The transport capsule to the Colosseo's surface moved with a slow but steady rhythm. I could hardly feel any shaking, only the occasional metallic clanking sound as we passed each floor.

"Master Ontara tried to influence me with some kind of wave," I said, glancing at the floor numbers slowly increasing on the capsule's door--Level B368--seriously?

"That bastard," Qana snorted in displeasure, though his statue-like expression and posture didn't change. "Did you feel anything?"

"No." I glanced down at the tips of my shoes. "The wave was neutralized by my mirror circle, but I memorized the waveform."

"You neutralized a gamma-level psychic's directional wave with just your mirror circle?" Qana looked at me, a hint of surprise on his face. "And he's a fully trained psychic..." The Swordmaster continued to murmur. "I knew you were strong, but I didn't expect this level." He stared at me in silence, as if lost in thought. "Show me," Qana finally said. "The waveform Ontara used."

Qana extended his consciousness, enveloping me within it. I could feel a sort of shield at the outer edge of his consciousness--not like the mirror circle, but a more direct and forceful rejection.

I figured Qana would explain it to me when the time was right, so I simply followed his previous teachings. I expanded my own consciousness, allowing our fields to merge through mutual erosion. Then, I recreated the wave that Ontara had used, watching it dissipate against the edge of Qana's consciousness.

"A confusion wave," Qana clicked his tongue. "Not explicitly forbidden, but still a rotten thing to do." He withdrew his consciousness, and I did the same, our merged field disappearing. "He must have let slip something he shouldn't have, right? I know Ontara can never resist the chance to flaunt his knowledge." The swordmaster wrinkled his nose, revealing the tips of his canines.

"The Archivist said, 'They almost did it,' and I think he meant putting everyone into the Happiness Machine." I shivered at the memory of the discomfort when the wave was disrupted. "Who are 'they'?"

Qana's mouth twitched slightly, and he looked away.

"The last people you need to know about," he said in a low voice, his right hand gripping the hilt of his sword, a low growl rumbling from his throat. "If we're lucky, you'll never find out who 'they' are."

"Are psychics ranked?" I took his clear hint to change the subject. "What does 'gamma-level' mean?"

"It's a rough classification, really, without much substance. But simply put, it reflects an psychic's power," Qana answered, removing his hand from the sword hilt. "A gamma-level psychic can project directional waves beyond their consciousness field, which has a radius of at least five meters, and can dominate the collective consciousness of more than ten non-psychics within that field."

"Oh." That was... pretty specific for something that was just a "rough classification."

"Not counting the epsilon-level dragons, gamma-levels make up about five percent of all psychics. They're considered elite." Qana glanced at me briefly before continuing. "So even though Ontara is a carnivore and not specialized in mental directional waves, you neutralized his influence by matching his waveform." His voice trailed off, and he fell silent again, leaving only the mechanical hum of the elevator.

Clank, clank. Steady, slow. B304, B303.

"So, what level are you?" I asked, partly to dispel the uneasy quiet, partly out of curiosity about how strong the swordmaster was. And I had just realized what Qana meant... I used to think that only the grey wolves could use powers. We, who were simply tasked with guarding the many legacies, only had certain traits as a result of carefully selected genes.

"Just at alpha-level," Qana shrugged, seemingly indifferent. "My consciousness field, when fully expanded, can just cover the entire planet of Hermes, though back then, the Hermes base had just over a million staff members, not as many as now, and not beyond what I could suppress."

"A planet-sized consciousness field?" I couldn't hide the admiration in my voice as I looked up at the burly white wolf. "How many people are there like that?"

"Nine, according to the current records," Qana turned to meet my gaze, his deep blue eyes seeming to look at something far away. "And I'm certain the tenth has already appeared." He slowly turned his head back to face forward. "It's even possible that the first..." He mumbled something too soft for me to hear.

"Oh." I could only scratch my ear in response, adjusting my stance.

I seriously suspected Qana was like this because of Willow. He'd been noticeably different since arriving at the Colosseo, no longer suppressing his emotions. Was this what they called... hmm... the impact of emotions on rationality? Would I ever have the chance to experience this kind of brain-numbing situation?

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

For some reason, Aether's yellow eyes flashed through my mind--I immediately shook my head vigorously.

You've only known him for a day, and he didn't even ask for your contact info or anything. Just because he flattered you, and now you're swooning? That's just pathetic.

I sighed inwardly, having gained a preliminary understanding of how feelings could impair one's thinking ability.

But thinking of Aether reminded me of something else.

"Aether mentioned that you and Master Willow were... close." I wasn't sure how to say it without sounding like I was prying into Qana's privacy, so I adopted the most submissive posture I could manage--any more, and I'd have to lie on the ground and expose my belly.

"Willow and I 'are' still close." Qana shot me a glare that made me shrink back, my tail tucking tighter. But at least he didn't reach for his sword, which was a good sign--relatively speaking. "Damn that Nyx and their perfect memory." Qana spat. "I thought that after all these years, people would finally lose interest in gossiping about it."

The swordmaster huffed, crossing his arms in a defensive gesture. Seeing Qana's reaction made it even harder to bring up what I had planned to say.

"What?" Qana asked impatiently, adjusting his cloak before crossing his arms again.

"I'm... sorry," I scratched my ear, and Qana shot me a glance that made me tense up even more, so I sped up my words. "Because of my parents'... transgression, all the grey wolves' opportunities were ruined. It was an immeasurable act of selfishness--in every way." I lowered my head, staring at the floor as my tail tip began to itch again. "I completely understand why all the other wolves hate me; they have every reason to. But despite being deeply affected... Qana, you... you..." I hadn't realized how hard it would be to say this out loud. "You've been so kind to me." I gritted my teeth and forced myself to finish. My body was so tense that my limbs tingled, trembling uncontrollably.

I am the most dangerous, most tainted taboo. Never before has a grey wolf committed such a selfish, vile act of desecration. As a member of the pack, I should know that the pack is the wolves, and the wolves are the pack. My mere existence is an affront to the pack...

A large, firm hand rested on my shoulder, and Qana pulled me toward him. My shoulder pressed against his belt, and his dark cloak draped over my left side, warm and comforting. Qana's steady breathing caused his broad chest to rise and fall, and his body heat slowly seeped into me, making me stop shaking.

"Once, a very wise wolf told me," I had no idea Qana's voice could be so gentle, "'No one should ever apologize for any trait they were born with. Because that is who we are, that is our true self--and we should always be proud of our true self.'"

Qana's powerful hand gripped my shoulder, and he took a deep breath before gently resting his chin on the top of my head, pressing my drooping ears flat.

"Love doesn't follow reason," Qana said with equal tenderness, and I could feel the vibrations from his throat. "I even believe that who we fall in love with, and who falls in love with us, isn't something we can control." He chuckled softly. "So no matter who loves whom, it's no one's fault. If you ask me, there's probably nothing more right than that."

"But... but..." My throat was dry and sore. "But that doesn't mean they should have..."

My voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence. Qana waited patiently for a while, but the bitterness in my mouth only grew stronger.

"When a system treats individuals unfairly, people tend to believe that the individual is at fault because it allows them to maintain their belief that following the rules will protect them from random misfortune. And when those who have been treated unfairly start demanding fair treatment, they're perceived as asking for special privileges--this is utterly absurd. The first step to freeing everyone from an unfair system is recognizing that we are not wrong." Qana spoke in that gentle tone again, rubbing his chin lightly against my head. Perhaps it was a conversation he'd had with Willow, discussing their future... or perhaps it was an unspoken regret.

"What does that mean?" I asked, sniffling.

"One day, you'll tell me the answer." He continued in a soft voice, and I caught a whiff of Qana's scent from his cloak--something like... pine trees.

"I hope one day I'll find my own 'very wise wolf' too," I murmured. I couldn't help but wonder what Willow would think if she heard Qana describe her that way. Would she be offended, or take it as a compliment?

"Oh, I know you will." Qana chuckled, patting my back before pulling his hand away and standing straight.

"I wish I had your confidence..." I grumbled, scratching my ears as I tidied the fur on my head that had gotten messed up.

"Psychic s are always drawn to each other," Qana said, looking up to check the floor level. "Maybe it's because of their heightened sensitivity, allowing them to hear each other's truest calls. Or perhaps the conditions that awaken these psychics make people with similar life experiences more able to understand each other. Then again, maybe, at the root of it, none of this makes any sense, and it never needed to."

"So... which kind are you and Master Willow?" I boldly guessed. Qana only gets this talkative and emotionally expressive when it involves that female gray wolf from Wood.

"Well... a little of all?" The swordmaster tilted his head, scratching his ear in reply.

Noticing the slight flush at the tips of Qana's ears, I couldn't help but grin widely, though I managed to stifle my laughter.

"That Nyx is a psychic who hasn't awakened yet, in case you hadn't noticed," Qana suddenly said, making me instinctively turn to look at him. "Of course, I'm talking about the older one, not that little demon." Qana shivered.

"Oh..." I awkwardly shifted my weight, shoving my hands into my pockets and switching my weight to the other foot. "How do you know?"

"You agreed that he's your 'friend'," Qana teased. "That's never happened before, so it immediately made me suspicious. I was worried our innocent and naive Richter might be charmed into a dangerous, colorful jungle without realizing it, so I checked with a pulse wave." He grinned mischievously at me, nudging my shoulder with his elbow.

Blood rushed to my ears so fast it felt like they might catch fire. I turned my head away, aiming a punch at Qana's side, which only made him laugh harder.

"Back by midnight, no staying over!" Qana turned to face me, raising a finger sternly. I was pretty sure my ears were now steaming. "You know what they say about black wolves."

"Uh... hard to communicate?" I tilted my head in confusion.

"That's a shortcoming," Qana gave me a mysterious smile, then turned back to glance at the elevator's floor indicator. "I'm talking about what they're long on."

I glanced at the floor display too, pondering what Qana meant. When I finally understood, I angrily punched him again, which only made the swordmaster laugh even harder.