Lulan caught Gwen as she passed through the lawn leading up to the Guanghua Towers. It was easy to spot the girl because no one else had a Mongolian Death Worm with a ferret riding on its head trailing behind them—that and the fact that she parted the crowd like an icebreaker through a frozen sea.

"Gwen!" Lulan called out reflexively, then instantly regretted her cavalier familiarity. Gwen looked like she had somewhere to be, not to mention she looked dog-tired.

As the Void Mage came closer, Lulan couldn't help but notice that her saviour's distinct aura had changed from brimming confidence to one resembling that of a burnt-out NoM ending a long day at the Manufactorum.

"Lulu, finished your classes?" Her saviour asked the Sword Mage. "You and Kusu settled in yet?"

"Almost." Lulan fell in step beside her. "It's not like we had anything to move."

That much was true. Herself and Kusu had decided to forgo all their' belongings,' which included some bedsheets, a dozen changes of clothes, and assorted things from the Clan. They were officially excommunicated by Huashan, including Luwei, their father, and the alliance of Clans.

"I am sorry to hear that." Gwen patted her shoulder.

"Enough about me. How about you?"

Lulan couldn't help but study her saviour's face intensely, observing Gwen's puffy eye bags and the fissure of blood vessels surrounding the whites of her hazel iris. "Saviour. Are you not sleeping well?"

"Something like that," Gwen replied vaguely. "Hopefully, once my Essences regenerated, I'll be as right as rain."

"If there's something I can do for you," Lulan wanted to help but knew not how. She hadn't had a chance to look after anything, ever. Kusu usually pampered her, even as the red mist made her brother's life a waking nightmare. Thanks to Gwen, though, those days were behind them.

"I am just tired, that's all." Gwen's voice was a little distant. "You want to come up with me? I am browsing for new spells and checking to see if my Uncle's CCs have come in. There should be some for you as well, I assume."

Lulan fell into step beside her saviour.

It felt good to have someone to follow. Lulan knew she had been the Clan's pariah, but she was still a cog in the Clan's collective. As a sterling footsoldier, she had always been surrounded by juniors and seniors. As a wayward drone estranged from the hive, she felt the sting of isolation like a rusty nail.

Her isolation wasn't so bad when Kusu was with her. Her brother's presence calmed her anxiety and reminded her she wasn't alone. But now that the Semester had begun and she was without a companion, Lulan felt directionless. Without immediate access to a Clan-sponsored quest, she had to wait to be assigned to a pick-up group for Questing.

She recalled how she used to pass the time when the red haze still held her mind hostage.

Endless training. That and adventuring for Credit, purging Green and Orange Zones with the other members of the Sects. She recalled eating at the long table, watching her fellow Clanners mock the _upstarts_ deriding talented Rogue Mages like Gwen, like Kitty, or break out alternatively in peevish admiration and jealousy for their 'betters' like the Fungs of Nantong.

There were less pleasant memories, too: being scolded by an elder for one trespass or another, real or imagined. The frequent public beatings and the laughter of her peers as yet another bamboo rod broke against her back.

A few days ago, when she first sat alone with a takeout box in the middle of the Guanghua Tower's famously scenic lawn, listening to the sound of sycamores swaying in the summer wind, what she felt wasn't the romanticised tranquillity written on the silk-screen scrolls.

She felt, instead, a paralytic loss, a diminution, depletion, an impoverishment of her being.

The freedom. It frightened Lulan.

When she saw Gwen coming by, she felt like a woman swept into the open sea, finding a sudden length of rope extended from a passing vessel. As for the ship's destination, she wasn't inclined to know. For Lulan, the mere promise of land... was enough.

The duo arrived at the Administration level, took a ticket at the Spell-List counter, and then studied the list of Spells available for exchange with CCs.

When they consulted the front desk, Gwen was informed that she was sitting on 163 CCs. It meant Uncle Jun had come through with the matter involving Choi.

"What are you on, Lulu?" Gwen proudly invited Lulan to verify her accumulated CCs.

The receptionist took some time to retrieve Lulan's records, emerging from the back room after some time with an apologetic smile.

"372 CCs, Ma'am."

Gwen's smugness shattered like glass.

"I did a lot of questing," Lulan explained. "But there was nothing really to spend it on. The Iron Heart technique is unique to Huashan. All my other spells are mundane versions you can acquire from the University's public records."

_372 CCs!_ Gwen wanted to berate Lulan's unthinking naivety. This entire time, she could have demanded medical treatments! How simple was this girl not to even know that? Had her Clan withheld that information from her? Did Kusu know?

But then, Gwen was no stranger to naivety. They were both doe-eyed 'Frontier' girls, unknowingly wandering into the deep dark of the sinful city. The journey from pup to she-wolf was long and hard, but hopefully, they were halfway there.

As for Lulan's CCs, the system sheltered her. Despite Huashan usurping the girl's assets, the Tower ensured that no one could take away her contributions. From now, any injury from training could be offset by medical care paid for by the Tower. Not to mention Gwen could beg her grandmother for a favour.

Satisfied, Gwen's attention now turned to her resources.

Emboldened by her unexpected windfall, Gwen discussed with Lulan what would benefit her current repertoire, with Gwen liberally informing Lulan of her Spell list, a revelation that made Lulan stoked to be of aid.

"I am using a Specialised version of Shield by Magus Shultz," Gwen answered when Lulan asked how she managed to block her sword strikes without a hard-point Shield. "If Gunther permits, I don't mind teaching it to you guys."

Lulan shook her head vigorously. "I can't. The Clans hoarded such secrets, often kept by the Master from the Apprentice until their deathbed. It is not unusual to hear that a Clan Master had died without passing on a technique."

The girls were then directed to a small private room where they may peruse the Tome, a catalogue of spells the Tower has on record.

"How about this one?" Lulan pointed to a page gilded with a golden edge. The girls were hovering over a section with several entries on Lightning Magic. Unsurprisingly, the Nordic Lightning-Evoker Einar Larsen, the Magister generous enough to offer his intellectual estate to the public, was chief on the Spell List. Gwen scanned the entries, thinking of what Petra had suggested over tea and biscuits. Jun did say she could be the Second Coming of Thor, did he not? Maybe she could try to be the Second Coming of Magister Larsen?

The page displayed a tier 5 Evocation Spell.

**Ball Lightning**

Evocation (5)

Casting Time: 50 Major, 31 Minor Incantation

Range: Seeking, LoS, 100M

Components: Somatic, Verbal

Duration: Instantaneous + Persistent.

_Magister Larsen's mid-tier Signature Spell remains one of his most sought-after Incantations. The spell manifests up to (N) plasma orbs of lightning which function independently as Magic Missiles. With a somatic command, the orbs strike (Y) targets within the caster's line of sight. Each orb generates a small explosion dealing electrical damage._

_(N) The number of Orbs may vary._

_(Y) The number of targets must be one or above._

The spell was impressive, but it was tier 5, just beyond Gwen's current proficiency. As Larsen's masterpiece, the cost was 72 CCs, more than double the tier 4 Elemental Sphere. She could purchase it now and begin training, then grow into it, as Petra would say.

The girls continued their browsing, favouring Petra's recommendations.

**Grey's Warding Shield**

Evocation (4)

Casting Time: 20 Major, 7 Minor Incantation

Range: Self

Components: Somatic, Verbal

Duration: Persistent + Sustained.

_A modified Fire Shield allows casters of different elements to make use of the Shield's reactive capabilities. Composed originally by Magister Charles Grey, Sydney University, the spell creates an offensive barrier which retaliates against Melee and Close-Ranged Foes with 360-degree semi-dome coverage. While the spell is active, all soft-point projectiles are nulled by reactive bursts with an additional elemental bolt counter—a popular spell for pinpointing invisible or hidden attacks._

The supremely useful spell reminded Gwen of Yue's early experiments. She felt tempted by its utility, though she was satisfied with her non-newtonian variation. With her absurd VMI, she could weather hard-point assaults for hours.

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With some effort, she shifted the catalogue's encyclopaedic entries to another section, scanning through the index until she found the Conjuration-Familiar section. A familiar name greeted her.

**Morden's Bloodhound**

Conjuration (5)

Casting Time: 48 Major, 33 Minor Incantation, Preparation

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, Verbal, Glyph

Duration: Persistent, 24-72 Hours

_Another Signature Spell of Magister Morden, Conjurer Supreme. A continuation of Morden's lifelong preference for quasi-magical hounds, the spell Conjures forth a bloodhound capable of tracking a target through any terrestrial terrain. The hound is capable of combat, varying from tier 3 to tier 4. This spell is best paired with Morden's other Signature spells, as intended by its creator. As with many of Morden's magic, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental Shift is not a part of this spell._

Thinking of Henry's teaching in her 'complete' Morden's Faithful Hound, Gwen quickly located the 'other spells' in the series.

**Morden's Bloodhound Pack**

Conjuration (6)

Casting Time: 201 Major, 42 Minor Incantation, Preparation

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, Verbal, Glyph (M)

Duration: Persistent, 24-72 Hours

_Another Signature Spell of Magister Morden, Master Summoner. A continuation of Morden's lifelong passion for quasi-magical hounds, the spell Conjures forth up to a dozen bloodhounds. Each hound possesses the equivalent combat ability of tier 4 - 5 Magical Creatures. The hounds are telepathically linked and are capable of employing pack tactics against single enemies. Morden originally designed the spell for the hunting of Trolls in his homeland of Scotland. A Hound Pack accompanied by a Creature Mage versed in support Magic would find no trouble dealing with a tier 6 - 8 Troll, Hill or Stone Giant, and other Demi-humans of the Giant subclass. As with many of Morden's spells, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental-Shift is not a part of this spell._

Gwen imagined herself commanding a dozen handsome hounds, exhausting a 10-meter giant. Even as a speculative projection, the scene set her heart to quicken with anticipation. The cost for the spell was a whopping 118 CCs.

She flipped the page. There was one more, a spell Gwen had seen Elizabeth Sobel use once before.

**Morden's Sword**

Conjuration (7) Evocation (5+) Transmutation (5+)

Casting Time: 512 Major, 217 Minor Incantations

Range: Close

Components: Somatic, Verbal, Material

Duration: Persistent

_The famous Signature Spell of Magister Morden, Master Summoner. This spell creates a blade of compressed force, which is near-invisible. The sword possesses a Vorpal edge capable of passing through most non-magical constructs. The conjured implement can be commanded to attack one's enemies, equating a Dancing Blade with the indestructible attribute. Morden's descendent famously used this spell to behead the Stone King of Dunsinane in a single stroke, breaking the morale of the Giant-kin's army during the Battle of Perthshire in 1922. As with many of Morden's spells, this variation remains incomplete due to damage to the original manuscript. Elemental-Shift is not a part of this spell._

Sobel had used a Void-version, Gwen recollected. It was so sharp that not even Whetu's thousand-latticed Punamu Shield could withstand more than a few blows. She shuddered to think that the sword could persist for hours in combat, striking every few seconds.

As for its purchase, the cost of the spell was not only astronomical; it also required an application for a face-to-face interview and three referees to satisfy some place called the "Greyhawk Citadel" in Suilven, Scottland.

The girls pressed the book against the table. It was a hefty tome.

_Wasn't this just like window shopping?_ Gwen amused herself with the delightful realisation. She was with a girlfriend; they were looking at costly Spells of Mass Destruction and fantasising about using them on their foes while being too frugal to afford the goods.

Amused, Gwen turned to another section of the Spell List and found what Magister Birch had noted earlier.

**Shielded Teleportation Circle**

Conjuration (5) Abjuration (1)

Casting Time: 70 Major, 11 Minor Incantation, Preparation

Range: Translocation

Components: Somatic, Verbal, Material

Duration: Persistent

_Created by Magister Luis Birch of Fudan University, Shanghai, this variation of the Teleportation Circle spell has an additional component which allows a Party Abjurer to directly protect the Circle's Glyphs by expanding a half-dome Shield toward the extremity of the Magic Circle. An improved mandala algorithm likewise has given this variant a shorter activation delay._

The spell was listed at 64 CCs, implying that Birch's 55 CCs was a sizeable discount for his students.

She also browsed the utility spells for lower tiers.

Divination had a suite of Detection Spells she could pick up from between 5 and 20 CCs.

Enchantments had several self-buffs, from Heroism to Strengthen Body. However, the spell she'd likely covet was the tier 2 Hold Person. Lulan said that even she had been the victim of such an Enchantment. The problem was that such spells were sanctioned and required Mind Magic licences.

As for Illusion, a simple command of Phantasmal Sound allowed her to create music like Tao, while Illusion staples like Invisibility hinted at almost limitless opportunities for abuse. Another spell of great interest was Disguise Self, which allowed one to change one's appearance subtly. Both Invisibility and Disguise Self required a registered Practice Licence grading of M, meaning Military or Para-Military.

Abjuration likewise offered keen options for defence or dispelling.

At 5 PM, Gwen felt again too hungry to continue. Escorted by her Familiars and joined by Lulan, she discovered a congee-hotpot joint and ordered for the table.

When the small cauldron of congee arrived, she piled in Wildland wood-ear mushrooms, a South Sea seafood platter, and other ingredients. When the admixture was cooked into the congee, she dug in with a ferocity that frightened her companion.

Lulan herself was bloated after two bowls, making small talk as an excessive amount of mana-rich congee flowed into Gwen's stomach.

As Gwen sucked out the creamy filling of a prawn head, she noticed Lulan staring.

"Did you er... want one?" Gwen felt her cheek redden.

Lulan shook her head. The girl had eaten her usual diet consisting of grains, pickled vegetables, and steamed flesh of Magical Beasts.

"I am just..." Lulan searched for a word. "Happy?"

"That's nice." Gwen stretched out her arms. "You had enough, Lulu?"

"I am full, thank you."

At first, Lulan demanded they split the bill, but as Gwen had eaten enough for four, her friend grudgingly accepted Gwen's generosity.

The girls thus returned to B1, where Lulan bid Gwen goodbye, then returned to her new abode in B14, happier than when she'd left it.

As for Gwen, she felt the urge to retreat quickly to her apartment. The congee had been as delicious as anything, but it appeared to disagree with her somewhat fiercely.

Gwen didn't show up for Transmutation Utility the next day.

When she did not answer her Message, Mayuree was worried enough to truant, returning to Guoding Road B1.

She knocked on the door of 2204, then became supremely surprised to be greeted by a kind grandma with an aura of benevolence. It took her a moment to acknowledge that this was Klavdiya Song, Gwen's grandmother, as the woman had a white doctor's coat and wore her hair in a tight, severe bun.

"Is Gwen…?"

"She's inside, dear. Come in. You are Gwen's friend from upstairs, Mia, am I right?"

Mayuree nodded. The woman had a face with Gwen's likeness, though she lacked the height and the natural arrogance. As a healer, the grandmother appeared youthful everywhere except for her neck and the skin of her hands, as well as a slight sag to her shoulders which betrayed her real age.

When Mayuree entered the bedroom, she saw that Petra was there too, looking worried.

As for Gwen herself, she was propped up on pillows, looking deathly.

"Oh, Goddess." Mayuree swallowed, her heart catching in her throat. "Gwen! What happened?"

"Argh…" Gwen appeared to be in pain. Her once shining eyes formed two thin lines, and her whites were wholly bloodshot.

Caliban was coiled up in what looked like a laundry-basket baby carrier, while Ariel was purring softly by the end of the bed, warming Gwen's feet.

Mayuree touched Gwen's clammy hands.

Unexpectedly, Petra chuckled.

Mayuree shot Gwen's cousin an annoyed look. _Gwen's life was not a joking matter!_ If the Void had consumed the sorceress, she could have died then and there. If Gwen were to perish, what would happen to herself? Who was going to be her 'saviour'?

"I…" Gwen grimaced, too troubled to speak. "Petra, explain-"

"Gwen!" Mayuree urged her friend to remain in bed. "What can I do? I can get anything, Ancient Ginseng! Life Lotus! Just let me know! I got crystals!"

"Calm down, Mayuree." Petra rose from her seat, her face devoid of worry. "Gwen's not sick from her magic. She's got food poisoning."

Mayuree looked from Gwen to Petra, then to Gwen again.

"Too much junk food, too quickly. There's not enough vitality even in Wildland ingredients, so she over-ate. Her body couldn't take all the gunk she was stuffing into it. The food around Fudan has far too many NoM ingredients, sugar, salt, oil, and soy sauce. Lord knows what else. I'd dare say she ate the seafood in that congee a little too soon, or maybe it was the mushroom. Who knows?"

"Oh…" Gwen groaned. "It's like two roos are boxing in my gut."

Mayuree felt like ten bags of rice had been lifted off her chest.

"What does she need?"

" _Essence_ , for the lack of a better word. She needs to feed the Void."

"Like…" Mayuree looked over at Gwen. "You know..."

"Yes, I know about it," Petra affirmed that they were on the same page. "That or survive on a steady diet of Wildland fruits, the rare ones."

That would be several hundred HDMs a meal, assuming one a week, Mayuree calculated. It was a fair upkeep for such a preciously rare talent. Maybe, if she put up the HDMs, she could keep Gwen on as a retainer?

While her friend schemed, Gwen was in pain for herself and her piggy bank.

She needed money and a sustainable income.

Perhaps, as her babulya and Jun had stated, it was time to diversify herself into Adventuring or Dungeons Crawling. There was a verdant buffet out there, one which she could partake at her leisure. The minimum attendance for a course to pass was 10 out of 13 weeks, though further absences could be negotiated pending a student's final results. With her grades, it shouldn't be difficult to take a week or a day out of Economics or Management to ravage the Wildlands.

When Petra had discovered her faint-headed and famished in the morning, The Mineral Mage had immediately infused her cousin with a Lesser Restoration. Serendipitously, it was the one she'd initially kept for Lulan after the girl returned from the Astoria vomiting seven ways to Shanghai.

Nonetheless, the ordeal was an experience and a valuable one. Gwen now knew the extent of the debilitation brought by her deficiency in _Essence_.

Thanks to a further infusion of healing energies from her babulya, Gwen's deficiency of vitality was momentarily replenished, kicking her Druidic Essence with the necessary agitation to multiply. If there was a valuable lesson learned here, it was that she could not sustain herself by eating non-stop unless she was willing to live, like the fabled Elves, upon the fruits and produces of the Wildland.

The destructive and volatile nature of oily stir-fry, hot rich soup, and icy dessert only contributed to her woes.

"She needs a healthier diet." Her Babulya motioned for Petra. "Dear, you keep an eye on Gwen. She is only allowed healthy and hearty food until after Saturday."

Petra stood to attention.

Klavdiya then turned to Gwen. "Call Kumiko, dear. I don't care what Wen thinks. We're getting you fed."


When Klavdiya's youngsters came, Magus Kumiko was ready to go. After everything was prepared, her grandmother called their researcher out of courtesy.

"I am having Kumiko nourish Gwen," Klavdiya informed her friend and colleague, her statement short and abrupt.

"Of course, we all want what's best for her." Magister Wen's reply came after a few minutes. "I am in a meeting. Do you need me to observe? I can be there in an hour."

"No need, we'll take care of it." Klavdiya's tone lost some of its tension. "Thanks, Marie."

As Gwen was too exhausted to move, Petra expended a cube of Enhanced Strength, then effortlessly princess-carried Gwen, sweatpants and all, down the levitation platform. The parade drew amused and curious looks as they moved, trailed by a mewing ferret and a Death Worm herald.

It was after they arrived inside the training hall with her reddening like a beetroot from head to toe that Petra finally allowed Gwen to stand.

"That was entirely unnecessary." Gwen was still a bit woozy.

"If you eat all that junk again and have another episode, I'll do that again," Petra promised mirthfully yet entirely seriously. "I am taking Babulya's advice to heart. Fair warning, Cousin. Hope you like your lightly salted meat and vegetables."

Gwen groaned. It wasn't as though she had intended to OD on street food. _Bloody oath_ , she still had a Beggar Chicken in her ring!

"Walls of Force are in place," Magus Kumiko notified them helpfully. "We can begin anytime."

"Gwen?"

"Babulya, can you give me a pick-me-up before I feed Caliban?"

Indeed, if she was sufficiently diminished, the vital cost of Consumption might wipe her out before Caliban could be empowered.

Gladly, her babulya provided the extra shot of Positive Energy.

On the far side, Magus Kumiko called out incantations quickly, filling the Force Cube with a flaring burst of silvery Conjuration. When the light solidified, the gathered Mages stared at a befuddled Wildland boar.

Caliban audaciously rubbed up against the invisible panes of the wall, causing the boar to go berserk. It rushed the Wall of Force and struck the pane with enough force to split its nose and break off a tusk, sending a splatter of dried mud against the surface.

Cunning worm, Gwen thought.

"Caliban!"

Gwen re-summoned Caliban inside the Force Cube, giving it the command to assume the Gila form.

In the next moment, Caliban teleported in as a giant nine-foot-tall bipedal Gila, its skin dark and tenebrous and its foreclaws each ten inches long. When Gwen readied herself for the backlash, she found that her vitality had not diminished, not even by a single mote.

_Caliban's internal stores!_ She recalled what Magister Wen had pointed out during their first session with those two men from the PLA and the Pudong Tower. Caliban could store excess vitality as Void-matter within itself. _Did this mean it no longer used her life force as a battery?_

A sudden bout of action disrupted her inquisitiveness.

With neither her explicit instruction nor command, Caliban launched toward the cowering boar. With a single swipe, it tore inch-wide gashes across the boar's mud-caked hide, splattering the panes with fresh arterial gouts of vermilion.

Incensed by the injury, the boar became enraged, entirely ignoring its flesh wound. It dug in its heels and charged, trying to cannonball Caliban with its heaving mass. Caliban waited until the last moment to suddenly frog leap, urged by Gwen's rather purposeless outcry of "Dodge it!". As it sailed over the charging beast, its limbs impossibly twisted as though they possessed no cartilage, then dug into the spinal ridges atop the mud-covered swine. When the boar further attempted to dash Caliban against the floor, Gwen's creature landed, tearing out a chunk of flesh from the swine's neck so large as to make the audience wince.

A torrent of thick blood poured from the creature, sending it crashing against the further wall, leaving a bloody skid mark several meters long.

"Shaa-Shaa!"

Caliban roared once or twice, then opened its maw impossibly wide.

Even as the oinking creature defecated in terror, Caliban's contracting tentacles crammed the boar headfirst into its open mouth, swallowing the swine wholesale.

"Bravo!" Magus Kumiko applauded her.

Gwen stared slack-jawed and sick to her core at her Familiar.

_What-the-shit?_ Her mind reeled and spun, a thousand and one paranoias playing across her standing hair follicles. She had not given Caliban a single command! Of its own free will, it had executed an Onslaught and then finished off the boar with a Consume. The whole time, she hadn't given it authority. _She hadn't!_ She was thinking it, but no explicit instruction had issued from her lips! What did that mean? Did Caliban feel no need to obey her if she was no longer its battery? She felt like a jilted bride!

Cali's autonomy was a serious thing. A freelance Caliban was more dangerous—

Her mind grew blank.

A wave of ecstasy struck Gwen's depleted body. The rain after a prolonged drought. The vitality from a tier 3 Tusker-Charger was nothing compared to Nephres Zalaam, but it was palpable. She held on, riding the wave of delight without being swallowed by the sensation. The euphoria came and went after several heartbeats, allowing her to gather her wits.

"Caliban, return!" she commanded, expecting the worst.

To her complete and utter surprise—Caliban came bounding back like a nightmarish labrador retriever, its goofy toad face sagging as its jowls drooled.

As it approached, it even turned back into its docile serpent form.

Caliban coiled itself against the barrier, purring, happy that its stomach had experienced nourishment so soon.

"How do you feel now?" her babulya asked, watching Gwen's face flush with colour.

In her reflection against the Wall of Force, Gwen saw that her hazel eyes reclaimed their lustre. Her dermis was once more tender and soft, her hair glossy and dynamic. From a wilting anaemic, she had taken on the likeness of one in the bloom of youth.

“Once a week,” Klavdiya notified Magus Kumiko.

"Hai, once a week." The Magus bowed reflexively toward the Senior Director.

"No more diets," Klavdiya sternly informed her granddaughter. "This elastic vitality of yours, coming and going every other week, surely it can't be good for you."

Gwen was then advised to return to bed. Having lived an evil diet, Gwen could only hope that her revitalised Druidic Essence could provide the remedy she required.

For now, the rooting hog of gluttony had been put to rest.

And Gwen would forgo Economics.

As her babulya had said, "You've done enough for today."

Friday.

Gwen felt well enough to attend Professor Ma's class.

Richard had returned from his quests in the Hangzhou region, happy to receive his share of HDMs and the loan of Opa's Medium Storage Ring.

The young man was ecstatic when she further informed him of the additional CCs they received from Jun.

"I'll have to thank him," Richard declared. "What do you think he would like for a gift?"

Gwen honestly had no idea. It seemed Jun knew far more about her than she did about him. Maybe on their trip together, they would get to know one another more informally as uncle and niece.

By the end of the lecture, Professor Ma issued new homework—the students must produce a 6000-word report on their experiences in the Districts, reflection on what they had learned and gained through walking and working in a place where NoMs were the norm.

Though a groan emitted from the crowd, the report was no trouble for Gwen. She could likely hammer out 'write' out the sixteen-page document in a single night.

While she was in thought, a pair of hands slid around her waist in an overtly friendly gesture. Gwen turned to see Mayuree blinking her chestnut eyes, her fake lashes meeting like two petals of a Venus Flytrap.

"Can you help me with the report?" the Diviner begged. "I foresee I will fail without your help!"

For the sake of academic conduct, Gwen knew she should have refused, but she owed Mayuree so many dinners and lunches. Sometimes, Gwen felt like an ungrateful cat, returning nightly to Mayuree's loft for watering and feeding, only to disappear after the meal. Surely a little ghostwriting could go a long way in repaying the girl's generosity. She would make sure Mayuree understood every word.

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"Okay," she agreed, catching a dirty glance from Kitty. "But you're the one doing the handwriting."

"Pufft, handwriting," Mayuree scoffed, hugging her tightly. "I've got a Dancing Pen!"

Mayuree laboured through her report, watched jealously by Gwen as her Dancing Pen produced flawless and florid scripts across the parchment until Lei approached.

"Gwen, there's a call for you." Lei's hand-held Message Device announced. “From an Elvia Lindholm? Your friend in London?"

"Dimension Door!"

When Mayuree looked up, Gwen was gone.

"Did she just…"

Mayuree looked around, bewildered.

_Did Gwen teleport through the floor?_

"JESUS!" Petra jumped when Gwen appeared next to her in a flash of Conjuration mana. "Gwen! Use the Lev! It's dangerous to Dimension Door indoors!"

That much was true. There was too much clutter, and the spell wasn't exact. If Gwen had materialised into something, the _shunt_ of her physical form to the closest displaceable point could cause significant injury. At worst, she could twist or sprain a limb from the whiplash.

"ACCEPT!" Gwen punched the Glyphs on the incoming call. "Sorry, Pats! Won't happen again!"

The illusory projection began to manifest.

Petra retreated to the kitchen to make them both a cuppa; she had recently found a vendor selling grapefruit and citrus-peel Ceylon. Elvia's projection began to move as the pleasant scent filled the living room.

The blonde girl appeared even more angelic than the last time Gwen had seen her. Against all improbability, Evee's aura could be palpably felt even across time and space.

"Gwennie!"

"Evee!"

The girls exchanged 'phantom' hugs.

"How are you? How're things? What 'mission' did you go on?"

"Oh, it was incredible! Horrible—but also incredible! How about you, Gwen?"

"I've got a story to tell," Gwen informed her erstwhile companion. "How are you doing for credits? These calls ain't cheap."

The Long-Range Messages were double charged. The Telecommunication division must be up to their necks in HDMs.

"I am doing lots of good! I've worked plenty, earned lots, and never spent the stash Alesia loaned me." Elvia familiarised Gwen with her financials, her ocean-blue eyes alive with happiness.

Petra left for the bedroom. In her words, boundaries didn't have to be pragmatic. Rather, they should be respectful.

"You go first!" Gwen adjusted the projector so she could sit without the sensors cropping off her forehead.

"Okay!" Elvia leaned in closer as well. The girls were now seated as though they were intimately sitting at a coffee table. "I told you last time that Miss Rothwell, that's Emily Rothwell of the er… Rothwell family—took me under her wing. Well, I started my work for the Student Representative Council..."

By her admission, Elvia's charmed life continued under the shelter of Emily Greyson Rothwell, the darling daughter of Lord John Rothwell, the Duke of Somerset. Having taken on the duties of secretary and personal assistant to the 'Lady Duchess' of Nightingale, she enjoyed unfettered access to the considerable resources of the third most prestigious Healer's college in Europe.

For the semester, Elvia attended classes without incident, enjoying the friendship of peers she had acquired since arriving in London. She passed her exams with flying colours with a little help from her instructors, who took pity on the fact that she had to 'suffer' through a Frontier public high school. When the time came for practicums, Elvia was assigned to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, one of the most coveted placements in London.

As its namesake inferred, the fabled GOS was the premier hospital for the care of children anywhere in the world's Capital cities, with an impressive roster of 1 Meister and 9 Magister-level Clerics presiding over its Board of Directors and Department Heads.

Those who intern at GOS would graduate not only with referees—it also came with a network of connections that extended as far as the House of Lords, who sponsored the hospital.

"Wait, let me guess," Gwen tried to extrapolate what may have taken place, mindful of Elvia's prior history. "One of the Directors took a fancy to you?"

"How did you know? Are you a Diviner?" Elvia cooed, giggling with glee as Gwen returned a meek smirk. "It was Lady Astor who found me wandering around the ward! She's a Viscountess. Gwen, you should have seen her house at Cliveden! It's HUGE! I mean, it's beyond huge! There are ten bedrooms on the upper level, a French Dining room and a library with all kinds of Spells and first edition manuscripts, and there's an entire lower level for the NoM Servants, and the Butler was a Magus who cooks…"

Following ten minutes of Downton Abbey, Elvia edition, the girl finally moved on to her placement. After several weeks in the hospital serving as assistant to one Doctor or another, she was sent out with a crew to the Frontier counties to assist in repelling Demi-human invaders.

Gwen had no idea what the ethnographic makeup of England was, but from Elvia's tales of Trolls, Hobs, and the 'Träälvor'—commonly known as the Wood Elves; she guessed they had a lot of Demi-humans.

"We got to meet one of their healers! It was incredible! Amazing! Kiki took to the Druidess right away! They're so beautiful, all of them look like models. They have these incredibly cool tattoos on their faces, which turned out to be Enchantments!"

The story was quickly moving beyond Gwen's comprehension. As every minute was another HDM, she opted to nod and smile as Elvia delivered her fantastic tale. After twenty minutes of her superlative 'OOOs' and 'Ah!' Gwen could discern that Elvia served in a Field Hospital safely embedded in a Green Zone for almost a week while the benign Demi-humans, aided by the Humans, pushed back the _savage_ Demi-humans called Fomorians.

"In the end, only two of our Mages died," Elvia announced proudly, her voice growing more distant and hollow.

"That's wonderful." Gwen cheered her on. "I am sure you did all you could."

"They were brought in too late. All we could do was ease their pain." Elvia's smile waned. "Did you know only Mages ranked Magus and above meet the criterion for deploying higher-tier healing spells in a triage centre?"

"Now I know," Gwen affirmed Elvia's jaded address. According to her lessons, reagents for advanced healing were finite, with a bottle-necked supply restricted by trade with the Wildland Elves. The exception was Faith-based healers from the Church, an extremely rare existence.

"YEEE—Kiki!"

Elvia's floral sprite made an appearance without warning. It looked sturdier than when Gwen had last seen it. With its folded leaf resending a skullcap and its white stems forming its limbs. In the future, it would make a fine Dryad.

"Shaa-shaa!" "Ee-EE!" Caliban and Ariel made themselves known.

"Kii! KI!" Kiki fell out of sight.

"It's scared of Caliban." Elvia reappeared, the petal of her mouth issuing forth a delirious string of laughter.

"Evee, I miss you and Yue so much," Gwen confessed, thinking how the girl was so close yet so far away, what she would give to give Elvia a flesh and blood hug about now.

"I miss you too, Gwen." Elvia's eyes became misty. She swallowed hard, then perked up. "Tell me about what you have done since we last talked."

"Alight, prepare yourself. My story isn't going to be nice..." Gwen delivered her recent adventure, readjusted for PG viewing.

"I am sorry…" Elvia's eyes were swollen after Gwen told her the truth. "I didn't know…"

Unlike Yue, who shared a link with Alesia and Gunther, Elvia had never been privy to the depth of Gwen's depraved talent. When Gwen finally told her that she had Consumed a human being, Elvia was stunned for the duration of an HDM.

"It's okay if it's you. I know you'll do the right thing," Elvia finally managed to ingest Gwen's tale with sympathy.

Gwen then reminded Elvia about Edgar, expanded on the Ravenport ordeal, and of Elizabeth Sobel and their connection to Nephres.

"Oh! My! God!" Elvia touched four dainty fingers to her peach-hued lips. French tips, Gwen noted, life was good in Europe. "Lord Ravenport?! Mycroft Ravenport? He's a Duke in the House of Lords!"

"What do you know about him?" Gwen felt her hands clench.

"I don't know much," Elvia confessed, crestfallen. "I've only ever seen him in the papers and on vid-casts. I can ask Miss Rothwell, though."

"What's he like in the British media?"

"The London Gazette had a picture of him just a few days ago. Tall and dark? I suppose? He looked really gaunt, kind of scary and miserly too. The papers said he was a part of the Tories—the Conservative Party. I think one of the articles said that he was all for the Commonwealth to return to the old days of the Britannic Empire."

"That's about what I pictured too." Gwen bit her lip worriedly. "Is he influential?"

"I think so?" Elvia saw nothing in politics, though a reasonable education wasn't out of the question. "He's on the papers a lot! Always looming over someone and looking upset. The cartoons often make fun of him and his Party."

Roo's balls, Gwen swore under her breath. When someone could only be insulted in satire, you knew they were dangerous. That can't be good, especially when Ravenport Sr gets the message that she was responsible for Ravenport Jr's demise. Didn't Gunther hint that her father crushed his balls? _Bloody Oath. She was floating up shit creek without a paddle. Was she safe in Shanghai?_ From what she knew, the tier 1 Capitals loathed Mages from other cities barging into their territory. She just hoped that China had enough tension with London not to offer the Lord a reprieve in the form of an extradition treaty.

"Well, shit," Gwen replied dejectedly. "I guess I'll see what happens after tomorrow. I guess there's no point worrying about Ravenport Sr when I gotta murder a guy in cold blood tomorrow for Spellcraft—"

"I don't care!" Elvia announced suddenly, her blue eyes defiant and glowing. "I don't care what you do. You're always going to be the Gwen I met from Blackwattle."

Hearing Elvia's shrill proclamation of irresponsible affection immediately turned her frown upside down. "Thanks, Evee. You don't know how much that means to me. I'll do my best to keep myself sane for you."

"I'll visit! I'll be your Healer! We'll never be apart again!" Elvia promised idealistically, her aching heart clouding her judgement. "Wait for me! Three years, right? I should graduate in under three years! I'll come to find you in Shanghai."

"Okay." Gwen reached out and touched her fingers to Elvia's phantom appendages. With a hook and pull, the two girls made a pinky promise across space and time. "That's a promise."

Elvia nodded fiercely.

"Alright, time to go. I got a helluva day tomorrow," Gwen announced. "If possible, I'll Message you and let you know the results. I'll think of you when I _murder_ —er— maybe not. Either way, knowing you're around, I'll be fine."

"You have to! I'll be waiting! I am not going anywhere until you do!" Elvia's white face filled the projection.

"I promise. Good night, Evee. I'll call or Message."

Elvia kept nodding, mumbling promises until Gwen hung up.

Gwen stared at the projector as though in a trance.

"You alright?" Petra met her at the bedroom door in nighties, ready to sleep.

Gwen turned her gaze upward, then nodded.

"Rest well. I'll wake you at 0800 sharp," Petra announced. "Master Messaged me earlier. Everything is arranged. We'll be going to Tilanqiao Prison first thing."

"The…" Gwen felt her scalp crawl. "The 'Blue-Basket Prison'?"

"Yeah." Petra reached out to touch her increasingly clammy hands.

_Tilanqiao Prison._

Even Gwen knew about the infamous Prison located in the Hongkou District. The compound was built by the British Mageocracy during the Colonial Occupation and was later taken over by the Ministry of Public Security. It serves as a nightmarish symbol of the shadow cast over Shanghai by the Ministry of State Security and the Internal Security Bureau. The stories that escaped from the Prison were pure nightmare fuel. False imprisonment, extortion, torture, the murder of political prisoners, organ harvesting—there was little that escaped Tilanqiao Prison. It was a five-star fortress of atrocities, worthy of Orwell's Mini-Luv moniker.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Petra urged her.

When Gwen finally came to clarity and self-awareness, she was already in bed, and Petra had returned to her room. Shivering, she slid her body snugly into the silky cotton.

“Evee… Evee… Eve…”

Gwen invoked the mantra of peaceful sleep.

But try as she might, Hypnos refused to give his blessing.


To her shame, Gwen fell asleep on her babulya's shoulders. She had been kept awake by a wild night of increasingly anxious speculations until her babulya's care brought on what ten hours of darkness had failed to provide.

_When was the last time she had felt so nervous?_ The HSC, perhaps, the Australian University Entrance Exams. Gwen recalled swallowing her vomit as she sat at the exam table.

Now she was nearing another test.

The killing joke was that Gwen was herself the executor of the murderous scenario, arguably more challenging than writing 3K word essays on Tess of the d'Urbervilles and W.B Yeats.

They were about to enter Tilangqiao Prison— a place synonymous with living hell.

Inevitably, they arrived.

When Gwen looked up, she became oppressed by the infamous gate of the Tilangqiao Prison, five meters tall and three meters across, looming over their vehicle.

Once inside, the word that came to mind was austere. The gate was concrete and sandstone, with several layers of square tiles in scarlet making up the threshold, weathered to the hue of dried blood. What was imposing was the thickness of it, the weight of the high walls that stretched until a corner bent it out of sight. Above, four sentry towers marked its perimeter, with a fifth central building watching over the rest. From the ground, the tallest building was only five storeys. As for its depth, Gwen had read once that no one but the highest officers of the MSS and ISC knew the true extent.

The sedan pulled away. Magister Wen said she'd meet them inside, while Magus Kumiko had stated she would not join them. As a Japanese national, she had no desire to visit the famous prison.

The guard at the gate examined their papers before Messaging his superior. His eyes lingered first on Petra, then on Gwen.

As a Mage prison, Tilanqiao was unisex, though the two genders were housed in separate areas and overseen by gender-segregated staff. However, the token attempt at curbing abuse did not prevent certain rumours from escaping from the prison and into the public.

To her immense relief, the giant gates did not boom open to swallow them. Instead, a side gate, near invisible, pushed itself open. A short, balding man with a greasy forehead emerged, scanning the three women with deadened eyes.

"My name is Ji Tongli. You can call me Warden Ji. Good to see you again, Director Song," the unassuming man introduced himself before shaking their hands. Gwen noticed his fingers were so calloused that they felt like toad skin.

The women introduced themselves in turn.

"I will take you to Professor Wen." The stoic official offered them neither small talk nor an attempt at amiability. "You may follow me. Keep your hands against your torso. Do not speak to anyone. Do not touch anything. Ms Song, and Ms Kuznetsova, you will be scanned by diagnostic Scrying, but you will not be physically searched. That is the greatest courtesy I can offer. Should you betray my confidence in Director Song, a cell will be your abode until further notice. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" The girls stood to attention.

As per babulya's instruction, the girls were fully attired, preferencing tight, non-magical clothing without pockets. Only their hair and faces remained exposed for identification. The girls had also been advised to leave everything at home or in their Storage Rings except for passive-effect Magical Items.

The foursome soon entered the side corridor. Above, multiple Daylight spells were in full effect, with sterilising light erasing all shadows.

At the end of the corridor was another set of doors presided over by two guards. Gwen detected that one was likely a Transmuter, while the other was an Enchanter. They were low-tier, at least lower than her. She noted the wands they carried on their thighs.

Warden Ji conversed with his guards in low murmurs.

"It's alright, dear. We're perfectly safe." Their babulya comforted her granddaughter and grand-niece. "We're not going by the prison blocks. We're going straight to the middle chamber, where the interrogations happen."

The glow of Glyphs faded.

The double door opened.

The foursome proceeded.

Gwen noted that the Warding Glyphs reactivated instantly as the doors slid closed. As their party penetrated the prison, an oppressive presence, palpable and tangible, now lingered in the corridor, growing more ominous with each successive section.

"Magic dampening," Petra informed her cousin, giving the physical repression a name. "Nothing but basic cantrips can activate here without explicitly excluding your Mana Signature."

To test Petra's theory, Gwen attempted a faux summon of her Familiars. When she activated her Sigil and channelled her mana, a heavy sluggishness prevented her Spells from completing the arcane circuits.

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" Petra affirmed her feelings.

Gwen agreed. She felt the numbness as the sensation of _helplessness,_ a crippling sense of confusion from losing one's agency. A Mage without arcanistry was a King without his army, a carpenter without his tools, an NoM bereft of his limbs. It was why her grandfather had put her in a cell with anti-magic warding when she had first arrived in Shanghai.

The current corridor ended.

Another set of doors.

Another pair of guards followed, looking identical to every other junction.

The prison was intentionally built like a maze.

"This way," Ji directed the trio.

Though Gwen's babulya seemed at ease, the two girls were beginning to sweat, their nerves fraying as eyes, both physical and arcane, canvassed their bodies, likely examining them for potential.

The girls soon crossed into a courtyard. It was their first sight of the open sky since entering the compound. Ten minutes in, Gwen and Petra felt like a lifetime had passed.

They were now in a wire cage section—the exercise yard.

Here, the girls had their first glimpse of the prison population.

Having watched Oz, Prison Break, and, for her guilty pleasure, Orange is the New Black, Gwen was pretty sure she was an expert in prison stereotypes. Though she and Petra were demurely dressed in clothing that hid their figures, she did not doubt that Petra at least would cause a riot. After all, Tilanqiao was a prison, a mill of the human soul. Fresh _meat_ was the only thing that could drive a man or a woman wild with anticipation in a place like this.

Instead, she met an eerie reality.

To their right, they saw the male prisoners.

To their left, the smaller quadrant reserved for women was empty. A barrier separated the larger and lesser half of the prison from the space between the sections. It was evident the two genders did not mingle.

One of the scenes Gwen had been contemplating was the infamous incident from Silence of the Lambs when Clarice Starling copped a hair full of bodily fluids from the psychotic Migs.

But here, there was no hooting.

No shouting or jeering.

There wasn't the stomping of impassioned feet nor the aggravation of violent men shaking the bars, frothing at the lips.

There was only a sullen silence and the soft susurration of labouring men clinging to life.

There weren't nearly as many prisoners as Gwen had expected. A mere thirty-odd Mages of various ages, almost exclusively Han-Chinese, sat at the benches or stood against the exercise bars, beyond which were shimmering Walls of Force. They stared at the girls with shrunken irises swollen with pink vessels, but the inmates did not move nor make a sound.

They watched like dumb statues as the girls passed, led by the Warden. To Gwen, the identically dressed men resembled flesh golems deprived of their scripts, awaiting command.

"Your stewardship is as steady as always," Klavdiya praised the Warden of Tilangqiao.

"My job." Warden Ji snorted. "I do it well."

"That you do," her babulya confessed. "No deaths this month."

"No." Warden Ji's lips curled. "Thanks for your help."

Klavdiya's healer's aura seemed to relax the tone of Ji's body language. Above them, the twenty-story concrete block in faded hues endearingly called the "The Blue Basket" sapped the sun's warmth as they stepped into the shade.

More guards met them at the door.

They scanned the girls layered clothing with a wand.

Finally, after an hour of aimless wandering, the foursome entered the basement of the main building. The B-1 was hollow at its centre, creating a long rectangular descent extending downwards in a double-helix spiral.

The wind blowing from the interior had a strong scent of antiseptics.

"Gwen, Petra. You can close your eyes if you want," her babulya said after a moment of deliberation. "Nothing here of interest will do you any good."

Gwen and Petra regarded one another. One thought nothing could be worse than being eaten alive by a Faceless skin changer, while the other likely recalled her time with Moscow Tower.

The foursome waited for the levitation platform, which arrived a few minutes later, delivering a troop of four guards armed with lethal-looking implements on their thighs.

"Sir!" The guards saluted.

Ji inclined his head.

"LG-24, Interrogation and Observation Chamber."

"Sir!" the operator hailed the command.

The platform began to move.

The familiarity of the transit system filled Gwen with a weird nostalgia. It reminded her of Sydney. Standing to attention beside Master Kilroy, she had traversed the Sydney Tower in this exact manner, guided by the Tower's staff. For the first time in a long time, Gwen pondered what had happened to those guards she had befriended, wondering if they had survived.

The girls saw their first 'VIP' after twenty meters.

A gruff old Mage in orange overalls sat in a cell with nothing but an iron slab for a bed and a stainless steel toilet bowl. The cell was too small for the man to fully stretch out his body, forcing him to use the bowl as a seat so he could fully extend his feet. As the party passed, his eyes widened. The man launched himself at the transparent pane, plastering his whole face trying to get a glimpse of the two teenage girls.

"Dissident." Ji had been warmed up enough by babulya to start playing the tour guide, speaking like a man describing the local fauna. "He tried to rile up the NoMs in Jiangsu against the local Secretariat. After the local security forces lost him in the mountains, the Aerial Division stationed in Jiangsu caught him gifting his 'supporters' to the _Jueyuan_ to garner their support."

"What's that?" Gwen couldn't help her curiosity. " _Jueyuan_ , I mean."

"Humanoid apes," Ji replied. "The _Jueyuan_ elders know how to use magic. The most distinct aspect of their society is that there are no females."

"How do they—" Gwen reflexively began.

Petra stopped her right there.

Ji continued to explain, humoured by the girl's interactions.

"When a Clan of Jueyuan gets out of hand, they become a force of reckoning. A small outpost is no match for a troop of a hundred Jueyuan. Even a teenage one can rip your arm off with its bare hands. Not to mention their shamans can use primitive Clerical and Druidic magic. They need to multiply, and they're fond of humans."

The girls said nothing. The levitation platform descended. The party continued past a dozen other prisoners, with Ji providing them with what passed for entertaining anecdotes.

"That last one, the one with her pants off? She's a real piece of work," Ji's voice remained entirely flat and unassuming, even as the girls' faces were crimson from the last encounter.

The moment Gwen had met her eyes with the deranged female inmate, it was as though a strange compulsion had overcome her senses. The crazed woman tore away her prisoner's uniform and spread herself against the invisible pane. Then her babulya forced the girls to turn away from the obscene sight.

"Forbidden magic, that one." Ji chortled coldly. "Some lost Clan or another. Her magic involves a forgotten Yin-Yang witchcraft where she drains her victim's vitality through coitus. It was a thing, I am told, back in the Dynasties, the self-styled Emperors used such methods to prolong their longevity, going through dozens of concubines a month. She looked your age when she first came in. Without replenishment, she's gone back to her real age."

Gwen had taken a good gander before babulya thwarted their curiosity. The woman looked to be in her forties, looking like a meth addict from her old world.

"Filthy wretches, the lot of them." According to Ji, no one imprisoned in Tilangqiao was 'innocent' or undeserving.

Gwen chose to take the man's words with a grain of salt.

The bottom of the LG-24 was where they finally arrived. More PLA correctional officers secured the room beyond.

"After you." Ji motioned to the women.

The party entered.

Gwen felt a trickle of ice puckering the segments of her spine. As they entered the rectangular chamber, Gwen felt the magic Dampening fall away, though she was sure it could be reactivated at any time.

She looked up from her lead-like feet.

There he was.

Her victim.

In the middle of the desolate room, dressed in bright orange, was a man brass-bound to an anchored chair. The man sat without sound; his body slumped and passive. His face was hooded, with a section in breathable mesh.

Gwen approached the man in a trance, as though her body was no longer hers. She was a marionette pulled by stubborn strings.

"Gwen, I am glad you're here," a voice issued from above. The party chased the source until they faced the far-right wall. The wall was Illusory, Gwen realised, something akin to a one-way mirror. "I am here with a few officials from the Ministry and the Pudong Tower. You've met them before. We're ready to proceed when you are."

The voice was Magister Wen's.

A thrum of magic could be sensed flowing through the walls. From the prickling on her skin, Gwen knew it to be the activation of the diagnostic spells particular to the Cognisance Chamber.

She forced herself to face the hooded prisoner.

So what now? She'll do the deed, then leave for lunch?

Should she talk to the man? Or look him in the eyes? Could she explain why he must now die?

"What was his crime?" Gwen asked. Magister Wen did promise that her victim would be thoroughly vetted.

"Terrible and heinous, I assure you. A mass murderer. It's all confirmed." Magister Wen's voice came from somewhere indistinctly above. "Warden, if you will."

Warden Ji moved to discard the man's hood.

"That's not what we agreed on," babulya moved to stop Ji. "What's the point of seeing his face? Just get this over and done. We're not here for sadism. We're here for knowledge."

"It's alright, babulya," Gwen intervened. "I want to see - I need to see. I am taking this man's life. How can I not give him a final measure of respect? Warden, may I have the honours?"

"Gwen..." her babulya's face was equal parts concern and fatalism.

Annoyed by the delay, Ji stepped back.

Gwen took a deep breath, then approached.

The hood came off.

The regret she felt was immeasurable.

"There she is. Is she ready?"

Magister Wen affirmed that Gwen was indeed 'ready' as Warden Ji led the party into the room below them.

A troop of military men stood beside the Magister by the observation window, with a fourth leaning casually against the far wall.

Far from Wen was Wing Commander Derrick Webber, standing ramrod straight and looking downwards toward her specimen with benevolence and goodwill.

Major Wong of the Internal Security Bureau was adjacent, more relaxed than his western counterpart. Tilangqiao was, after all, Wong's home ground.

The man closest to Wen was the Committee Chair of the Ministry of State Security, her specimen's grandfather, Klavdiya Song's husband, Guo Song. The man's face was a mask of unknowable impassivity.

Then there was their fourth, an uninvited guest.

Jun Song. _The Ash Bringer._

A man who had outlasted all expectations of his volatile elemental talent to become the Hero of the Northern Front.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Decades ago, Marie-Roslyn Wen had offered to dissect Jun's talent in return for research that may preserve his body against the Ash talent. The family refused. Not even her friend and confidant, Klavdiya Song, then only a Department Head, consented to her offer.

For a long while, Wen had wondered if someone from the PLA had considered scrutinising Guo's bloodline for signs of Demi-human ancestry.

Guo was Salt.

Hai was Salt.

Jun was Ash.

And now Gwen was Void and Lightning.

They were a group of very talented people with a rare genealogy.

Thankfully, the old dog's loathing of his grandaughter was an act of serendipity, a convergence of stars that drove Klavdiya to her for aid. Were it not for fate, Magister Wen could not have imagined that, in her remaining lifetime, there would be an opportunity to investigate the incomplete research abandoned by Henry Kilroy and Elizabeth Sobel!

As for why Guo loathed the girl, Wen had a theory.

She believed, notwithstanding imperfect evidence, that Gwen must be a bastard. The eldest son absconded, had he not? And now he returned with a teenage daughter. She had uncovered that Gwen's 'mother' was a worthless Fire Mage! Two tiers from an NoM! Who was Hai kidding?

How would a Salt Mage and a Fire Mage produce a Lightning-Void progeny? What freakish miracle was that?

So she dug deeper, sending out feelers into the Commonwealth's Towers, the more she uncovered. She found that information on Gwen was censured! Not only that, it was at the behest of none other than _The Morning Star_ , Gunther Shultz! When Wen further inquired with the desperate Klavdiya, she learned Gwen had been attached hip to hip with Henry Kilroy before he died.

The puzzle pieces were falling into place.

Sobel was the single most accomplished Void Mage in modern history.

Kilroy was her spouse, the pioneer of research on Sobel's talent.

So what did that make Gwen the only Void Mage to flourish thereafter?

_Coincidence?_

Wen did not believe in coincidence.

With the data gleaned from Gwen's negatively drained body, Wen was sure she would be hailed as the premier academic of her generation, the progenitor publisher of an original theory.

MEISTER Marie-Roslyn Wen would be the God Mother of a new branch of Elemental Magic, to be recalled, remembered, and referenced ten thousand times over, immortalised in the appendices.

Whenever she thought about the future within her grasp, Wen felt an insatiable hunger, an unquenchable drive to push the girl just a little bit further.

She had done well so far.

The incident at D-109 had been just the beginning, a touchstone. The persuasion of Klavdiya followed. Now, the Towers from the PLA and Pudong had pledged their support. Both sides had offered her unfettered liberty in exchange for a means to generate Void Mages. As dangerous as such beings might prove, the potential of cowing the Demi-humans as Sobel had done was immensely appealing to men like Gunther Shultz.

But why was the Ashbringer here?

Even now, Wen couldn't comprehend why the Ash Bringer weighed her with an annoying smirk. To her knowledge, the former Grey Ghost was no longer a part of Internal Security. _Had he taken on a more covert role?_ Or was the man here in the capacity of an Uncle? Her imperfect knowledge irked Wen to no end.

The victim she had chosen for Gwen was perfect. _Lu Bing_ was a Clanner from the Frontier District of Qingcheng with a taste for Mage blood. The boy had awoken as a Dust Mage, then succeeded as a Conjurer-Illusionist. It was unfortunate that the young man had acquired a Scroll of Drain Life from the Rogue Mages, outlaw practitioners of Necromancy, learned the spell and transformed into a serial killer. For years, Qingcheng City was convinced that a Ghoul was loose in the sewers. It wasn't until Bing's gluttony outgrew his caution that he was discovered. A chaotic melee ensued, resulting in the death of two acolytes and a Senior Mage.

Since then, the man had been imprisoned in Stasis for almost two years.

Would devouring the Dust Mage increase Gwen's affinity to the Void?

Would Gwen acquire Illusion as a school?

Were there diminishing returns on how many tiers she could steal from others? How about the girl's VMI? Did that have a limit?

These were legitimate questions for herself and her specimen.

Wen was also interested in the mental and physiological aspects of the Void and its impact on the user. Was the hunger an addiction, or was it madness, as Sobel had shown? Could it be controlled, or was it more akin to a gradual transformation?

The more Gwen could be pushed, the more accurate her statistics. Then the girl would break, but that was also important data. As with Material Spellcraft, the boiling point was crucial knowledge. Didn't Gunther Shultz once boast that the girl couldn't be broken? Gwen had only herself to blame if she did.

But none of her considerations addressed why Jun Song now bothered her.

"Welcome, Gwen," she stated to those below. "… We're ready to proceed when you are."

Klavdiya had wanted the man's face covered. It was a stupid sentiment, but Wen had allowed it.

"... I want to see..." The girl said.

Wen almost snorted. The girl was entirely uptight and self-righteous! Maybe she WAS Guo's granddaughter. That part of them was practically identical.

The hood came off.

Wen's mind grew blank.

Beneath it was a familiar face. A face Wen had never seen in real life but whom she knew from an exchange a little more than a week ago.

"CHOI?" She let loose a shrill scream, then immediately regretted her tale-telling outburst.

Her eyes darted to Jun and then to Guo.

Cold sweat oozed across her back, drenching her linen blouse. She had to circulate a sliver of Mineral-tinged mana through her body to steady the pounding of her heart, forcing her skin to retain its unflushed paleness.

_How the fuck was Choi here?_ Her mind rioted with speculations. _What was the meaning of this?_

"SECRETARIAT CHOI?!" Gwen could hear the blood pounding her skull.

"CHOI?" The voice that came from above suggested that the Magister was no less surprised than Gwen.

Secretary Choi's beady eyes were now two dilated orbs staring into the middle distance. It took only one glance to know that the space between the man's eyes was devoid of all discourse.

Gwen was unpleasantly reminded of Magister Lee's mockery of the Resurrection spell, where he ridiculed the idea that the body could be utilised even if the mind was gone.

Forcing herself to breathe again, she leaned in closer to the Secretariat's face, watching her pallid appearance reflected in his glassy orbs.

"Where's Lu Bing?" Magister Wen snapped at her audience before realising that she had trespassed protocol. She was a civilian; they were the PLA Towers. If anything, they should be the ones dressing her down. "Please accept my apologies. I was merely surprised that my candidate had been replaced."

She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps when she met their mocking eyes. _They're all in on it!_ The thought struck Wen like one of Gwen's Flash Bangs. _The bastards!_

"Miss Wen," Guo began, his choice of title inferring just how little he thought of her. "Let me make a point very clear for you. Gwen is a Void Mage, and a Void Mage is a calamity waiting to happen. Unfortunately, others, like my colleague here, are in disagreement..."

Guo's bulldog face barely moved as he spoke, giving the MSS hound master the impression of an inexpressive statue. The filtered glow from the illusory wall further cast an indifferent light across his hawk-like nose.

"For this reason, I understand that rumours have circulated of my dismissal of Gwen. _Not true._ Yes, I do not trust the girl. She is an anomaly, an impossibility made flesh. And I resent her allegiance with the late Henry Kilroy."

The old hound's presence seemed to grow as his voice fell lower. Though Wen stood perfectly still, she felt cornered by an ancient beast. That was the difference between an academic against one who had survived a global conflict and a civil war, followed by a Political Purge.

"But my dislike, my loathing, my repudiation of my granddaughter are private matters—a _personal_ preference. If Klavdiya wishes to aid Gwen, that is her choice, HER undertaking. I have to respect her decisions. If Klavdiya believes her actions are for the best, I will not interfere, just as she had not intervened in mine."

The MSS Secretary's voice dropped an octave.

Magister Wen was sure her shirt was now drenched.

"YOU—on the other hand. _Who do you think you are_ , Miss Wen? You're an Expat, not even a member of our Communist Party. You're from the Commonwealth, are you not? Your parents fled to England. That's where you received your education. Your loyalties are only to yourself. You don't respect my wife. You don't respect the girl you're using. You don't even care for my grandniece, your _apprentice_ , who thinks the world of you. They're just pieces of a puzzle to you."

Magister Wen did not offer a rebuttal. Even if she could, she had to wait until her body resumed its full faculty. She was reminded of the rumour that Guo was a Mind Mage. Wen was no slouch against Charms, but the man's mental pressure was immense!

"Jun."

When Guo turned away from Magister Wen, his son approached.

"Observe the fate of Secretariat Choi." Jun tilted his head in the direction below. "Magister. You're a researcher, a damn good one. But even the best researcher can't write her papers from a cell in Tilangqiao."

Wen felt her spine twist when the prison's name played across Jun's lips.

Her eyes drifted toward Wong and Webber.

"We fully support your _research_ Magister." Wong inclined his head. "This is a private matter between you and the Song family."

"I am inclined to agree." Wing Commander Webber furrowed his brows. "Certainly, Pudong would prefer a more organic approach to Miss Song's Void talent. I must inform you, Madam, that there exists a long-standing request from Magus Shultz that Pudong ensures the safety and freedom of Miss Song in Shanghai. Had I known that today and the District incident were begotten by yourself, I would have advised patience."

Neither rebukes nor agreements, Wen noted. She wouldn't die today.

"I would hardly think it's fair to—" she protested.

"Klavdiya had been upset. Very upset," Guo interjected suddenly. "I hadn't seen her so stricken since the Purge when her friends were accused."

The man's voice made Wen wish she had shut her mouth.

"I see what you're trying to do. I do not condone what you are trying to do." Guo's eyes were now observing his granddaughter. "But I suppose a calamity is called as such precisely because it cannot be avoided."

Wen decided remaining silent was likely her best option for the time being. They watched the girl beak over Choi's mind-cleansed appearance.

"Magister." Guo's decision to use her proper title filled Wen with immense relief. " _Do your job._ Nothing more."

Magister Wen forced her fingers to curl into a fist. The Path of Spellcraft never did run smoothly. These militant meatheads would never understand. Like the old Faustian allegory, the ends justified the means so long as knowledge could be gained. Who could judge a Meister after the fact?

Desist?

She had run this far without pausing for breath. How could she stop now?

"Gwen, please proceed," Magister Wen's command called out from above after an uncomfortably long silence.

Before Gwen could summon her wits, a familiar figure appeared beside the three women and the Warden.

"Uncle Jun!" Gwen's greeting had a tone of ambivalence. She did not want to see her uncle when she was in such an immature state. That said, much of her present circumstance was beginning to make sense now.

"Gwen." Jun grinned at her. "I've prepared a dossier of Choi's inglorious service to the State. The Secretariat could have died ten times over, and his sentencing would have been insufficient."

"It's alright, Uncle." Gwen had mixed feelings about her uncle's intrusion. "I trust that you-"

"Don't." Jun halted her flattery and then handed over a data slate. "Trust yourself first and foremost. Please read it, then make a decision. If you choose to quit, I support that as well."

Gwen turned her attention to the slate, where the magic parchment showed MSS records for Choi's _confessions_ extracted via a cocktail of Compel Truth and Enfeeble Mind.

"Jun." Her grandmother hugged her son.

"Uncle." Petra shook his hand.

"Mother. Petra." Jun greeted the others in turn. "Let's give Gwen some space."

Above, there was only sullen silence from Magister Wen.

_Distribution of Illicit Substance_

_Human Trafficking_

_High Treason_

The jargonistic 'state' crime list for Choi made little sense to Gwen, though career highlights such as the 'Trafficking' of underage Mages stood out to her.

According to the transcript, Choi was running 109 like a dynastic bureaucrat-scholar, making the locals fight and quarrel for stability and amusement. As for Treason, Choi had confessed to trading state-sanctioned magic tools, glyphs and materials to Wildland rogues in exchange for precious ingredients and exotic fauna.

The verdict from Internal Security was 'Summary Execution', followed by reducing the man's remains to ash to prevent Necromantic tempering.

Choi was a dead man walking.

And she was to be his deliverer.

Gwen returned the slate to Jun.

"Gwen, don't fret. Choi was such a babbling lunatic by the third reading that we had to Mind Blank him to prevent him biting off his tongue."

_So she was executing not only a condemned criminal but also a vegetable._ She knew it was ungrateful to resent her uncle, but having her resolve deflated in such a manner felt like a slap.

She approached the man formerly known as Secretariat Choi until she was an inch from his face.

"Mr Choi, do you know me?" She gazed into the man's empty eyes once more.

Behind her, babulya and Jun exchanged a concerned glance.

"Nurrrgh..."

"I am Gwen Song," she declared. "I was there in D-109. You sent Nephres Zalaam after me. I Consumed her with my Void abilities. In a few moments, I will consume you as well. If you want to say anything, you can make your peace now."

Choi drooled, his eyes unblinking.

Gathering her wits, she made some space between them.

"Caliban!"

The netherworld worm slipped into the material plane.

"Shaa-Shaa!" Anticipating what was to come, Caliban opened its head carapace to reveal two tentacles, one cobalt and the other crimson.

"I am proceeding," Gwen informed the assembly above. The thrumming floor increased in pitch; its diagnostic magic cranked to full.

As Caliban came closer, Choi's body began to shudder, shivering as though he was cold, then with greater violence as the netherworld worm coiled around his torso. When Caliban came as close to his face as Gwen had, Choi thrashed in his seat.

"NEeeaaagh—! Neaaaagh!"

The sound from his lips was like that of a bleating goat. The Ex-Secretariat struggled with such ferocity that the skin of his wrists broke, opening a vein on his cubby-white forearm. A spurt of arterial blood escaped as the man strained against the brass manacles, sending a dash of crimson to splash onto Gwen's white runners.

Jun's expression soured. "Gwen, just do it."

"I need to see this," Gwen's voice drifted across the room. "I can't avert my eyes, Uncle Jun, not now. Not ever. No matter what Secretariat Choi had done, he isn't a side of veal we're feeding to Caliban."

"Gwen." Her uncle's jaws set displeasingly.

"I am sorry." Gwen redoubled her focus. "Please bear with my wilfulness for a little longer. Caliban!"

Before its observers, the serpent engorged, its carapace splitting until the formerly six-foot snake became a nine-foot pulsating monstrosity of chitin and bruised flesh. Two lamprey-tipped tentacles shot toward Choi, one ramming into his throat while the other penetrated his abdomen.

Choi's body shook; a hint of hysterical terror came and went. His eyes rolled upwards as muscle and ligament distended.

Gwen stood only half a meter away, her shoes spotted with gore, her pearly teeth gnashing fiercely until her gums bled.

_My choice, my responsibility, my remorse._ Gwen had to burn this moment into her mind, or else she was no better than her Master's estranged and insane wife.

_CRACK!_

The grotesque onomatopoeia indicated that there was now enough of Caliban inside Choi's chest to overburden the ribcage. If the man could scream, Gwen felt she could forever kiss the sweet innocence of sleep goodbye.

Without warning, Choi's stomach ballooned as though the man had become instantly pregnant. His bloodless mien lost all expression. There was a final twitch, and Choi's limp head hung against his spine.

The heart, the liver, the brain—Gwen suppressed the repugnance rising from the pit of her stomach.

She would burn this vision into her skull.

"Hurrrgh—!"

Petra first lost the fight against her body's rebellious revulsion.

The Mineral Mage materialised a crystalline cube and deposited her breakfast.

Gwen meanwhile, patiently anticipated her tithing of Caliban's harvest.

It came.

The euphoria that struck her was between a tier 3 Tusker Boar and half a Nephres Zalaam. Akin to the Schmidt Pain Index, Gwen figured she should mentally compile a Caliban Index, with Nephres at ten and the small-fry at one. With an arm holding onto babulya for support, Gwen weathered the grotesque tide of pleasure gnashing her innards, perceiving herself as a standing stone amidst breaking waves. Her limbs shook even as Gwen's fingers gripped her grandmother's shoulders, clenching until it was pale and bare-knuckled.

But she held on, conscious and lucid.

"Enchantment and Illusion," Jun informed her, shaking his head at her pigheadedness. "Those are Choi's Schools of Magic. Tier 4 Illusion was his natural talent. Tier 4 Enchantment was what he chose as his minor, though I'd dare say Enchantment was the more skilful of the two. It took us quite some time to get through his mental shielding. As for his element, I believe it was water."

Gwen opened her eyes, her orbs alive with vivid vitality; her irises brilliant emerald and citrine-topaz.

"Gwen, how do you feel?" Magister Wen's voice resounded from up on high.

"I feel… myself."

The perpetual hunger she had endured for the week had entirely disappeared, making her wonder if all her suffering had been a waking dream. Her complexion became rosy and flushed, her limbs brimming with potential. She stood straighter and felt taller; her stoop disappeared, and her swan's neck held her aloft effortlessly.

Petra packed away her Vomit-Cube and incanted a cleansing Prestigitation.

"Sorry." Her cousin looked away. "I thought I knew, but in hindsight, I knew nothing."

"Gwen, can you activate Enchantment and Illusion Sigils now?" Compared to Petra's introspection, the voice of Wen from above was breathless with curiosity.

"I don't know how," Gwen addressed the Magister's eager demand. She never had the choice to learn any spells from those Schools. "Caliban might take a while to transfer those talents."

"Unsummon Caliban," her voice suggested. "Perform your usual meditation. As I said before, all the necessary components for recognising Sigils are a part of a theory by indoctrination. You couldn't miss it if you tried."

Caliban returned to its docile form entirely of its own volition. Gwen reached down and picked up the bloody worm bodily.

Her babulya and Jun gave each other another worried look.

Gwen starkly smiled. Calmly, she wiped Choi's bodily fluids from Caliban's seamless face, then gazed at her bloody hands.

"Shaa?" Caliban struggled in her arms, nodding its faceless mien and wagging its spear-like tail.

"Return."

Caliban dematerialised.

Gwen turned her mind inward until she was within her inner world. Wen was right. The recognition of Sigils was ingrained knowledge. Through her mind's eye, she saw past the glowing beacon of Evocation, beyond the silver brilliance of her Conjuration and a multitude of others, until she caught the pale-blue illumination of Illusion. There was no Enchantment. She saw nothing of the School's ochre-gold glow.

Gwen opened her eyes.

"Illusion." She breathed out. "I feel it."

A pair of janitors had been called in to clear away Choi's body. The Corporals came in with impassive faces, zipped up Choi's corpse in a dark polyester bag, leaving with numb expressions. When they passed Gwen, she sensed the fear radiating from them like a stench.

"Very good, we're done here." Magister Wen's voice had such relief that one might have thought she was compelled to be present by coercion. "We'll be having another biometric session Sunday midday, twenty-four hours from now."

"Yes, Ma'am," Gwen replied.

With a flick of the wrist, Gwen produced a cleansing cube. A single LDM later, she was once again pristine. The irony did not escape her as she snorted mockingly at her particular regard for cleanliness.

Gwen then turned to her silent family, who'd been watching her ritual with mild alarm. "Babulya, everyone, shall we?"

"I don't suppose lunch is out of the question?" Jun half-jokingly suggested. "Maybe vegetarian?"

Petra's pale face indicated that lunch was the last thing on her mind. Gwen gave her a brief hug, squeezing Petra against her arms and telling her not to worry.

The role reversal seemed to have caught the prideful girl off-guard.

"Dessert and ices, I think," Klavdiya suggested. The Director then turned to her son with a bemusement expression. "Jun, can you tell me why your father is up there?"

Gwen froze. _Had grandfather been watching?_

"Ah—you knew?" Jun scratched his head. "I thought those walls hid everything, even Detection spells."

"I know now." Their babulya chuckled mischievously. "I was wondering why Marie had suddenly become so timid. I take it Guo's poured cold water over her?"

"Grandfather…" Gwen glanced up, imagining his coal-like eyes looking down. _Gods! He'd seen her feed Caliban!_ The blood! The gore! The monstrous nature of it all! He MUST think that she's bat-shit insane by now!

"Don't fret." Babulya touched a finger to Gwen's cheeks. "Let's have tea first. Then we can talk."

"I'll leave Gwen in your careful hands, mother. I am going back to base," Jun informed them. He bowed toward his mother, then turned toward his niece. "Remember what we discussed. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

"Thank you, Uncle Jun. For looking out for me." Gwen hugged him gratefully.

_Remorse_ , she reminded herself, thinking of her boastful promise to Henry and Sufina. The day she no longer felt remorse was the day she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the woman who murdered her Master.

Watching Jun depart with a wink and a grin, Gwen couldn't help but put a hand to her chest, searching for the oppressive presence of conscience.

Her heart was calm.

Disquietingly calm.