Chapter 20

“Hey....”

“Welcome. Been a while.”

An instructor strode toward us.

The Boss’s sentence died in his throat.

I shot the others a warning glance, then saluted.

The instructor’s eyes met those of the two on the driver’s seat.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Ah, I... I’m learning the trade under the owner. He’s unwell, so I came in his place.”

It sounded clumsy, but the Boss covered it well enough.

“I see. I’ll check the luggage compartment—stay right there.”

The instructor disappeared behind the carriage.

The instant we were out of sight, the two thieves exhaled as though they’d just cleared a death trap.

“Boss, I re-stitched every patch we cut. No one’ll spot a thing.”

“Keep it down—and don’t call me that.”

“Yes, Boss.”

The instructor’s voice drifted from the compartment.

“All right. Straight to the warehouse, please.”

He tapped the panel twice—our signal.

The Boss eased the carriage up to the warehouse doors.

Inside the compartment, the orc models would rest until dawn.

Then the instructors themselves would ferry them to the Fourth Exam grounds—

never knowing each statue hid a blade in its gut.

Every piece was in place.

* * *

Fourth Exam.

Twelve hours earlier.

“Mago, you asleep?”

Amon’s voice drifted from the next bed.

“No. Why?”

“Forget it.”

Two words, and he’d already managed to sound annoyed.

“Fine. Don’t talk.”

“Wait, wait—listen.”

I stayed silent.

“You know the Coster Family is one of the Empire’s Big Three.”

“What’s your point?”

“Centuries of fame, but the world calls us stick-in-the-mud relics. We trained for war against Demon Beasts, not people.”

“So?”

“Until last year there hadn’t been a real war for a hundred years—not since the Demon King was sealed. Our star faded.”

“If you want a history lecture, pick someone else—”

“I’m saying: the war’s over, but we’re still out there hunting Demon Beasts. Pathetic, right?”

“And while we grew complacent, war blindsided us. Get to the end.”

Amon’s voice dropped.

“Cowards.”

He rolled over; the mattress creaked.

“My father hanged himself because he ‘disgraced’ our noble name. The world was wrong, not us, yet he—”

I still couldn’t see where this was going.

“I’m joining the Special Task Force. I’ll restore our honor so loudly the bards will say the Coster line existed for this moment.”

“Again—why tell me?”

“But if—just if—I slip up in tomorrow’s exam...”

“Slip up?”

“Cover for me.”

“What?”

I thought I’d misheard.

No answer—only a sudden, theatrical snore.

He was faking sleep; I knew it.

Amon, asking for help? He’d rather bite off his own tongue—yet he’d just swallowed every shred of pride to ask.

“No promises, Amon.”

The fake snoring continued.

“Tomorrow’s groups are split by current score—odd and even. You and I are in different squads.”

“A-hem. So?”

“Exactly. Without me there, you can shine.”

“As if I’m so weak your absence would—”

“Amon, I’m asking the favor, not you.”

“Huh?”

“While I’m gone, you have to carry the weight.”

“You already said that.”

“At sunrise the exam starts—and the raid.

Exam or not, by this time tomorrow the Empire will have lost its capital.

Make my empty seat count.”

“Final phase. The Fourth Exam is an escort mission.”

The instructor waited until every trainee’s eyes were on him before he continued.

“Like the First Exam, the testing ground is the mountain behind the center.”

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the ridge rising beyond the barracks.

“Orc models are stationed up there.”

“Ah, so we dodge the models while we escort the VIP.”

Kinjo muttered the realization with a nod.

“Protect the model, got it.”

The instructor cut him off before the words had settled.

“Wrong. Why would it be that easy...?”

“Because we don’t have anyone to play the VIP. The trainees split in two: current standings, odd-numbered group and even-numbered group.”

I was still Top Ranker.

Kinjo had slipped to ninth.

Belle, forty-first, was with us.

“Odds form the Escort Team, evens the Assassination Team. Escort leaves first, locates the orc model, then brings it down while keeping it from the assassins. Success is a safe descent with the model.”

He swallowed once, then pressed on.

“Bring back more than one model and you earn bonus points. Return empty-handed and you score zero. Damage to the model also affects your mark. Questions?”

No hands rose.

“None? Then line up by rank—now.”

Kinjo stepped to my side.

“This time we’ve got Majo? Damn...”

Oscar’s whisper drifted over.

“Oscar, they’re splitting us by current rank, odd or even.”

“Ah.”

“You’re odd too.”

Kinjo lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“Thanks for tagging along!”

When the ranks were set, each trainee collected a wooden practice sword.

The instructor drew a pocket-watch from his coat.

“Five minutes to oh-eight-hundred. Escort Team stands by, departs on the hour.”

The Second Invasion would hit around ten.

We had two hours to find the sword-carrying orc model.

I used the last five minutes to steady myself.

Eyes closed, deep breath.

Then I felt the stare.

From the armory.

A door ajar, chain lock keeping it from opening more than a finger’s width.

Through the gap, red eyes watched me—El, hidden inside.

“I told you to hide, not get yourself locked in...”

She’d succeeded at hiding; she hadn’t counted on someone locking the door from outside.

Still, someone of El’s caliber could splinter the thing and walk out whenever she wanted.

I forced myself to ignore her and brushed the inside pocket of my uniform.

The flask of liquor was still there.

“Escort Team, all personnel.”

The five minutes were up.

“Move out.”

Fifty of us sprinted for the mountain.

Twenty minutes of mindless uphill running.

Mid-stride—

“Mago.”

Kinjo matched his pace to mine.

“There’s a sword.”

“A sword?”

“I watched the instructors haul the orc models up before dawn. Figured any intel would help, so I used Clairvoyance.”

He pitched his voice for me alone.

“There’s a blade hidden inside the model. Not every one, but—why a sword?”

“No idea.”

“What good does it do them to stash weapons inside fakes?”

“Training doesn’t end after the Fourth Exam. Maybe they’re for later.”

I played dumb to the end.

“What if the instructors don’t know?”

“What?”

“If the staff don’t know, then someone smuggled steel into the center without permission.”

“Possible. Doubt the gate checks were that sloppy, though.”

“Means we might have a traitor inside. Someone planning to use the blades when no one’s looking...”

Kinjo’s instincts were sharp—just pointed the wrong way.

The culprit was me.

I was no traitor.

Belle shot past us.

“You two—less talk, more run!”

She broke the conversation at the perfect moment.

If Kinjo started hunting for a turncoat later, things could explode.

If he believed the swords were brought in for sabotage, I could use his suspicion.

“Hey, Kinjo.”

“Hm?”

“Yours might be right.”

“Ah, the traitor thing.”

“A sword hidden inside a dummy is suspicious, all right.”

“Can’t help thinking that way.”

“Whoever it was, they were stupid—overlooked you and your clairvoyance.”

“Or they knew about you and just rolled the dice.”

“Anyway, let’s secure the dummies first so they can’t be misused. We’re escorting them anyway; we’ll pick out the ones with swords inside.”

“Yeah, got it. Better safe than sorry.”

Kinjo gave a small nod.

“First, let’s catch up to Belle.”

We closed in on the red hair ahead.

* * *

An hour after the Escort Team finished the climb.

The Assassination Team reached the top as well.

Another twenty minutes passed.

The Chief Instructor strolled the drill ground with a cigarette between his lips.

A bored circuit.

Whenever he spotted a pebble he bent, flicked it far away.

That was all he could do while waiting for the trainees.

As he crouched to grab a promising stone he noticed his shadow stretching.

It felt wrong—too long, too awkward.

Thinking it a cloud, he glanced up.

Shadow slid across his angular face.

What hung in the sky was no cloud.

Clouds don’t spread that way—sharp, deliberate.

Wings.

* * *

Another hour gone.

The Assassination Team should be arriving.

“Found it,” Kinjo said, eyes shining blue.

“One more.”

He turned his head right.

“Yeah.”

“Another. Five in total—five swords.”

“Yeah.”

“Stop saying ‘yeah.’ Mago, you zoning out?”

“They’re coming.”

I lifted a finger at the sky.

Beneath the clouds a black mass cast its shadow.

An army that eclipsed the heavens.

Black Winged Demon Beasts, wings fully spread.

Goblins and Orcs dangled from their talons, being ferried in.

Then the slow, low flight of the winged beasts.

Exactly like the day I died in my previous life.

“All trainees—battle stations! This is real!”

An instructor running beside us shouted.

“Take cover!”

The moment I yelled, an Orc crashed down on the man, pulping him.

Dark red blood sprayed in every direction.

Apart from the Orc’s rasping breath, silence.

A heartbeat.

Then the Demon King’s troops still clutched in talons plummeted all at once.

The ground shook.

The tremor lasted until every beast landed.

“Ha... what the hell...”

Kinjo barked a laugh and tightened his grip on his wooden sword.

The fallen demons raised their weapons high.

A roar announced the start of battle.

Kinjo, Belle, me.

We drew our wooden blades in unison.

Took one steady breath.

Today’s impromptu Escort Team—never drilled together, yet our minds were one.

We would fight.

We would kill.

That much was perfectly aligned.

Each of us had a score to settle.

“I was planning to hunt them myself anyway,” Kinjo muttered—he’d lost family, home.

“That bastard’s... gotta be close,” Belle hissed—she’d had her humanity torn away.

“This time I protect it...” I whispered—my dreams had been trampled.

The moment I was free, I was shackled again.

War broke out at the worst possible instant.

One more step and I would have made it, but my legs were cut from under me at the very end.

For eight years after that, defeat was the only life I knew.

I lost every comrade at my side and walked on alone.

“From here on, I strike back.”

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