by Andrew Rowe
Standing nearby, just around the corner, was going to look suspicious. I began walking back toward the location of my quarters, carefully extending the mana threads as I walked.
Mana threads were invisible to anyone without the proper types of magic to see them. Neither Elementalists nor Guardians had access to the necessary mana types to see them.
The hardest part of the process was avoiding tearing the threads as I moved into my assigned room, then closed the door behind me. The threads were thin enough to fit in the cracks under the door, but only just.
Then began the real work: cautiously pushing the mana threads around the engine until I found the runes on the surface.
Identify.
I pushed the spell through my mana threads each time I found a rune, mentally processing functions.
Transference Recharge.
Transference Function: Push.
Air Recharge.
Air Function: Weight Reduction
Transference Recharge…
I mentally mapped each of the runes on the surface, making notes about how they worked, and, with growing alarm, the ones that were missing.
Oh, no.
It was possible I was missing some of them somehow. I was flailing around with my mana threads blindly, after all. But even after an extensive search of every possible surface of the engine, I hadn’t found any capacity runes.
And without capacity runes, an engine would eventually, you know…
Explode.
***
I didn’t wait the full hour before heading back to the main deck to find the others. Sera was already there, chatting with someone that looked important.
I ignored propriety entirely. “Sera. Talk. Now.”
Sera gave a strained smile to her conversation partner. “Forgive my brother’s impertinence, Earl Freemont.” She glared at me. “Can this wait?”
“It probably shouldn’t.”
The Earl gave me a disdainful look. “It’s fine. We were just finishing, anyway.” Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and walked away.
“Wait, I…” Sera winced, raising a hand, then slowly lowering it. With an exasperated sigh, she turned back toward me. “This had better be good. I think I was about to swing an important international trade agreement.”
I rolled my eyes. “On a scale of one to dead, how would you rate the importance of the ship combusting?”
“…Go on.”
I explained the problem.
“Okay. Yeah, that does seem like an issue…or, maybe not. I mean, as long as we’re moving, it’s using mana, right?”
I nodded. “At approximately the same rate as the recharge runes are refilling it. Currently. It’s plausible, if extremely foolish, that this could have been corner-cutting in the design: they might have thought they didn’t need capacity runes as long as the engines are always on, since they wouldn’t accumulate enough mana to explode. The danger occurs under one of two conditions: one, we stop moving, the engine overcharges and explodes. Two, we move into a region with a higher mana concentration, causing the recharge runes to pull in mana faster. The engine explodes.”
“Don’t only some recharge runes pull from the environment?”
“Yeah. These ones do. I checked.”
Sera nodded. “Okay. So, we’re fine, just as long as neither of those things happen, right?”
“I mean, in theory, sure. It’s a terrible engine design, but, yeah, as long as nothing like that happens…”
The sound of a horn cut me off mid-sentence, then a booming voice made an announcement:
“All hands, brace for anchor. Another ship is approaching.”
For once, Sera and I were perfectly in sync as we covered our faces with our hands in abject disbelief.
***
My dismay at the situation quickly gave way to desperation as the ship’s motion jerked into a halt.
“Okay, new plan.” Sera glanced from side-to-side, then leaned over and whispered the words to her cunning plan.
I stared at her. “Sera. I am not going to seduce the guards.”
“Okay, fine. Here’s the actual plan…”
***
I walked back down the stairway to the engine room, approaching the same pair of guards. I got a similar expression to last time.
I waved again. “Hey, just thought you should know…” I pointed a thumb upward. “Ghost pirates.”
The guard on the right narrowed his eyes. “Ghost…pirates.”
The guy on the left went sheet-white. Or, uh, ghost white, maybe. “…Haha. That’s, uh, a real funny joke, guy. Very amusing.”
“No, not kidding. That’s why we’re anchored. They can probably use your help up there.”
The guard on the right sighed. “Look, buddy, we’re not going to move and let you—”
An ear-piercing scream tore through the air.
Then another.
Then another.
I shuddered at the sounds. The guards gave each other glances, then reached for the swords on their hips.
“Get to your quarters and lock the door,” one of the guards told me. “Quick.”
I nodded, trying to look a little more afraid, then ran back up the stairs.
I had, of course, once again thrown the mana threads. This time, however, I wasn’t trying to reach the engine: I had simply spread them across the floor.
When I got to my room, I used the mana threads to sense when the guards ran across them and up the stairs, abandoning their post.
Then, slowly, I reopened the door and snuck back down to the engine room.
I tugged on another mana thread, already in place. A few moments later, Sera came down the stairs and met me at the engine room.
I’d given her a thread before going down stairs to use for signaling. I’d tugged it when I’d been ready for her to make the scream — not naturally, of course. Generating an ear-splitting scream was one of the easiest applications of air magic.
Then, I’d tugged it again as a signal that the area was clear.
I suspected that real guards on a real ship wouldn’t have abandoned their posts so easily. Maybe this had only worked because it was a scenario for the tower…but maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Maybe people really were, at times, simply that easy to fool.
It didn’t take me long to perform a visual inspection of the engine, confirming what I suspected. “Ready?” I asked Sera.
“Ready.”
“Let’s make this quick. Retrieve: Etching Rod.”
It didn’t take long to carve the necessary capacity runes for Air and Transference. Once I’d carved them, I filled the transference one myself, then made a shell. Sera had a harder time filling that one on her own quickly enough to reach capacity, so she summoned Vanniv, and they poured air mana into it together.
With that done, she dismissed Vanniv, and we raced upstairs as quickly as possible.
After all, the others probably needed our help fighting the ghost pirates.
***
“Hah!” Mara’s fist swirled with energy as she slammed it into a half-corporeal pirate’s chest.
“Yarrr!” he yelped sadly as he flew off the side of the boat, producing a splash several seconds later.
Mara grinned, making a gesture of dusting off her hands. “Think that was the last one.”
…Ghost pirates, it seemed, were more comedic than terrifying. At least in this particular case.
An hour later, the boat resumed its journey, pirate-free and no longer liable to explode the next time it made a lengthy stop.
“So, think that was it?” Patrick asked. “We solve the mystery?”
“Hm.” Sera frowned. “I’m going to go with no.”
“Why is that?” Patrick asked.
“Because,” Sera raised a finger and pointed off the side of the ship, “There’s, uh, a giant tentacle behind you.”
***
After that, we fought a kraken.
Or
, more accurately, we screamed like children and fled as a gigantic tentacle smashed down on the deck of the ship, then spread out in all directions, preparing for battle.
The kraken emerged from the water in its full glory, a squid-like beast nearly the size of the ship itself, with a maw open wide enough to swallow the crew in a single ferocious bite.
…And about two seconds after that, the entire world went white. The clouds evaporated.
And a sphere of fire larger than the creature itself descended from the sky.
Meltlake snapped her fingers. The sphere exploded in a cacophonous destination that shook the entire ship.
And then, in a heartbeat, it was over.
The kraken was gone, the only evidence of it ever having existed was a single charred tentacle that remained draped across the deck of the ship.
Meltlake gazed over the deck, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
Both crew and students alike stared at her, awe-struck and jaws slack.
She frowned, turned away from the destruction, and said to no one in particular…
“I’ve never liked squid.”
If there was some squid-related story that gave rise to that encounter, not one of us had the courage to ask.
We did learn that evening, however, that kraken meat was absolutely delicious.
***
Later that night, I knocked at the door of Professor Meltlake’s room.
“Come in,” she called out.
I opened the door, finding her sitting at her room’s small desk. She turned toward me and frowned. “What is it? I’m sure you can handle whatever danger you’ve found without me.”
I folded my arms. “I’m not so sure about that. But there’s no danger right now…or, at least, none that I’m aware of. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Meltlake winced. “Close the door behind you, would you?”
I stepped in further and shut the door. “Better?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Now, out with it.”
“Why’d you obliterate the kraken like that? It was very impressive, but I thought you were supposed to be letting us do the work…unless you thought we couldn’t handle it on our own?”
Meltlake’s hands trembled. “You…I….” She took a breath. “I panicked.”
I blinked.
This was not what I expected. “What?”
“I panicked, Corin. I saw a threat to my students, I remembered my failure at the ball, and…I couldn’t let that happen again. So, I attacked, and I…I’m sorry. I ruined it. I didn’t give you all a chance.”
Her unexpected emotion caught me more than a little off-guard, so I wasn’t really sure what to do. I certainly wasn’t equipped to comfort someone that much older and more experienced than myself. I wasn’t even equipped to see her looking vulnerable. So, I kind of stammered a bit, then said, “Uh, it’s fine. It was…a great attack?”
She raised a hand, rubbing at her forehead. “Perhaps by the standards of these early tower floors. It wouldn’t have done a thing to Mizuchi.”
“…Okay. But I’m sure you have attacks designed for people like her. Things like that white fire that you sometimes use with your cane, or…”
“It’s not enough.” Meltlake trembled. “And it never will be, will it? Even if I earn another attunement, it’s…just a big joke, isn’t it? I will never match her.”
I exhaled a breath. “I don’t know if that’s true. Mizuchi was horrifying, yes, but…we hurt her, didn’t we? And if she can be hurt…”
Meltlake gave a bitter laugh. “She was holding back more of her strength than she showed. All my life, I’ve striven to reach the pinnacle of human strength…but it seems the peak simply isn’t high enough.”
I frowned at that. “Professor…I know you didn’t want me to talk about it before…but…what about Sapphire-level? If you reached that, then—”
“There is no Sapphire-level, Corin.”
I froze.
“I spent the best years of my life working toward Sapphire.” Meltlake turned her head toward me, meeting my gaze with sad eyes. “I made hard choices. Sacrifices…some too large to even speak of. I…I wanted nothing more. It was everything to me, but… it was never real. It’s just one big legendary joke.”
“…No. Wait. That doesn’t…” I took a moment to process. “It can’t be a lie. I’ve seen blue auras.”
“Ah. Yes.” Meltlake cleared her throat. “As a teacher, I should be ashamed of my lack of clarity. Humans do not have a Sapphire level. Attunements do not have a Sapphire level. Monsters, on the other hand, do. They have Sapphires…and beyond it. And that is why we will never be enough. Why I will never be enough.”
“I…wait. No. That can’t be right. Is it something like the Sunstone Wall, but at Emerald? You can’t build mana fast enough to reach the amount you’d need—”
“I have the mana. I have for years.”
I was once again rendered speechless.
“Sixty for Carnelian. Three hundred and sixty for Sunstone. Two thousand one-hundred and sixty for Citrine. Twelve-thousand nine-hundred and sixty for Emerald.” She paused, looking down with a crestfallen expression. “Seventy-seven thousand, seven hundred and sixty for Sapphire. It’s always a factor of six. And yet, I reached that mana value years ago. And…nothing happened.”
“N…nothing?”
She shook her head. “Not a thing. And before you ask, I have, of course, researched if there may be mistakes in my safe mana calculations. Checked them a hundred times, using different spells, different sources. I’ve researched if there might be alternate requirements to reach Sapphire. And what I’ve found…? Nothing.”
“But…wait. There are hidden attunement functions, things that even Arbiters can’t see, things that…”
“It’s not Sapphire, Corin.” She shook her head. “It never was. We were told a bitter lie about human potential. We have, and always will be, incapable of reaching the heights of monsters. And with that…I know I will never be strong enough to protect my students. Not from Mizuchi, and certainly not if someone worse strikes. If the God Beasts emerge from their homes, or if Katashi chooses to exact vengeance for Tenjin’s absence…”
She put her face in her hands. “I will be helpless.”
“…You’re not helpless, Professor.” I took a step closer, then hesitated. Reaching for her physically wasn’t something I was comfortable with, and I simply wasn’t good at this sort of situation in general.
But I knelt by her chair and looked up at her. “You’re still a hero. You’re a legend. And when you fought Mizuchi, you did make a difference. Beyond that…there’s a whole wide world out there. Attunements aren’t the only forms of power. There are the crystal shrines, artificial attunements, all the types of magic in the outside world…”
Meltlake sighed, wiping at her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see this weakness in me. It’s…unbecoming of a professor, and I am setting a bad example for you.”
“I’m glad to have a professor who’s greatest flaw is that she cares about her students well-being too much.” I paused, exhaled a breath, and shook my head. “…You really have more than seventy-seven thousand mana?”
She nodded slowly. “I do.”
I folded my arms, smiling as best I could. “Then you’ve been holding out on us, professor. You have to have figured out some incredible tricks to advance that quickly.”
“…Maybe a few.” She made a weak smile in return.
“Well, then. Rather than worrying so much about being able to protect us on your own…” I clasped my hands together. “How about you focus a little more on getting us to your level, or higher? And then, maybe, just maybe…a few silly kids like us might be able to help you, if the time comes when we face a major threat.”
Her expression shifted, playing through several complicated emotions at once. More than I could read.
Then finally, after a moment of hesitation, she sa
id, “I’ll consider your proposal, Master Cadence.”
I nodded, taking that as a sign that the discussion had reached its conclusion. “Thanks.” I took a breath, then added, “Thanks for everything, Professor. And keep fighting. We still need you.”
I made my way out of the room. As I turned to close the door, I thought I heard a faintly whispered reply:
“…I’ll try.”
***
The following morning, we made landfall. This was a good thing, because we’d spent the night sleeplessly awaiting any further twists.
More dangerous ghost pirates.
More krakens.
Ghost pirate krakens.
Nothing would have surprised me at that point. We were all exhausted when we finally disembarked.
Mara led the way down the platform onto the shore…and vanished. I might have been more alarmed if I hadn’t suspected that we’d reached the end of our floor.
One at a time, we stepped off the ship.
And one at a time, we each vanished, finding ourselves on the third floor of the spire.
Chapter XII – Words Beginning with “S”
I found myself stumbling as soon as I stepped back onto solid ground. That stumble was almost fortunate, since it took me out of the range of where my friends were stepping through with similarly unsteady feet. Sera almost fell over completely, but Mara caught her and steadied her.
“Thanks,” Sera mumbled, followed by, “Oh, no.”
I processed the area we were standing in and concurred with her assessment immediately.
We stood on a wooden floor, but it wasn’t the deck of a ship. It was the ancient and scratched hardwood floor of a decrepit manor house. The entrance was lit only by a half-broken chandelier that flickered with what looked like faulty electrical lighting. The room was filled with dust, which coated nearly every piece of furniture in sight — a sofa and a handful of chairs that looked like they might have been comfortable if they’d been a bit better maintained. There were bookshelves along the walls, but given their visible age, I didn’t know if any of the books would be intact.
The only object in the room that wasn’t covered in dust was a piano in one of the corners, strangely pristine. I immediately marked it in my mind as being a puzzle piece, but I couldn’t identify the function without more context.
