“… I’m afraid I have no clue what you speak of, young Ting Ren.” An Shen sat back down in his seat, arms on his lap. Out of view, his right hand beckoned for his invisible avatar to return from the chamber of the now-deceased Order. If Ting Ren was simply stalling for time to spring yet another ill-advised ambush on him, it would be wise to have an unseen, almighty bodyguard by his side.
Miles away, the ethereal mana form begins to exit the room at its owner’s command, kicking off the ground to rise above and out of the growing cyan flames licking at the walls of the hall. But just as it passed through the inferno of blue, the astral body quickly lost integrity, falling apart as the energy composing it was leeched away by the otherworldly pyre. Within seconds, it had been consumed by the very same fire it had stoked.
An Shen grimaced as his vision returned to a single viewpoint, the connection cut.
Damn it, he cursed silently. The flames of mana overload shouldn’t have done something like this – it should be entirely confined to the source! Without meddling from foreign influences, control interference of external conjurations isn’t something that-
Ah- it wasn’t an external influence.
Don’t tell me that utilising the spell as a conduit… injected the flames with the spell’s unique mana signature?!
A misstep right at the finish line.
Yes, An Shen had created this plan for the sole purpose of destroying the ill-advised ambitions of the Order, but with that much leftover mana, he would have been able to carry out many more tactics that would have assisted greatly with his benevolent rule over Glint. If his calculations were correct, for about another seven or so years it would be as if the Order had never perished at all – but now he would have to accomplish the duties of all ten Seats by his lonesome.
Ultimately, though… this was no matter. In the end, An Shen had still achieved his goals. The extraneous mana was always going to be a bonus, not the objective.
Very well. Perhaps this was always pre-destined. Let the vestiges of this dark chapter of Glint be cleansed entirely in the holy flames of repentance. May what comes next bury the ashes of this misadventure in darkness.
“Oh come on! You’re not seriously telling me you did all this yourself?! The Headmaster of a magic school, which just so happened to be where I woke up?! The only way you could have gotten this much power, is if my Mask was bestowed upon you!”
Then there was this whining brat.
Even at his finest, Ting Ren was nothing compared to An Shen – less so now that he had returned to life as this inferior version. If that original prodigy had been given time to grow, perhaps in a decade or two he might have posed a threat. But with what Ting Ren had shown thus far, there was no way a snot-nosed child could overpower a veteran of the Great War.
Besides, he had just lost access to the Class System – the only spell school the amnesiac Ting Ren had learnt in his new life. How could he possibly defeat An Shen?
“Young Ting Ren, I fear your mind must be addled from overwork and distress. After all, it seems that a great wrong has been wrought upon us all. A miscreant must have taken advantage of a loophole in the Class System and-”
“Oh, give me a break!” The boy groaned. “You think I don’t recognise the Sage’s fingerprints all over that Class System?! It’s so damned obvious! What was it, a variation on Gulfin’s Mass Area Siphon? Roal’s Pickpocket from Enemy?”
An Shen frowned at the child’s continual use of strange words. While it was now certain that this Ting Ren had zero clue of what his previous self had figured out, by some coincidence borne from delusion and madness, the boy had once again linked the Class System’s disappearance back to the Headmaster himself.
Though, it wasn’t as if anyone would believe the ramblings of a student of magic, driven insane by the loss of his one defining trait. And if anyone did try to look into this far-fetched conspiracy theory, An Shen could easily deflect any potential accusations to the mysterious intruder that had killed the Order of Glint.
An Shen had a perfect alibi, after all.
The Headmaster relaxed, leaning back in his leather-bound chair. Waving a hand dismissively at the boy, An Shen lazily retrieved a blank sheet of paper from his drawer, ready to draft a statement to the public on the recent events that had occurred in such cruel succession. Admin work could be tedious, but it was the foundation of every great enterprise.
“Young Ting Ren, don’t be silly. I have important work to do, such as the gruelling task of locating the one who has hijacked control over the Class System. Go on; run along back to your class now.”
“Nah, don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Zachary replied coldly. “In fact, I think we should settle this once and for all – right here, right now. Mask owner to Mask thief.”
An Shen hadn’t been paying much attention to the boy at this point. The Headmaster of Orth Academy had already said his piece to a clearly defiant student. If that child were to throw a tantrum following that, well, given his position he would be within his rights to suspend the disobedient student in kind. An Shen was now shielded entirely by the structure of the Academy’s rules, unfazed by wild, unsubstantiated accusations flung at him by children and lunatics.
But what happened next had his full, undivided attention.
Ting Ren, a recently recovered amnesiac who was supposed to have no knowledge of any other spell school other than the one he had been indoctrinated in, brought his right hand over his face, covering his eyes – and said two words that would make absolutely no sense in the context of the situation…
Unless it had been a spell.
“Mask Generation.”
An Shen watched in disbelief as before his eyes, the child he had dismissed moments earlier formed a glinting, yellow covering out of thin air – a mask which the boy was now fastening to the top half of his face.
This can’t- what?!
“Go on,” Zachary called out airily to the elder. “It’s only fitting that the two of us dress for the occasion, no? I know you want to – put yours on, then our fight can begin.”
An Shen stared unblinkingly at the mask-clad student in front of him, shell-shocked. Mask Generation? He hurriedly flipped through decades of learnt spells in his mind, struggling to find even a hint as to what this unknown conjuration did. But while he could dredge up chants that summoned blades of ice and called down bolts of lightning… this seemingly innocuous spell eluded the Headmaster.
A spell… that I don’t know?!
That was impossible. No, it was far beyond the point of impossibility – it was complete fantasy. An Shen had devoted entire decades of his life – decades! – to the consumption of magic literature. He had forgotten more magic knowledge than the average sorcerer had absorbed.
For someone so well-versed in the intricacies of magic to not have even heard of this spell a child less than a quarter his age had casted… was not possible.
“Where… did you learn that spell?”
“Dear, dear,” Zachary crowed. “Are you still going on about that whole, not-knowing shtick? It’s a Skill, as you so very well know. Not a spell.”
Skill?
The magic oriented Ting Ren, who had up till this point been supervised by An Shen with a watchful eye, had picked up a Skill? Within the halls of Orth Academy, with barriers and wards that would alert him if any intruders that could have granted Ting Ren receipt of a Skill Acquisition Condition had entered the grounds?
An Shen just couldn’t reconcile the facts. There was simply no way in any world that-
No.
There was a way.
An Shen’s face paled as his mind went to the worst scenario. And with growing horror, he found that the theory held water. Compared to who Ting Ren was a few months ago, the child in front of him bore absolutely no resemblance. Ting Ren had been a prideful, self-absorbed genius. This… imposter, had all of the pride; but none of the genius.
A Class Five Psychic Shock – or a Major Mind Reassembly as it had been named by the spell school An Shen had pilfered it from – worked on the basis of wiping out every trace of the victim’s personality, their very soul. A thorough destruction of the target’s self.
Yet against all logic and countless rules of magic, Ting Ren had regained his ego.
The only way that might have happened… was if the one that returned hadn’t been Ting Ren at all.
…the mana stockpiles!
Both the Order and An Shen had been simultaneously stashing their amassed mana in the same general location – the city of Glint. With that much mana concentrated in the area… something could have made its way through; breached the weakened barriers of their world from another. And that something was now inhabiting the body of the young Ting Ren.
The Headmaster, of course, was right.
Though the way he had reasoned himself to this truth was not.
“Demon.” An Shen muttered under his breath.
“Oh?” Zachary perked up, grinning. “Are we going to fight now, o Headmaster of mine? Good, I’ve been waiting for-”
“Devil.”
“Are you like, hyping yourself up, or something? There’s no need to call me names, just get out your magic, and-”
An Shen rose from his seat, his face a resolute mask of rage and fury. The jeering from the beast wearing a dead child’s skin no longer reached his ears. He had slaughtered his friends, committed heinous, unforgivable crimes – all for the sole purpose of preventing incursions from evil beings such as the one in front of him.
“Foul creature from beyond this land, you might have crept into this world from an avenue of weakness – but you shall venture further no more! I, An Shen of Glint, shall eradicate every trace of your being from this plane of existence!”
“At wits end; the end of a story.”
“A man unsheathes a blade of unbridled fury!”
Zachary looked on amusedly as An Shen reached out into the air in front of him, right hand beginning to clasp around an invisible handle. But as the Headmaster swung down by his side, the transmigrator saw that in his hand was a glittering, multi-colored crystal blade, tessellated fractals shimmering in the light.
And his bemusement quickly turned to panic as the elder proceeded to split the solid wooden desk before him entirely in two, with nothing but a light, downward swing.
“Oh, shit. Uh, Profile Swap!”
Gordon opened his eyes for the first time in weeks – only to see an old man brandishing a rainbow sword at him, advancing slowly as he stepped over the broken remains of a desk.
He raised his hands in panicked surrender. “Hey- um mister?! I don’t know what’s going on here; could you maybe slow down and tell me why you’re coming at me with that sword?”
Ugh, why are you still here?! Shouldn’t you have relinquished control by now?!
Zachary! What the hell’s going on?! Why is this grandpa trying to kill me?!
Never mind that; just Bio-Control a bunch of tentacles to restrain him!
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Gordon lifted his arms as Zachary had suggested, hurriedly weaving tendrils of flesh that shot out from his sides, shooting towards An Shen in a flustered bid to wrap around his body. An Shen watched the five tentacles coming at him with cold indifference. With practiced motions, the veteran of war sliced the wriggling extensions of Gordon’s body into meaty chunks, reducing them to bloody scraps.
“Futile,” An Shen fumed. “First you change your face at a whim; now you bring into this world unholy creations that go against the sacred design of man?”
“You will without a doubt perish this day.”
“Crap,” Gordon exclaimed, backing up in fear. “Crap, crap, crap!”
Swap back, you utter imbecile!
The flustered inhabitant of Zachary’s body bolted from the Headmaster’s office, sprinting down the hallway as he ran from his assailant. An Shen broke out into a run of his own, his strides quick and even from years of honing.
And given that one had been a rather overweight janitor turned tech CEO unaccustomed to physical activity and the other was a soldier forced to keep in peak physical fitness to stay alive, the Headmaster began to gain on Gordon.
SWAP. BACK.
“Oh, er, um- Profile Swap?”
Zachary regained control as Gordon focused on the only Mask he had the most experience with – the Life Model of his own design. Continuing the mad dash Gordon had started, Zachary turned his head to look at the fast approaching Headmaster with his blade still in hand.
“Shit, I don’t think this will work.”
None of Zachary’s Masks could beat the Headmaster at this moment. He didn’t have a clue why the magic-oriented Sage was currently pursuing him with a damn sword, but at this moment there wasn’t much time to ponder the question.
“Rainbow Chameleon.”
In absence of a way to beat a foe through force… sometimes you simply had to retreat and figure out your next step. An Shen watched the running figure of the monster suddenly meld into the background. He quickened his pace, eyes trained on the last glimpse of grey he had seen before it vanished from view. This creature had not teleported or sped up; if it had extricated itself with magic, An Shen would have detected it – and if it had the ability to run faster than the eye could see, then it would have used this ability at the very beginning.
There!
The door of a classroom – where Ting Ren’s current class was being held, actually – had opened and slammed shut without anyone touching the doorknob. An Shen gripped the sword formed from mana tightly.
Got you, demon.
He flung open the door – to find the eyes of fifty four students and one drained teacher turn to him at once. The Headmaster quickly released the hold on his blade, the crystalized mana sword re-integrating into his body as he did so.
“Oh, thank the heavens – Headmaster An Shen!” The teacher gushed, running up to An Shen. “It’s terrible – something has happened to the Class System! Do you know how to fix it?”
“Rest assured, Mr Kan. I am doing everything in my power to restore it.” An Shen gave the hand of the teacher a few pats of comfort. “Have you, uh, seen young Ting Ren enter?”
“Headmaster, are you going to give us back our Class System?”
“Headmaster, I’ve spent so much money on the tuition – you better be able to-”
“Headmaster! Headmaster! Please, you have to help! I need this magic to help my family!”
“Headmaster!”
An Shen shrank back from the children, hands raised as he attempted to pacify the crowd of restless students that were understandably looking for answers from the one they respected as their great Headmaster.
“Please, do not be alarmed. I am currently doing my best to-”
His words only served to grow the anxiety of the young ones before him, and their volumes raised in turn. In their eyes, this Headmaster was a far cry from the imposing figure that had spoken at their matriculation. He was hemming and hawing – like people did when they had to break bad news to others.
Oh, God – was the disappearance of the Class System permanent?! What of their ambitions, their dreams?!
“Please, calm down. I will fix everything, trust me!”
Zachary had seen everything unfold, still hidden at the back of the classroom in the active camouflage state of his Life Model form. The stoic Headmaster was denigrating himself to grovel at the feet of mere children, something unthinkable for the image that had been built up in Zachary’s mind. He seemed to actually, truly care for these students; if he didn’t, he would have just yelled at the lot of them to shut up, instead of pandering to pointless questions.
Oh.
Oh!
“Profile Swap.”
Gordon opened his eyes once more.
The hell, Zachary?! You know I can’t beat that old man, why do you keep picking me?!
Actually Gordon, I agree with the kid on this one.
What?! Why the hell would you?! This grandpa has a damned magic sword that can mince me up in seconds! How in the world am I going to beat that guy?!
Well, things have changed, haven’t they? After all, now you have access to those beloved toys of yours you so excel at controlling.
What on Earth do you mean?! What toys?!
The Reclusive Scientist sighed.
Just look around, idiot.
Gordon swept his gaze across the classroom in confusion. What was he talking about? What… toys? All he could see here were a bunch of… kids.
Oh.
Oh!
Silently, Gordon willed two flesh tendrils to snake out to the two closest students, a pair of girls currently voicing their great displeasure at the injustice they were forced to suffer. They hardly felt Gordon stab the point of his tentacles in the back of the heels. They did, however, notice when against their will, they obediently began to stand up and walk to the front of the class.
The girls open their mouth to cry out in panic, but Gordon quickly nipped this in the bud, enhancing the growth of the cheek cells within their mouths far beyond natural rates. Within the span of two seconds, these helpless students no longer had mouths – they had lips which led to smooth, red meat.
“Ah, there’s no need to get up,” An Shen cooed at the two girls strolling up to him. These students must have been truly hurt by the removal of their magic.
Too late the Headmaster noticed the streaks of tears flowing from both students eyes. And their unnatural gait; as if they had been forced to walk to the front by some unknown puppeteer.
Ting Re-
You have received 643 damage.
A jagged blade of bone bursts from the chest of one of the girls, skewering An Shen squarely in the chest. At this, the students began to scream in fright, rushing to exit the classroom, their teacher frantically following close behind.
Blood spewing from his mouth, An Shen attempted calling on one of his incantations.
“T-the wings o-of-”
“Bio Control.”
The fourth word never left his mouth, as his mouth was quickly stuffed with the same flesh growths the girls had been subjected to. To top it off, Gordon accelerated the production of melatonin in the Headmaster’s brain as high as it would go, forcefully sending him into a deep slumber. Gordon wiped the sweat from his brow, advancing to look down at the Headmaster's still body in disgust.
Ok, there. I beat him.
Good. Swap back now?
“Profile Swap.”
Zachary let the surviving mute girl flee from the room weeping, the strings that had bound her released with the change of his Mask. What was she going to do; find someone stronger than the Headmaster? Instead, he chose to triumphantly swagger over to the unconscious form of An Shen. This uncooperative scumbag had made so much trouble for him. If he’d simply handed over his Mask without a fight, this would have gone so much more smoothly.
This called for a bout of gloating.
“How about… Profile Swap?”
Yes, a Mask that belonged to this world for a Mask thief that hailed from the same place. Fitting for the reclamation of his rightful Mask. Wrapping his hand around the old man’s arm, Zachary focused clearly on the form of the Wise Sage of Rikkon. In his mind, he was already thinking of how much easier the rest of his journey would be with such a formidable Mask under his belt.
“Now then… Profile Swap!”
But even as he called out, nothing happened.
Bewildered, Zachary tried again yet a few more times.
“Profile Swap. Profile Swap. Profile Swap.”
Nothing.
Frustrated, he released An Shen’s arm from his grasp, allowing it to flop onto the ground. No matter; the Mask thief was secured. “I can always drag this bastard back with me and figure out how he’s blocking my access in my own sweet time.”
Hmm. He hadn’t used the Beastkin form in a while, had he? Could be nice to spice things up a little.
“Profile- Ggk!”
You have received 72 damage.
You have been healed for 72 damage.
Without warning, Zachary found his windpipe obstructed by the sudden introduction of a blade.
“…throat first.” A quiet feminine voice uttered behind him.
Immediately, Zachary helplessly grasped at the dagger, looking to push it out or pull it through. If he could do either, he could easily turn the tables. But Zachary quickly found that the edged weapon had impossibly fused with the skin around it, as if someone had healed the wound with magic.
With this, he was unable to enunciate the two crucial words which would render this attack meaningless.
“Arms next.”
His arms were roughly grabbed to his back and pinned there, with surprising force for what he assumed was a girl - like their strength had been enhanced via other means. Twisting his body, he caught a glimpse of his attacker.
… the girl who had approached him in the cafeteria?
Meeting his eyes, Qin Sa spoke solemnly.
“You understand why this is happening – right, Zachary?”
Zachary’s eyes grew with the utterance of his name. There could only be one reason how she could possibly know that name.
She was the Mask thief.