Somewhere in a colossal grey city, a manarail was speeding.
It traveled over the streets on a single track, further and further away from the Tower at the city’s center.
Though no matter how far the manarail went, the Tower would never disappear fully.
Only its base would slowly go out of sight.
The Tower’s domineering omnipresence was the one thing bringing comfort to any traveler venturing far from his home.
The same could not be said about the rest of the view visible from the manarail’s windows.
Each new building that scrolled past was more dreadful than the last, losing the height and the lights of those from the center.
Perhaps due to the disorienting speed of the manarail, they started to resemble giant coffins more than any place a human should call home.
Maybe it looks worse than it actually is…
Thought a young man looking out the window.
His name was Cyril Thorne, a young noble, sixteen years of age.
He had blond hair, a handsome face, and blue eyes.
Though he had no expression visible on that face, nor any emotion shining in those eyes, creating a rather unapproachable look overall.
He was dressed in a white academy uniform of luxurious design, which only seemed to alienate him further from the plainness around.
He glanced at the sky outside.
The sun was already going down, occasionally peeking behind the grey buildings.
Maybe I should’ve taken the carriage after all.
Cyril shook his head and relaxed in his seat.
He went on a manarail more so on a whim to see how it was.
It got old after the third hour, and now it was even unknown if he’d make it in time.
He was enrolling in Ailanthus, an academy of magic.
Being late on the first day wasn’t a good start of his student life.
Not to mention another unfortunate element of using public transport: the people.
The other passengers kept a certain distance from him.
They carefully pretended not to see him while occasionally peeking at him as if at a rare animal.
Is it that rare to see a noble on a manarail?
Cyril thought with some helplessness.
His looks made his status apparent enough.
A long time ago, Cyril even heard from someone that he looks just like an ideal image of a noble.
He still wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
At least it was free of any accidents.
Nobles loved to share stories of how the manarail was a hotbed for thieves and other criminals, but so far nothing had happened.
At least that would’ve been interesting…
Just as such thoughts went through his head, a force yanked on Cyril in his seat, making him brace.
Making a horrible screech, the manarail slowly came to a halt.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience.
For your safety, please remain seated while we switch to a backup manavein.
Thank you for your patience,” a barely recognizable voice announced from somewhere.
Then, the blue lights that lined the corners of the cabin he was in slowly grew dim.
With them, the vague humming sound of magic also disappeared.
The manarail was out of power.
Are you kidding me?
If it was uncertain before, now he’ll definitely be late.
Cyril looked around the cabin he was in, his frustrations growing.
Though his face remained as calm as ever.
His fellow passengers looked more annoyed than afraid, treating the incident with helplessness.
They gossiped about the cause, lamented being late to work, and generally shared his foul mood.
This was until one of the passengers pointed at the window, exclaiming, “Look!
Something’s happening in another cabin!”
The rest of the passengers followed the excited gaze, peering out the window as well.
The manarail went out of power just when it was taking a turn, allowing a good look at the numerous cabins behind.
There, vaguely visible through the windows, two figures in black were running, chased by another figure in white.
“Someone’s chasing someone!
Trying to catch a thief, maybe?”
“I hope it’s not related to the stop…”
“They are going to run in here soon!”
The figures went through cabin after cabin, slowly making their way to them.
With that realization, the passengers hugged the walls of the manarail, trying to be as far away from trouble as possible.
They peered at the door, waiting as the sounds of the chase reached their ears.
Soon, the door was forcefully opened.
Through it hastily dashed a figure in black, followed by another.
They were wearing cloaks that obscured their bodies along with their faces.
“Give it a rest, kid!
Don’t get yourself involved!” one of them yelled.
Shortly, the figure in white dashed in as well, almost reaching them.
It was a young man with black hair around Cyril’s age, and surprisingly enough, he was wearing the same uniform as Cyril.
“They are criminals!
Don’t let them get away!” The young man yelled as he ran in.
Cyril immediately switched his attention back to the cloaked figures.
They stopped in the middle of the cabin and turned around to look at the young man with frustration.
“Oh Gods!
Stop yelling that!” One man yelled while waving his arms around.
“We are not criminals!
We are from Lapis and want only to make the Empire better!”
Lapis?
Cyril slightly tilted his head as he heard a familiar word.
He didn’t pay too much attention to the news, but even he knew they were categorized as a terrorist organization by the Tower.
The blankness in Cyril’s blue eyes was soon replaced by a cold spark.
Criminals indeed.
Aside from him, the passengers of the cabin only looked at the commotion, not moving a muscle.
The sight made the cloaked criminals raise their heads higher.
“See?!
They know we are the good guys!
So, stop while you still can!”
The young man bit his lip before raising his hands with determination.
“I can’t agree with your means.
I am sorry, but stopping criminals is my duty as a student of Ailanthus!”
The criminals’ glare became worse.
“Alright, I am done with your nonsense.”
One of them unsheathed a sword that was hidden within the cloak.
“You have a-”
In the middle of his sentence he froze, noticing one of the passengers around him move.
Cyril stood up from his seat and moved to the middle of the cabin.
He blocked the way forward, coldly staring at the two criminals in silence.
The young man’s face lit up with joy at the sight.
His posture shifted as more confidence was put into his arms.
While the criminals could only groan in frustration.
“Another one?!
Gods, how unlucky!
Come on, at least you-”
“Enough!
Can’t you see this one’s a noble?
He is part of the problem.
Of course he won’t listen!”
Now the cloaked figures stood back-to-back.
One facing Cyril and another facing the young man.
“Why would a noble be riding on the regular manarail?”
“I don’t know!
Probably pretending to be normal or maybe trying to appear ‘close to the people.’ You know how they are!
Don’t you see how he looks?
That’s clearly a noble!”
“All I see is a young student.
Yeah, he might look a little-”
The two began arguing, their voices getting more and more heated.
It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten the two students facing them.
Cyril narrowed his eyes, feeling a profound sense of disappointment.
Just two idiots.
He could wait until they were done with their little dispute and have a proper fight.
However, that was likely not worth the time wasted, judging by how clumsily the men held their weapons.
So, the moment the cloaked man facing him half-turned to yell at his friend, Cyril dashed forward.
He saw no reason to take part in their performance.
Before the man in front of him could brace, Cyril drove a fist into his stomach.
Unlike some nobles, he trained since an early age and had plenty of strength, as evident by the pained face of the Lapis member.
He buckled under the force of the strike, his eyes constricting into dots.
“I knew it…!
Shameless…
just like a noble!” he managed to say through pain, falling to the ground.
The other Lapis member opened his mouth wide in surprise but quickly recovered.
With practiced efficiency, he grabbed something from his pocket, raising it towards the roof.
It was a bluish crystal, shimmering under the setting sun.
The crystal emanated a bright flash, blinding everyone inside of the cabin, including Cyril.
He raised his hands, anticipating an attack to come his way, though none did.
“Go…!
Leave me…!
Save yourself…!” a man’s voice urged nearby.
“You fool!
Lapis doesn’t leave their own!”
“…” Cyril was speechless.
The two graciously gave up their advantage on him, instead deciding to pointlessly give away their position.
Aiming at the voices, Cyril kicked in their direction.
His leg reached someone, eliciting another cry of pain.
It was followed by a surprised yelp and hurried footsteps.
As his vision recovered, Cyril could see a single cloaked figure already near the door to the next cabin, about to open it.
The other one lay on the floor in front of him, knocked out by the kick to the head.
Unfortunately for the criminals, the people from the next cabin had long since realized what was happening, and a few able-bodied people urgently stood at the door, holding it in place.
The cloaked figure yanked on the door a few times, but it refused to budge.
“Damn it!”
So much for not leaving their own.
Coward.
Taking a note of what he needed to know, Cyril glanced to the side, where the black-haired young man stood with an awkward expression.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” Cyril flatly asked, his blue eyes scanning the young man as if to find what’s wrong with him.
There were two against two, and it was a perfect opportunity for an attack.
Together they could’ve ended it right away.
“Sorry.
I didn’t expect you would dash there…
I was too slow,” the young man replied, scratching his hair shamefully.
Waste.
Cyril couldn’t help but scoff in response, making the young man’s smile twitch.
Without caring for his reaction, Cyril glanced back at the remaining Lapis member.
After trying a few more times, the cloaked man gave up on opening the door and desperately turned around.
“You’ve asked for this!” he yelled, stretching his hand forward.
Then, on top of his palm appeared a bright blue glow.
It soon spread, widening into a circle filled with complicated patterns.
The cloaked man was casting a spell, something Cyril hasn’t done even once in his life so far.
Cyril braced, preparing himself to dodge at any moment.
What will it be?
A projectile?
Some curse?
Will it come from beneath me or above me?
Will he shoot at the passengers?
Should I incapacitate him before that?
With something shining in his usually cold eyes, Cyril scanned the man’s magic circle, anticipating what comes next.
After a few seconds the magic circle soon collapsed on itself, transforming into a fiery-red sphere.
Then the man flung his hand, letting the sphere fly.
The passengers yelled in fear, moving as far away as possible, and the black-haired young man foolishly moved in front of them, as if trying to shield them with his body.
Cyril stood still, observing the spell’s trajectory.
His face regained its expressionless state.
The sphere landed on the wall of the manarail, away from everyone else, and exploded.
It filled the cabin with smoke, enveloping both him and the Lapis member.
The unharmed passengers and the young man looked on in surprise at the smoke-filled cabin, where the criminal and the noble disappeared from their sight.
From within that smoke soon came a surprised yelp.
“What the-!”
“Hold still.”
As the outside wind got rid of the smoke, it revealed a newly made hole at the side of the manarail as well as the two people standing right at the edge of it.
After the smoke appeared, the Lapis member immediately attempted to make a run for it, though Cyril dashed in and grabbed him in a hold before he could succeed.
The cloaked man struggled and thrashed but found the hands binding him completely refusing to yield.
He felt as if he were wedged between two boulders.
As Cyril restrained the criminal, he felt a profound sense of disappointment.
The sphere from earlier flew so slowly he could dodge it effortlessly even if it were to fly at him directly.
Perhaps only at point-blank range would it be threatening.
But the criminal’s casting speed was also atrocious.
Were it to be cast in front of him, Cyril could’ve attacked countless times before the spell was finished, preventing it altogether.
Spells were powerful, but it took time to cast them.
Since the man attempted to cast one, Cyril thought he must’ve had some ability, but the reality was rather disappointing.
Not like a skilled mage would join this riffraff.
What was I expecting?
Cyril shook his head, then, with renewed coldness, he glanced at the criminal’s arms.
Still, I should be careful.
His face as flat as it could be, Cyril suddenly let go, confusing the man.
Before the criminal could recover, Cyril grabbed onto his hand and twisted it.
Cyril moved smoothly and without hesitation, as if he was casually making a sandwich.
A loud crunch echoed in the silent cabin, followed by a scream.
“Ah!!”
The man’s face twisted in pain, his whole body stunned from shock.
Cyril then casually grabbed the other arm, twisting it as well.
Holding the broken arm, Cyril yanked on it, throwing the man away from the hole, deeper into the cabin.
Under the passenger’s shocked stares, Cyril stood over the Lapis member, who was now rolling on the floor from the pain.
Should see if there are any crystals left on him…
While the spectators recovered from the sight, he briefly searched through the man’s cloak, finding a rough, circular object enclosed in paper.
As soon as Cyril grasped it, he experienced an obvious but vague pulling sensation.
It seems he had one left.
Good thing I did that then.
Not giving it too much thought, Cyril put the object in his pocket, and the feeling disappeared.
With that, Cyril stood over the criminal in silence for a few seconds, the cold glint in his eyes intensifying.
Now what?
It was a first time for him.
Should he do anything else, just in case?
But before he could do anything else, someone from the crowd of observers stepped in, glaring at him with dissatisfaction.
“Stop it!
What are you doing?”
The young man from earlier quickly got in between the criminal and the noble, as if protecting some helpless victim.
Cyril flatly looked at the black-haired young man.
“I disabled his ability to cast spells,” he said casually, as if explaining his choice for breakfast.
While he was yet to cast a spell himself, he knew that to do so without hands would be impossible.
The young man frowned.
He immediately replied, his voice filled with righteousness: “Was breaking both his arms the only way to do that?
He didn’t mean to hurt anyone here.”
On the floor the Lapis member eagerly nodded up and down, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.
Cyril gave him an unconcerned glance before turning back to the young man.
“Should I have been like you and let a terrorist do as he wishes?” he slowly said.
The young man’s face twitched, a bit of anger showing through before being suppressed.
“…And some nobles wonder why they have a bad reputation,” he muttered to himself.
Cyril heard it loud and clear.
The corner of his eye twitched as his hand rolled into a fist.
So what if I have a bad reputation?
Cyril got a strong urge to demonstrate to this fellow student how guards treat ‘obstruction of justice’ situations.
But before he could do anything, the young man’s eyes suddenly widened in surprise.
He pointed behind Cyril, yelling in alarm: “Behind you!”
‘What a childish trick,’ briefly flashed in Cyril’s mind.
However, a moment later, he noticed a certain hum happening behind him.
So Cyril turned around in a hurry.
The door into the next cabin was opened at some point.
Standing in the doorway was an average-looking man, aiming a magic circle at Cyril with a hate-filled expression.
They had an ally here!
Just as Cyril noticed it, the circle was completed, collapsing into a familiar red glow.
It was almost right in front of him, in point-blank range.
Time seemingly slowed down for Cyril as he quickly contemplated.
He got careless.
The sheer punchability of that young man’s face made him fall into such a shameful situation.
He would not be harmed by such a poor excuse for a mage.
To further add on to the shame.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cyril noticed that young man already moving.
He reached into his pocket with a determined expression, clearly trying to save him somehow.
The thought of being saved by a waste like that made Cyril’s blood boil.
He would rather die today.
Cyril put strength in his legs, about to give his very best, his 120%, just to avoid this shameful outcome.
But he stopped himself.
A pair of slender hands suddenly reached out from behind the attacking mage.
Someone unseen smoothly grabbed onto the man’s head and twisted, snapping his head into a rather unusual position.
With that, this someone immediately grabbed the man’s hand, redirecting the completed spell into the hole leading outside.
A fiery sphere flew outside of the manarail, exploding before reaching the ground below.
Finally, the man limply dropped to the floor, revealing the figure responsible.
It was a young woman also wearing the same uniform as Cyril.
She had an average face with auburn hair in a bob cut.
In a crowd of people she would be lost in no time.
However, despite her plainness, somehow she appeared a little bit special in Cyril’s eyes.
Usually he had some trouble with remembering faces, but hers strangely stuck out.
The young woman looked out of the hole in the wall, casually ignoring the body at her feet, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Phew.
Good!
It didn’t hit anyone,” she whispered to herself in excitement.
Cyril, the black-haired young man, and the rest of the passengers silently stared at her with profound surprise.
They were silent.
“Did you…?” the young man whispered, his face paling further as he stared at the body on the floor.
“Oh, no!
He’ll be fine!” the auburn-haired girl opened her mouth.
Her voice was fittingly average.
She waved her hands in denial, sneaking glances at Cyril while nervously denying murder.
He’ll be fine?
Cyril glanced at the body on the floor, at the head twisted at an angle it really shouldn’t be in, and then back at the auburn-haired girl.
Somehow gleaning meaning from his usually cold expression, the auburn-haired girl hastily nodded.
“Yes!
Really!”
Okay.
…
The auburn-haired woman quickly bent down, pulling something out of the pocket of her uniform.
It was a vial with a red liquid inside.
With one hand she ‘realigned’ the man’s head into a more acceptable position, and with the other she poured the contents of the vial into the man’s mouth.
Quickly, gurgling sounds came from his throat as his face regained a bit of color.
Though he remained unconscious.
So he is alive.
Cyril nodded with realization.
He then briefly glanced at the black-haired young man near him.
He had a face of complete surprise, the one that didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
However, he removed his hand from his pocket, having failed to act in time.
Cyril subtly gave a sigh of relief.
The worst-case scenario was averted.
He was glad the auburn-haired girl snapped that man’s neck.
Cyril looked back at her, newfound appreciation in his eyes.
Not bad.
She is efficient too.
Much better than some people.
At this moment she caught his gaze and smiled wider.
Somewhat awkwardly, she gave him a thumbs-up.
“Alright…” finally uttered the young man, clueless to the exchange happening in front of him.
“If that’s the case, it’s over.”
The young man sighed, then turned to face the crowd of other passengers behind.
“Is everyone unharmed?”
They immediately replied with lingering fears.
“I am fine.”
“Me too.
Thank you, really!”
They showered him with relief and gratitude as if he were the one who saved their lives at this moment.
“I haven’t done anything…
No need to thank me,” the young man sheepishly replied.
“Don’t say that!
You shielded us with your body!
That determination is worthy of respect!”
To that seemingly humble response, their gratitude grew even stronger.
They stared at him as if at a hero from the stories, while at the same time sending Cyril and the auburn-haired girl cautious glances, as if afraid of what they would do next.
What?
Cyril narrowed his eyes for a moment, unable to understand their current attitude.
Weren’t they the ones who solved the situation?
He dealt with two criminals as efficiently as possible, preventing any accidents, so why were they looking at him with those eyes?
This young man’s naivety was what put them into danger in the first place.
Why was the crowd so blind to that?
Was it just because Cyril was a noble?
He just could not understand.
“It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?” A beautiful female voice casually called out from the side.
“You are obviously more handsome than that guy too.”
What?
However, this melodic voice wasn’t from the auburn-haired girl.
She was quietly standing in the corner, occasionally peeking at him but otherwise unassuming.
The voice came from someone else.
It came from his side, where no one should’ve been just moments before.
“…?”
Cyril turned around in surprise, and as soon as he saw who it was, his face froze.
A step away from him, practically in front of him, stood a young woman in a business suit.
She had black hair, contrasting nicely with her pale skin, and striking red eyes, rare even in today’s magic-dominated world.
She was beautiful, almost to a ridiculous extent.
Even her hatefully glaring at the innocent passengers did nothing to tarnish that beauty.
If anything, it added a bit of a malicious aesthetic to her.
Cyril always thought those people losing their ability to speak at the sight of women were all simple-minded fools or liars, but now he was one as well, it seemed.
And who is she?!
The young woman faced him, her expression quickly changing to something much softer.
“Not bad, right?
Name’s…
Call me Rhamn!” she said, brushing her hair with a satisfied look.
There was something about her voice as well.
It was the kind that reached the heart directly, filling it with something sweet.
Cyril quickly shook his head, using his willpower to snap out of this highly unusual state.
He stepped away, coldly glaring at the mysterious woman.
The other people in the cabin glanced at him with suspicion, but he ignored them.
Where did she come from?
First came the terrorists.
Then a fellow student, who was frustratingly foolish.
Then another student, who was even more efficient than him.
And now a mysterious woman had randomly materialized at his side.
This was supposed to be a quiet trip to the academy.
What was it becoming now?
Was life outside the family mansion this colorful?
This was going all too wrong.
Does someone else want to suddenly appear as well?!
Suddenly the ceiling above them broke apart as a figure landed on the manarail’s floor in the middle of it all.
It was a man covered in plate armor, its surface subtly shimmering.
He proudly stood straight, his helmet-covered face scanning his surroundings.
There was an air of authority to him, as if the situation was now entirely under his control.
“Stay calm, citizens.
We’ll solve it in a moment!” Another figure dressed similarly soon landed at his side, much quieter.
Their characteristic armor and the obvious sense of power in their demeanor made their identity obvious.
They were Knights, a special force under the direct command of the Tower.
Usually they wouldn’t deal with low-level crimes like currently, but perhaps they were simply nearby.
Either way, it was a lucky chance to see a Knight in action.
At least Cyril would normally think so.
Most other passengers seemed to turn a level more restrained, afraid, even.
The officials have finally arrived.
Cyril could only helplessly sigh, giving the red-eyed woman by his side another glance.
Rhamn, as she called herself, only smiled wider in response, completely ignoring the ruckus around them.