Dust shifts under our boots—soft and steady, nothing like the chaos we left behind. The sun's still overhead. I feel its warmth against my skin, but it feels wrong now. Too bright. Too calm.
Zahor is gone.
Randall is dead.
And I'm still on Julius's back—arms looped weakly over his shoulders, my body heavy with pain. Every step rattles my ribs. My mana's unstable. Faint. I can barely hold my shape.
Daniel's behind us. I can feel the ache in his mana—burning low and hot like tempered stone—as he carries Randall's body. No words. Just silence and weight.
Lirael patched the worst of our wounds, but her mana's nearly drained; she trudges beside Daniel, as pale and spent as the rest of us.
Kate walks ahead, the scroll clutched tight in her grip. It radiates metal mana, steady and sharp, layered under her wind spells like she's afraid it might slip through her fingers.
Then—
"Enough!"
Rolim's voice cuts the air like a blade.
We stop. Even the wind hesitates.
"You know what?" he snaps, his boots grinding hard into the dirt. His mana flares beside us—wild, bitter, barely held in check. "I've had it. We're down two people. Zahor's gone. Randall's dead."
His focus shifts—aimed directly at me. I feel it. His pressure slams forward, targeted and raw.
"And for what?" he growls. "So this brat could practice?"
The mana crackles with accusation. There's no need to see him gesture—I can feel him. His attention swinging between me and the scroll like a blade waiting to drop.
"That's what this whole trip was, wasn't it? Scout danger zones so she could test her magic. That's what Lorre said. Nothing about serpents. Nothing about corrupted wolves. Nothing about fighting her."
That last word is venom.
"And now what? We've got a damn scroll no one asked for, and two bodies we have to explain. So she can get stronger? So we can be her guards while she plays mage?"
Silence.
Then Julius speaks. Low. Calm. Controlled.
"You done?"
Rolim doesn't answer. But his pressure flares again—defiant. Julius adjusts my weight slightly on his back, but his mana holds firm. Fire—still banked, but dangerous now.
"We lost people. You're angry. I am too," he says quietly.
"But don't you ever speak about her like that again."
The air sharpens.
"She did her part. She's the reason we made it out. She stood between us and a Stage Two monster and lived long enough for us to escape."
His voice drops, harder now.
"If you think that scroll's worthless, then you weren't paying attention."
Rolim doesn't respond. His mana sours—still burning, but folded inward now. Ash and regret.
And we keep walking.
We walk.
The weight of silence settles again. The scroll's mana pulses—slow and metallic, almost ancient. It hums faintly beneath the layers of wind and protection Kate's wrapped it in, like it knows it doesn't belong to our world anymore.
Then, ahead of us, Kate speaks.
Calm. Too calm.
Her voice is steady, but the tension in her mana is unmistakable—dense, grounded, like stone braced to break.
"So," she says, "what's so special about this thing, Julius?"
No one answers right away.
Her grip tightens around the scroll, its metal‐cold hum echoing in the space between us.
"Special enough to get Zahor and Randall killed?"
Julius doesn't flinch. But I feel the pause in his step. A slight shift in his breathing.
Kate goes on. "What if I just used it on myself? I've got earth magic. It'd probably strengthen me, right?"
That edge in her voice—it's not just curiosity. She's grieving. And angry. And trying not to show either.
Julius exhales slowly.
"That's exactly why it's special," he says.
"You're angry,"his voice low but firm, "and I get it. We lost two people. We're all still feeling that sting."
"If you used it on someone like you—who's already tuned to her element—it'd push you further than anything modern spells could."
He pauses, then continues, voice sharpening with focus.
"Right now, with earth manipulation, you can shift stone, roots, dirt—bend what's already there. But with this? You'd go deeper. You'd feel the shape of minerals in the ground. You could probably forge metal directly from the air's trace dust."
He lets that settle for a beat, then adds quietly:
"If what we just fought was a Stage 2 mage who also wielded one of these rare elemental classes, imagine using it on one of our even stronger mages—elf, human, or dwarf. We'd have the upper hand against demons and devils. Remember what Dr. Lorre said: most of the strong devils these days top out at Stage 0–1. This was a Stage 2 demon, and we nearly died. That's why this scroll matters."
He shifts me slightly on his back—and I feel everyone lean in, the weight of his words settling like dust.
"If you used it on someone like Lincoln… or even someone like Annabel…"
His voice doesn't change when he says my name, but I feel every pair of eyes flick toward me in the darkness of my vision.
"This kind of scroll doesn't just boost power," Julius continues. "It reconfigures your mana flow, increases your stores, purges impurities. Legends say it can elevate your stage—Depending on how defined your earth magic is." Scrolls one-tenth as rare still sell for gold than most nobles can raise.
Kate's mana shivers around the scroll, as if afraid of its own promise.
I'm still trying to process all of this when something nags at the back of my mind.
"Julius…" My voice is quiet, unsure, as I press my forehead against his back, trying to ground myself. "All this talk about… subclasses? Shadow magic? Metal magic? That's… I don't know… It sounds like something out of fairy tales to me."
The words feel strange on my tongue, like I'm admitting I don't understand something basic. My brother used to teach me about magic when I was younger, back when he was only eight, and I was just a baby. All I really remember was that magic was simple, that there were only the basics—plant, water, ice, fire, earth, wind—and space magic, I guess. Those were the ones that mattered.
The rest? The stuff they talk about now—it doesn't feel real.
Julius is quiet for a moment, and I feel the shift in his mana as he processes my words. Then he speaks, his voice calm but deliberate.
"You're right. It does sound like something out of stories. But it's real. There's more to magic than what you learned. The subclasses like shadow and metal—they're rarer. They come from deep, ancient knowledge. And this scroll? It's tied to that knowledge."
Julius's tone goes final, commanding.
His voice sweeps over the group one last time, voice quieter but still resolute. "We're not just carrying this scroll for fun. We're carrying it to make sure we don't lose anyone else."
No one argues.
And still, we keep walking.