I screamed in agony.

“Stop! Orlan!”

The man scuttled and hid behind an arm of the dragon while the rest of his troops jogged limply toward their allies-turned-enemies. They were severely damaged and, even in their zealous response to violence, they could barely act like they did at the start of the battle with the dragon. It was clear this situation was not one anyone had thought about. There might have been a point where Orlan imagined him having to fight us, but it must have been very late in his decision to help. After all, what was the point of becoming our enemies earlier when we were his best bet to achieve his miracle?

Regardless, we were now trying to fight for our lives once again, only this time, tired and low on supplies. The enemy was pretty much in the same situation, with the exception of Orlan who had barely expended any magical power, given each of his golems was using a storing stone as a battery for their magical supply. I had no clue what other spells he had in store but his biggest advantage over us was diminished by the battle.

Before the battle, we were severely outmatched and outnumbered; now, we had a chance. Only, I was caught by a robot and had barely any residual magic in me plus one storing stone. If I was going to use any magic, I had to make it count.

The golem that held me in its clutch was trying to twist my ankle. I was surprised it couldn’t break it. Maybe it didn’t want to do it, maybe Orlan thought he only needed to threaten me with breaking it to make me back out. If he could so easily break me, he could so easily do worse, but there was no point in hurting us when doing so would only increase the chances of us retaliating. He must have weighed the possibility of me retaliating for just a broken leg if I thought that was only the beginning.

Threats are sometimes more powerful than the act itself; animals understand this at a base level, too. Mothers of prey manage to scare away predators with only the threat of causing them irreparable damage, and predators weigh the costs and benefits of being severely hurt with getting some piece of food. That’s what fear is all about, an instinctual calculator of costs and benefits of behavior. If you’re more afraid of the costs of action than the cost of inaction — say being hurt than dying of hunger, respectively— then, probably, bracing hunger with the hope to eat later is the right cost for the benefit of not dying right now. This is how humans rationalize instincts into an abstract logic.

Orlan was rationalizing this situation.

And us? What did we gain from this? Why were we putting our health and lives at risk? For the Cabal? For doing the right thing?

I knew what Padrict was doing it for. Making things right was his whole reason even for coming back and fighting the dragon. But the rest of us had already achieved the most important objective: eliminate the imminent threat of the dragon. Orlan was not an imminent threat to mortals, that was at least what I caught from his burst of anger.

Then, what was I doing? What about Misa?

“Orlan,” I screamed again. “Stop this! You don’t have to do this!”

“What about you, Avarez?” he responded. “What do you care about what I do with the dragon? Is not saving the lives of mortals more important than enforcing the law?”

“This is not going to help anybody!”

“That’s where you’re wrong! Why do you think I’m doing this?”

So, I was right. This is about something greater. Something personally greater, like saving someone you love. Would I be able to do the same if Tedet, Misa, or Martin’s lives were at stake here? Would I become Orlan?

“Let us help, you!”

“Then, let me go!”

I shook my head. If we did, I realized, I would not only put my life at risk with the Cabal, but also Tedet’s and Misa’s.

“You know what that would cost us,” I said, and did not need to add more.

He already knew the Cabal and the Council well enough to understand the significance of letting a wizard break one of the Principal Laws. Impunity was tantamount to treason. And anyone who was acting along with the traitorous wizard is just as guilty of the same crime as the traitor himself.

“Then, you see why I did not hesitate to strike you,” he answered.

Misa had been shooting all this time. The clapping of her rifle echoed several times as she aimed to hit the immensely faster robots. Their processing power was enough for them to figure out when and where Misa was aiming at. However, her training did not stop at simply shooting static targets, she knew how to predict movement. Soon, she had taught the robots to react to her shooting, and she used that to force the enemy to move where she wanted them to and aimed perfectly at where her brain predicted it would be.

Machines don’t have that kind of predictive power, they only do it with enough data. Humans don’t need data like that, all we need is experience and imagination. When her brain vaguely calculated what the robot would do, she gambled. And her gamble paid off. She smashed the first golem thrice, one of the rods ripping half its body while the rest ricocheted towards the forest.

Data shows machines surpass humans in predictive areas once they learn to deal with us. But in the short term, humans learn faster than AI. Or at least, we learn patterns faster. We’re built to notice patterns, to learn patterns, to exploit patterns. We do this subconsciously, which is the greatest power we have. This is not only a human ability, it is hardwired in our genes from our ancestors. All animals work in patterns. The brain does not waste energy on understanding data points, but a cluster to identify the patterns. It’s our greatest strength and our biggest weakness.

But so long as we use it to our advantage — which is most of the time —it is a power to be reckoned with. And Misa used it to its fullest.

Soon, the machine was ripped to pieces, as she kept pushing her luck with more predicted shots. She pushed, she gambled, and she won.

I wondered just how long her luck would last.

As for me, with a machine holding my leg, and no way to escape, my only option was to keep Orlan talking, distracted, and maybe even convince him to stop. I doubt I would be able to do the latter; the man was hellbent on his approach.

“We all have a choice,” I told him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Then, what should I do, Avarez? Tell, me what to do, if you know everything so well.”

I shook my head because I had nothing, and all I could do was be honest.

“I don’t know, Orlan. I do not know what’s the answer, but—”

“Then, shut up! You know nothing of what I’m going through!”

“Tell me! Tell me, why you are doing this?!”

I waited for a response, then the golem began twisting my ankle. It twisted it further and further, forcing me to roll on the floor, hoping my leg would not break.

“STOP!” I begged.

“You have a choice, Avarez! Why not let your leg be broken? Why not chop it off? You will be rid of this situation if you do. But you’re still in its grasp because you think you can still keep it. Because you don’t want to lose it. Don’t you?”

“Is that all?!” I screamed between my teeth. “Are you just proving a point?”

“Did I do it?”

“Why?”

“You’re asking me to chop off my leg, Avarez! Do think I can make a choice like that?!”

I kept quiet.

“Absolutely not! I’m not gonna let my girl die just because you don’t want to break the rules. And why should I care if you die?”

There it was again. Someone, a woman, a girl. There was something there I could use. I was not just trying to get us out of this situation, I was trying to get him out of this situation, too.

Stolen novel; please report.

“We can help you save her!”

“Let! Me! Go!”

“There’s always another way! There’s always another choice! You HAVE a choice!”

A wind spell from Padrict. It cut through a robot, but there was barely any damage done beyond what was already subjected to. The robot continued limping fast toward the pair, and Misa was distracted by another golem who was acting differently than the one before.

I looked at my ankle and thought of destroying the robot’s arm, but I had nothing. If I could sue the wind to cut maybe I could try cutting its wires to force it to release my arm. If I had the right kind of earth spell, I could vice its arm and rip it off, like how Yand-Una would. And if I had my fire spell, I could melt the golem into useless slag. I had no more fire and the hellfire was conducted by the demonic power and not my own. I could no longer use the residue of the power to create hellfire, only to boost what was left of the magic within me.

My last storing stone was useless in my pocket, there was nothing—

Bingo! I thought. The storing stone within the golem! I could try siphoning it somehow. In the twisting motion of the golem, I held on to its metal hand and felt for the magic coming from the stone. There was a coldness that made me gasp.

This was someone else’s magic, and a kind that I had never felt. It was cold and emotionless. It was almost as if it had lost its source, the emotions that make our magic resonate and make it beautiful. This was the magic of a broken man that had lost his will to live.

But if there was magic, there was a flame. Or at least, embers of them. Warm residue of a once-lit bonfire of the heart. This was not completely dead inside, like some wizards end up. Those that truly die inside lose their magic. These people fall into real depression and they lose sight of the world and of who they are — emotionless, all they seek is death.

Orlan sought something, and that something was the only thing that kept him, and his magic, alive.

It must have been this girl that he wanted to keep alive.

I know. I am not stupid to see the truth. I know who she is, and I know what she means to him. The obvious is not lost in this dumb brain of mine. I am not that oblivious to what is staring at me right before my nose.

But there is always a choice.

I took the magic. I embraced the cold with my warmth by thinking of all the loved ones who fueled my flame, and I hijacked the flow of magic. I took it all, like I was sucking on a straw. I was getting a magical brain freeze as I absorbed the magic.

The golem will cease to be, but the machine will still be running, still carrying out its prime objective. The only difference is that Orlan will not be able to communicate it with his magic. Oral commands are possible, but the machines have learned to work with the magic, not on their own, and I wondered how much had Orlan prepared; how much had he planned for the occasion someone killed the soul of their golem and turned them into zombies: mere machines.

I could not eliminate the golem by force or magic, but I did not need to do it. It was going to get in my way, but the robot was missing half of its body, and I just had to drag five to ten kilograms of robot with my leg. I was used to something like that.

Well, only slightly.

I dragged myself and the robot towards the Sword.

“Is she your daughter?” I asked, knowing I was announcing my change in plan.

He was quiet. He did not answer or try doing anything physically or magically. Everyone was being distracted by their own battle.

Where are you Tedet? Are you okay?

I saw from far away forest litter moving, and more golems were dragging themselves to me. My spells were good at destroying or screwing with living or faux-living creatures. Synthetic creatures, made of metal and ceramic materials, would be completely invulnerable to my magical attacks. I did not have a weapon with me either. I have never used a kinetic spell, like throwing stones.

Water? Impossible. There is not enough water to use my water-jet spell. If there was, then I might have a chance.

My only option was to bury the machines and wait for Tedet, Misa, or Padrict to come rescue me.

“How did it happen?” I asked. “Illness?”

There was no response, only the sound of fighting, spells, and machines whirring.

“I lost my parents before I knew them,” I explained. “I lived with my grandmother for a while. She died in a fire.”

Still no response. I was trying my best to connect with him.

“I did it. I burned our home down. I didn’t know why, the house just started catching fire. I had blamed myself for a long time, thinking I had left the stove or toaster on.”

Nothing yet.

“I was beginning to delude myself that it was me. Then one day, I decided to forgive myself. That it was probably a freak accident. It wasn’t until I became aware of my magic and taught at the Cabal’s school that I was to blame for her death. I burned the house with rogue magic.

“I knew my grandmother very little, but I have been carrying this guilt all my life. But I’ve been trying to forgive myself. Friends have helped with that.

“Let us help you. We can save her. But you cannot do this, Orlan. Choose the right path.”

There was silence for a while, except for the usual sounds. Then he responded.

“It was a train accident.”

Flashes of news came to my mind. The underground metro had an accident a few years ago. The train derailed as it approached a station. To say it was a tragedy would be an understatement. Many people died. Hundreds, in fact.

“The Log-Laural Accident. My wife and daughter were there when it happened. But only my daughter survived.”

They found the reason for the accident. A faulty piece. But all records of it were fine. There was a massive lawsuit against the City, the Station, the Otto Rail Company, and the Railway Al Patreck Insurance that were supposed to keep the rail in good condition, including repairs. Everyone thought there was a chain of corruption or incompetence. But it wasn’t. Everything pointed out to be good. There were extensive records of all quality control processes for days leading to the accident. Even redundant reports as people from different shifts retook the tests without knowledge of the other — they found exactly the same data. The trains were checked every two days and reports still had the data and images of all check-ups. Repairs were made and there was information on all parts used, old and new.

The lawsuit was won by the city and all corporations. The people never saw any money. Many of the workers and company leads did raise charity money and donations as goodwill and PR. But all evidence pointed to a true accident. Something must have happened somewhere between the last inspection and the accident that led to the accident. No one was to blame, and the victims were the casualties of what people would call a Phenomenal Disaster. It was more than just a Freak Accident, it wasn’t just a set of extraordinarily coincidental circumstances that led to it, but a result of some unknown phenomenon, despite the evidence pointing to no cause for the effect.

“She’s in a coma. Her condition has been deteriorating. I looked everywhere for the culprit. To find vengeance. I lost so much of my time looking for someone to blame when there was no one. Even to this day, I can’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere is to blame for this.”

“The Almighty,” I presented the obvious answer.

“How could He be so cruel…”

“And the dragon; your miracle.”

“The Panacea. It can save her.”

“How do you know?”

“It cures all illness and wounds.”

“And the minds? Does it cure the mind?”

Orlan was quiet for a while, until he answered. “There is only one way to find out. Thirty! Execute him!” Orlan commanded with voice.

My leg was twisted, but I rotated with the robot and took a piece of log big enough to start smashing its hand to pieces. The force of the strikes was transmitted directly to my leg, hurting more and more.

“You’re running out of choices, Avarez. I wonder what you will choose.”

Orlan peered from above the dragon and beside the Sword, pointing with a handful of tiny pebbles. I knew I was in for more pain.

“Stones,” he simply cast, and chucked the pebbles like they were a baseball.

In its arch, the stones swerved from a direction that would miss me into a new line that made them head straight for me in a tight formation. The magic within them used the force of his hand and gravity to enhance their speed, accelerating faster. I would not just be pelted with pebbles, I would be stoned by rocks traveling at terminal velocity.

I braced for impact by trying to hide beside the robot who was only trying to twist my leg off my joint. The rocks landed, hitting the robot and my back which was being guarded by my magical coat. The rocks struck powerfully, a lot of its force was transmitted to my body and I felt it like I was being kicked by someone. Thankfully, most of the energy was absorbed and dissipated by the coat, transforming it into heat.

By the strength of the magic, I knew Orlan was not a powerful or skillful Thaumaturg. Casting a spell that manipulates the core laws and energies of the Natural is something that requires training and talent. Orlan was obviously a great Conjurator, but that is as far as his skill extended to. In a real fight between him and me, I would out-cast him by leaps and bounds; no contest.

However, due to the fight with the dragon I was limited, and using the last possible two spells I had left for something like this would be wasteful. I needed my own threats available to bargain, just like he did with my ankle. He had spent his threat, and was now acting on it, while I was still holding to it. From now on, I know that if he threatens to break my leg, there would be no point in bargaining with it, and he knows too.

Before I knew it Orlan was attacked by a volley of rocks as well, and he jumped away to avoid the peppering of stone. From behind the Sword, I heard the screams of Padrict as he called for my name. But soon his name called for help and Misa’s name. Misa responded to him and quickly begged for Orlan to stop.

“Try anything, girl, and your buddy will die!”

There was a response I couldn’t hear from the other side.

“See what happens? If you do anything— Stop! Don’t move anymore. If you do anything, I’ll break his neck!”

I could hear Misa give orders, but I could barely make out what she said. She threatened to retaliate if he did anything to Padrict, that much I could tell. Misa was never someone to give in to the enemy, she would fight tooth and nail, even if it meant hurting herself. For all she knew, I was just as much in danger as Padrict was.

Her response continued saying that if he tried anything more, even the least bit of pain would mean a bullet through the head.

I knew those threats weren’t empty. Misa had survived through so much so far, including now a dragon. She was a veteran. She probably had seen more battle and death than Orlan ever saw in person. If a friend was once again hurt, she would not hesitate to kill Orlan.

Orlan thought to call her bluff.

“She’s not kidding,” I explained to him while grappling with the robot. “She will. Just look her in the eyes and find out yourself.”

Orlan turned to see and stare at Misa. But Misa quickly noticed what he was trying to do and ordered him to stop.

“Don’t test her, Orlan!”

“I don’t believe you,” he answered.

When he began lifting his arm, he turned around and cursed. Then cast a spell toward the back, and moved away. Dodging.

Bang! That was a shot coming from Misa.

But a crash that came from the opposite side was what Orlan was trying to avoid.

Orlan cursed again, hiding in the opposite direction from Misa, but quickly turned to his back to see her. His eyes were wide.

“You shot me!”

No response.

“Let my friend go, Orlan,” said a voice I recognized so well.

He was back. Tedet, in all his glory, was holding in his hand four batteries that were clearly ripped from the bowels of the golems.

“It’s over, Orlan,” said Tedet. “Let my friend go.”