Sunday left the practice room exactly twenty-four hours later when the crystal that seemingly powered his enhanced cognitive abilities grew dim, and the door opened by itself. It was quite fascinating how a society such as this had sliding doors, but some things were a necessity.

Quasi-spells were another hole of headaches though, and Sunday decided that his curiosity could be sated at a much later time. If ever.

He left after briefly considering spending the rest of his hard-earned points for another day in the strange practice room. Ultimately rest was the better choice, not that he didn’t have a ton of other things to do. It was as if there was an invisible clock ticking in the shadows of each corner he passed, waiting for him to slow down or take time off for himself.

Too bad. Sunday was not one to succumb to pressure. He thrived in it. At least he liked to think he did. ‘Diamonds from the gutter,’ Old Rud had called them, mostly as a way to praise the practiced speed of their fingers and feet after a petty theft. However, the saying was one of the rare compliments they got so the orphans ate it up.

His head felt heavy and if he didn’t know better he would’ve thought that sleep was calling for him. It was a different type of fatigue, one that came from his soul. Like a muscle, it needed rest to adapt to all that had happened. He could feel his growth better than ever in the practice room, and mentally praised Elora’s suggestion.

And now for the other lovely mage in my life…

It took him a while but eventually, he found himself walking toward Zihei’s cozy little room, if it could even be called that. It was separated from the internal world of the Arcanum and the only entrance was located near the small outside office accepting all of those who desired to be sponsored in their awakening in return for servitude to the institution.

I wonder if there’s some sort of methodology for enforcing one to remain true to the Arcanum. This place is reeking more and more of things I don’t like. The cold walls spoke to Sunday of things better left untouched and sleeping, things that could suck the soul out of the body and only give it back forty years later, of ties and cubicles, of numbers and profit. He shuddered. All those he ran into were mostly hurrying to do one job or another. A loop of doing work for whatever crumbles the place allowed.

He had a suspicion that people like Zihei – the loyal rule-abiding followers – were there to keep each other in check. But who was on top of it all? Who was the one pulling the strings and benefiting from the illusion? Was the head of the Arcanum a strong mage with a selection of hundreds of spells and arts at their fingertips? Sunday wasn’t sure if another art would be better than the Black Breath, or if there was a need for it, but when he thought of the spells desire reared its head.

That was power. Not gold, nor titles. It was the spells and making them one with oneself. Even now he could feel the hum of Phantasmal Fall and feel it slowly growing like a plant that was finally allowed water and good soil.

He wanted the same for the Omen of Duality. It was his most prized possession and he wouldn’t have blamed Jishu in the slightest if the guy came back to haunt him as a ghost.

Sunday had also briefly considered ‘contributing’ the awakening art he had gotten from the high ghoul. It seemed less and less valuable the more he held onto it. Giving any part of the Black Breath was out of the question until the value of arts was clearer though.

But he now had Riya to consider, who alone was worth a whole Arcanum’s library, excluding the arts. The girl wanted to be a mage badly, and could perhaps make use of an awakening art better than the Arcanum. Of course, despite their recent adventures in the sheets, on the floor, a now broken chair, and a table, Sunday was not one to do gifts lightly. Pleasure was pleasure, and business was business.

Plus, while he trusted her a bit more, there was room for improvement and room for disappointment. Such was the way of dealing with others.

Another big issue was that the time of the Smash Ball was coming. He could feel that better now too. The time in the practice room had benefited him greatly. The spell was weakening ever so slightly, even without being used. It was a terrifying feeling, like watching a loved one grow sicker, and despite all attempts Sunday made to look at it rationally, he still felt it weigh on him. But he needed a replacement and he needed it fast. Let’s see what this plump piggie will do for me now that I’ve earned him a bonus.

Sunday didn’t ask any of the clerks for permission nor did he knock on the door as he reached it, opting for a more tense start to the play. His badge was after all not worthless, despite appearing as no more than a digital wallet so far.

Zihei was at his desk reading a book just like the first time. This one was painfully beige and decorated with flowers – a thick tome full of tales of love and betrayal. Probably. The mage jumped up and almost dropped his book. He released a sigh of relief as he saw the smirking Sunday close the door.

“Sunday! What a surprise!” Zihei said with a forced smile, “What brings you here?”

I bet it is a surprise you proper weasel.

“Oh, you know. I came here to thank you for being so convincing and allowing me to join this illustrious institution. Its plentiful resources and all the cheaply available information have been a great boon to me.” Sunday smiled. “I also just recently returned from my first task. Do you know that ghoul guts stain silk? Horrible little things.”

Zihei hesitated and his mouth played a little dance of uncertainty as if having lost the ability to receive directions from the brain. “A-ah. I heard. I heard. You’ve done a good job. Yes. Your presence here is a great for us, truly. How did you say it… a boon.” he finally said.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“How?” Sunday barked.

“Sorry?”

Sunday got closer and circled the desk. “How is it a boon to you?” he repeated. What do you have to win?

“Uh, you know, scouting already awakened magi and introducing them to the Arcanum is favorably looked upon. After all, taking in only the unawakened and guiding them is time-consuming and the process could last months or even longer. Someone established and knowledgeable is always welcome and doing tasks so quickly with such efficiency...”

Avoiding the question, eh? And you didn’t scout shit, I fell into your lap. “Who looks favorably on that?”

“The higher-ups?” Zihei seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable and confused, which in turn somewhat irritated and entertained Sunday. Aren’t you a rank two? Where’s your confidence? Your strength?

“I see. And what, pray to tell, was your reward for scouting me and convincing me to join?”

Zihei put his book down and used his hands to smooth down the front of his fancy suit. He remained silent for a while. Sunday absentmindedly leaned on the desk and used one hand to play with the different documents and papers there. Most were buried under romance novels and the few on top depicted random numbers and letters that probably meant something. Why was a rank two mage left to rot in this room? Didn’t the Arcanum use all of its resources well?

Sunday had been paid twenty measly points for risking his life, and even after learning of the true danger the task had presented, the institution didn’t seem to have mounted a response. Sure, the equivalent in gold was possibly more than what most normal people in Blumwin made in years, and yet… something wasn’t right.

Zihei took a deep breath. “I was given the choice of a spell to fill my current limit,” he said.

A spell?! Because I joined? Motherf—

Zihei continued. “Look, I’m sorry if someone has treated you unfairly. The Arcanum is a giving and equal place, and everyone’s rewarded for jobs well done. If you’re unhappy with the institution, perhaps I can help guide you through some of what it offers and maybe you can join the inner—”

“Tell me, who guards the city?” Sunday asked, making the mage swallow his next words. Confuse and conquer. Are you feeling as lost as me?

“The Guard,” Zihei slowly responded. “Why are you—”

“There’s no army then?”

“Not exactly. Many nobles have small personal forces, but the Guard along with the magi of the Arcanum and those held in retainer by the Council represent the bulk of Blumwin’s forces. I assure you though, the city is a very safe place and there have been no incidents in hundreds of years. If there is danger and the rest are taken out of the equation, the Arcanum, even if it lacks a sufficient number of combat magi, will be able to handle it alone.”

There was confidence in the words unlike any the man had expressed before. Zihei truly believed in the might of the Arcanum. Ah, to be an ant against the current... It seems silly for the city to be in the hands of two opposing institutions. I guess the City Council does enough to keep things running, but having the Arcanum is like having an ever-burning fire beneath your ass threatening to singe your pants at any moment.

“So, you’re certain that if hundreds of ghouls from the forests and swamps storm the city, it will hold? Despite the broken-down walls that serve only as a sieve against the wind, and despite the danger of brain-washed believers.”

“Yes.” Zihei immediately said. “And of all things, ghouls are the least of our problems.”

“Why?”

“Because of the night guard. Look, I shouldn’t be—” Zihei looked around as if afraid the walls had ears and he had said something he shouldn’t have. Why was this a secret? Even the Manor kids had some sort of an idea. Or perhaps they were just fed a legend or stories. Maybe asking them was better, but Sunday didn’t want to interrogate them too much. He had to build his reputation with them too and remain mysterious and powerful.

Which reminds me… Maybe visiting that village has affected my talent again? I should check later. It’s been two days since I returned.

“What is the night guard? Come on, you owe me that much for that shiny spell you were rewarded because I found myself at your doorstep.” Sunday made sure his tone was at least a bit accusatory. Zihei didn’t appear to be very manipulative, but one never knew.

“That was not…” Zihei sighed as he gazed into Sunday’s squinted eyes. “The head of the nightguard is a high ghoul. Please, don’t tell anyone. I know they’re rarely welcome in large cities, but he is useful and loyal and his talent for controlling the ghouls is unparalleled even among other high ghouls. Or at least so I’ve heard.”

Sunday felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Ghouls? In the city? Acting as guards? Moving beneath their feet and roaming around as everyone slept? Were they mad? Perhaps Jishu has screwed my perception of things. Maybe what we saw in the forest isn’t that much of an issue then? No. A voice in him screamed in terror at the revelation.

His visions had almost disappeared, making him think that it was just his mind playing tricks from being overstimulated or adapting to the new environment. Brains were weird like that and his was just gooey mush. However, that was not it. There was something else. Something that had followed him from the cursed swamp and nested itself into his mind like a cancerous growth, trying to drive him insane by giving him reminders of things that were supposed to remain buried in the past.

Sunday stared into Zihei’s eyes while thinking things through. His thoughts were a mess of other questions that wanted attention and answers. However, leaving the situation while he was only a bit unhappy with what the Arcanum had offered with a heavy sprinkle of worry about the ghoul threat seemed wise for now.

It was certain that the one before him was not just an innocent mage here to welcome new ones. There was more to it. Perhaps unique spells suited for judging one's potential? Perhaps something worse. I’m growing paranoid.

“Well, you’ve cleared at least one of my worries. Do you want to spar?” Sunday said with a smile. “Fighting Elora left me wanting more, and I’m sure you could use the practice, being cooped up here is bad for you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. My spells—” Zihei started then stopped. “I have no spells used for combat.”

“Oh? Are there such?” Sunday smiled. “I wanted to read on spells but you know how it is. All I can get are autobiographies and the ravings of madmen for the poor outer slave.”

Zihei cringed. “I know the Arcanum is pretty strict, but once you spend some more time and people get to know and trust you as reliable, you will be able to access some things without needing that much gold or contribution points. Trust me, it’s all for a good reason.”

I don’t have time, motherfucker. Not that he expected them to throw arts and spells at his feet, but…

“Tell me, what would one receive for contributing their awakening art? And what are you willing to do to convince them? No lies.”

Zihei’s eyes lit up like he was a kid on Christmas. Provided the kid had a nice and stable family and not a drunken old whoremongering thief for a guardian.

“Contribution points are the most useful option, but…” Zihei leaned forward, “…it’s not out of the question to allow you to peruse some spells as well, depending on its value.”

Sunday grinned. Now we’re talking.

He placed a hand on the man's shoulder and shook him affectionately. “Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

The only thing that sent him off as he exited the room without bothering to close the door was the pair of wide eyes and the stunned silence of the other mage.