14th October 1137

  Seren

  Seren hadn’t slept this long since she left Euth. Despite the hardwood floor with only a thin fitness mat, it felt way better than her sheets and sleeping bag from the war. The sun was beating down on the living room’s window when she opened her eyes and saw a metal jar resembling an urn standing in the corner of the room. From the scent, she could tell that the thing had been soaking in something beyond this world for quite some time.

  Her Realm-art whispered again, sometimes she couldn’t say that it was a Realm-art since it would speak at times when she was not casting, but she heard, heard where the device would be brought- Three Crown University.

  “…Isn’t that the place Tavia works at?” she muttered.

  As she got out of her makeshift bed, she looked out the window. The streets were filled with similar apartment complexes; unlike the diverse and vibrant houses in the Dome, the apartments seemed identical. At the end of the street was a building with its supporting beam and frames left, red brick walls punched with holes and barely standing, like a broken flag of a dying squad of soldiers. Seren couldn’t describe it, but the building felt odd, as if it should remain in a Remant tide, rather than in the uniform, faceless part of the city. While she stared out the window, Silvia walked into the room, and the pleasant scent of coffee filled the room. Seren would love the smell more if it wasn’t the first thing she felt when walking into the messenger’s headquarters.

  “Silvy…what is that building over there?” Seren asked.

  “…The abandoned hospital? It used to be the only place that could treat arcane-related traumas. Now people just go there to do street art,” Silvia said, taking a sip from her mug. Seren eyed her mug.

  Sleep is optional, Seren read what was written on the mug.

  “Do you want to go and check out the place with me?” Seren suggested, as she noticed that her straps and bags that she borrowed from Suiming were lying beside her luggage, but her sword was gone.

  “No thanks, I need to work today on the data Professor Suiming retrieved.”

  “…And…Frau Seren, I know this may come as offensive, but aside from your longevity and strange pupils…what is abnormal about you?”

  “…I guess that I heal up really quickly? And my blood is flammable under certain circumstances.”

  “Fascinating,” Sivia said, smiling. While she drank her coffee, Seren slowly got ready for the visit to the permanent art exhibition where she would be the sole visitor. Might as well grab Suiming, Seren thought, walking to the door. As she walked past Ferr’s room, she saw Suiming in the corner of her eye. He sat there, back curled as he was studying something with Ferr. The sense of Realm-art tingled down her spine as she realized Suiming was preparing a ritual in the room.

  “Suiming, you wanna take a walk with me?” Seren asked as she knocked on the door.

  “Do you have to go right now? I’m busy breaking the law,” Suiming answered, still

  “You can catch me up later…what’s that ritual for, anyways?”

  “I’m trying to cleanse the data of the corruption.”

  “Alright, nerd, see ya.”

  …

  The walls of the building were covered in wall paintings. One of them was particularly large, covering almost the entire wall opposite the entrance. Its vibrant colors were smeared away by the dust and soot, though its splashing colors and depth still remained unchanged.

  Among the grander wall paintings were smaller doodles, some of them lovers’ promises. But most of them were simple doodles of the visitor’s name and simple drawings of critters and smiley faces.

  As Seren walked around the abandoned building, she heard a series of footsteps as someone hummed to its rhythm. At first, she thought it was Suiming, but he hummed folk songs and lullabies; instead, the person hummed a piece of a classical singspiel.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Seren held her breath. She quickly scanned for anywhere to take cover. As she made sure that there were no dead corners and places for her to hide, she reached for her pen. Seren grabbed the wooden body of the pen as she felt the power within it surge. Her sense of Realm-art cracked like flame when she channeled her power through it. This was a scaled-down version of her Realm-art and the power of the Letter-Writer.

  Seren’s eyes locked on the entrance, waiting for the person to walk in. As the leather jacket flapped into the doorframe while she met the brown eyes, Seren cast. Whispers. Words that she believed were evoked to her from her origin echoed in her.

  She heard Kaspar’s plan to find parts of an Existence and Existence-borne arcane items. The whispers did not say he came in groups with other Faustus, and from what Seren could sense, that was the case.

  Her flame burnt in the abandoned building as a white flash beamed through her curtain of fire. Kaspar stood on the other side, maintaining a distance where Seren couldn’t stab the pen into his throat. But this was a chance. She could confirm or disprove her idea that Kaspar had the Crown of the Sinner if she were able to push Kaspar to his limit…and if she failed, she just needed to wait for Suiming to arrive.

  “I thought you were a law-abiding citizen,” Seren said as she heard whispers of her Realm-art. It told her where to move her feet, whose strike would collapse the building. She breathed in as she held her pen, her finger stabbing deep into her palm. Dark blue ink dripped down it, along the stream of her blood.

  “I thought that the former Letter-Writer would follow the rules more,” Kaspar said, taking off his leather jacket, which was burning in blue flame. He stood on the other side of the building as Seren felt his wave of casting emerging for another shot.

  “Kaspar, us four-times-sharpened casters always have ideals…what is your ideal?”

  “Mine? I wish for the knowledge beyond mundanity to be reached by everyone, anyone. For there will not be another Mushroom…and knowledge not to be commodified.”

  “I agree somewhat with you…but do you think Existences is the right path?”

  Kaspar didn’t respond; the silence was enough. And in Kaspar’s eyes…she saw something similar. Something she saw in the Letter-Writer she served under during the war.

  Seren frowned. Her first memories- not as the girl who fell before her god, but as that Seren’s wish’s fulfiller, flashed before her eyes. The sky and earth that bled, the village that was gone. It was the same desire, to use the power of the incomprehensible, no matter the cost. She later saw her origin on the battlefield- alongside His worshippers, but He bled, bled so much that He must slumber again.

  Seren smirked, and the flame emerged at her pen’s nib again. Crackling and waving like the moon’s reflection on the waters. She felt her excitement burn in the thrill of battling against someone whom she had little information about. Those who know their enemy and themself hardly fail, Seren recalled the quote from a tactic book. She was going against the rules, but she loved it.

  Kaspar waved his hand, and a curtain of light-dots emerged from thin air, their brightness intensified.

  She moved her pen as the flame blazed across their battlefield. Seren made sure that the temperature of the flame was high enough that it could interrupt Kaspar’s casting. As she ran into the azure flame, her Realm-art whispered the places she needed to go. As she maneuvered over to the other side, she felt the waves of Kaspar’s Realm-art. Kaspar’s clothes were burning. His face twisted while he squinted his eyes. Seren noticed the off-track beams that she dodged. They passed right beside her, as if Kaspar couldn’t aim straight.

  The whisper intensified, and she heard the voice telling her all the trajectories of Kaspar’s shots, every shape of the cloud, and all the patterns her fire could burn. Seren ignored those voices as she lit another wall of fire around Kaspar. Through the flickering, Seren noticed Kaspar not focusing on her and her movements, but rather only looking at her general direction. His face was full of sweat as he cast. Seren could feel his wave of casting tremble while his breath became shorter. His stance was weak as his body was crumbling from the heat.

  His side effect has something to do with the eyes.

  Another curtain of bullets formed in the air as Seren sprang closer to Kaspar. Her fire couldn’t deplete oxygen, which would come in handy to stop Kaspar from casting. As she moved, Seren stabbed her arm, and the pain seemed like nothing, splashing her dark blue blood onto Kaspar. The drops stained Kaspar’s shirt while Seren continued casting. The whispers were becoming intense as she felt pain coming from the inside of her head. She burned them away while her flame ignited the blood splashed onto Kaspar.

  “C’mon, show me what tricks you have up your sleeves!”

  Kaspar groaned in agony as he ripped his shirt, revealing the scarred and wounded chest and his intricate, flowy Realm-art implant. Seren had never seen one where the nodes extend as far as the caster’s chest, not even the Letter-Writer’s implant to connect them with the piece of the Starseeker extended that far. The waves of casting disappeared as Kaspar’s body started to burn under the blue flame. Despite the upper hand, Seren felt something was wrong. Her Realm-art was silent as the whispers burned. The sense of casting was peaceful, but Seren still used her pen to prepare for another fire. The flames extended to Kaspar’s arms and hands; even so, Seren didn’t let her guard down.

  Then, as her eyes fixated on Kaspar, something appeared on his head. Wicked rocks grew on his head, joined together as they formed a twisted, large crown on top of Kaspar’s head. She immediately thought the thing looked like the alleged appearance of the Crown of the Sage, but she noticed that the spike only grew outward, not piercing the skin of the bearer. The crown was blank, not reflecting any light, only taking greedily.

  As Seren gawked at the crown, feeling its presence radiating onto her, feeling her blood boil from the thrill, she saw an arrow.

  An arrow made out of constellations.