We had a lot of explaining to do that day. Thankfully, it was the capital that dispatched these guys and they were capable enough of listening comprehension. Their leader was the arcanist tracking my button and he was closer to the “hugs, not drugs”-category as people. I told them the story about the so-called necromancer. I showed them the ruins and the corpse and the broken reactor. Then we went to the Fey village, where Ofir backed up my testimony, and gave his word of honor I wasn’t a deranged squirrel.

Something of a peace treaty was forged—as far as that could be done with wild beasts across the table.

Certain heavy compromises were made. Terms were drawn.

And, after a lot of biting of nails, that was that.

It was over.

Ofir stayed behind in the woods, as he vowed he would, though not as a prisoner or a deserter, but as a middle-man between the Fey and the Dominion. Both sides could address their complaints to him next time. Dalek returned to being a big bear, eating fish and shitting in the woods. And Zandolph—Well, we’ll get back to that later. Things got a bit ugly there.

I got a flight back to the capital, where I was awarded a shiny medal and promotion for wrapping up to the long tussle in the woods with minimal casualties. I was granted official citizenship too, and my very own room in the citadel.

I wasn’t only a number anymore.

Not a dark knight, serving the light in the shadows.

I became someone who could stand in the broad light of day, with my own face.

And that, my friends, was the starting point of my legend. From thereon, again and again, I got shipped off to various corners of the land, where strife was rife. Again and again, my slashing wit and ingenious skills were put to the test.

In the southern Tar-Alyssae, I went scuba-diving and uncovered a cursed idol in the ruins of an underwater city, and also stopped a tribe of katali from abducting coastal villagers on the side. Somehow, these things were connected.

In the sun-glazed savannas of Marennol, I took apart a giant golem gone berserk, which trampled one ranch after another, and threatened the Dominion with a massive food shortage. Even if one person eats only a little, a lot of people together eat a lot, I hope you can understand the concept.

In monsoon-ravaged ranges of Tornelica, I fended off a tribe of angry perytons that had launched a crusade against the Dominion's barrier beacons. A Heavenly sign directed them to do it, apparently.

In the mystic, pastel-colored forests of Idonia, I hunted down a leftover Celestial Beast, which was about to level a national heritage site and a small city, if left to its devices. It was the first time in my life I held a real bow, and I passed it to somebody else. But I watched the whole thing.

With each triumph, my fame and rank grew in tandem. It would’ve been easy to get cocky, but I thought about what happened to Anakin Skywalker, and getting in wrong with Ewan McGregor, and kept my feet firmly on the ground. I remembered my humble origins and all the little peasants and pixies that died along the way, and never let success get into my head. Except a little on Fridays, in controlled doses.

But yeah.

That’s all in the past tense now.

Yesterday’s news. Gone, like the attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion and the thing about C-beams. Tears in the rain. But time waits for no one and new troubles loom on the horizon. My hard-earned triumphs finally bought me a whopping week off from duty.

Which brings us...here.

I set the pint down, wipe the froth off my lips with the back of my hand, and sigh.

“Ah. It’s just as mediocre as I remembered.”

Emiri may be exceptionally skilled at many things, but they can’t make drinks this down-to-earth, unhealthy, or emotionally fulfilling. It may be bad for my body, but it's food for my heart.

Naturally, the first thing I did after returning to my roots was drop in town for a cold one. Or two. Or three. On the side, I had to share the happenings with the locals, which ended up taking more time than I thought. It sure was an eventful trip.

The scenery outside the windows has gone dark.

The last of the customers are leaving and old Penlann wipes the counter in silence, worn out after an unusually hectic day. He takes my comment a bit sourly

“It’s made for mediocre people, after all,” he murmurs. “I’m surprised you still knew the way here. Or that you were small enough to fit through the door.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” I tell him. “It was a compliment. Sometimes, mediocrity is what you need. Cheap candy, cheap ale. Guy Richie-movies. Fantasy by Sanderson. It’s a way to synchronize your taste, to help you better recognize the genuinely good things in life.”

Penlann pauses, thoughtfully scratching his beard.

“You’re—not complimenting me there, are you? At all?”

“Of course, I am,” I assure him. “Was. Anything can be a compliment, if you believe hard enough.”

“At least there was something even the elves couldn’t fix,” he grumbles and goes back to wiping.

“And what’s that?”

“Your black heart?”

“Wow. If my heart were anything but purest gold, this gargle factory of yours wouldn’t be left standing after that episode with the mountain lilies.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, your ladyship.”

Penlann eyes my outfit as he says that. I forgot where I put my old clothes, so I came in the uniform. My sparkling white magia corpus robe, lined with gold, cut like the petals of a lily bloom licking my stunning figure.

“Could you do something about the halo?” the guy requests, squinting. “It’s a little hard on the eyes.”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot it on.” I fish out the remote from my pocket and turn off the circlet of light hovering above my head. “Reading light comes with the set.”

While at it, I take a look at the lounge. There’s really nobody left anymore. A waitress gathers tankards from the deserted tables. I don't recognize the face. Somebody new. I turn back to my pint and watch a streak of foam slide slowly down the side. And sigh again.

“Alright. Well. Suppose I should head home now.”

“Good luck,” Penlann tells with a cautious air.

I find his tone a bit weird. “Good luck? What do you mean?”

The man shrugs his buff shoulders. “It’s a saying.”

“No, why would I need luck when I’m going back home?”

“I don't know. It was just starting to seem to me like you were doing all you could to avoid it.”

“...”

He may be onto something there. Even this oaf has his bright moments, once in a while. You know the saying about broken clocks? I know I shouldn’t stall any longer, but I really don’t feel like going there. Did someone put up a repelling ward while I wasn’t looking?

The very idea of facing my friends again seems so unreasonably difficult.

In all this time, I didn’t write back home even once, though I had plenty of opportunities. I didn’t even let them know I was coming. I simply couldn’t think of what to say. What if something awful happened while I was away?

What if granny got another student and now there’s a new bimbo in my room? What if somebody went and fucking died? What would I do? I don’t know. I’m not mentally prepared for tragedies.

Maybe, if it was Master Khram, I could deal with it, somehow. He hasn’t had his arc yet, I haven’t developed much affection for the guy. I wouldn’t be too sorry if Master Endol went missing either, considering the melodramatic way we parted ways. In fact, I’d love to never see the guy again. But bad things never happen to those who deserve it, only those you actually care about.

What if it’s Sephram? Oh no. Think about it, the dude is like thirty and unmarried, and then died off-screen. That’s just so sad. Oh, I’m already in tears. If you go and die that early in the story, you might not even get your name with the main cast in the credits. He’ll just be somewhere around Villager A and Penlann. God! To be as irrelevant as Penlann!

Lieselot? Is she fine? Her old man, her brothers? Granny? She’s fucking dead, isn’t she? God damn.

“...”

But there’s no way around it, is there?

I came all this way to see the gang. Bailing out on the doorstep would be mega pathetic.

After everything I’ve overcome by this point, this shouldn’t even be a challenge.

“Yeah, I think I’m off now,” I mumble, and slide off the bar chair with effort. I’m safely drunk now, prepared to face the disappointments of life.

I wobble my way out of the door and down the street out of Morelieu and onto the country road. Past the hill with Master Gunlau’s school and on towards the Menneroix castle and granny’s less eye-catching mansion to the east. I didn't realize this when I left the equator, but it's the dead of winter here. But it's not dark. Full moons light my way from the starlit sky, and I think briefly back to my life, where I came from and where I’m going, and then I don’t think about anything.

I take a deep breath, basking in the silvery light.

Light shines through Master Teresina’s windows. Thank Divines, there’s at least somebody alive in there. Yes, there she is. I sense the old bat's familiar presence from afar, her distinct light of awareness, like a candle in the dark country. It still burns strong. Though it’s so late, she’s awake. No, she’s probably waiting for me. I couldn’t have crossed the guard boundary without her knowing.

I come to the front door. It’s never locked.

I step into the courtyard, where nothing has changed. No, the yard is littered with dead leaves and loose dunes of snow. No disciple has swept them away. Damn, what a mess. I turn left and wade for the door and knock my boots, and go in, and climb up the familiar stairs to the second floor. My old mentor is in the kitchen, searching through the tin pots above the stove, apparently looking for tea. And it’s as if I was never away for a day.

I spring out from the stairs and present her an energetic greeting.

“——TA-DAAAAH! Guess who’s home!? Umph.”

I trip on the corner of the topmost stair and fall flat on my face on the carpet.

Granny doesn’t bat an eye. She takes out a can of Mescalan blend from the shelv and puts it on the table next to the teapot. I bounce back up and stride over.

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“Surprised to see me, eh? It’s been a while! How have you been, my dearest teacher and role model? Gosh, you look so old! Are you shrinking? Have you been taking your supplements? Calcium too?”

“...”

“Me? Oh, I’m just peachy. You know me, I’m always super. Hey, check out the rags? Pretty cool, aren’t they! This particular brand of silk would cost about as much as the whole of Morelieu, you know, if they sold it here in the human realms. Which they don't. It’s got supreme magic conductivity, and comes with a halo. And I got it all for free! Part of the job, you know? Not bad, not bad, huh!”

“...”

“And I’ve learned so much! The emiri arcanists have taught me lots and lots. Get this, as a mage officer, I have free access to their archives too! Forbidden knowledge, as much as I care to look at. Oh and hey—I mastered the Gate of Light. I can cast it without any backup now. No boring runes, or incantations needed. Yes, all true. I can even cross the ocean! It’s child's play, really! See, I discovered a method to substitute Leyline Tracing with Astral Navigation, which lets you obtain coordinate data independently from regional restrictions. Yep, I discovered that. I must be a genius. Your student’s a genius, granny. And a hero. Thank you for believing in me. I couldn’t have done it without you. I made sure to mention you in my speech when I was promoted…Force Projection Specialist of the Third Magic Battalion’s First Tactical Response Unit. Wow, if that isn’t a mouthful! It loses a little something in translation.”

I strike the Kamen Rider pose and hold, waiting for applause.

There’s no applause. In fact, I’m completely ignored.

“...Um, granny? Can you see me? Am I here? This is not a dream, is it? I haven’t died and turned into a ghost, have I? Do I have secret bleeding bullet holes under my shirt?”

I pat my abs, but they seem fine to me. We have a pulse. Breathing.

Master Teresina picks up the kettle of boiling water, pours the steaming water into the teapot, slowly, steadily, and says,

“It’s been three years.”

“Huh?”

“Three and a half,” she amends.

“...”

Seriously? Wow.

Just wow.

I never noticed. Time sure flies, when you’re having—not so much fun. But really, that’s one long time skip. Came kinda out of nowhere. I thought it was like a few months, half a year at most. Then again, emiri don’t fuss so much about time and they don’t have calendars. I haven’t checked the date even once since we left here. You lose track of days for less.

But geez, three whole years?

I’m—oh my god, I'm seven now? My life’s practically over.

I lean on the sink and take a moment to steady myself.

“Hey, uh…I’m sorry. For never sending a letter, or calling. I was…I was busy.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But I’m here now,” I continued with renewed determination. “And this time, I’m going to do it righ—”

——“Why, isn’t this quaint?”

A dry, chilling voice interrupts me from behind.

I look over my shoulder and see Vysania come up the stairs, dressed in a dark, fur-lined cloak, her cheeks rosen from the wintry outside air. Before that sight would’ve made me all hot and bothered, but now—I can only shudder at the cold look in her sharp eyes. I'm starting to see what staring daggers means.

I detach from the sink as the first disciple comes to stand right in front of me.

“So the stray cat returns home,” she remarks.

“I’m pretty sure that should be my line. Since I don’t got the...wink-wink.”

I cautiously bring up my palms above my head to mimic cat ears and flap them up and down.

“You’ve been drinking,” she observes.

“It’s legal. I mean, it’s not made illegal. Yet. In this kingdom.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t have the guts to waltz back here after all this time, as if nothing happened, unless you were suitably out of it. I see even underneath those lavish fowian robes is still the same Zero I know.”

“Well, you see, I have a few friends. Muggle friends, who don’t drink tea. And I’m sorry for not filing my monthly reports in due time, but I’ve been a little busy saving lives. Which is what I thought our merry little pop band was made for.”

“Saving lives?” Vysania repeats and narrows her eyes even closer. “By what I’ve heard, you’ve been rather more engaged with the opposite of that. Namely, killing and destroying in the name of the elven civilization. Has it been fun? Fighting other people’s wars? Making the strong and prosperous even stronger and more prosperous at the expense of the weak and impoverished? Showing the less immortal and blessed their rightful place, while leeching off the victor’s success?”

“That…doesn’t sound familiar.”

“No? I particularly enjoyed the story of how you butchered that uruk tribe and some two hundred of their best men, leaving their women and young to fend for themselves at the doorstep of winter. All because the local farmers refused to spare them a bit of grain. What a heartwarming anecdote.”

“There were only about ninety of them,” I correct her. “You know how they embellish the tales. I don’t think I got—all of them. And if you really need something, you should probably try talking before taking.”

“A little hard to talk, if no one’s willing to listen,” Vysania retorts. “Speaking of which, wasn’t wiping out that extremely endangered peryton herd also your handiwork? Formerly endangered, that is. It was the only herd left in the world. Now they're simply extinct. The Cottish found it uncanny when the annual migratory flight wasn’t happening. They called it a sign of the end times.”

“Are we talking about the monsters that have to kill at least one person to get their own shadows back? And which wanted to break down our barrier beacons because their imaginary god told them to? The ‘endangered species’ badge only lets you get away with so much, I'm afraid.”

“Ah, good thing to have, those beacons,” Vysania continues with an ironic smile. “I’ve heard their high frequency causes mass deaths of birds and fish, and the way they warp the magnetic field tricks whales to swim ashore. I am so relieved to know they are still up and running. You’ve done a fine job, no doubt for the right reasons. As long as the Dominion’s citizens can sleep safe, damn all the rest.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kittie,” I tell her. “Those barriers are our last line of defense, in case dragons ever decide to turn the world into a toxic desert of ash again.”

And I sent suggestions for technical improvements too.

“Oh, dragons,” Vysania says. “Forcibly imprisoned on their island for a hundred thousand years, hunted, starved, hated, loathed…Wonder why they’re so angry? Any ideas?”

“Not funny.”

“At least you got one thing right!” The faint pretense of humor gone from her face, she steps away. “Then tell me, Zero, have you located and secured the core of the second Heaven’s Pillar of the west?”

“...Uhh, wasn’t Master Endol working on that one?”

“Has High Commander Lebennaum agreed to help us in the battle against Yaoldabath? How many ships of her invincible Silver Fleet is she willing to spare against Elevro? Do you know?”

“I...Requests to mobilize are slightly above my rank at the moment.”

“Oh? Weren’t you flaunting your rank to our master only a minute ago? Yet the Commander has no time to spare for you? What use is it then, being a hero, in that case? Of course, you should worry about your own career, first and foremost. No need to trouble the higher-ups with such trifling matters as the end of our world!”

“It takes time to build trust,” I tell her. “I’m working on it!”

“How much time would be needed, precisely? If you ask me, it seems a lot like you’ve made no progress whatsoever with the one job you went to Amarno for, in the almost four years you’ve been at it?”

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to people in trouble and let them die, even if they’re not strictly related to the big cause!”

“Yet, all your efforts will have been for nothing, if those towers are broken! Can’t you see that? Everyone will die equally and the world will end. Or did you forget that, in your pursuit for personal glory and shining things?”

“I know that!” I shoot back. “But it's not that simple! What about you then? Any major plot twists? No? Nothing? Here we are, a lot of words and no results, the same as I last saw it. Funny how I have to do everything here! Well, I’m starting to get a little tired of shouldering the fate of the whole planet by myself, and getting only so much yelling for it—”

BAM.

Vysania takes something heavy from her robe pocket and plants it on the kitchen table with a loud bang. I silence myself. A round metal sphere, with shallow curves running along an otherwise smooth, clean surface. I’ve seen a ball exactly like it before. Even held it in my hand.

“That’s...”

“The core of Ibolhyma’s tower,” Vysania answers. “Yaoldabath’s agents were everywhere. I had to remove the core to protect it.”

I stare at the girl, stupefied.

“H-how did you get into the vault? Wasn’t—wasn’t there a door? A seal?”

It was my cheat abilities that opened the door for me, I can't even explain how, but I was quite sure the feat was beyond a standard mortal.

“It's not a seal,” Vysania tells me. “It’s a puzzle. A test, to see if the one seeking entry understands what the core is and what is its role. Anyone with the necessary knowledge, and the ability to manipulate mana, is given a fair chance to pass.”

Was it like that? I don’t remember.

“It took a night to crack the equations, but I was able to produce the correct answer in the end and unlocked the core chamber. Your so-called ‘talent’ was fortunately not required. Which begs the question, what even is your role here?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be—”

“—And, indeed,” she steadily continues, raising her voice over mine, “we have considered dismissing you, for good.”

The news hit me like a sack of potatoes.

“You didn’t...” I mouth in disbelief, out of air.

“Zero, you broke the rules,” Vysania reminds me. “If you cannot commit to our core tenets, if you cannot be held accountable for anything you do, and one-sidedly sever all contact, doing whatever you damn well please, what other choice do we have? It’s been painfully obvious you never took the Order seriously, nor shared our goals. So what keeps you? Shouldn’t you be glad? Go on, get out. Run back to your new masters like a good dog and live the way you see fit, chasing whatever bones they throw you, while they still find you useful. Leave the world to us who care!”

“Oh, give me a break!” I yell at her. “I was just a kid when I got here! None of this even seemed real to me! But I’m not the same as I was then! I’m trying to do the right thing, okay, but you have to let me do it my way!”

“No, you’re not special!” she shouts, exasperated. “I regret putting that ridiculous thought into your head. It’s skewed you!”

“I...”

“You were narrowly spared in the first vote. Myself, Master Teresina, Endol, and Khram voted to excommunicate you immediately, as the rules demand. But Gunlau and Mansoix wanted to give you a chance, and Irifan used her veto to annul the vote, saying we should hear you out first before the final decision.”

Vysania picks up the glossy orb from the table and takes off, her tail puffed in anger.

“Like we haven’t heard enough of your excuses!”

I dodder across the floor to the bench by the dining table, my legs shaky, and collapse down to sit. I exhale out a long, feeble sigh. That was something. I thought I was used to yelling, both giving and receiving, but that was…something.

Granny picks up the teapot. It so happens there are already two mugs on the table and she goes to fill them. A herbal smell spreads in the kitchen, mysteriously homy and soothing.

“Try not to take it personally,” she grunts. “It’s just me she’s fussing about.”

I look up. “Huh…?”

“More than anything, she blames you for not sticking around and leaving the house to rot,” Master Teresina explains. “Like I might drop dead any given minute. Bah! I never taught her to be such a sentimental fool. Old things pass away, that’s a law of life. And I’m not a corpse just yet. Oh, don’t look so godsdamned crushed. It doesn’t suit you.”

I pick up my old mug and warm my hands on its sides. Granny takes a seat opposite of me, and for a moment, we sit enveloped in total silence. At last, I feel like I’ve come back home and can bring myself to smile a little.

Then, she speaks up again.

“Do you know why I voted to kick you out?”

“…Because rules are rules?” I suggest.

“Well, there’s that too,” she answers. “But that’s only half of it. Three quarters. Above all, it was because I honestly thought it might be for best. Why should we tie you down to our little circle, if you’ve got the chops for more? Because you’ll turn into a loose cannon and break more than you do good, unless we breathe down your neck at all times? Yes, perhaps. That’s possible. But we can’t keep at it forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to assume charge of your own fate and choose for yourself what’s right. Telling you ‘no-no’ at every turn isn’t going to magically turn anyone into a good person. You’ll have to find out what 'good' means on your own. And...”

Master Teresina lifts her gaze and looks at me, an unusually warm smile deepening the creases of her aged face. And for the first time I think she looks like how a grandmother should look.

“...I dare say you’ve already got the gist of it.”

“Masteerrrrr...” I tears well up in my eyes even as I fight them.

I saw terrible things.

Horrible things.

Atrocious things.

But I also saw true beauty. I saw true strength. Courage. The meaning of loyalty. Of love. I saw all the things that get you up from the bed in the morning and make you think it was worth the pain, that the pain wasn't that painful after all.

And whether it’s with the rest of the gang or all alone—I’m going to keep going and see more, and never stop.