Albo lay adrift in a sea of linen, bathed in the soft sunlight that graced the capital of Atrila.
He was buried beneath a heavy, expensive blanket, an intricate work of silk kilted with delicate floral designs that covered him from his toes to chin. Unlike the bare room Saya had woken up in which was more akin to a poor man’s quarters than anything fit for recovery or luxury, his body was tended to with almost excessive care.
He lay atop a cushioned bed layered in clean white sheets, the air faintly scented with herbs and expensive incense. Fresh bandages wrapped neatly around his wounds, each one replaced the moment even the slightest stain appeared.
Three maids stood quietly at his side, hands folded, eyes lowered, awaiting even the smallest instruction from the castle’s medical staff.
“I feel like this treatment is a bit unfair.”
Beside the dreaming boy stood Saya. She remained on her feet, staring down at her comatose friend with a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. His face was too peaceful, even for her liking.
She was used to his exaggerated expressions and restless energy, so seeing him still felt like looking at a stranger.
“What a rare sight,” she murmured, reaching out to gently caress his hair.
Even knowing that no simple touch could wake him from this magically induced slumber, she was cautious, her fingers barely brushing his scalp.
“Y’know, the room I stayed in looked nothing like this,” she went on, her voice a soft tether to a reality he couldn't yet reach. “I can hear you even while you’re asleep, boasting about how they love you more than me because of this royal treatment they’re giving you.”
She paused, her expression turning solemn.
“Still, I better get a thank you for risking my life to save your leg. Maybe it’s all that meat you eat that made you so tasty to that crazy mud guy.”
Sighing softly, Saya closed her eyes and drew her awareness inward, guiding her consciousness toward the familiar switch that activated her Soul Sight.
After learning that suppressing her emotions wasn’t actually necessary, she figured now was as good a time as any to practice turning the ability on whenever she could, whenever her body allowed it.
By now, she knew the consequences of mistriggering her Soul Sight too well. The result of her failures would cause her body to heat up to inhuman levels, knocking her unconscious within minutes.
If she wanted to save her friend in any way, in any form, she would have to abandon her fear of pain and focus on channeling the magic within her body straight to her eyes. Not too fast, not too slow.
Emotions were an important factor in the casting of magical spells, as a person’s physical and mental state directly influenced the way a spell manifested.
If the user was afraid or hesitant, there was a high chance the spell’s output would falter or plummet entirely, its power reflecting the instability of its caster.
Even though it was something Saya had learned repeatedly at the academy, it remained a process she never truly understood, having never cast a spell in her life.
The theory existed clearly in her mind, memorized word for word like lines from a textbook, yet it always felt distant and abstract, like knowledge meant for someone else rather than herself.
But magic existed in every living being, including herself, and so, utilizing everything she had learned throughout her years at the academy, she attempted to cast a single, purely mental spell to activate her unique ability.
She had once assumed the violent jolt that shocked both her mind and body was the result of emptying her emotions completely, as if detachment itself was the trigger. But the truth turned out to be far simpler than she had imagined.
Like casting any ordinary spell, all she needed to do was visualize the magic flowing within her body, acknowledge its presence, and then guide that current upward, transferring the energy carefully into her eyes.
Slowly opening them, the world sank into a deep sea of blue, as though everything had been submerged beneath quiet water. Colors dulled and light stretched strangely, yet the body before her glowed in vivid, shifting hues that pierced through the haze.
Albo’s soul, gears, and Birthmark all came into view.
An oddity caught Saya’s eye. The color of his magical gears was muddied with black and red, the same sickly combination she had seen in Sulva’s lightning.
Typically, every being she perceived with her Soul Sight carried a vibrant green hue, but Albo’s internal magical structure was stained, corrupted by the curse cast upon him.
“We thought that if we removed the mud from his system, he would get better.”
A voice called out from behind her. Being so absorbed in activating her Soul Sight, she hadn’t even noticed the woman standing just to her left.
Her purple-and-blue dress contrasted against the castle walls, yet somehow still blended seamlessly with the surrounding stone. Light blue eyes met Saya’s gaze, completely unfazed even after staring directly into her Soul Sight.
The long, pale violet hair cascading down her back suited her perfectly. It wasn’t dark enough to merge with the colors of her dress, yet not light enough to clash with the cold shade of her eyes. Everything about her felt deliberate, balanced, almost unnaturally composed.
The very atmosphere around her seemed to stiffen, the air itself holding its breath out of respect. She carried a soft, gentle smile, the kind that should have been comforting at a glance.
And yet, for reasons she couldn’t explain, a cold shiver crept up Saya’s spine, prickling her skin like unseen fingers dragging across her back.
Almost on instinct, her vision snapped back to normal, deactivating her Soul Sight.
Their palms met, cool leather brushing against warm skin. Even as they shook, the woman’s eyes never left Saya’s, her gaze steady and unreadable, quietly measuring her.
“Nice to meet you Saya, my name is Viera Mare.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Viera let out a soft chuckle at the greeting, the sound light but faintly amused. “Ma’am makes me feel quite old. You can just call me Miss Mare, if you want.”
The name echoed in Saya’s head the moment it left the woman’s lips.
It pulled at something buried deep in her memory, like a half-remembered page from a textbook or a passing comment overheard in class. She couldn’t really explain it, but her name had an important and formal atmosphere around it.
But no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t place exactly where she had heard it.
If she wasn’t someone from Kala, then the woman standing before her had to be someone of considerable status, someone known beyond a single city.
“Will do, thank you Miss Mare.”
Despite the woman’s friendly demeanor, Saya couldn’t exactly help but maintain a respectful tone. Perhaps it was her older appearance, or maybe her mind was trying to warn her of the woman’s status at the castle.
“Are you a doctor that worked on trying to heal Albo?”
Placing a hand on her chin, Viera tilted her head ever so slightly, her expression thoughtful, almost playful, as though the question amused her.
“I suppose you can say that.”
“Do you think he’ll get better anytime soon?” she asked without hesitation, desperately clinging onto hope.
“He will once the curse on him is lifted.”
Disappointment settled across Saya’s face as she lowered her head.
“But a curse can’t be removed unless the caster dies, or undoes it himself.”
Saya’s mind flashed back to Sulva, the sharply dressed gentleman who, with the snap of his finger, had sent her friend into a violent convulsion. At the same time, she couldn’t ignore what Rias had done to him in Hector’s office.
In the young mage’s mind, she couldn’t help but wonder whether it was Sulva who had the ability to free Albo, or Rias. Between the two of them, only one should have held the key to breaking the curse, yet neither answer brought her any comfort.
“It’s most likely not the mud-man.”
Viera’s voice cut her thoughts without warning. It came in at the exact moment her thoughts settled, as if the woman had simply read the question straight from her mind.
“I took the liberty of analyzing his magical anatomy.”
“From what I could tell, and based on the briefings that Hana gave me, a part of the mud-man’s body was already corrupted. Sulva simply activated that dormant curse.”
“It wasn’t like the curse that he casted on Hana to deactivate her magic, so it’s not something that’ll dissolve in due time. This one was meant more for a slow burn. If I had to guess, it was never really meant to curse someone else, and it just happened to end up that way.”
“If you’re dedicated to saving your friend, you’re going to have to find Sulva himself, and get him to dissolve the curse. Otherwise, it’s quite possible he might never wake up.”
Saya clenched her fists in frustration. She understood everything that came out of Viera’s mouth and accepted the condition that she needed to defeat Sulva.
But a rush stirred in her chest, urging her to awaken him as quickly as possible. Given the situation she had been placed in, it was impossible to know when or where she would meet the deranged cultist again.
For all she knew, it could be days, weeks, or even years.
Was her friend doomed to remain bedridden for the rest of his life if she never encountered the cultist again? Her mind flooded with endless possibilities, countless ways her life could unravel. Her breath grew heavy, huffing in frustration at her own incapabilities.
All the while, Viera stood by her, observing her every subtle motion. She extended her left hand backward, reaching for something just out of grasp.
Footsteps drew closer, and a maid approached, handing something to Viera. The sharp snap of leather striking flesh drew Saya’s attention immediately.
Turning with curiosity, she was met by Viera, her hand extended, holding a brown book etched with strange symbols on the cover, the same chained book she had thrown to Rias before being attacked.
The book, however, was now unchained, its dark purple aura contaminating it no longer. Viera’s expression remained unwavering, maintaining a dignified and confident smile. It was different from the one Hana carried.
While Hana wore a carefully constructed mask of elegance, a performance to maintain appearances, the woman before her had woven it seamlessly into her very identity. Someone faking their elegance often calculated every step, following a predetermined path laid out in their mind.
But Viera moved differently. Her gestures were neither deliberate nor calculated, yet they carried an aura that seemed to shimmer like gold.
Not wanting to leave her waiting any longer, Saya accepted the book Viera offered.
“I’m not sure why Kuno left her spellbook behind in Kala,” Viera continued. “Perhaps it’s fate that you came across it.”
“Personally, I don’t understand a thing on any of the pages, but I’m sure that if you use this, you’ll be able to save your friend in no time.”
“While you were asleep, I had my retainers gather your academic records. You had never once been able to cast magic, until a few nights ago.”
Saya’s body flinched as she tried to recall the events at the academy. Even though she hadn’t been conscious during Oktavia’s recall, phantom memories still lingered, flashes of herself performing arcane actions against the cultists.
“I’ll have you train with Hana until you’re ready to set out on your own. When that time comes, I’ll have you take the book with you.”
“If I had to guess, the Feathers of Celica were most likely after the book, hoping to reach the Mage Tower one day. So if you’re going to carry it with you, I want you fully prepared to face them.”
Presented with the barrage of information, Saya’s mind went back over a few words that had caught her attention.
“The Feathers of Celica, what are they?” she asked.
Gloom settling over her face, Viera scooted to the bed and sat on its edge. The maids hurried toward the far end of the room to fetch a chair, but Viera raised her hand to stop them. Seeing her gesture, they returned to their posts by the door.
“They’re a cult that’s been around ever since I was a teenager.”
“In short, they worship the Aspect of Despair.”
“Aspects. They’re like gods and goddesses, right?” Saya asked.
Viera slowly nodded back.
“The cult has an obsession over reviving that Aspect, and will go to great lengths to inflict as much despair as possible.”
“While they used to focus on small-scale acts of terror, they’ve most likely expanded their scope toward reaching the Mage Tower.”
“Which explains why they were after Kuno’s spellbook. What better way to reach the Tower than by using the very tools the victor once wielded?”
Saya nodded along.
“Fortunately for everyone in the world, most of them were wiped out by someone called the ‘Golden Flash’.”
“What makes them truly dangerous is the unconventional magic they use.”
“Truthfully, I don’t know much about it. All I know is that Kuno used to call it ‘Third World Magic,’ but those words don’t really mean much to me.”
“I suppose that’s what makes unraveling this curse so difficult.”
Leaving the bedside, Viera began making her way toward the door.
“Maybe that book can teach you a thing or two. I suggest you take it easy today and read what you can. If you want, I can ask Hana to show you a thing or two about magic spells.”
“She’s not really a mage, but I’m sure something she teaches you will be helpful.”
One of the maids by the door bent into a bow before opening it for her.
“Get some food and rest. We can talk more tomorrow, I have quite a bit of work to finish right now.”
With a simple wave of goodbye, Viera disappeared into the endless halls of the castle.
One of the maids followed after her, leaving Saya alone in silence as the outside world carried on without a hitch. She stared out at the bustling merchants and the shimmering glow of the water canals.
Taking a seat next to Albo on his bed, her thoughts drifted to the future and the path she would have to take to change not only her life but the life of her friend.
Her blood ran cold at the thought of having to fight someone, or even learning magic in such a short period of time. She knew professors who had spent a lifetime in training and still never achieved their goals.
Reaching the Mage Tower was a task set by her past self, and she certainly couldn’t ignore the weight of its implications.
Her immediate problem already had an answer; she needed to dismantle the curse Sulva had placed in order to save Albo.
But how that could be done was beyond her understanding. If death were the only option, then the safest bet she could rely on was destroying his soul, erasing his existence entirely, and ridding the curse without a single trace.
For Saya however, it still didn’t feel right to kill someone, even knowing that Sulva had snuffed out countless lives. In many ways, she cursed herself, chalking up her hesitation as a poor example of humanity.
The Sword Saint had told her she needed to continue forward carrying the memories of those who were lost.
But what would those lives ask of her if she were confronted with such an opportunity?
Oktavia had informed her that she had taken a more ruthless and calculated approach during the last loop.
She couldn’t help but wonder if this was a crucial decision she needed to make in the near future, whether to follow the path she had once walked or to detach from it entirely.
Burdened with too many questions, yet too little answers, Saya let out an exacerbated sigh.
“If only you were here to help me make a decision.” Her hand returned to caressing his hair, fingers slipping through the strands of gold. It was a small gesture, but it brought her great comfort.
“I’m getting too far ahead of myself.” Placing the book on her lap, she flipped it open to the first page.
The paper was washed in yellow, a testament to the book’s age. Despite that, the text was pitch-black, as if it was freshly inked.
That Viera lady was kind…
Saya thought to herself before she could immerse herself in her book. The name still sounded oddly familiar, yet she couldn’t pinpoint where she had heard it before.
Turning to the maid who had been left behind, Saya asked, “Excuse me, who was Miss Mare just now? Is she really a doctor?”
She had been absorbing information from a stranger, and although she hadn’t questioned the source in the moment, she did now. If they were at the castle, there was a high chance they could be trusted, but with recent events putting her on edge, it was better to be safe than sorry.
The maid stared at Saya before replying in a surprised yet composed tone.
“That was Her Majesty.”
Saya’s jaw dropped. Of course the name had seemed familiar, it was one often mentioned in conversations with Albo whenever he complained about the state of the school lunches.
But as she recalled her appearance, she realized Viera had indeed been wearing a lavish dress. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to Veronica’s attention-seeking and expensive jewelry, but the way Viera carried herself was far more humble in comparison.
“Crap, I thought she was some random.”