It’d been a long time since Millie had been in a fight. Aside from a few drunken brawls, the last significant conflict she’d been in was in High School. It had been an ugly fight too. But over eight years had passed since then, and she’d thought these kinds of situations were behind her.

“Give up,” the knife-wielding boy demanded. His nasally voice grated Millie’s ears. “I’ll only hurt you if you make me.”

Millie continued to glare at him. He was oozing confidence, but that was hardly surprising. He had a weapon and she had, what, a baby on board? Hardly a difficult fight for him.

Meanwhile, all she could do was stand there. Stand there, gritting her teeth as her mind raced alongside her heart. Memories of kickboxing classes came to her, but that had been when she was fresh out of school. Besides, she’d stopped attending those classes years ago. She deeply regretted that now, given how out of shape she’d become—and that was even before she’d become pregnant. Still, she had some experience to draw on, but would that be enough?

She grimaced. Not against a knife.

“You really need time to think this over?” Strickland said, snorting unseemly.

He…isn’t attacking me? She noticed. Why?

She stared at him uncertainly. “What, are you in a rush to stab an unarmed woman? I didn’t realize your schedule was so full.”

Strickland chuckled darkly at her banter but continued to watch her. He was holding back, waiting on the edge of their impromptu arena. Then it struck her.

Why would he attack? He’s already won. He just needs me to give up. And as long as he holds back he looks good for the crowd around us. He’s still playing them.

As she finally looked around, she saw the crowd watching closely. Some of them seemed to be deeply regretting standing by now that Strickland had pulled out a knife, but what could they do? The robot hadn’t said what constituted interference—or what the punishment for it would be. They were as trapped as she was.

If only someone had stepped in sooner, she lamented. But Strickland had struck so damn quickly. Plus, he’d all but guaranteed the crowd’s unspoken support by offering them her vision and her assistance for the challenge’s prize.

And she’d just stood by and let it happen. Why the hell didn’t I offer anyone in the crowd the same thing? I just stood by and let this happen. I let him walk all over me like an idiot!

She clenched her jaw so tightly she felt it pop. And why the hell did I just assume the Academy would be safe? Why didn’t I try to research the rules of this place? Why didn’t I just go back to the dorm after getting my vision? Why did I assume no one would target me for it?

Why am I not treating every moment like a life and death situation!?

She knew why, of course. She’d assumed the Academy was safe. Assumed no one would hurt her—because why would they? Their trial was over, and this was the period of hospitality. After this would be classes, and then probably a boring job as a slave to some magical city. What reason did she have to fear her fellow students?

She’d just assumed everyone would be on the same side. And even after I noticed the artificial scarcity of resources, too. God damn it!

She should’ve tried to contest Strickland for the crowd’s favor. Tried to sway them, as she had in the past when she and CJ had been bullied. But after that last fight in High School, she’d just…assumed it was all finally behind her. Buried that part of herself, like a proverbial hatchet. She’d just wanted to forget. To not think of moments like these.

Well, it’s damn well time I start waking the hell up, she told herself. But first things first. There has to be a way out of this.

They hadn’t set any stipulations for the battle, had they? She didn’t recall any. That meant she could drag this out, but every moment he ‘graciously’ allowed her only served to make him look better and her look stubborn. Further, she could see one of Strickland’s goons mingling in the crowd, talking. Recruiting, perhaps? To prevent repercussions after the battle for having used a knife to threaten her? That also meant once he had enough support and had fresh new teammates, Strickland would be justified in ‘forcing’ her to submit, and the others that joined him could help defend his position against the remaining students in case they tried to retaliate.

Checkmate. He won the long game and the short game.

Could she try to contest that somehow? What could she offer that Strickland hadn’t? Her vision? They got that if he won, he’d promised it. A few more people in a team? Even if students went for that, what could they do now? They couldn’t interfere. She could try to wait for someone else to show up in the market—but it was too late to make a difference. She wasn’t sure how to send messages to call anyone either. Assuming it could be done at all, of course.

Should I try to attack him then? She could, but…if he hurt her in self-defense that doubly worked in his favor. He’d be defending himself, and if an accident just happened to occur—it was her fault, not his. It was an open excuse for him to act with virtually no ramifications. He could literally justify having brought the knife in the first place to defend against the crazy psycho-bitch he’d named her not ten minutes prior!

Was there…any chance of winning?

The pit opening in her stomach told her no. That wrenching, awful feeling of pragmatism tried to convince her to give up. Roll over now, come back swinging later. There was just one problem. She was furious. At Strickland. At Magincia. At herself.

Especially at herself.

There has to be a way to beat this fucker, she thought. There has to. If I give up now, what’s next? I let myself be put into this situation. I let this happen. I’m dealing with it. I refuse to give up. I refuse! So, first’s things first—how do I fight him?

She looked the boy over, noting his poorly balanced stance and the way he twirled the knife maladroitly. He was showboating to a degree, likely to intimidate her, but his poor posture could have been arrogance, and the difficulty he was having showing off his knife ‘skills’ a product of its large size. Still, if she were to have any chances in this fight the first step would be to deal with his weapon.

The good news there was that her instincts rated his combat experience as low to none, judging from what she saw in his body language. Unless he was acting, of course, but that didn’t make any sense given the situation. There were far better ways to frighten someone into submission—acting inexperienced would only work if he was trying to lure Millie into a false sense of security. This could be possible if—

Millie paused, as she realized something. It was obvious, now, so obvious in fact she wanted to kick herself. She’d never been this good at fighting, never this observant. But she had something she’d overlooked.

Combat drills. Combat…instincts. She’d dismissed those memories, from her vision. Dismissed them because she lacked the muscle memory to go with them. Dismissed them because she was so focused on what she didn’t have from the vision, she hadn’t been scouring it for all it had given her.

And in this case? Muscle memory or not, she had instincts born from almost a month full of life and death situations, coupled with a brutal training regime designed to make her a fighter. And she’d dismissed it. Dismissed it even after she’d discovered she had instincts for magic, given her gesturing with the study cards.

No more, she told herself. No more assumptions. No more dismissing things. No more taking shit for granted.

And to start—she put her mind to not taking Strickland for granted. Poor though his combat experience may have been, he was clever. He’d set this all up. But also—

He’d been desperate. Paranoid. Willing to attack a pregnant woman for gain because he thought he had to. He felt pressured because…they’re gearing us up, he’d said.

Then it came to her. She almost smiled.

There’s another reason he might be holding back. He might be worried I have more than just a vision up my sleeve. He must be considering it. He said as much, even if he claimed to have dismissed it. But why challenge me if he was worried about it?

She thought it over but it didn’t take her long to find the answer. Because if I had something, wouldn’t I have used it already to protect CJ? Fuck, had that whole thing also been part of his strategy? How many ways did this guy play me like a damn fiddle?

She narrowed her eyes in thought. It might not be too late to play to that idea—she could try and make Strickland second guess himself. After all, thanks to Strickland, ironically, Millie now knew of a girl with golden armor and a boy with a crystal of some kind. She’d already learned about the potion one of the shopkeepers claimed was a potent gift, given out to an unknown student. The question was—did she have anything she could bluff him with? That she could convince him was on that level?

I have my bracer, she thought. But what are the odds he wouldn’t recognize it?

Looking Strickland over she didn’t see any jewelry or obvious additions to his uniform. That meant he probably hadn’t been to the bracer store down the way yet, but he could have also stashed the goods. Millie was wearing her gift from that store—the bracer was currently glamoured as an unassuming bracelet on her wrist. She’d done that for comfort, but with a mental command, she could dispel the glamour and return it to a normal leather bracer. It also fit perfectly, which reminded her how irritated she was when her attempts to make her uniform do the same had failed, but she put that aside.

Strickland might not see the bracer coming, given that she was fairly confident she might be one of the only students currently capable of mentally commanding enchanted items. Once again, she could thank her vision for that expertise. Yet another advantage she’d overlooked.

Damn it, focus Millie, you can beat yourself up later. What else can I do?

In contemplation, she realized the bracer could shield her forearm and help against the knife. It was armor, even if it was subpar as far as magical equipment went. But if she wanted to trick Strickland she’d have to play with the glamour in a way that threw him off. She had a fairly good grasp of how long it would take her to change its shape and color, but she also wasn’t sure how much magic was in it. It was a vanity item, so its magical use would be limited. Would any of that be enough to make him believe the bracer was a powerful magical item?

Eventually, after watching Strickland joke with his little girlfriend on the sidelines, Millie decided against it. There was too high a chance the boy would know of it, or something like it, given how informed he’d been. It was also possible he’d seen it—given how closely he’d watched her—despite it being well hidden beneath her uniform sleeve. It was disguised, true, but waving it in front of his face was a surefire way for it to get scrutinized, and relying on him being incompetent felt like a fool’s gambit—she had to exploit a gap in his knowledge or his emotions if anything. But, after a moment, she did recall one item she had that no one else likely did. It was strapped to her belt. While it wasn’t a knife, it was something.

The Tarot cards, she thought. They’re just Foci, and worthless without magic, but would he know that? They’d be fairly expensive to purchase, lowering the chance anyone would have picked up a set. CJ didn’t get any as a gift, after all, so the only way anyone else could have them is if they bought them, assuming the Fortune-Teller is even selling them. Maybe I can throw him off-kilter with them? It’s a good option. The question then was how.

She heard a curse from the crowd and looked up. One of the other students was in a whispered argument with Strickland’s goon. The atmosphere was getting tense out there as people began to take sides among themselves, jostling for one of his open team positions. She could vaguely hear the large bald man trying to explain to the student the benefits of her vision and the possible prize to be won. She couldn’t keep stalling forever.

Millie narrowed her eyes at them as an idea began to blossom in her mind. A large part of Strickland’s confidence was in the assumptions he’d made about her visions and the reward that he’d share. She could try and explain the vision and dissuade them, but would anyone believe her? Does it matter? He gets my vision if he wins, so he can just accuse me of lying to get out of the duel. I need a way to prove my vision, or at least lend credence to my argument, but how? How can I…

She paused, before glancing to the side. The servitor was there, standing sentinel, watching them both closely. Briefly, Millie recalled that the robot had actually named her vision in front of the crowd, though it was overlooked in the heat of the moment.

There, she thought. Assuming she’s willing to parrot some of the info about the duel, I can use that.

She just had to hope her acting skills were up to snuff.

“Hey, Strickland,” she said. He turned to give her an oppressive glare.

“Yeah? You ready to finally give up and stop wasting everybody’s time?” He waved his knife in her direction while his friends chuckled. The crowd continued to watch them with anxious murmuring.

“Actually, I was wondering,” she replied. “Would you like to know what my vision showed me?”

He snorted. “I don’t need to wonder. I’ll find out soon enough.”

Yeah, called that. But let’s see if we can shake them up.

“Oh—my bad,” Millie said, sighing dramatically. “Here I thought a little forewarning would be helpful.”

Strickland glared at her, obviously suspecting some kind of trick by her tone. But it was also clear that her words had struck a nerve. She could see the wheels turning, but she could see he was going to bite. After all, why not? He could just call her bluff—and he’d look bad if he arbitrarily shot her down. As much as he was acting the bully, he had tried pretty damn hard to make Millie off as being the one hoarding her vision and denying other students resources. Besides, this was an opportunity for him to twist the knife in—metaphorically—to convince more people to join him.

“Fine,” he growled quietly. “What kind of warning?”

Millie smiled innocently, before turning to the side. Please talk to me sales-bot, she silently prayed.

“Miss servitor,” Millie called out, and their metallic referee perked up. “Would you…mind restating the name of my vision again?”

“Of course, Initiate McArthur,” the servitor replied, nodding politely. “The name of the vision, of which the contents are being fought for by Initiate Strickland, is the Death Knell Omen.”

Yes! I can totally use this.

The crowd started whispering as Strickland shuffled on his feet uncomfortably. They’d heard it before, but it was harder to overlook a second time. It was an ominous name. Kind of in the title, she mused.

“So? What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. “What’s your ‘warning.’”

Millie was about to respond, preparing to sell her tale to pluck at the crowd’s heartstrings, when—unexpectedly—the servitor answered instead.

“The Death Knell Omen is a high-level spell that presents its target with a glimpse of their demise. They personally experience the moment, to help contextualize how best to avoid that fate. More information about this, and other spells, can be found in the Archives.”

Well hot damn, thank you miss robot, Millie thought. She was understandably gleeful at the unexpected windfall and had to suppress a smirk as she saw Strickland looking decidedly more uneasy. He could dismiss her claims as lies—but he couldn’t do the same for the servitor.

“So what, they…killed you. The Goblins?” Strickland asked cautiously, jostling the knife in his hand. “What does that have to do—”

Millie coughed, interrupting him. “You wanted to know, didn’t you? What was in my vision?” She said sweetly, before pointing to various sections of her body. “Here. Here, here, here, and here. Oh, and here,” she added, noting a point on her shoulder.

Strickland raised an eyebrow, and Millie laughed, somewhat enjoying how unsettled it visibly made him. Absently, she noted she might have been leaning into the act a little too much.

“That’s where they stabbed me, Strickland. Well, except the shoulder. That was an arrow.”

The crowd was definitely getting louder in the background, but Millie ignored them.

“They—”

“That wasn’t all, of course,” Millie interrupted again. She then began to make cutting motions along her thighs. “They also sliced up my legs. One took a chunk out, flaying me like a damn fish. Fuck, that hurt. Of course, that wasn’t the worst part.”

She chuckled as she lifted up a hand, and made a swift chopping motion against her wrist before letting her arm fall down dramatically. She dropped her smile and any hint of mirth with it.

“They chopped me up,” she declared loudly. “I died when they speared my throat, drowning in my own blood. And I was grateful. Ya know why? Because those fuckers ate. Me. Alive! That’s what I saw. That’s the fucking vision you wanted so damn badly.”

She jabbed a finger at her opponent as she shouted, cries of dismay from the crowd echoing her voice. I should have done this from the start, she chided herself. Despite his bravado, it was clear Strickland was getting nervous.

It’s almost like I ran around like a ‘psycho-bitch’ for a reason, isn’t it asshole? Shit, I do sound a bit unhinged though, don’t I? I wanted to unnerve him but that might have been a bit much. I wonder if the healing pools will heal mental trauma like the stupid Headmaster did.

Strickland managed to compose himself and squared his shoulders. “Yes, but the challenges—”

“What about them!?” Millie cut in, talking fast. “My death was less than three Magincian Weeks from now. Three. That’s only two damn M-weeks after classes begin, and you think I know the answers to everything? I had to take nearly twenty points worth of clarity boosters and an hour of wracking my brain to still barely be guessing. Do you think I would’ve stood around this whole time if I already knew? Well? Tell me—god knows you were watching me close enough you should know. Fuck, my ex could learn a thing or two about stalking from you.”

A few uncomfortable chuckles came from the crowd as other students grew more boisterous in the background. Strickland looked to his companions, gritting his teeth in a wide grimace, as uncertainty filled their eyes. His justification for threatening her was starting to fall apart, not to mention his already strenuous reputation to the other students. However, Millie realized that as much as her declarations were helping disarm her opponent—it was also heading into a dead end. In a moment, he’d declare that she could be withholding vital information and that defeating her was still the only way to be sure. Plus, he was merely unnerved—not off-guard. It was time for the second part of her plan.

“But…you did say it, didn’t you Strickland?” She said, with a dramatic sigh. “They’re gearing us up for something.”

“I—yeah,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you know why?”

He was clearly fishing for something he could use against her. Finally got this fucker on the backfoot. Now I just gotta throw him a bone, she thought wryly.

“Well, do I know what’s coming exactly?” Millie shrugged. “No, just the trash enemies that killed me. But—you weren’t wrong about us being geared up. I can confirm that first hand.”

She chuckled, as students broke out into hurried conversations. Anxiousness was beginning to creep into Strickland’s eyes. That’s right asshole. Think of armor and crystals. Tell yourself—is it possible this bitch has something else? Was she holding back after all? Connect the dots.

“What do you mean?” He eventually demanded, a few veins beginning to pop out on his head. “If you didn’t see that, then…did you get something else? More than just your vision!?”

He pointed at her, fuming. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he was taking this personally.

It’s possible I don’t have the full story about him, she thought. Balls to that though—time to really piss him off.

“Whaaaat?” Millie said, smiling widely. She channeled as much false confidence as she could. “Why would you assume I got some super-powered gift? That seems a little far-fetched.”

Strickland flushed. “What the fuck are you playing at!? If you’re lying to me—”

He froze when he saw Millie calmly, and slowly, begin to reach for her belt.

“Don’t fucking move!” He shouted, taking a few steps forward as he brandished the knife. “If you’ve got something, fucking drop it or give up now! I will fucking cut you!”

Cut me? Seriously dude? Millie forced a smile as she stared down the knife’s edge. It was trembling. He was losing control, and the crowd was getting heated behind them.

“Oh, but I thought you were curious, Strickland. Don’t you want to see it, Strickland?”

“My name is fucking Jesse you stupid slut! And I don’t need to see shit—I’ll take it off your fucking corpse!”

Oh yeah, he’s definitely riled up now, she thought. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, but she forced herself to ignore the fear and continue her false bravado.

“Alright, fucking Jesse, I’ll stop. Though I’m afraid you won’t get to see the prize, especially if I’m dead.”

“What?” He hesitated as understanding dawned on him “No, I…fuck!”

Millie tsked. “Jesse, friend. Did you just now realize this little duel you started doesn’t include any of my gifts past the vision and teaming up with this market challenge? If you kill me you don’t get my loot, nor do you get my help on the challenge. Not to be especially petty, but I don’t think I’d feel particularly helpful as a ghost after you murder me.”

Plus I bet the crowd will protect CJ now if you try to threaten him to get my ghost’s cooperation, she silently added.

Strickland took a step back, his face reddening as he realized his miscalculation and the way the crowd’s mood was shifting. His breath was coming out hot and ragged.

“Is that true?” He growled at the robot.

“Correct, Initiate Strickland. Only the resources agreed upon in the duel are available to be won, and any unclaimed resources in the end will be recycled. Further, the terms of a duel cannot be renegotiated once it has commenced. Though if both parties agree, a draw can be called without a loss of resources to either side.”

“Fuck!” Strickland screamed, turning on his heel as he stepped away, and began pacing.

I may not have asked for the rules beforehand, but at least I listened closely, Millie thought. She watched him walk along the edge of their arena, looking back and forth between Millie and his allies. She was fairly certain of his next move, so she decided to cut him off at the knees.

“I refuse a draw,” Millie proclaimed. “I also refuse to yield.”

There were a few gasps in the crowd as Strickland turned back to glare furiously at her. The little bastard had been thinking of negotiating a draw. He could always hope to come at her later for better terms, or at very least, escape the current situation consequence-free. At least, that’s what Millie would have done in his situation, so it only seemed logical.

But you pissed me off, she thought. We’re going all the way fucker.

“You refuse? What the fuck, bitch! You…ARGH!” He growled in frustration, before walking up and pointing the knife directly in Millie’s face.

Millie looked at it, then back to him, and shrugged. “Yes, and?”

Strickland’s eyes popped open. “What the fuck do you mean? Do you want me to stab you?”

Millie shrugged again. “I thought I made it pretty clear how many times I’ve been stabbed today.”

Her apparent disregard for his threats and calm demeanor threw him off. She could see him warring with himself, struggling with a simple dilemma. Does he attack me and hope I yield before I die? If I die, and I told the truth about my vision, he gets nothing. Which means, what, he’ll have to torture me? Does he have the stomach for that? And what happens if other students target him later for being psychotic? But then again, he can’t give up either, can he? A third of their pills are on the line, not to mention the ten-day truce keeps him from trying this again anytime soon.

In other words, it was a stalemate. Millie was also starting to wonder if her growing clarity wasn’t aiding her a hell of a lot more than she’d realized. She’d come to these conclusions…incredibly fast. Further, it just felt so damn easy to connect the dots. She didn’t feel smarter, but everything was just so smooth. Fuck, I wish I could’ve had magical drugs sooner in my life, she joked silently. However, it was time for the third phase of her plan now that Strickland had reason to hesitate.

Once again, she reached for her belt. Her opponent lifted his knife warningly but didn’t advance. Fear and uncertainty danced in his eyes, but Millie stayed calm and collected while meeting his gaze. She didn’t want to die, obviously, so she had to be cautious, but there was a good chance he’d be worried she was merely bluffing, given how obviously flippant she’d been. He knew she was playing him, but he didn’t know her game yet.

So, she decided to take the risk, playing off of that uncertainty. Besides, if he stabbed her, then she’d do her best to protect her child and minimize the damage, and heal it off later. Briefly, she recalled how she’d sacrificed her hand to frostbite just to try and escape the Goblins. A casual knifing didn’t seem so bad, really.

I’m…kind of messed up, aren’t I? She tried not to think about that.

Flipping the case on her belt open with a dramatic pop, she reached in and slowly pulled out her Tarot deck. Strickland’s eyes widened when he saw them, the obvious confusion in his face reinforcing her assumption on this being a unique item. She absently began to shuffle the deck while she stared him down.

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“What the fuck are those?” He demanded. “Servant—what are those!”

He pointed at the servitor, which glanced in his direction.

“I apologize, Initiate Strickland,” the robot said, “but I cannot reveal the information about student resources beyond the scope of an agreed-upon duel. However, I can provide basic information—in this case, the item that Initiate McArthur is holding appears to be Tarot cards.”

Did the robot just sass him? Millie smirked. Strickland however, only grew more incensed, cursing loudly before he retreated to his corner. He began to pace nervously again, watching Millie carefully.

I wonder if her revealing info on my vision was part of some rule to make sure people can’t bluff about an items worth in duels, she absently wondered. It was something to consider, but she dismissed the thought for now and re-focused on the task at hand.

Okay, draw a few cards, make a few faces, put him on edge. Mumbo jumbo, get in close. De-glam the bracer, block his swing, follow with an elbow to the face, then disarm him. If he snaps and charges, I could have even more options too. Okay, I can do this.

The plan was risky. She had to prey on his nerves and hope her reflexes would be good enough to pull it off. She decided to hold back on de-glamouring the bracer until the last second, however, as she was planning on gesturing a lot with the cards—she didn’t want to risk him seeing the leather under the sleeve. But for now, she just had to do a little improv. CJ had always wanted her to join him doing that. Maybe she could fake talking in tongues?

She smirked briefly, before drawing a card with an extravagant gesture.

It was the Queen of Wands. The image on the card was of a regal, yet buxom woman sitting on a golden throne with two life-like lionesses carved into its base. Surrounding her was a field of flowers—apparently the wands she ruled. Millie smiled mischievously, then held the card up next to her head before turning it towards her opponent.

“W-what does that mean!” He yelled, gesturing wildly with his knife. “What the fuck are you doing!?”

Scaring the shit out of you dude, Millie thought, continuing to smile, before she began a slow walk. She started circling Strickland, keeping a shoulder pointed to him as her stance remained light. She had zero clue what the card meant, obviously, but the painted-on woman looked ever the queen the card named her as and Millie approved. Plus, it had cats.

Also, if he charges now I can spin and clap him on the back of the head, she decided. He’ll probably graze me with the knife, but as long as it’s not my belly or a vital spot, I don’t care.

Then, Millie drew another card. Unexpectedly it was upside down, and yet the image still worked. Better, in some ways, oddly enough. It was the Hierophant, and near the top of the reversed card were two naked men huddling around a sweeping red curtain of sinuously flowing material—the men would have been upside down had the card been correctly oriented.

Millie couldn’t tell if the material in the center, running vertically along the length of the card, was more of a cloak, or perhaps an elaborate chalice with a section cut so you could see inside. It thinned between the men but opened up to a glowing gold altar in the sky above them. In the light was a pair of hands flashing an alternating two-finger and thumb gesture—one pointing up and the other down. Surprisingly, her vision’s memories told her what the gesture meant: As above, so below.

Millie tsked dramatically when she saw the card and showed it to Strickland, and on a whim began to walk in the opposite direction. He copied her movements, circling with her, growling in frustration.

“Careful Jessie! She’s reading your future!” The girl from Strickland’s group called out. Strickland blinked, sweat starting to pour down his face.

“Do not interfere,” the servitor called out. “This is your only warning.”

The girl shrank back, looking abashed. Little did she know, she’d probably done more harm than good. Millie began to walk faster, her opponent moving quicker to keep up. But he was also starting to shake, but not in fear. She knew the signs—he was psyching himself up to attack. Okay, here we go, she told herself. Like a matador waiting for their bull, Millie prepared her cape.

With a sudden stop, Millie drew another card like a weapon as she readied a mental command to de-glamour her bracer. Strickland jerked back, but then blinked as he saw Millie hesitate as she stared at the card.

She hadn’t meant to stop, she was going to start spouting nonsense to goad him into attacking, but the card captivated Millie, despite being upside down. There was a woman on it who wore the most brilliant emerald dress. Surrounding her was a lush garden filled with animals. She rested on an extravagant lounge chair watching them frolic, like children. Set on her head was a majestic crown of gold and petals. The name of the card read:

The Empress.

Millie turned the card right side up and stared at it, completely immersed even as her internal alarm bells screamed at her. I need to move! He’s going to attack, I need to—

The woman looked familiar somehow, and the picture resonated with her. Something about the rune in the background sparked an image inside Millie—connecting to the phantom memory of magic lingering in her mind. She swore she was beginning to feel something forming, like an understanding growing as the card struck her on a profound, emotional level she didn’t comprehend. Then, the woman in the picture moved, turning to regard her.

She had Millie’s face.

Instantly, a splitting pain filled Millie’s head. She felt her blood burn even as it lurched in her veins like molasses. She swayed, feeling like she was suddenly having a hypoglycemic episode crossed with an anemic attack. Gasping in shock, she blinked back…tears? Concerned, she reached up, touching them to find them made of blood, running quickly and freely down her face. She would have been more surprised, but she also had an intimate understanding of what had just happened.

Backlash.

But that’s impossible, she thought. I don’t have Magic. I don’t have that part of my soul yet. How could I suffer backlash unless…?

Unless she’d cast a spell. But she hadn’t pictured a formation in her mind, she wasn’t sure she could. Though, did she need to?

The cards were a Foci—they substituted portions of a formation to aid in spellcasting. And that was just on the lower end, like her Initiate’s wand in her vision. The wand covered the aspects of the formation associated with aiming and protecting her from the spell. It’s why Frost Bolt was so cheap and easy to cast.

But there were also higher grade Foci. Ones, like wizard’s staves (which she’d probably never be able to afford), that could be supplied Mana and cast the spell wholesale for you. In theory, her vision-self’s Attainment would have counted as a higher grade Foci as well, baring the extra bits that made it an Attainment. One Mana and you got Force Shield for an hour.

Were these cards… high-grade Foci? She hadn’t asked, she’d just…assumed they weren’t. Another assumption. Again.

But it doesn’t matter, even if they are high-grade, why did I suffer backlash? I don’t have any Mana to supply them to cast for me! Backlash only happened if you pushed yourself too far or too quickly with a spell. It did that because your soul couldn’t supply the needed energy fast enough for the shoddily constructed spell to take shape. So it took the needed energy from you, draining your life force.

But then, wasn’t having no Mana the same as not having enough? She’d…never tried to cast when out of Mana. She didn’t realize she could.

But that’s what she’d done, wasn’t it? She had no Mana so her body had paid the toll—she only hoped her soul had adequately shielded her son through it all. She felt him stirring in her belly and vowed that whatever just happened wouldn’t be repeated until she knew for certain. But that still begged the million-dollar question.

What the fuck had she just cast?

As though waiting for her attention, the moment she looked back to the cards the Queen of Wands stood from her throne, her two cats bursting into motion alongside her.

“Oh, hell yeah! Come on, Millie, don’t look so surprised,” the Queen of Wands purred seductively. “There’s no need to be so doom and gloom. Have a little fun with this, yeah?” She winked, gesturing towards Strickland as one of the lions chuffed haughtily.

Millie looked up numbly to regard the opponent who was supposed to be attacking her right now. Instead, what she saw was a screaming boy waving his knife at her like an idiot, huddled in the corner. Meanwhile, people in the crowd were in a full-blown panic, and she could even see CJ shouting in worry at her. They didn’t seem to hear or see the card speaking to her, but it appeared suddenly shooting blood out of her eyes had caused a…small commotion.

“Amateurs,” a gruff voice said. Turning, Millie saw the cloak of blood shift as the men beneath, and above it, groaned. The Hierophant’s eyes appeared like stars and gazed out of the golden light of the altar. His hands shifted to alternate the signs.

“You’ve become static. Too set in your ways. This isn’t High School, foolish girl. What, are you just going to look for an opening and punch? Do something else first. Something more. Change your course before it’s too late, and stop holding back. Their rules don’t shackle you as much as you believe, so challenge their Codes.”

Oh my god I’ve gone insane, Millie thought as she gaped at the cards. Glancing over, she saw the Empress card had somehow flipped in her hand back to the reversed version.

The Empress Millie giggled as she rolled over in her chair and hung off of it to stare at normal Millie upside down.

“Why do you always try to act so tough, Millie? Hit this, growl at that, is that what you want to teach your son? That the only way to gain respect is to act like a savage? What about your father? He’s a man’s man, isn’t he? Yet it didn’t stop him from playing Barbie's with you, did it? Was that more important than when you both made the Deathbot 5000?”

Millie gasped, holding back a nostalgic smile. She’d almost forgotten the summers they’d spent tinkering in the garage. Millie had eventually moved on to cars, but she’d always loved building things with her father. Even if Deathbot 5000 had been a glorified toaster on motorized wheels.

The Empress rolled over in her seat, resting her head on her hands. It reminded her of Tanya sharing scandalous secrets at their teen slumber parties.

“There’s more than one way to fight. It’s not always about brute strength. Why not let your feminine side out?” She advised.

“I…have no idea what you’re getting at,” Millie confessed. The Empress giggled again before the Queen of Cups whistled for attention.

“She means take your damn coat off!” The cat-queen laughed. “Show them sexy bits, girl.” She purred again as she rolled her shoulder suggestively.

“…huh?” Millie replied, staring dead-panned at the three cards. Yup, I’ve lost it.

“You wanted advise, did you not?” The Heirophant demanded. “On how best to distract your opponent and get an opening? With blood price and drawn thrice you have received it! Do not adhere to the Uniform Code for this fight! Do not let your opponent set the tempo. Remove your restrictions, physical and social, and—”

“Beat his fucking skull in!” The Queen of Wands hollered, her two large cats yowling in agreement. “Or, I don’t know, play a trick or something, ya got options girl, use ‘em! But don’t forget the crowd. Win their sympathy to win this fight and the next. You also had plans to go to the expedition hall, but you may want to cancel that, not much point now after your vision. Oh! Set up a party with your classmates, it’ll be a great way to break the ice and the news. And please give CJ a hug for me, oh, such an angel. Well, good luck~~!”

Millie’s head spun as she blinked at the rapidly speaking Queen of Wands before the regal figure was tackled by one of her large cats. The Queen giggled madly in joy as she wrestled with the lioness. Then, she heard a polite cough and looked back to the Empress. She was right side up, but on her lap…was a beautiful baby boy with rich brown eyes.

Millie’s eyes.

“I promise you, Millie, you’ll save him,” she said. “So don’t give up. Say good luck to mama, okay?”

The little boy looked towards Millie and burst into a wondrous smile. His chubby little arm waved as he giggled.

And then, just like that, the magic was gone.

The cards returned to normal, and the world rushed to greet her. Millie wavered on her feet, blinking past a surge of blood-stained tears before she looked up to see the students in the market staring at her in fear. Distantly, she recalled that a three-card draw was a basic spread for the Tarot. Had…that been the formation? She’d seen the basics briefly when she’d flipped through the instruction book, but the idea that she could actually cast a divination spell for a few hints? That was…ludicrous. Impossible. But…she’d overlooked something.

…again.

It finally occurred to Millie what she’d missed that was so crucial about the deck. What should have screamed High-grade Foci at her. She blamed the sudden insight on her new and improved clarity.

Each card in the Tarot was also its own complex rune, just like how every Alchemical process was. That meant each card was its own Foci. The cost of that was absurd. Low-grade Foci alone cost a hundred resources minimum. An entire deck of High-Grade Foci? Even if each was less practically useful than a wand or a staff, that was insane.

But what about the golden armor? The unknown crystal? The mysterious potion? Were those as crazy as her deck? That damn Fortune-Teller had rather downplayed the scope of the cards as a gift. Just handed them to her like he…pitied her. Millie spat out some blood and decided that would be something she’d deal with later. For now, she collected herself as she put her cards away and took a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

Lifting her hand up—suppressing a smirk when she saw Jesse flinch as he lifted his knife to guard himself—she unbuttoned her coat. It sprung open like before, bringing a gasp and susurration from the crowd. Millie ignored them, however, and proceeded to take it off.

Immediately, she realized something she hadn’t thought of and felt like an even bigger idiot. The poor tailoring on the coat had meant it was tight and restrictive. She would probably have failed if she tried to punch, or at very least done incredibly poorly. She really was rusty if she was making such a rookie mistake like that. Stretching out her arms, she reveled in how much more free her movements had become—though now she just had to deal with the unfortunate, and mortifying, side effects.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” Strickland’s nasally voice cracked as his eyes bulged comically. His gaze never left Millie’s chest, making her skin crawl. However, her undershirt was little more than a tight golden v-neck tank top—it left nothing to the imagination. She could hardly blame him for his reaction, unsavory or not, as the thin uniform-supplied bra wasn’t doing her any favors either. Or perhaps…too many favors, she thought with a grimace.

She pushed the thought aside and ignored her opponent’s ogling, as well as a rather boisterous cat-call from the crowd followed by a shriek of indignation from Strickland’s female friend. Instead, she proceeded to wrap her coat around her bracelet. Strickland had missed it, it seemed, given his current…preoccupation, but he did manage to eventually tear his eyes off of her to glare at the coat wrapped around her forearm. He watched her warily, clearly waiting for a trick of some kind. Did he expect a Hollywood stunt where she used the coat to catch his knife to twist it out of his grasp? If she thought she could pull it off, she might have tried. But no, she’d gotten a different idea.

With the coat’s obfuscation, she could hide her brace. So, with a mental command, she de-glamoured it and felt the leather slowly shift to cover her arm. Then, she began to march forward.

Strickland looked at her in panic. She’d at least succeeded in throwing him off. Millie laughed haughtily, her heavy footsteps causing certain bits to giggle. She flushed, about ready to die with how embarrassed she felt.

“Stay back!” Jesse shouted. “I…I—”

“What’s the matter, Jesse. Afraid I might lactate on you?” She said flatly.

He sputtered, before finally snapping. Pressed into a corner, he yelled and charged her. Millie readied herself, sent another mental command to the bracer, and then pulled back her coat. She then thrust her bracer forward like a shield.

“Heaven’s Ward!” She screamed the most pretentious thing that came to mind, willing the bracer to flare with all its might. It was about as bright as a lantern for all of two seconds before the magic ran out. Shit, do I have to recharge this thing? Damn it.

However, it served its purpose. Strickland skidded to a halt, shouting in fear before attempting to backpedal away from her glorious, and completely fake, shield that had come out of nowhere. He paused when he saw it wink out, looking between it, her tits, and Millie’s eyes in complete disbelief.

“Boo,” Millie said blankly, and just as Strickland’s mouth opened, likely to scream obscenities or accusations, Millie made her move.

She threw her coat at him. It wasn’t quite Hollywood, but it was something.

Her uniform draped over his face, and he recoiled, waving the knife erratically. Millie considered kicking him down but decided against it given her belly. Besides, she had one priority at the moment, and that was the knife. Millie tracked it with her eyes, stepping forward cautiously. Just as the coat came free, she saw her opening and lunged, stomping on Strickland’s foot.

Her opponent let out a shrill cry of pain, and Millie grabbed onto his knife arm, wrestling it into the air. With a firm grasp on his wrist, she leaned forward and bit his arm.

His next scream was far more explosive. His fist smashed into her head viciously, before he grabbed her hair and pulled back, but to no avail. Luckily for him, his uniform offered protection, but even still Millie tasted blood. He grew more desperate, trying to pull away, but Millie squared her stance and held her ground. She was stronger, ironically, than the skinny boy.

Eventually, Strickland dropped the knife, and Millie pivoted, throwing him to the ground. As he rolled away, Millie bent down gasping in exertion to pick up the weapon. As she stood up, she blinked as a fresh curtain of blood began to obscure her vision. Gritting her teeth with a hiss, she turned, spat his blood out of her mouth, and reached up to wipe at her face. A sting of pain told her where she’d been nicked during the grapple along her scalp, but it was nothing serious. Head wounds just bled like crazy.

“Oh fuck! You stupid—Fuck!” The nasally boy was grabbing his lightly bleeding arm looking around for the knife. He froze when he saw she had it.

A panting blood-soaked, knife-wielding, pregnant Tarot witch loomed over the fallen Strickland. Millie almost laughed at what she could only assume she looked like to him. However, she was at a crossroads.

The crowd had gone deathly silent. What happened next would define everything about her to them, and then likely the rest of the student body when word got out. She could threaten Strickland, using his knife against him, but what resolution would that make for the crowd? Especially given her little performance? Worse, what happened if she seriously hurt Strickland? Or Killed him? She saw more than one terrified gaze staring at her from the crowd. She’d done a number on them what with her surprise bloody Mary impression.

That fear could protect me, she thought. But it could also backfire later. I can offer to team up, which will help, but I need to convince them I’m not their enemy. If I’m too threatening, there’s a chance no one will help me in the future. After all, they might have stepped in if I’d just said something earlier. I need allies. Friends. But how do I…

She grimaced. Whatever it takes, right? There was only one play in Millie’s mind to accomplish this, but it wasn’t one she liked. She would have to swallow her pride.

Turning towards one of the clerks, Millie tossed the knife behind the display where she knew it was out of bounds to students. The robot watched it sail over before looking back at Millie. Millie swore she saw an almost imperceptible nod from the robot, so she shot it a wink in return before looking back at Strickland.

“What—what the hell?” Her opponent stammered. “Are you fucking retarded?”

Jesus this guy is a walking talking douche nozzle, Millie thought, rolling her eyes. But what she really wanted to see, happened. The crowd started to look between each other, confused as they began arguing amongst themselves. She looked for and found CJ before meeting his eyes and nodding her chin to the people near him. He looked around, then back to her, before she saw recognition fill his eyes. He nodded back as he prepared to begin recruiting the other classmates to counter Strickland. The tides had finally turned.

Now I just got to finish my part. “Well, come on then,” Millie said, gesturing at Strickland to rise. “We doing this or what? Or do I need to pull another magic trick to scare you?”

Her opponent shot her a dirty look, before standing up. “Why the fuck did you throw the knife away?”

Millie cocked her head, raising an eyebrow dramatically as she regarded him. “What was I supposed to do? Stab you?”

He gaped like a fish, and a few dark mutters broke out in the crowd. He at least had the good graces to blush.

“I-I wasn’t going to stab you, I was just—you were supposed to give up! But you’re the one fucking lying about what shit you got! You tricked us all!”

More noise from the crowd. Millie laughed, before waving her bracer at him. It sparked briefly, but its magic had run out.

“You’re not wrong,” she said with a laugh. “Anyone else get one of the glamour bracers?”

She called out, and half a beat later she heard the heavyset Hispanic man bark out a laugh. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal his own bracer, as did several of his companions. The crowd was in an uproar.

“I didn’t mean the fucking bracer! I meant your fucking cards! What did you do!?” He screamed.

“You mean…this!”

Millie whipped out another card, surprised at how natural the motion felt. The card, however, was…

A man rode a trail of petals leading into the sky, a fox hanging off of his multi-colored petticoat as he laughed. On his shoulders, an arrow the size of a person rested, with a large hourglass dangly from the tip. In the distance, the sun both rose and set over the desert’s horizon where three pyramids lay, unknown runes shining across their surfaces in the heat’s haze.

It was the Fool.

It was also reversed as well. Millie was starting to wonder if her whole damn deck was upside down.

“Are you—?” Strickland recoiled, before looking up at her questioningly. She didn’t blame him, she’d wanted to make a point but a card like ‘The Fool’ seemed a statement in and of itself. But she ignored that and waved the card around dramatically.

“What do you think it means?” She said, chuckling. “It’s a damn Tarot set. That’s it. I can’t damn well use it without magic. Not without bleedin’ out my damn eyeballs.”

She gestured at her face, glouring as she made her point.

“Then…you…?”

“I did a random reading for some advice. It was a trick to throw you off so I could get your knife away,” she said, spelling it out for him. “You got played, Strickland.”

The boy blushed even harder as the reality of her bluff became all the more apparent. Sure, she was leaving out a few details, but none of them needed to know that. She watched with mild glee as Strickland’s face began to contort and redden. She was tempted to taunt him more but held herself back as she put the Fool away.

Her real goal was the crowd’s sympathy. If they didn’t see her as a threat, they wouldn’t attack her. That meant this next part would suck. She needed them to feel sorry for her, and regret putting her in this situation. There was only one way to do that. And a part of her felt she deserved it for being so dumb about things.

“Fine—whatever!” Strickland yelled. “I’m still going to win this!”

I’m sure you think so, she thought darkly. She braced herself.

Strickland came at her, squaring his shoulders, arms close, elbows tight, and in a way that told Millie, he was absolutely copying something he’d seen in a movie given his walk. He hadn’t taken an actual combat stance. For her part, Millie slowly slid a foot back to spread her balance out as she waited for the inevitable.

The boy yelled in anger, lunged forward, and threw a punch. His fist connected with Millie’s jaw, snapping her head sideways as she stumbled. She remained upright, however, and wiped at her mouth as she reset in front of him. Thankfully, his punches were weaker than CJ’s, even after all the times she’d tried to get her friend to practice.

“OW—fuck,” Jesse hissed, shaking his fist. Ah, did I steal his first punch? She thought. How cute.

Then, Strickland looked up and realized that Millie was still just standing there. Confused, he stepped forward and threw what Millie would kindly classify as a jab. She considered dodging, but she was already worn out by the backlash and earlier struggle, so she needed to conserve energy. She did angle her face slightly as the fist came in, to spare her nose the worst of it, and her head whipped back from the blow. It wasn’t much of a hit, even if it might leave her with a shiner. She looked back at her opponent to see him regarding her warily.

“Wha-what are you doing?” He demanded, starting to pant. “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

Millie shrugged. “What do you want me to do, sit on you?”

“What!?” He glared at her before stammering, “I-if you’re not fighting…then you’ve yielded!”

“Says who?” Millie said, folding her arms.

Strickland reeled in shock before tearing himself away to glare at the servitor. Millie, glanced over, meeting the robot’s eyes. The metal girl gave a slight raise of her eyebrow, and Millie responded with a shake of her head. The robot nodded and resumed watching the fight with a dispassionate air. Strickland looked back and forth between the robot, Millie, his friends, and Millie’s chest. At least he was consistent.

“I don’t understand! If you’re not fighting t-then you’ve yielded!”

Millie shrugged again. “You’re the one that didn’t set terms for the conduct on the fight,” she reminded him. “What counts as yielding? Because I know I haven’t. Have you?”

She gestured at him and he sputtered. “What? No! But…what the fuck!” His frustration was mounting as he began to see it.

The crowd was whispering urgently amongst themselves, and Millie spared a quick glance to see CJ. He had made his way over to the Hispanic student and was talking quietly with him. CJ was her ambassador now, drumming up support in the other students, offering to team up with them like Strickland’s companions had. Making sure this didn’t happen again.

“Look,” Millie finally said, “You threatened me and my friend. Your asshole buddies hit him, so you could force this duel. I’m willing to work with people, to help others if I can. But you? If you want to win—you’ll need to beat me unconscious. So get started.”

Which means there’s no chance you get the clean victory you wanted. Checkmate.

She glared at Strickland, who looked down at his hands in disbelief. A lesser man would have probably taken her up on her challenge without hesitating. But, for all Strickland’s bad attitude, she’d seen it in his eyes since the beginning. He wasn’t a killer. She didn’t even think he was strictly a bad person—just a desperate asshole. After all, she’d seen the eyes of killers. Desperate or not, Strickland lacked…

The kind of spark she’d seen in the Goblin’s eyes. The kind she’d seen in Raj’s eyes. The kind, she worried, she’d see in her own eyes one day.

However, the boy was pissed.

With another scream, Strickland threw a hook. It was weaker than his other hits, he was clearly running out of steam, and the effects on the crowd were becoming more apparent on his composure. He threw another, then one more that actually missed despite Millie standing still. He tried to push her, only to find she outweighed him, much to her chagrin, and accomplished little. As he began gasping and threw a sloppy hook, Millie struck back as it hit her. But not with her fists.

“Do you feel good yet?” She asked. “Is this what you wanted?”

Strickland recoiled, his eyes starting to tear up, but Millie could tell it was from frustration more than anything else.

“Fuck you! I’m doing what I have to!” He screamed. “Just give up and I don’t have to hurt you!”

Millie laughed darkly. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? That’s what you wanted. An easy target. A quick victory. You don’t even care what kind of position that would have put me in. Do you know why I got my vision?”

Strickland hesitated.

“To the least fortunate student,” Millie intoned, “a glimpse of fortune to balance the scales. Unless I want my son to die, I can’t take the remedy for another nine weeks. That’s…three Magincian weeks.”

Her voice trailed off with her statement. Her opponent furrowed his brow.

“But, your vision was…”

“Three M-weeks from now, yeah. In my vision…my baby died. I wasn’t able to save him in time.”

She felt awful. Manipulative. Like a liar and a con using her son’s own life as leverage against the crowd, but the statements hit home. The other students looked torn. Angry, at Strickland, and themselves. Furious now that they realized the depth of what they’d allowed to happen. It’s like waking up and finding out you’re in the Lord of the Flies, Millie thought. And now they have to watch an innocent mother be beaten before their eyes. All because they let themselves be blinded by greed and fear.

Millie…didn’t blame them, in the end. She understood, even more so now that she’d stopped assuming the safety of the Academy. But they all had a lot to learn about life in Magincia. Yet, at least for now, the crowd was finally, and completely, on her side.

Which meant it was time to end it.

“I will do whatever it takes, Jesse. Whatever I can to save him. I need every advantage I can get. So I’m sorry for this.”

“Sorry for wha—”

She threw a jab. A real jab—though she almost lost balance from her swinging belly as she rotated to put her weight behind the blow. Regardless, Strickland’s head snapped back as he made an audible oof noise and his glasses flew off his face. His eyes lulled briefly as he stumbled, and Millie stepped with him. Reaching out, she wrapped a foot around his ankle and shoved, sending him sprawling back. He cursed as he hit the floor, blinking up owlishly in shock as his head bounced before Millie walked up and stood above his body.

The crowd froze, torn between every emotion across the spectrum. This was it. This was the moment that defined her to them. This is what they would speak about for the days, the weeks, the years to come when people asked about the desperate, pregnant mother just trying to survive. And they?

They would look back and try not to laugh.

Millie…sat on Strickland. Just like she’d threatened. Knees on his arms, butt on his chest, crossing her own arms as she sighed ruefully. She felt like an elementary girl picking on a crush.

“I…can’t…breath…!” Strickland wheezed. Millie flinched, trying not to think about that being a comment about her weight. He was just…very thin, that was all.

“If you can talk, Jesse, you can breath,” she muttered, working her sore jaw. “This ends whenever you want it to.”

He sputtered beneath her, turning every shade of red imaginable as he weakly tried to kick her. She felt bad on so many levels for doing this, but she consoled herself with the fact that he had been threatening her with a knife not two minutes prior. The boy then tried, in vain, to push her off, but his skinny body failed to do more than jostle her a centimeter as he spat out a few half-breath curses. It was part of the reason she had let him hit her—to tire himself out. The rest was just to drum up pity from the crowd.

“Don’t make me—” she bounced on his chest, drawing a gasp of pain, “—hurt you. Yield, or we’ll see if you weren’t kidding about not being able to breathe. Don’t worry though, I’m sure one of the servitors can give you mouth to mouth if you do pass out.”

Millie scowled at the boy she was…crushing and watched him go purple. Either he was hitting a new level of rage, or he might actually have been suffocating. The crowd, however, was still laughing themselves silly. Grateful, perhaps, that an awful, tense showdown had ended like this.

The first duel of Magincia. Won by a pregnant woman sitting on a man. Of all the things, this alone drove home hardest the importance of making sure she was never put in this kind of position again.

Eventually, after a minute and a few more bounces, a small noise eked out from Strickland.

“I…yi..ld…ergh.”

“Initiate Strickland yields the fight!” The servitor shouted. “Initiate McArthur is victorious!”

Oh thank god, she thought, leaning forward so the froth-faced Jesse could breath. He gulped like a koi, sucking in air, and she once again tried not to think about how much of an admonishment on her weight this was, and began to get up. She struggled, her legs were exhausted from the fatigue and backlash, and she accidentally fell back onto Strickland. She apologized, blushing, as the boy underneath her gasped. Thankfully, she saw CJ rushing over to help her up and gave him a tired smile as she reached out.

A moment later, however, she found herself toppling over ungainly, rolling on the ground with all the grace of a turtle on its shell.

“Get off of him you fucking cow!” A girl shouted. “You already won so stop torturing him!”

Glancing up, Millie saw the short girl from Jesse’s group glaring at her murderously.

Jesus, this—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a blur of metal and ruffled cloth.

In a split second, the metallic servitor had appeared next to them, her Renaissance-inspired dress swaying with the sudden momentum. Millie’s eyes opened wide, only to see the servitor lash out, kicking the short girl’s legs, sending her into the air. The girl barely had time to cry out as the robot raised the same leg, and dropped it in an Axe Kick on the girl’s chest. A loud crack rang out as she was slammed into the ground. The girl laid there, gasping breathlessly as she grabbed her sides, writhing.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Millie yelled as fresh screams came from the crowd. CJ arrived a beat later, wrapping his arms around her protectively as he helped her up.

“A violation of the Terms of the Strickland-McArthur conflict has been recorded. Please do not resist. The acting Head of the Disciplinary Committee has been informed and is on their way.”

For a shove? Millie thought incredulously, looking at the girl on the ground, struggling with all her might just to breathe.

“Alice!” Strickland croaked, reaching for his companion as he tried to get up. But the servitor put one foot on his chest and shoved him back to the ground effortlessly. Millie felt CJ’s hands tighten around her.

A moment of shocked silence passed. It was interrupted abruptly by the sound of the entrance portal activating. Through it walked a familiar figure.

Headmaster Trieaties.

Every moment is a potential life or death situation, she reminded herself. She vowed to never take that for granted again either.