to explore. Along with new potential dangers. Things which would never have been possible before could be simple now; things that were trivial before might be more difficult with increased scrutiny on him.
There was technically a possible fourth stage. If none of the previous options was sufficient, either alone or in combination… move on through the timeline again, alone. Seek out Aethron, find a way to repair the interrupted ascension, and further increase Maelstrom’s power until such a time as he could stop the dragon in its tracks with a single blow.
It wouldn’t come to that. He wouldn’t let it.
If he had to rerun this same week a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand times, he would.
He was done fighting alone. He’d done it for years, yes. He could technically do it again if he had to. But he’d allow the thought no chance to claim a foothold in his mind. He’d driven himself to the edge of sanity too many times already.
What would he become by the end of another full loop on his own?
Nope. Not going there.
He switched to throwing his sword and pushed away thought entirely for a time, recentering on his body and giving the exercise his full attention.
By the time he wore himself out and sat down to rest, he’d regained some control over himself.
Beyond the immediate threat, he also had years of preparation ahead of him. His usual reasons for infiltrating the nobility may be obsolete - if Ran survived, he’d be able to open doors and fund basic investments that Jair couldn’t do on his own - but there was still plenty to learn there that had simply never been accessible to someone of Jair’s birth and position.
The ongoing unrest as the king slowly descended into madness, the leaders of the eventual coup, the current location of the dark sorcerer Sekir, all things he didn’t know nearly enough about.
He knew when and how the assassination attempt would be staged, knew where Sekir would be in a year, knew how to find the princess during Terlunia two years from now, but he’d never been able to gain access to the high courts or palace to observe the days leading up to those key events. Never been able to trace them back to their roots.
“You’re still here?”
Jair blinked up at his exasperated friend, smiling. “Nope, I’m on the library roof.”
Ran didn’t dignify the joke with a response. “You planning to skip lunch too?”
“Oh,” Jair glanced down at his stomach, which informed him that, yes, it wanted food. “Yeah, good point. Lost track of time. But food is necessary, and if it’s free it’s free.”
Free? Ran mouthed, hints of worry creasing his brow. “Lian didn’t hit you in the head while I wasn’t there, did he?”
Jair only grinned and grabbed his hand. “Come on! We don’t want to be late for lunch.”
Ran gave up. Together they raced outside into a sandstorm. Wind whipped through the academy grounds, throwing sand up into the air and forming a dusty half-tunnel where it pushed up against the barriers protecting the walkways. The brown night-glow shrubs faintly lit the path, clearly confused as to what time of day it was.
Jair bounded down the stairs and out into the main walkway. “No shortcut today, huh?”
“No need to sound so happy about it.” Ran reluctantly took the long way out of the student village, following the paths instead of cutting across the grounds.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“It’s a wonderful day!”
“You need more sleep,” Ran grumbled. “Or I do.”
“I’m not allowed to be hopeful?”
“You just skipped every morning class, and would have skipped lunch too if I hadn’t come back for you. What’s so important, and why does it have you this hyper?”
“Dragon-slaying remains the most important thing. But it’s fine. Things will be different this time. How was the morning?”
Ran looked relieved to be able to talk and think about something besides Jair’s questionable mental stability, and launched into a play by play of the morning’s classes.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Jair’s sudden shift in status spilled over onto his known best friend, but he still found it bizarre to hear about people trying to cozy up to Ran all of a sudden. Students who’d never cared for him as the heir to House Serin suddenly wanted to be his friends because of one day of flashy sword from Jair? Highly suspicious.
By the time they arrived at the dining hall, Ran had lost the worried tinge to his voice, back to his usual combination of eagerness and good-natured grumbling.
Jair dedicated the rest of the day to accompanying Ran to classes, not because he cared about the lessons in the slightest, but because he needed to regain the rhythm of being the Jair he had been however long ago. Or at least some approximation thereof.
Currently every second sentence out of his mouth made Ran suspect his sanity, so he should probably hold back a bit. Try harder to ease him into the true insanity that was Jair’s life.
Attending class would also help forestall any further harassment from the headmaster, who could become a problem quickly if Jair skipped out on too much.
Besides, now that he was an official Mageblade initiate, the afternoon classes included practicals. Sparring with his fellow initiates couldn’t compare with fighting a real master, but it would still help move him toward his ideal of peak fitness while satisfying the teachers who could otherwise complain about his absence.
That evening, they split their time between their usual evening activities (mainly reading and spellpainting in their apartment or one of the library towers) and setting up some of Jair's traps and preparations for the inevitable dragon fight.
Though Ran protested at first, he soon got into the venture once he stopped worrying about getting caught vandalizing Institute grounds. They even turned it into something of a game.
Neither were naturally the outdoorsy type, one reason they got along so well prior to the loop. Both relatively withdrawn, sedentary types who would rather sit studying together in silence for hours, satisfied knowing someone was there without the need to talk at excessive length.
Yes, they'd joke around and play, what young men wouldn't? But they were less interested in the racing or fencing or starball or whatever else everyone got up to evenings and weekends.
The secondary athletic programs weren't the main point of the Institute but most Mageblade initiates were on the more active side of the spectrum. Jair had been only reluctantly interested in the 'blade' part of the rare class, much more interested in the 'mage'.
An ignorant nobody from nowhere, however intelligent, would have no way of obtaining spell imprints in his youth. Mageblade was one of the few magic-enabled classes that didn't explicitly require existing imprints.
Even at their best, the western sandmarshes weren't known for producing stellar academics, and to call Jair’s home a ‘remote village’ gave it altogether too much credit.
Mageblade provided one of very few options for late-in-life formal spell-acquisition training, short of a personal mentor or expensive tutors. Entry requirements for the Astralla Institute were high, but not entirely unattainable. With a few years of devoted study and preparation, Jair earned his way into one of the limited available outreach slots.
Early on, he’d focused his passion on spells. Prior to unlocking the class and throughout the first several hundred loops he'd only done the bare minimum required for blade practices.
That attitude had eventually changed. After enough loops progressed beyond the academy and out into the reality of the world, he quickly realized why Mageblade was a more highly esteemed class than standard mage. Having a weapon when magic failed you, having an available weapon to augment, being able to whip out a sword when no one expected you to... invaluable.
He couldn't do anything to change the first three years of his training, but he could move forward steadily from here. He'd never been much of an athlete before he attuned Temporal Reversion, so he'd have to ease into it.
"I'd like to go for a run before we head back," Jair said casually, as they left their final class of the evening.
"You do, huh?"
Jair nodded and hopped the border, starting toward the dome without waiting for a response. The windstorm had died down during the afternoon, leaving only infrequent gusts of sand to whirl up and stab at their eyes when wandering outside the paths. Insufficient to deter him.
"Fine, let's go run around in circles." Eventually Ran would get used to his new highly-motivated self. His friend would come around, join in, become just as dedicated as Jair himself.
They'd always been good at rising to the challenge, any time one or the other dove into some new field of study.
If he had to redo day one at any point later on, he could probably ease around to it naturally enough that Ran would be on board from the start… but he’d rather not. Going full chaotic from the start would be the least deceptive.
The central amphitheatre wasn't only for graduations and duels, it had multiple sections within its massive glass enclosure, separated roughly in thirds by artfully faux-natural walls of lush exotic greenery.
As the one part of campus kept cool at all times, it made sense for the bulk of athletic work to be done in the dome. After all, many of the students were from distant lands. Over-exerting children in full desert heat wouldn't look good to the Institute’s rich sponsors.
The back section formed an oval track around a practice field, while the bottom section was off-limits to students except as part of assigned agricultural duty. Much of the rare and exotic fruit and vegetables used in the Institute's cooking was grown locally within the dome, rather than imported from elsewhere. Also available to the students’ personal chefs for a modest fee that would still be cheaper than obtaining them from elsewhere.
Jair ran through another warmup routine, only slightly adjusted from academy standard. There were very few ways to improve on the Institute's training regimen, they were an internationally recognized training center for a reason. But Jair had picked up a few less common preferences over the years, minor adjustments that played well with his personal style.
Ran eyed him suspiciously, but didn't say anything.
They made it around twenty laps before Ran bowed out, panting and gasping. He was never an endurance runner.
Jair was gasping just as desperately, but he didn't stop, only focused more intently on the precise breathing regulation he needed to establish. The burning in his legs, the strain in his chest, it all reminded him vividly of the desperate run up Mount Sanctum.
Pursuit closing in, the steep rocky path his only way forward. The glow at its peak promising a new future.
He'd rerun that ascent a hundred times. Every misstep, every stumble, every falter meant his death. Failure. Restart.
Even at his peak strength, veteran of a dozen battles, victor of a hundred duels, nothing prepared you for a dead sprint up an entire mountain. Especially one as treacherous as Mount Sanctum.
None of it would be possible as he was now.
He couldn't stop.
Jair ran, the image fixed firmly in his mind. Who he had been, who he would become again.
"Jair, that's enough. You're going to kill yourself at this rate."
He sidestepped the obstacle in his path, but Ran moved with him, blocking his way.
Jair slowed, unwilling to run him over, blinking out of his fugue. The darkness outside surprised him, he'd been half expecting the smoky silver of Mount Sanctum's mana clouds. Soft sol light glowed on the plants to illuminate the interior, but full night had fallen outside. Stars gleamed beyond the dome.
He hadn't noticed the time passing, lost in memory, driving himself forward relentlessly.
"How long?" Jair gasped out.
"Two hours."
“A bit much, yeah.” He immediately shifted into cooldown, slowing to a walk to ease his trembling and protesting body out of the intensity he'd unknowingly forced himself into. Ran was right, he should have stopped sooner. He'd gone overboard and lost track of reality in his intensive focus. This wasn't the body of a blademaster. Not yet.
Ran's worry over Jair's sanity returned in full force. Jair deflected concern as best he could, but when his robes were soaked through multiple layers with sweat and he still couldn't regulate his breathing after ten minutes it was hard to convince his friend to let it go.
"I grabbed some food when you never showed up.”
Jair nodded his thanks, ate mechanically, and followed Ran to bed without protest.
The following days passed similarly, and all too quickly.
Jair split his time between preparing both his physical and mana bodies, attending enough classes to regain a basic feel for the social landscape, practicing sword-throwing, and setting up the environment for the coming fight.
There was only so much he could do without specialized equipment. Even leaning hard on his 'prophecy' abilities wouldn’t convince Ran to drain his family’s vault and order custom constructs. They did take another couple trips to town, collecting a few more items that could be useful.
The day itself snuck up on him before he was mentally prepared. His internal countdown reached the end and he still felt woefully unprepared. But he’d done as much as he could until completing his initial assessment runs.
Ready or not, it was dragon time.
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