Delvey forced the recollection back, a visceral, involuntary shudder catching in his throat.
He couldn’t see anything but blood in its most saturated form.
“I…
I reckoned it only went for the things that were moving, things with Rage.
So I damped mine down next to nothing.”
An icy tremor ran through his fingers, hairs practically standing on end just as they had been when he was living it.
“When I ran, I thought for sure it’d be after me.
That it’d rip me in half.” His voice quavered, a brittle, high-pitched squeak.
“But the next thing I knew, I was top-side, begging everyone for help.”
Ruvenne’s eyes flicked sideways, the realization aligning.
If I couldn’t sense a thing from Kisatsu, he must’ve been bone-dry.
The puppet wouldn’t have even seen him as a target.
He turned and marched away, fingers rubbing his chin in deep thought.
The way I see it, it’s the only way it adds up.
The thing must’ve headed for the surface because that’s where the most Rage is.
He stopped, facing the wall with a profound, concentrated focus.
First, the Rage inside the battery is a dead ringer for Xavier Ashira’s.
Second, Delvey says Kisatsu chipped in the most out of the lot of them.
Third, the puppet only goes for a signature—being bone-dry is the only thing that could’ve saved the boy.
And fourth…
Ichett swears he wasn’t the one who flattened the manikin.
His fingers splayed with each count before curling back, gaze drifting, thoughts coalescing.
A candidate for the Reco?
He might be well beyond that.
He pivoted to finally face the pair.
“I’ve made up my mind.
Instead of a formal punishment, how about we put Rivulet in the Reco Team?
Under our thumb, naturally.”
The suggestion stole Rivulet’s breath.
“The Reco?” Ichett asked, the name drawing lines across his forehead.
“I’ve not heard a great deal about it, but isn’t that the group for the top-tier new blood?” He glanced at Rivulet before turning back to Ruvenne.
“Why him?”
Ruvenne’s gaze slipped to the boy, keen, calculating.
For a fresh student, masking your Rage signature is something they’re only expected to get the hang of by the end of the term.
In fact, the university hasn’t even touched on manipulation yet, let alone imbuing objects.
Not at this stage.
His eyes flicked back to Ichett.
“Simply handing out punishments doesn’t give the lad a chance to make amends, does it?
It’d be a crying shame to just send someone like him packing.” He jerked his chin at Rivulet.
“He’s got the cheek to nick a manikin from the town hall and the nerve to play about with it—he’s exactly the sort of student the Knight Association would kick themselves for losing.”
He paused, a faint huff slipping past his lips.
Though, it’s only the Third Division and above who can put forward new names like this.
I’ll have a word with the Team’s overseer himself.
I just hope he doesn’t nod off in the middle of it.
Ichett drew his attention back to Rivulet, eyes returning with their sharp, critical edge.
“Got anything to say to that?
Complain all you like, but this is your lot.
It’s the only way you’re clearing your name.”
He waited for the boy’s response, expecting a plea or a moan.
But Rivulet showed no signs of resisting.
He simply stared at them with a watery, almost thankful gaze.
He’d stumbled into the Reco Team without even trying.
“I have…
I have no complaints, none at all,” he murmured, voice thin, barely above a whisper—but it held an unmistakable conviction.
“I promise I’ll serve the Association as a member of the Reco Team.
I’ll make sure my penance is done.”
Ichett leaned back once more, releasing an exhausted sigh he’d been holding the entire time, then flicked a glance at Ruvenne.
“I’ll leave the other lad to you—this interrogation has me proper spent.”
Ruvenne gave a slight, simple nod.
“Leave the rest to me.”
***
“No!
I have nothing to do with Xavior Ashira!” Kisatsu’s voice cut through the clinical, astringent-scented air of the office.
“He’s a hero, maybe, but I have nothing related to him at all.
I’ve never even seen him in person.”
He gave a brisk, dramatic shake of his head.
Is this alright?
Am I being a bit too defensive?
“Steady on, I’m not doubting you or anything of the sort,” Ruvenne replied, voice level as he sat at his desk, eyes too weary to even show a hint of suspicion.
“I’m just trying to make sense of what’s rattling around in my head. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
It’s a bit of a muddle for me too, you know?”
Kisatsu exhaled softly, the tension in his voice dipping.
“I’m…
sorry.
It’s just that I don’t know what’s happening around me right now.”
“It’s quite alright—you’re spent, and your Rage levels haven’t picked up yet.”
“You can…
see people’s Rage?” he asked, voice tinged with a sudden curiosity.
“I can sense it,” Ruvenne said, eyes flicking down to his map-sized notes, expression flat, uninterested.
“Much like feeling the weather turn hot or cold.”
“That sounds…
cool.
And scary, also.
Like nobody can hide from you.”
“Anyone can, and I’d be none the wiser.” His voice stayed clinical as he scrawled on the paper.
“Oh, uhm…
yeah, I guess.” Kisatsu’s gaze darted across the room with a gawky fluster, unable to fix on anything.
“I can…
technically hide from you in this state.” He paused, the skin around his eyes sagging as he looked back at Ruvenne directly.
“What happened to that guy…
Xavior?”
A beat.
Ruvenne stopped scribbling, as if the question had caught his wrist.
“He was executed.” His eyes stayed fixed on the sinuous, cursive text drying beneath his hand.
“By whom?”
Ruvenne’s eyes closed for a moment before he looked up, stopping midway.
“The guilds suspect it was the Autocrats’ doing.”
Kisatsu stiffened, the dissonance visible in the tightening grooves of his temple.
He’d expected a different culprit.
The Autocrats…?
But what about the priests?
He remembered the ships he’d seen from across the sea before they raided his hometown—and his homeland as well.
“I…
see.
Did his whole family…
die also?” he asked, voice thin.
“In all likelihood.” Ruvenne’s words were cruelly steady, detached.
“The Fifth Division knight—Ryurei Ashira, Xavior’s only known son—there’s been not a trace of him after the invasion.”
Kisatsu’s hairs practically stood on end.
The words only known son hit him like a physical blow, ringing through his mind with a persistent defiance.
He felt a mixture of relief and a sharp pang of irrelevancy—they wouldn’t find him, but only because they didn’t know he existed.
“That’s…
cruel.
How can they even…
God, they must be out of their minds,” he stammered, hand rising to rub the bridge of his nose.
“I never expected this autocratic system to be so…
fucked up.” He paced the room in a slow, frantic circle.
No one knows about the priests.
If I ask about them now, he might suspect why I know so much, or ask where I even got the idea that the priests exist.
He glanced back at Ruvenne, eyes cloaking with a doubtful, skeptical edge.
Professor…
if I told you who I really am, would you stay quiet about it?
I doubt it.
Aunt Anneliese and Uncle Dalsdair never told me who I can trust.
I definitely lose nothing if I keep my mouth shut.
He turned away, hands settling on his hips, gaze locking on something else—a table, a desk, a forgotten pile of papers.
But…
what do I do if they find out my real identity?
Would the priests hunt me down?
Would the Autocrats?
The mantled man reappeared in his mind.
Would he…
come to save me again?
Ruvenne tapped his pen against the table, the sound breaking through the silence as he tried to connect the impossible dots.
He stood up suddenly, chair scraping against the floor with an unpleasant rasp.
“Right—I’m getting nowhere with this!”
The only thing getting into me is the fact that the Rage in the battery was completely identical to Xavior’s.
The pressure that flattened the manikin might just be some freak occurrence, and I could just leave it at that—but not this!
His eyes snapped to Kisatsu.
free to go.
I’ve nothing else to ask you, and I doubt I’ve got the answers to any more of your questions, either.”
The door clicked shut as Ruvenne slumped back into his chair, hands clutching at his temple.
Should I…
have him watched as well?
Along with Rivulet?
He stared at the wood where Kisatsu had been standing, as if somehow expecting the boy to return.
***
208th Day of the Year 1016
A week had passed.
Kisatsu was ambling down the cloister when he caught a familiar figure in the corner of his eye.
He peered at the silhouette, confirming it was really him.
Thanduin leaned against one of the colonnades, arms twined so casually across his chest, a smug look painted on his face.
At the sight, Kisatsu’s expression brightened a little as he trotted over.
“Thanduin!”
“Alright.” Thanduin waved a hand in a casual gesture.
“Sounds like you’ve had a bit of a week of it, eh?”
The implication of the incident only snagged the resurfacing light from Kisatsu’s face, his steps slowing, becoming heavier than they’d been a second ago.
“Lucky you’re still in one piece, mind,” Thanduin said, voice airy.
“I was out on another quest over in Blutenheim.
Reckon I could’ve lent a hand here if I’d had the time.” He caught the sudden despondence in the boy’s pale violet eyes and leaned in.
“What’s up?
Still got that business on your mind?
Come off it, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a bit of trouble.”
His gaze lingered on Kisatsu’s downcast expression a second longer, then he leaned back, brows furrowing in genuine concern.
“Did you go and throw yourself in the line of fire for someone else again?”
The boy couldn’t answer, looking away briefly.
It was the opposite.
He hadn’t been able to save anyone—he could barely even save himself back then.
The memory felt weighted, unbearable, and he’d rather not relive it, even in his mind.
Knowing the moment had already passed, he forced himself to look back up.
“No, not this time.” His voice came out low.
“I couldn’t save anyone at all.
That’s why I want to be better.”
A gentle smile ghosted over Thanduin’s lips.
“Stronger, you mean?
Well, I’ve got just the thing for you.” He paused, rolling away from the wall, arms blooming.
“The Reco Team’s gone and accepted you as their latest candidate.
Makes you an official Eighth Division member, that.”
“E-Eighth Division?” Kisatsu couldn’t help but recall how sluggish he’d been compared to Rivulet’s friends.
That’s…
putting two divisions or twenty sections of stronger people below me.
“But am I not much too weak for that?” he asked.
“The Reco lot will see to that.
Every member’s got their own specific regime, don’t they?” Thanduin said, flicking a thumbs-up with a stiff, mischievous grin.
Mind you, if the training actually finishes you off like they say, I’m not taking the fall for it.
Not me.
Kisatsu held his chin for a moment, eyes hooding briefly before turning his gaze back.
“So…
when am I supposed to meet them?”
“Ah—the Team’s overseer has summoned the new lot to meet him tomorrow at Masquettara Airport.
Just hail a cabbie and tell them the place—they’ll have you there in no time.” A pause, a short puff escaping him.
“Though, if you ask me, the man’s got a bit of a weird taste for venues.”
He shrugged, muttering more to himself.
“Masquettara Airport, of all places…
really?”
New candidates?
Kisatsu thought, staring into the courtyard absentmindedly.
So someone else has enrolled beside me, huh?
***
The next day, Kisatsu took a ride in a horse-drawn carriage.
He could’ve taken a motorcar, but he was still thinking of an exorbitant meal—one consisting of coronation chicken and Middlesbrough parmo.
His stomach rumbled at the mere thought, the sound drowned in the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves striking the stone.
It was half past ten in the morning.
The portal of the Masquettara Airport towered in the distance, but something else forced him to squint—harder than he had when trying to recognize Thanduin the other day.
He only needed to see a distant glint of magenta before a name came to mind.
From the distance, Rivulet alighted from a motorcar, looking at another silhouette remaining inside the vehicle.
Kisatsu could only see so far without leaning out of the carriage.
The motorcar began to pull away before he could catch a glimpse of the passenger, the occasional sway of the wagon only serving to hinder his focus.
The horse-drawn carriage stopped by the portal, and Kisatsu disembarked.