"Inti's bowels!" Magister Sulca Palla-Orccosupa of Lima surveyed the blasted landscape. "By the sun, has Amazonia fallen into Uku Pacha?"

The emerald sea that had smothered the Inca's old city now appeared uprooted, exposing the Temple of Mama Killa in the manner of a burst military ration.

As for the temple structure itself, one side appeared as though buffeted by tornadoes, while Inti's sun fire baked the other side glass-smooth. On the central ziggurat itself, the capstone had collapsed into the interior, leaving behind what appeared to be an abstract, geometric volcano.

Sulca calmed himself.

"Squad One, Squad Two. Assume breach formation. Shaya and Parwa will take point. Alca, what do you see?"

"…" The Diviner took a moment to finish his inspection of the sanctum's interior. His eyes widened several times; then the man appeared as though he forgot to breathe. "Sir… I think we're too late."

"TOO LATE?!" Sulca snapped. "What of Lord Inti?"

"I mean, we missed the battle," the Diviner apologised.

The Chief Magistrate of Lima furrowed his brows. Unconsciously, his hand moved for the Message device at his collar.

DING!

As if in ambush, a Message bloomed beside the Magister's ear.

"… I see. Very well, Lord Magister." Sulca confirmed the new situation twice before turning to his men. "It would appear the team from Fudan has kept the situation under control. Prince Inti has lost an arm, but his life is in no danger. During the match, his Contingency Ring had a malfunction. We are to secure the prince and establish a Teleportation Circle."

"Inti, injured?!" The team was aghast at the news.
"Lord Inti's crippled!"
"Blasphemy!"
"Was it Fudan? Did they bring this upon Lord Inti?"

"Shut it!" Sulca's tone suppressed the sudden antagonism. "Cuzco's team entered the Winged Puma's cave, but couldn't quell the mother's anger. You will all show the utmost respect when we get down there. The Void Sorceress saved Master Inti's life."

The Mages fell into a self-conscious silence.

"Team 1 leads, Team 2 follows, keep your eyes peeled."

In formation, the Mages of Lima entered the sanctum.

"Apas below!" Sulca was the first to swear. Even with Alca's warning, he wondered if their present location was indeed Uku Pacha, the underworld, and that they had all flown into Amaru's belly.

Behind Sulca, his team likewise let loose with cries of horror and disbelief. Sumi, their healer, threw up in her mouth.

Sulca fought back the sudden sensation of vertigo. He wasn't a bumpkin by any means. Heir to a noble family, he had studied abroad in England and North America and gained his accreditation through UC Berkeley. Of all the Magisters in Lima, he was the most experienced and well-travelled.

Not that it helped him now.

As the Mage Flight cleared the broken levels leading from one sanctum to the next, bypassing the unveiled structure of the Inca's glorious past, the reality of the combat that had transpired came into view.

First, there was the "Swarm".

Pooled below was a small lake of writhing eels, or what looked like eels, squirming about the floors of the temple, looking for prey that no longer existed. Singularly, the creatures would not have frightened Sulca nor his men, but there appeared to be countless multitudes of them, each with whiskers about their eyeless heads tasting the air even as their glistening bodies squirmed.

Notably, there was a Kirin, one Sulca had anticipated from the report. Then, there was a Wyvern, also expected, though now the Wyvern was covered from horn to tail in wounds. Presently, the magnificent brute appeared to be ferreting the carcass of an Ancient Bird from the Wall of the Woods. When the creature's draconian head emerged to regard the newly arrived Mages, its snout steamed with coagulated bits of entrails.

"Got the Core yet?" a girl beside the Wyvern peevishly demanded of the creature.

To Sulca's surprise, the Wyvern politely nodded.

Usually, the Magister would have noted the infamous Void sorceress right away, but now his eyes were drawn to the strangest creature he had ever seen seated beside her.

It was the "Caliban".

At first, the creature appeared entirely lacklustre. It sat on its hands, demure as anything, jet black and silent like a dark blob. But when Sulca's eyes focused on the thing once more; he began to notice its uncanny physique, such as the fact that it sat on a pair of hands.

Human hands.

Sulca blinked, wondering if his sanity was suffering from the excessive stimuli. When he circulated mana through his eyes, he further noticed that not only were the creature's feet human hands; they were female. That, and they were six-fingered.

The Mage flight stopped just above the competitors.

"Greetings, contestants. I am Sulca Palla-Orccosupa, Overseer and Magistrate of Lima," Sulca introduced himself. "I come on behalf of Magister Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, Master of the Cuzco Tower."

Presently, the Void Sorceress and a young man with a dour look approached.

"Greetings, Magister. I am Tei Bai, Captain of Fudan's IIUC team. Here is Gwen Song, my Vice-Captain, and these are our teammates. We thank you for your timely assistance, may I ask why you are here?"

Sulca blinked. Why was he here?

"I am here to relieve Master Inti…" he replied uncertainly. "Cuzco National offered for forfeited when the danger had escalated beyond what the Sapa was willing to accept."

The girl and her captain regarded one another.

"I wasn't just in danger, Magister," came the voice of Inti from behind Fudan's contestants as he pulled back his head shawl. "I was dead."

"Master Inti!" the Mage flight rapidly alighted, making sure they were well away from the slithering pool of obsidian bodies below.

"And Miss Song here brought me back to life."

"Resuscitated, actually," the sorceress called Gwen quickly interjected. "It was nothing. Just a heart massage and a chest defib."

"I owe her a great debt," Inti stated without an ounce of doubt. From the prince's expression, Sulca understood his future Sapa's inference that the Tawantinsuyu owed the girl a debt of gratitude.

Sulca's eyes then noticed that under the shawl covering Inti's right shoulder, the sleeve was empty. Like the missing arm, the Military Mage's mind went AWOL for a split-second before his brain caught up to Inti's claim.

"By his grace, we salute our Lord's protector!" Sulca crossed both hands against his chest to make the sign of the condor, a gesture of admiration and respect. "Hail! Saviour of our Sun!"

"Whoa… no no no, it was nothing!" the girl grew flustered. "Inti was of great help to us, and we were fighting as a team when it happened. It was something I would have done for anyone of us."

"That's of no import." Inti slid a hand over to his empty sleeve. "Where's Uncle Amaru? I would very much like to know why my Ring alone failed when all of my peers could return to Cuzco without incident. That and why we knew nothing about the Blood Moon."

Sulca's face grew flushed; he could almost taste the bitterness in Inti's words.

Falling to one knee, he placed once hand upon his heart, and the other toward his future Sapa in a gesture of supplication. Behind him, the two Mage Flights likewise offered their loyalties without reserve.

"I shall investigate the matter personally, my prince." Sulca dipped his head against the cold granite. "I shall find the culprit so that they may suffer your judgement."

DING!

Another Message blossomed beside Sulca.

"… I understand." The Magister looked up his future sovereign. "My Prince, Master Yupanqui requests that we establish a Teleportation Circle for himself and the proctors. You and Miss Musi should proceed to the infirmary immediately. Your father will await you there."

As Inti's gaze rolled over his body, Sulca began to sweat. Even wounded, the aura exuding from a man at the apex of millions of faithful followers was palpable.

"... I shall await the answer to all this." Inti turned, returning to where he had been meditating beside the still-senseless body of Musi.

Sulca relaxed.

"Pukyu, help Sayaya with the Teleportation Circle," Sulca commanded his team. "Killara, Nina, set up a perimeter."

As one, his Mage Flights moved to execute their duties.

"Magister, do we wait here?" The Void sorceress raised a hand impertinently, interrupting Sulca's troubled thoughts. "Is this it?"

"Why do you ask?" Sulca challenged the girl, only to realise that up close, he had to look up toward her chin.

"Well." The girl smiled attractively, pointing to the ziggurat. "I don't think we've lo— searched that place for treasure yet…"

Perhaps it was a coincidence, or mayhap that was the plan, but the curious fact was that Tica's father, Magistrate Huaman Yupanqui, flew in precisely when the Teleportation Circle was connected. After that, the proctors sent a delegation including Auberon, his assistant and a few presiding Magisters through the newly established teleporter.

Within the span of a few minutes, a total number of forty-odd Mages gathered in the underground ruins of the Sanctum of the Moon, making the once open space incredibly crowded.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"My boy!" Tica's father hugged Inti without regard for ceremony, squeezing the young man until his face turned the hue of ripe papaya. "Tica is going to be mad at all of us. I can tell you that! Those birds, where in Uku Pacha did they even come from?"

Cuzco's Tower Master, whose appearance Gwen recognised from their first day in Cuzco, patiently awaited his turn. When finally Huaman allowed the boy to go, his uncle swooped in like a condor to curry the prince's favour.

"Inti, your arm!" Amaru placed one hand on Inti's shoulder and the other on his stump. "A shame, such a shame! Don't you worry, nephew, Uncle Amaru will remedy your arm. As for the moon and the ring— I will have an answer for you, and the Sapa. If there are culprits, we'll find them, I promise."

"Thank you, uncles." Inti bowed. "Presently, I am beyond fatigued. May we soon be on our way? I wish to see Tica."

Amaru expression grew rigid while Huaman, his brother, broke into an obscene laugh. "That's the spirit! Are we to expect a grandchild soon? Another title to my name, eh? Royal in-law? Hahaha..."

"I will do my best." Inti's eyes lingered on his uncles as he spoke. "I promised her that we would, after the competition. Thanks to this incident, I am starting to see the need to ensure that our royal line is well provisioned."

"Absolutely." Huaman turned to Amaru, then slapped his younger sibling across the back. "Get Inti healed up, brother! That boy is going to need all his vigour. Maybe get them to add in a little more Positive Energy, eh?"

Amaru's facial muscles twitched as he grinned. His attempt to smile was equivalent to squeezing blood from a rock.

Inti turned to Gwen and her captain. "Thank you again, Gwen. Mr Bai, Miss Li, Miss Mui, Miss Kutsenova, Cuzco is in your debt. You are forever friends of our nation, so long as I live."

Gwen and the other members of Fudan bowed. The implication there was busier than a Quipu knot, but it wasn't their business. Walken had been very explicit about that. Do not get involved in the political transactions of the locals.

"Have a safe trip home, Inti." Gwen raised her head. The dynamic between the suspicious royal nephew, the uncle named after a snake, and the seemingly uncaring, grandchild-crazy father-in-law was awkwardness personified. "Don't run into any Da-Peng on the way."

By the dozen, the Incans filed into the Teleportation Circle, leaving one Flight and another from the local garrison. When finally their hosts had all but gone, the proctors approached Fudan.

"Congratulations on winning." Auberon nodded approvingly. "Also congratulations on showing the world why we should fear Void Magic."

"Wait— What?" Gwen spluttered. She had been practising spell safety the whole competition! Her Void-related performance was entirely OSHA compliant. "No one was hurt!"

Beside the girl, Tei and Rene exchanged a look.

"It was a jest," Auberon tsked, much to his assistant's disapproval. "Give me a second to formalise the match's result. Miss Pritchard, are you ready to transcribe?"

"Yessir."

Auberon cleared his throat.

"On this day, September the 30th of 2004, in the vicinity of Amazonia, province of Cuzco— I, Auberon Lucas, Chief Proctor, by the authority invested in my judgement, declare Fudan University, Shanghai as the WINNER of the September round!"

"Congratulations!"
"Well done!
"Good work, Fudan."
"Thank you for saving our Prince!"

The remaining proctors applauded, as did many of the locals from Cuzco.

Fudan returned the well-wishes with bows. Tei in particular not only bowed toward the proctors but respectfully fell to one knee to thank his ancestors. Realising their future broadcast, Rene followed. Lulan looked as though she wanted to do the same, but refrained when her knees refused to yield. As for Gwen and Petra, the two stood awkwardly, watching the Void Swarm below.

"How long is 'that' going to last?" Petra asked.

"That's right!" Gwen suddenly slapped her forehead. Causing the rest of them to jump. "Sir, we haven't gotten a chance to loot the place."

The proctors performed a double-take.

"I mean, there's likely relics buried somewhere." She pointed to the remaining ziggurat.

"You repelled a Beast Tide," Auberon huffed, his brows knitting and his hypertension rising. "And exterminated four creatures that are each a match for your Wyvern. You saved Inti, the prince of this nation, and earned the gratitude of the land's people. You recovered the temple, in a manner of speaking, by wiping out the Arch-Hag, and all of its minions. There's not a single troll left in this complex. You realise that, right?"

"Sir…" Lucy coughed. "We detected at least a dozen on the way. They're in the catacombs still."

"Those are CCs!" Gwen pointed out. "Also, there's no 'I' in "Team". Look, that's not the point. Our POINTS are the point. If we 'win', does that mean the match is over? If so, isn't that unfair for us?"

"You—!" Auberon pinched his brows. "There is a maximum allotment of points you can carry over to the next round. It was a rule put in place to prevent contestants from abusing certain mechanics of the competition to garner CCs, such as purging a Hive-type Dungeon but keeping the Queen alive as a CC-generator. With your achievements, I dare say that Fudan will have struck that limit."

"How much?" Gwen battered her long lashes, her glimmering hazel orbs inferring that if the amount wasn't sufficient, she would command Lulu to dig up the lower sanctum immediately.

Auberon held up five fingers.

"5000 CCs," the proctor declared. "Fudan will be judged on its merits and demerits, with a secret tally as back up, but 5000 is the upper limit for round one. Note that last year, the average for the first round was in the mid-2000s, with the top scorer, Stanford, earning 4640 CCs."

"That's five hundred for each of us." Gwen gulped. If she took Richard's part-timing into account, 500 CCs equated two to three high-risk requests or up to ten mundane errands. In ten days, they made enough to purchase five mid-tier Signature Spells from the Tower. "We can be satisfied with that."

"I would say so, yes." Auberon breathed out. "Well done with the Void Magic, lass. A true eye-opener. The Mageocracy will have your back when you need us; I can promise you that."

"As will Berlin," another proctor added quickly.

"That's good to know, Sirs." Gwen bowed her head.

"Kilroy sure dug up a little monster," the chief proctor chuckled. "So, when do these things disappear?"

"Soon, I hope." Gwen squirmed underneath the proctor's eyes. "They took in a lot of vitality."

"You can't banish them? Do they have IFF?"

"Ah haha..." All Gwen could do was simper.

It took the party another three hours to finally step into the Teleportation Circle.

While they waited, Fudan's vice-captain made sure Lulan was well covered, her dogs unsummoned, and her Familiars packed away. After helping Petra with her biometric-recordings, it was time to rake her Wyvern over the coals.

"... then the Da-Peng approached," Golos indignantly explained when she accused him of gross incompetence leading to the grievous injury of a prince and the near-wipe of their party. "I used Ryxi's Fuda and snuck upon them. Three birds they were, two males and a female. I managed to ambush one and drag it down into the temple. Did you see me? It was GLORIOUS, I tell you, killing a Da-Peng in direct combat, like in the ancient days! Wait till father hears about my deeds, ha!"

"Just how close were these birds?"

Golos snorted. "Close enough to strike."

"And just because they're within fifty kilometres of us, you think they're going to dive into a fucking Troll temple for no reason and attack us? Where the hell did you go before that?"

Golos grew irritable.

"Well?"

"When the moon turned, I thought it would affect Phelara and her tribe."

"And?"

"I went patrolling."

"To Phelara, of course."

"Then I ran into the Da-Peng."

"Gogo. After you killed the first Hag," Gwen protested. "We were down there for almost twelve hours. You were gone for more than TWELVE hours! I know how fast you can fly. What were you doing?"

Golos looked at her dumbly, in his human form, his thick wyvern skull made him all the more vexatious in her eyes.

"My absence wasn't for long," the Wyvern countered. "A nap, at most."

"HOLD UP. Holy shit." Gwen pulled out her Message Device. "Gogo, what is this."

"A Human Magical Device."

"No, this—" Gwen pointed to the twenty-four-hour clock.

"Time Device."

"What time does it say?"

Golos obliged by reading the time.

"Do you have a watch?"

Golos blinked at her.

"How do you tell the time?"

The Wyvern snorted. "The likes of us need so such thing to keep track of the lives of mortals. We Dragons live forever."

Gwen slapped her forehead. Was this her fault? Was this a work-place cultural dispute? She could no longer tell.

She now knew that Golos told the time by using his gut feelings, meaning he had no idea that time dilated when one was bored or having fun. While he was doing circles in the air, the passing of the first hour must have felt like days for the easily bored Wyvern. Meanwhile, when he found Phelara again and pounded her tribe into the local lumber, time must have passed so quickly that he hardly noticed. Assuming less than an hour for travel, Golos must have run into the Da-Peng on the way back from the westerly direction. More than likely, the Da-Peng were seeking out Phelara and her tribe— that or they were following Golos' stench, looking for a meal. Either way, she partly held the blame.

"Are you going back to them now?" Gwen changed the topic.

"Yes, will Mistress be joining me?" Golos grinned wolfishly, his nostrils scenting her essence infused torso.

"Sure, and Cali can give you a massage with its new hands," she returned the taunt with a retaliatory smirk.

Golos averted his eyes, submitting to her tyranny.

"You may go to your birds, but not before I get my Cores." She pointed to Golos' stomach. "Metabolise now if you're in a rush. Dig the Cores out and clean them. I'm sick of taking care of your shit, Gogo. I am going to train you when we get back. Else, I am going straight to Ruxin and getting a refund."

Golos' scales bristled, ever the combative mass of congealed pride and arrogance.

With her Wyvern puffed up, Gwen couldn't help noticing that her hound-brained mutt had grown visibly larger after taking on four Da-Peng and eating at least two-dozen Trolls plus a Hag. It was a testament to the potency of his Draconian blood, for what other beings on earth could grow stronger by merely sleeping, eating, and fornicating? If Dragons were as numerous as humans, they would have ruled the multi-verse by now.

In the days to follow, while Fudan arranged their return so that they could finally enjoy a long-desired period of rest and relaxation, Cuzco was in an uproar.

With the injured prince recovered and the news of Cuzco National's forfeiture came many muddling conspiracies. Be it the sabotage of Inti's Contingency Ring, rumours of factional politics were at play, or that foreign interference was involved, gossip lit up the Suyus.

Amidst the turmoil, the Inca Sapa presided over a three-day-long Rite of the Ever Burning Sun, purging Inti's body of impurities and calling upon the faith of the people to restore his son, their Sun and the nation's future Sapa.

As for Fudan, a full review presided over by Eric Walken followed with equal parts praise and scaldings, with each of the contestants writing up reflection and reviews of their performance highlighting their lacks and their plans to address those shortcomings.

When Fudan's IIUC contestants and the trope of proctors finally graced the decks of a Moller–Maersk ocean freighter in Lima, they received a send-off attended to by a full-bodied Inti, his appearance whole and restored. Dressed in ceremonial shawls and painted from neck to chiselled abdomen in gold, the prince made the young women blush and the men awkward as he blessed the ship, its crew and its passengers with good health.

Once the festive matters concluded and the media was ushered from the dock, Inti approached with Tica in-arm, followed by Tupaq.

Collectively, Fudan bowed before the prince. To their surprise, Inti returned the bow, eliciting some discomfort from the watching multitude of Lima and Cuzco's nobility.

"First things first." Inti stepped back. "I tried to dissuade them, but they insisted."

The gentle giant Tupaq stepped toward were Gwen now stood in her shoulderless sundress, falling to one knee. Even kneeling, the giant's head reached her chest, a testament to the Inca's abnormal size.

"Thank you, Miss Gwen, for returning Inti to us. Had our prince perished, my only recourse is to continue to guard him in the underworld." Tupaq crossed both arms over his heart. "The House of Huamancuri is forever in your debt."

"Thank you, Tupaq." Gwen forced the giant to stand before giving the man a big hug about the shoulder. "You did well in protecting your prince. As I said, I didn't do this for a reward. Inti deserved to live. Your country will do well with such a kind and generous future Sapa."

The next to approach was Tica.
She bowed.

"Oh, come on, don't stand on so much ceremony."

"Humph, you overthink." Tica came close enough for the two to embrace, then began to undo her shawl. "This is for you."

The atmosphere grew suddenly heavy, there was an audible sound of heavy breathing from the crowd, though Gwen had no idea why.

The priestess's shawl was a beautiful thing with geometric lines that mimicked the colours of the Amazonian macaw. More impressively, one side was sunburst yellow with bold red patterns and elaborate rainbow Inti-motifs in gold thread. The flip-side, impossibly, was mid-night blue, with motifs of the moon and Mama Killa.

Demurely, Gwen lowered her head so that the diminutive Tica could wrap the gift around her shoulders.

"With this, we're equals," Tica declared, holding Gwen's hand.

"Sisters it is." Gwen felt a great sense of accomplishment. When she looked up to see Inti, however, the prince was wide-eyed and sweating profusely.

"Is Inti alright?" Gwen pointed a thumb at the prince. "He looks about ready to crap a ton of gold."

"As he should be." Tica laughed. "You've received my approbation to become a wife-sister. I'll be Queen, of course, but you'll enjoy a position second only to me."

To their audience's delight, the Void sorceress' pale complexion grew instantly dawn-tinted, drawing both mirth and adoration. "I am afraid I must…"

"Take some time to dwell on it." Tica kissed her on the forehead, leaving a lip-print to mark the sorceress. "Thank you, Gwen. I owe you a great deal. I wish to say my offer is a joke, but you may take up the mantle anytime you feel a desire to return to Cuzco. One point you must take heed is that you wouldn't want to wait too long. I prefer our children to be of a similar age."

"C-Children!" To the observers, it would appear that the Void Sorceress had fallen under the effect of a mortifying Enchantment spell. Like a woman swivelling the wheel to avoid an on-coming semi, she changed the subject. "So er… any idea why Inti's Contingency Ring failed?"

The priestess leaned in for a whisper, her plump petal-lips almost nibbling her "sister-wife's" ear.

"...Jesus, how are you going to..." Gwen gulped.

Tica tittered.

"Worry not, dear ñaña. Inti and I have come to an understanding. I only hope that one day, Tawantinsuyu may call upon you for your continued friendship— and your aid."


Though the contestant's return journey to Hawaii would take many days, no such delay plagued the delivery of data crystals.

From Cuzco, caches soon graced the desks of New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Washington. Before Fudan had even crossed the South Pacific, Magisters in London, in Berlin, in Paris and Rome lit up their lumen-casters to peruse the reports of Kilroy's hidden apprentice.

For some time now, news of the girl had rippled the surface. This time, the results were potent enough to break the meniscus. Unlike in Burma, the Baron of Shenfield himself sat as umpire, officiating the data as reliable and unaltered.

Chief to the crystal of the girl's struggle in Peru was her ability to channel the Void without seemingly degrading her psyche. Her command over the Void creature known as Caliban likewise tickled the fancy of many a Tower Magister. When the sorceress transformed her serpent into a many-headed Naga, the optics were magnificent! When she conjured a Void Swarm of impossible proportions to consume the Beast Tide, the scene was spectacular! As for the Terror Bird polymorphy that consumed the Dragon-Eater, those in the know possessed no adequate words to describe their feelings.

Calls for her biometrics flooded into Pudong.
Seven Schools and a VMI over 300.
And the girl was just eighteen.
And the girl was from a Frontier.
And the girl had Awakened in the wild, a creature of chance and chaos.
And also, the memo returned: the girl was sister-in-craft to Gunther Shultz, Master of Sydney.

Cambridge.

Trinity Ln.
The Old Schools.

Unknown to most, a dubious event engendered the founding of Cambridge University— the murder of Mages by NoMs.

It all began when two Oxford Scholars caused the death of a young NoM Woman in the township of Oxford. As the tale tells it, the scholars deemed themselves beyond reproach, refusing to explain their circumstances to the townsfolk. Tensions then escalated, and when the mob attempted to arrest them, they defended themselves with sorcery, or what passed for Spellcraft in the 12th century. They failed. And before the ecclesiastical authorities could intervene, the townsfolk mutilated the scholars, looted their robes, then hung the naked Mages from Oxford's gates.

In the ensuing chaos, over a thousand sorcerers, wizards and warlocks chose exodus, ultimately forming the beginnings of the University of Cambridge. To further fortify their preservation, the scholars eventually succeeded in requesting a Bull from the Pope stating that no Mage may be judged solely in the court of mortal men.

Such was the origin of Oxbridge, a conjunction whose combined authority held the reigns of Spellcraft as taught in the post-industrial world. Between Oxford and Cambridge, the two institutions had begotten the Tower System, disseminated the Imperial Spell-Metric and indoctrinated the Mage world with Sigils.

Of the two, Cambridge consisted of thirty-one constituent colleges pertaining to seven Schools of Magic: Evocation, Transmutation, Conjuration, Abjuration, Divination, Enchantment and Illusion. The university's Arcanum Press likewise remained the world's principal source of new spells, responsible for the official organisation of the sanctioned Spell List.

At the zenith of Cambridge's administrators sat the vice-chancellor, second only to the ceremonial chancellory held by the Duke of Edinburgh.

And yet, here in the ancient and vaulted office of the vice-chancellory, Alfred Tomberry Crawford Butterfield was mopping buckets from his brow.

"Get the girl here, Butters. I am serious. When have I ever asked you for anything?" The sombre voice of Justine Maxwell Loftus, Marchioness of Ely, echoed from the vaulted ceiling, un-dampened by the row upon rows of ledges lining the walls.

"You realise, Maxi, there's a bollock load of politics involved? You're not requesting for the relocation of a prized cabbage. She's a Void sorceress, stuck in China, and she's a sister to von Shultz! Why I could—"

Alfred paused. He could see that the Lady of Ely did not like his tone at all. As his senior and a mentor-cum-colleague, a displeased Lady Loftus was a force akin to the deep currents found in the Plane of Water. Prim and precise to a fault, her presence quailed school boys and nobility alike.

_"Excuses,_ Butters? Find some of those strings you're so unwittingly boasting about all the time. Isn't that why you hoard them? For pulling?"

Alfred realised he had to pick his words carefully. The unofficial title of the Marchioness was "Lady Grey", not for the unfortunate cousin to Elizabeth, first of her name, but for her ability to cut a man down to size with nothing but her steel-grey eyes.

"Maxi, you're making this hard for me," the vice-chancellor pleaded. "We can appeal through the official channels, but it will take time."

"Alfred Butterfield." The Marchioness turned upon Aldred those dreaded orbs and her pencil-thin lips. Suddenly, Alfred felt as though he was six and the governess had just found him conjuring a fistful of squirming slugs. "I want her for Peterhouse, and that's final. I never did say goodbye to Henry, and I want to do this for old times sake. I have zero sympathies for your methods, nor your cost. If you refuse on such flimsy grounds such as 'impossibility', I can find another Vice-Chancellor to do my bidding, do you understand?"

Alfred groaned.

"Maxi..."

"On that front, it is Lady Loftus to you, Butters. Don't mistake yourself for your brother."

"Six-months?" Alfred tested the cracking ice.

"You have three."

"At least until the end of the IIUC, surely?"

"You think your task will be easier once the world witnesses the next round?" Lady Loftus scoffed. "Make the call, Butters."

"I'll… work on it." Alfred loathed making the promise because he dared not fail. His word may not be worth much in the eyes of the old families, but he couldn't shame the prestige of the vice-chancellory.

He too had watched the lumen-cast, and he agreed with Lady Loftus that the girl's elemental aptitude put London Imperial's Void candidate to shame. But to drag such a sorceress from Fudan, he would have to offer the Chinese something equal in return.

_Fudan!_ Alfred's pride revolted. _A low-tier university in a self-secluded nation knee-deep in the Undead!_ For Cambridge to offer a third-string University a Meisterhood, even one offering the "Applied Theory of Void Magic", was a wildly unbalanced exchange. Their reputation would dive, and with it, his career as vice-chancellor. If anything, Alfred had no desire to be known as the first officeholder not to complete his tenure since Magister Hartfield insulted the High Elves.

But then again, this was Lady Grey breathing down his neck. If the request had merely originated from a Marchioness, Alfred could have parried the demand, but who was Lady Grey? A shadow member of the House of Lords! The Marchioness of not just anywhere, but Ely! The progenitor of Cambridge's Peterhouse! The owner of the lands stretching from Milton to Littleport! How was Cambridge to expand its facilities if the Marchioness were to refuse her leaseholds? What if he received an official censure from Peterhouse itself? Cambridge had no official centre of power. It was a place ruled by prestige, and few Houses held the history and influence of Peterhouse.

Already, Alfred could imagine what his successor would say— "Butters did a good job as an administrator, but he was too green behind the ears. What's in a Meistership? Who would say no to a request from Lady Grey? That's the new blood for you; always slow on the uptake."

Alfred Butterfield forced himself to meet the Lady's eyes.

"You have three months." The Lady's tone softened, granting him a reprieve. "But if someone else nabs my sorceress..."

Alfred had to stop himself nodding by reflex.

The door shut. The lights dimmed.

Air once again began to flow.

The vice-chancellor sat in the gloom, stewing in the scent of old ledgers.

Ding!

A Message globe bloomed over the archaic device on his table. The crimson hue indicated it was a call he could not refuse to take.

"Yes?" Alfred answered. "Milly, who is it?"

"Sir, I have Lord Ravenport on the line."

"Patch him through."

"Doing that now, sir."

"BUTTERS!" erupted a jovial voice that made his skin crawl. "How are you, old chap? We've missed your presence of late. A busy month?"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Haha, you know how it is, milord."

"Oh, I do." A polite chuckle followed the curt courtesy. For some reason, Alfred felt as though something licked his cheek. "Now, we're both busy men, so let's not waste each other's time. Have you seen the IIUC crystals from Cuzco?"

Alfred Butterfield, Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge, watched the goosebumps form on the back his hand, then felt them as they crawled up his arm. Beside his ear, Lord Ravenport's cheerful voice continued to toll.

"... you have? Good. Now. Butters. You of all people should be aware of our Faction's patronage of Oxbridge, yes? As a new boy to the old boy's club, I have a small task for you..."

Early October.

Eric Walken was a happy man.

It had been a fortnight of victories.

Fudan had not only returned from their overseas foray unscathed; they had returned with the maximum allotment of CCs possible for an early round. Of course, he couldn't reveal his delight in front of the contestants. In his unremitting evaluation, he had rebuked Gwen for her thoughtless escalation while keeping his hypertension plainly visible to discourage the girl's risk-taking. Even with Auberon playing the diplomat, he spittle-sprayed her with criticism, especially when she almost lost a leg while saving Inti.

Still, to repel a Beast Tide! Even a manufactured one was a glorious feat! On vid-cast especially, the scene was a sight to behold. When the girl withdrew into her Void Egg and released the lampreys en-mass, Walken could only shudder as he relived Sobel's assault on the Tower. Was that a strategy inherent to Void Mages? He wondered, but soon realised he was her source of inspiration. In their conversations, he had spoken endlessly of Sobel, and it was from his anecdote that the girl drew her mimicry.

If so, should he invest in Signature Void spells for the girl? If an opportunity arose, they could pioneer some relatively singular magics that may increase her efficacy by leaps and bounds. Fudan lacked the talent, but his old alumni in London would surely be interested in a sorceress of such talent and limitless potential. The only problem Walken could see was that the girl came with significant baggage.

But that could wait until the IIUC passed.

Meanwhile, the rest of Fudan's contestants received their dues, especially following the national broadcast.

Of her teammates, it was the Sword Mage who was a clear standout. Thanks to the Naga Core, Lulan Li had become a broadcast darling. During the vid-cast, a full five-minute emphasis had been placed on the girl's single-duel with the Troll Chieftain, completely uncensored as she shaved the creature down to the stumps. As an ex-Clanner and an ethnic Han, she struck all the right notes. In Central's view, the girl was living proof that China's ancient martial-magic had its place on the modern battlefield. According to the news, Lulan was now "Elder Li of the Outer Sect", having been awarded a non-sensical title by Huashang to keep face without reneging on her "ex-communication". As for the elder who had stricken Lulan from the roster; Gwen said the man was now fencing bokchoi in the countryside.

New offers of support followed. Notably, a missive arrived from Moscow Tower, transferred from Yekaterinburg, the contents to which Walken wasn't privy. Bai received a commendation, hand-delivered by the Secretariat of Shandong province. Richard's parents were given the fast-track treatment to immigrate from Sydney to Shanghai, and Eunae came home to strongly-worded praises from the Seoul urging her continued performance.

Other fortunes flooded in. For the House of M, who Gwen had put in place as the team's financial sponsor. Messages and requests from corporations flooded in, the most poignant of which was an official apology from the makers of the Shen-tei armour, CCL Heavy Industries, promising better models for the next round.

As for Walken himself, he had received countless congratulations from his old contacts. Though the gestures appeared mundane, they were supremely important to a disgraced Magister like himself. For Walken, having old "friends" contact him of their own volition signalled his rebounding influence. He wouldn't be gaining a position anytime soon, Walken wasn't delusional, but at least he would no longer be left out in the cold.

Until the Dean's worrisome Message arrived, therefore, Walken had felt on top of the world. When it did, a bucket of cold water poured over the Magister's back, dousing the ember of ambition.

Like his rebellious daughters, trouble seldom travelled alone, and in the case of belligerent news, it arrived as a party.

Incredibly, Auckland University had defeated Tokyo in an enormous upset, repeating what Fudan had done to Kyoto and knocking Japan out of the IIUC entirely. According to the Dean's report, the match had taken place in Waitomo, in a hive-type Dungeon two hours flight from Auckland. In a straight-laced race of damage and pacing, Auckland had outperformed Tokyo University by closing the Dungeon on the fifth day, denying their opponents a come-back.

The next piece of news was that the Sorcerous Academy of Pretoria, or "Tuks" for those in the know, had defeated Nanyang Spellcraft in a competition which had been neck-and-neck from the get-go. Theirs had been the hunting-gathering of rare specimens and minerals in the archipelago of Indo-China, a contest from which Tuks emerged the victor.

Concurrently, the Dean's message also noted that in North America, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy had defeated London Imperial. Likewise, Cairo had defeated Golden Sun in Meso-America despite their home ground in New Tenochtitlan. Finally, Ludwig Maximilian emerged the victor in Eastern Europe against Stanford.

The emerging groups for round two, therefore, were Auckland, Fudan and Pretoria in group 2, while group 1 involved MIT, Cairo and Ludwig Maximilian.

Of Fudan's two opponents, Walken preferred NSU, whose history dated only four decades. Comparatively, Tuks, named after the original Afrikaans acronym— Transvaalse Universiteitskollege, was a far older institution with ties to London's Imperial College.

In regards to the results, his paranoia lay in that with London Imperial's militants removed from the competition; an enormous pressure now fell on Tuks to best the "rabble".

Though Pretoria was rank 80 right now, its highest position two decades ago had been in the 40s. Comparatively for Auckland, 90 was the highest it had ever been, while Fudan had been unranked until the mid-80s. Likewise, of the three universities, only Pretoria possessed Meister-tier instructors.

For pride, prestige, and innumerable reasons, therefore— Pretoria would be giving it their all.

And then there was China's ploy to give Fudan a "leg up".

The location of the next match was the coastal peninsula of Dalian, a tiny corner of the Northern Front.

To Walken's limited knowledge, Dalian was a headland girt by the Yellow Sea on three sides. Infamously, its north-eastern border was crammed to the brim with Undead spilling from the fallen city of Shenyang.

Considering the catastrophe that was the previous IIUC foray into the Undead Front, the Central Bureau must have positioned the competition so that Pretoria and Auckland would be reluctant to send their precious students. That way, if Fudan's competitors refused to commit their forces fully, the host team could arguably emerge an easy victor.

As for the Front itself— Walken had no idea what was in store for the contestants. If anything, Gwen should be consulting her war hero uncle.

Conversely, now that his student had made her global debut, was the additional danger worthwhile?

Though Mages possessed Contingency Rings, casualties at the Front had never been low. When struck by a Soul Drain, afflicted by Umbral Shadows, Enervated by Ghoul-Rot, there was little a triage without Faith Magic could do. Circumstantially, the Chinese Front's voracious appetite for replacements, in Walken's opinion, was traceable to the state's steadfast refusal to utilise religion.

Could Gwen quit while she's ahead? Walken wondered, but soon realised the futility of such a thing. Even if Gwen were made to resign, her team would venture forth regardless. And in that regard, convincing her to abandon her teammates would be a task far more complicated than besting an Undead horde.

Ayxin sat with both hands placed atop her thighs while she studied the fist-sized orb, round on top and jagged below where it broke off from the Da-Peng's heart.

Even as a half-dragon-half-daughter-of-heaven, she felt impressed. For a being like Ayxin, the Dragons' rivalry with the Da-Peng was etched in her marrows. It was a conflict that gave rise to her existence as a being begotten by the alliance between the Yellow Emperor and the Five mythical Dragons of yore, among them her father, the Yinglong.

For Gwen to produce three Da-Peng Cores was, therefore, a great shock. Even now, she could feel within her body the welling of violent impulses. Together with awe, she also felt a deep-seated desire to crush the Core here and now.

"Wow, so this is a Da-Peng Core." Jun, her mate, picked up the misshaped sphere with one hand. "Heavy! It must have been a very formidable creature. Well done, Gwen."

With a greedy ear, Jun had requested the girl's latest adventure, who in turn had questioned Jun about his knowledge of the Front, citing Dalian as their next objective. Discerningly, though Ayxin had made it clear that she was ambivalent to the girl's cause, her husband nonetheless thoughtlessly promised his support.

"Jun." Axyin raised a dainty finger. "Put that back."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" Jun tossed the thing from hand to hand. "I heard the Da-Peng used to hunt Dragons, is that true?"

"It's true." Ayxin's exquisite brows furrowed. "Gwen, tell your uncle to drop it."

"Why?" The impertinent girl grinned at her, apparently reading her thoughts. "What's wrong."

"Jun, return the orb," Ayxin pleaded. "Please… just do it."

Though puzzled by his wife's distress over a dead bird, her human obliged.

"Sorry." Jun's face grew sympathetic. "Does the Core make you uncomfortable?"

"It does." Ayxin wished that Jun wouldn't be so questioning. He was a good lover and an attentive partner, but he could be woefully obtuse.

Jun replaced the orb, then reached over and patted her thigh. It was a habitual act, for having since discovered human "fashion", Ayxin had taken on his niece's preference for dresses above the knee. When Jun's fingers caressed her skin, however, Axyin had reached her limit.

Leaping from her chair and too overwhelmed to explain herself, Ayxin proceeded straight to the bathroom to vigorously rub-down the part of her where Jun had caressed.

Back in the private dining room, her lover spoke to his niece.

"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with Ayxin, she's usually very accommodating," came the usual deference from her partner.

"Uncle," the little hussy's voice came across mirthfully. "You really should wash your hands. That Core was dug out by her brother from a waist-high pile of his own shit."

Shanghai.

ISTC Station.
A troop of giants crowded the spacious international terminal.

"Rongo, what do you make of this?" one hulk said to the next.

"It's choice, bro. No wonder Shanghai's a tier-one city," remarked another giant waiting to process his Multi-pass. Like the first, this one sported terrifying tattoos from the neck to shin. "I heear there's good eat'n in the sety. The beggar's make chuken hāngi-style."

The PLA guards gawked. They had heard that foreigners were big fellers, but these fellers were BIG in a demi-human sense. When one of the guests grinned at a guard, he almost struck the panic button; a device only activated when terrible things with many limbs crawled through a Teleportation Circle.

"Whetu, this where your old mate's set up?" the giant called Rango turned to the one called Whetu, the largest of the lot by half-a-head.

"Sure is!" came a female voice at once shrill and sweet. "You lot, don't wait for me. Head right for the shuttle bay and don't forget your Translation Stones. I've got a Gwennie to cuddle."

"Oi, medgeet." A bear-mitt sized hand gripped the head of the female speaker. "Don't run off just yet; wait for the captain."

To the guard's surprise, the "Medgeet" fearlessly battered away the giant, allowing them a good gander at the lone female amidst the mountainous bodies.

Where the guards had expected a Gweilo girl, they instead beheld a local girl with a heart-shaped chin, baby-fat still fluffing her cheeks. Attired in a singlet and military cargos, everything about the girl was small and compact but for a pair of protrusions that were scandalously out of proportion.

"No need, the captain knows," the girl informed her cadre of giants. "Whetu can come if he wants to watch, but either way, I'll be rocking my Gwennie all-night-long!"


Fengbo Village used to be famous for its Beggar Pheasant, but now it was just as renowned as the local haunt of the Fudan IIUC team. Gwen's patronage, however, was well deserved. There was something to be said when a hole in the wall that barely fitted forty people could capture a sorceress with the fragrance of lotus-wrapped chooks.

"Tsingtao for the table as well, Mama," Gwen shouted across to the tiny kitchen. "The big bottles."

"You got it, beauty!" the chef's wife, an NoM woman, possessed a voice like a loud hailer. "On the house, okay?"

"Thanks, Mama." Gwen wasn't fussed. The tips she usually left were enough to pay for a crate of fifty and then some.

Though Gwen was shouting the team dinner, most of the members couldn't make it. Presently, the table was graced by Jiro, Petra, Eunae, Mia and Ruì, with their NoM companion coming off a week spent tallying the paperwork for Gwen's perusal.

"Your skin looks terrible," Gwen reprimanded her secretary's unhealthy zeal for after hour labour. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"A few hours, here and there." Ruì's bloodshot eyes blinked. "Tonglv has reached the busiest portion of Stage Two. There's a lot of paperwork."

"Is Dai giving you grief? I know Ken's doing alright, he submitted his report two days ago."

"Master Fung is doing his best to keep our work on schedule," Ruì explained diplomatically. "He says he misses you."

"I am sure he does," Gwen muttered, her chopstick working on a chicken thigh. Still, Ruì's frailness made her wary. How could she allow her right-hand woman to collapse when there was so much work to be done? "Mia, what's a good supplement NoMs can use to maintain their vitality?"

"Oh, there's plenty." Mayuree stabbed at the fish head, scooping out the eyes. "I'll have someone send over a box of Vitae-Extra tomorrow."

"Thanks." Gwen grinned at the blushing Ruì. "Share it with the others, will you? I'll have to talk to Dai later. If you get sick, what's his contingency plan? Manage the accounts? Pigs might fly!"

"Hahaha…" Ruì giggled, hoping that her impertinence wouldn't reach the young master's ears. "It's nothing, Miss. I mean, you guys fought off a Beast Tide! I saw it on the vid-cast!"

Indeed, even now, the vid-cast of Fudan's match played in the corner of the eatery. It was a cheap ploy dreamed up by the restaurant's Mama, but Gwen didn't mind. What made her cringe though was seeing close-ups of her face as she incanted spells, especially when she received vitality hits.

Her only solace was that Lulan had it worse. Kusu's hair loss aside, the exposure had given Lulu plenty of exposure. Lulu wasn't a bad-looking gal, and her Sword Magic, for all its melee limitations, was remarkably aesthetic. For an audience weaned on Fire Balls and Magic Missiles, watching a petite lass carve a nine-foot Troll like a side of prosciutto was the definition of titillating battle-porn. The trade-off, conversely, came in the form of rabid fanboys around the university district. Gwen's advice for her friend's newfound popularity was that if she had to break bones, Dai would be avilable for clean up.

Across the table, Petra downed half a bottle of beer, then frowned at the meagre alcohol content.

Eunae sat in a floating world of her own, dreaming of all the rewards her Chaebol relatives had promised, so long as Fudan continued its advance.

Their sole male member, Jiro, munched on a chicken leg, very much enjoying the sensation of being surrounded by beauties while dozens of men stared with impotent envy. It was in moments like this that Jiro felt genuinely alive.

"Pats, don't worry about Moscow." Gwen replaced her chopsticks. "Hell, look at my parents. I am doing just fine, right?"

Petra knocked back the rest of the glass. Even on a good day, she wasn't one for smiling. Now that she was troubled over her parents' renewed affection, the permanent frown she wore made her cousin's heart sore.

"Tell you what, we'll go to the House of M after, or the Continental, or the Astoria. With Mayuree's Centurion Card, its Happy Hour every hour!"

"Why, that could cheer me up." Petra's indifference cracked.

"I am coming too!" Jiro raised his hand. "I'll be your chaperone!"

"Shaa!"

"We'll be your chaperone."

"Shall we dress up?" Gwen made eyes at her cousin. "We could do some late-night shopping as well. The malls are open till late."

Jiro's fingers began to shake. He wanted to help the girls shop. He had all kinds of outfits in mind.

"Too much effort." Petra dashed Jiro's dream-come-true with only three words. "Can't I go as is?"

Gwen regarded Petra's getup. There was a special kind of charm inherent to a beautiful woman wearing a lab coat, but she was sure laboratory couture did not grace the steps of five-star hotels. What if the tabloids were there? In the first few days of their return, the paparazzi had hounded her ceaselessly.

"Eunnie, you coming?" Gwen turned to Eunae, then paused when a commotion broke out outside the restaurant.

"Wah! Giant Gweilo!" someone was saying.
"His face has tattoos!"
"Is he a half-orc?" Another voice rudely remarked. "Orcs have tattoos, right?"

To Gwen's astonishment, a barrel-chested body barred the doorway, its arch just reaching the giant's chin.

"That's one jacked dude," Jiro remarked, dropping his pork hock. "A gweilo from America, maybe?"

Gwen flashed the young man an admonishing look with her hazel orbs, then returned her attention to the figure now ducking under the door.

To the team's surprise, Gwen suddenly stood from her seat, her mouth half-open.

"HOLY SHIT, WHETU?!" her voice rang out. The familiar face was older now, manlier and more heavily tattooed with Tā moko, the telling of a Maori caster's whakapapa, his origin.

"Kia ora." The big man waved back, hitting the ceiling with one hand.

"OH MY GOD!" Gwen spat, then pushed forward so that she ran face-first against the big man's chest. "WHETU! How the hell? How is this possible— Auckland! You're with Auckland, right?"

"That's right." Whetu enveloped the girl in his arms, his muscular frame so impressive as to swallow Gwen's lithe body. "How you been?"

"Let's talk somewhere less cramped." Gwen realised Whetu had been stooping the whole while. She apologised to her teammates, promising to return, then led the Punamu Abjurer outside while ignoring the stares from the customers.

Gradually, the conversation died down. Back at the table, Petra explained who Whetu was to the rest of her party.

"So that's who he is," Jiro intoned sulkily, scratching his head. "Mao! He was taller and wider than Tupaq!"

Outside, Gwen found a quiet spot not far from Fengbo village to digest Whetu's mind-blowing visitation.

"So, you're here with the team?"

Whetu nodded. "Oi sew your match at the ISTC station. They were playing it in the lounge."

"God, how embarrassing." Gwen grew crimson. "But never mind that, how are you? It feels like a lifetime since we parted from Singapore. I wasn't expecting to see you at least for a few more years. Like, after I escape to Sydney, you know? Damn. I have to Message Yue and Elvia when I get home. How did you even find me?"

"About that." Whetu rubbed his tattooed face with a guilty look. "Don't be surprised now."

"About what?" Gwen grinned like a fool. She still couldn't believe she was seeing Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga in the flesh. Unbidden, a swell of joyous feelings gushed forth, she felt giddier than a newborn fawn.

"!"

It wasn't her Sigil that tinged, but her sides. Before Gwen could profess her delight at Whetu's arrival, a small pair of hands cupped her modest bosoms.

Were it not for Whetu looking away and the buxom clues pressing against the small of her back, she would have dented her assailant's face with an elbow strike. Instead, Gwen froze like a Hob in the path of a well-aimed Void Bolt.

Whetu turned away, leaving the girls some privacy.

"You know..." came a cherished utterance from her waist. "... For the record, I wanted to cover your eyes, but really, high-heels at your height? Fuck me for being a short-ass, eh?"

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Gwen arrested the wandering hands, feeling both their fingers tremble with anticipation.

"Whetu, is this an Illusion? I am wearing Mind Shield earrings."

"Turn around and find out," the voice commanded.

Gwen did as told.

"Yue Bai." Gwen inspected her closest and oldest friend.

"Gwen Song." Her oldest companion gave her a once-over.

"I am going to hug you very tightly," Gwen forewarned her bestie, her eyes growing misty as her lips trembled. "I am very strong and very emotional right now. I don't know if I can control my strength."

"I got Healing Injectors." Yue opened her arms. "Come here, woman!"

"YUEEEEEEE!" Gwen picked up the girl and squeezed her like a reluctant cat against her chest. "YUE! YUE! YUE! My darling, Miss Bai! Gods, how I've missed you!"

"JESUS-H-CHRIST!" Yue felt her joints crackle. "Fuck me; you're stronger than a Hive Queen. What the fuck do you eat? Never mind, its Caliban, isn't it. Shit, you're a walking suit of Golem Armour."

Gwen ignored the F-bombs. Instead, she rubbed her cheeks against her friend's, then kissed Yue violently across the forehead, the cheeks and finally pecked her lips. "How! How!? HOW are you here?"

"How am I here? The ISTC, of course." Yue pulled herself away to catch her breath. "Bloody hell, don't do this to Elvia. You'll kill her outright."

"HOW!" Gwen gushed, unable to control the moisture seeping from her eyes.

"Whoa, okay? Tears of joy? I am flattered. Haha, I'll tell you, Jeez." Yue teased her endlessly while holding Gwen's hands. "It's not a long story, but it's a good one, you wanna get a drink? Long trip, you know? I could do with a schooner of horse piss, how about you?"

"Of course, what am I thinking!" Gwen apologised as she wiped her eyes, smearing her eye-liner. "Let's go to my usual haunt. I know the owners."

Midnight.

The Waldorf Astoria.
Beside what was once the longest bar in the world, Yue and Jiro arm-wrestled.

"YAH!" Yue slammed the Fire Evoker's arm against the wood. "Gotcha, ya soft cock!"

Jiro deflated, suddenly doubting his masculinity. Here was a girl that was the spitting image of the Sprite he wished to possess in the future, and yet, she was mangling his ego. In his eyes, Yue should have been perfection - fiery hot but pocket-sized. But the moment she opened her mouth, Jiro felt deeply disturbed by the girl's ability to weave F-bombs into everyday conversation. It was like a foul-mouthed soldier had been crammed into a bite-sized body, then given high-Affinity Fire and a pair of tits.

Haughtily, Yue buttoned her blouse. "That's what you get for being distracted."

Around the bar, the girls jeered and hooted. Petra was on her fourth cocktail, while Eunae and Mayuree were still finishing their first. Whetu sipped a jug of iced banana milk by the side, citing that he made an immovable drunk. Below the girls' dangling white legs, Caliban kept away the thirsty men while Ariel drew adoring eyes from envious onlookers.

"Yue, you're a treasure!" Mayuree giggled. "Steward, another Sunrise!"

"So," Yue continued her teasing of Jiro, which Gwen suspected could likely be a fatal, fiery attraction. "I heard you got a nice bird."

"A Fire Bird, yes." Jiro nodded. Usually, he would have released the bird to impress the ladies, but Yue made him want to keep the old pecker penned up.

"Want to see what I've got?" Yue indicated to her heart.

Jiro wondered if the other girls would slap him if he said yes.

"Ooo!" Gwen leaned in with a strawberry daiquiri in one hand. "Can we see it?"

"Sure." Yue smirked haughtily. "Gonna need some room though."

Mayuree signalled the troop of handsome waiters, who immediately cleared a small room's worth of space by relocating the tables. To the participating establishments, the word of the Centurion customer was the word of God.

Yue whistled at the demure looking Diviner. "Mia, you own this place or something?"

"She's a shareholder," Gwen answered for Mayuree. "You know, Yunnie, I've got a modest income these days. Once this is all over, we can travel the world, you and me and Evee. Where ever we go, crystals will be no object."

"Sure, sounds like a plan." Yue grinned as her eyes grew bright with firelight, her pupils lighting like lanterns as Elemental Fire flooded her conduits. "Alright, step back— Tân-Cysgodol!"

The group's captive audience shirked back as invisible heat filled the room. The rise in temperature was imaginary, but they could all feel the fire scorching their Astral Souls.

In a flash, Yue's contracted Spirit manifested, dwarfing even a high heeled Gwen.

What appeared was a coal-skinned horse, its mane brilliant with blue fire while its iridescent cobalt hooves struck sparks against the air. When it swished its tail, a swarm of lesser Elementals spawned in its wake.

"Harrumph!" The creature neighed.

"Wow." Gwen had expected to be impressed, but this was something else. "A Fire Horse!"

"A Nightmare!" Petra corrected her cousin before turning to Yue. "May I ask what tier it is? The blue fire is uncommon even for Nightmares."

"High tier. First of all, credit where credit is due." Yue made a face. "I didn't acquire it. It was a gift from my Master, Alesia de Botton."

"Is this the one Gunther bought?" Gwen felt green with envy. "My God, Yue! Gunther paid how much for this?"

"I am too scared to find out." Yue scratched her brow guiltily. "It was originally meant for Master, so…"

Jiro forced his mouth shut. Within his chest, his Firebird cowered like a quail. It wasn't so much that the Nightmare was a more senior tier of Elemental, but that his Spirit was a fledgeling, while Yue's Spirit was a mature being.

"Tân-Cysgodol…" Gwen mulled over the name. "Is it Scottish?"

"Welsh." Yue stroked the creature's mane as it nuzzled her chest, huffing hot air. "Master says it means flame and shadow."

"Can I touch it?" Gwen came closer.

"Sure. Be careful; it bites."

Gwen sauntered closer, cooing as she raised a hand. "Hello there, Shadow."

The horse sniffed her fingers, measuring her with its intelligent eyes.

"Ee!" Ariel raised a snout to sniff the horse, receiving a sniff in return.

"Shaa!" Caliban raised itself so that it stood at Gwen's shoulder like a cobra. Extending a tentacle from its carapace, it gave the Nightmare a quick flicker with its tongue.

Not to be beaten, the Nightmare dipped its head and gave Caliban a lick over its shiny head.

"Man, Ariel's looking pretty funky, huh?"

"Ariel's been busy! So, is your fire blue now?" Gwen recalled that Alesia was called the Scarlet Sorceress or the Crimson Witch precisely because of the unique hue of her magic.

"Only when Tandy is helping out."

"Tandy?"

"Yeah." Yue snickered. "Tân-Cysgodol is too much of a mouthful, you know?"

Yue's horse regarded its owner with depthless eyes, clearly critical of her naming sense.

After each of Gwen's team took turns touching the horse, Tân-Cysgodol faded from sight.

"How're your studies coming along?" Gwen inquired once the thrill of seeing a flaming mare diminished.

"I am learning Conjuration, actually," Yue declared wistfully. "Bloody time consuming, but that's the plan. Major Evocation and minors in Transmutation and Conjuration. Allie's got no talent in Conjuration, apparently, but says I could manage the lower tiers no problem."

Gwen imagined a scene where a flame-clad Yue rode through the air on a flying, fire-clad horse, dropping Fire Balls and Scorching Rays.

"How's your mum and dad?" Gwen asked. "Still living in Forestville?"

"Naw, we're out of that dump." Yue snorted. "I work now, got a salary and everything, and bonuses from Militia requests. Been working like a sheepdog since you left. The amount of shit left to do in Sydney even with Gunther dispensing crystals and CCs like confetti is pretty much what the fuck."

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Gwen tried to imagine Gunther the Tower Master sitting at his desk, doughing out quests. "But how did you end up in Auckland?"

"Academic Enrichment program. Alesia told me you're going to be in the IIUC and I missed you, so I thought, hey, why not bum a spot from another Uni? I figured if not you, maybe Auck could do well enough to see Elvia!"

"Aww, that's sweet." Gwen squeezed Yue's fingers. "And they obliged?"

"I was over there working with Whetu's people anyway. Spoke to their captain, their captain spoke to the admin, then Whetu's Master hooked us up. It's all very proper."

"Aww, thanks for taking care of her, Whetu."

"Sweet-as, bro, no dramas." Whetu gave her a thumbs up. "She's kucking arse for us."

"Are you going the Tower route, Yue?"

"Naw, I am a grunt, through and through." Yue materialised a military ID from her ring. "Read that? Specialist First-Class. Mage Flight 302. You're looking at a woman with a rank, civilian."

"Thank you for your service, Ma'am!" Gwen saluted.

"At ease, citizen." Yue saluted back.

The rest of the table toasted with a cheer.

"So, where are you staying tonight?" Gwen downed the daiquiri in one gulp. "Where's your hotel?"

"Where am I staying?" Yue snorted as though Gwen had said a ridiculous thing. "Why, in your bed, my dear."

"COUGH-COUGH!" Jiro choked and spluttered, spraying beer all over the bar.

When Gwen had just arrived in her strange world of monsters and magic, having Yue in the dorm gently snoring a few meters away was endearing. In those dark days, she was lonely, mortified by her useless magic, and clueless as to what her future might hold. One bed over, Yue's presence had been her rock, anchoring Gwen's frayed psyche to the plane of reality and preventing her from sinking into nightmares of her own making.

Now, almost three years and a month to the day, they once again shared a bed.

"Yue…" Gwen listened for Yue's breathing in the dark. "What are you doing?"

"I am cuddling."

"You're spooning me."

"I know."

"Right."

"Yeah."

"…"

"Go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"Fine. Want to talk?"

"Sure."

"What's the deal with Walken?"

"Walken? Alesia didn't tell you?"

"She went back to Sydney right away. I was in Auckland to train."

"Righto, Walken, huh. Well, how much do you know?"

"Start from the beginning."

"Alright…"

Holding Yue's hands at bay, Gwen told the tale in the dark.

"Hmm, Master told me to Fireball his ass if he keeps getting handsy with you."

"He's not a bad bloke. Misguided, but an ally, at least for now."

"Pfft—" Yue breathed on Gwen's neck. "You believe that?"

"He taught me his signature magic."

"Just the one? I got whole Spellbooks full of Signature Spells."

"That's nice."

"Shit, sorry…"

"Don't mind it."

"… are you still a virgin?" Yue quickly changed the subject.

"What...?"

"Well?"

"I don't want to answer that question."

"Jesus, how are you still a virgin?"

"Well, are you?"

"Of course, I am saving myself for Elvia."

"… seriously?"

"No, silly goose. I am saving myself for twin-dicked saurians."

"What? Like the knob you sent me?"

"Mate, you seen the size of that thing?"

"I am seriously confused right now."

"I am in the military, dumbass, unsanctioned fornication is a big no-no."

"Why are we talking about this again?"

"Tell ya what. I am going to marry an NoM, like my Dad."

"Yeah?"

"Yep, fuck those purists. We get them by the bucketload in the Frontier Air Division. Pencil wand fuckwits are what they are. Sometimes I feel like making out with the janitor just to piss em off. Like, I'll ride in on Tandy with my NoM stud in tow, flashing my tits at them and shit. Maybe if I dilute my 'lineage' in public, they'll leave me alone, you know?"

"Oh my god, Yue, I-I can't breath." Gwen huffed. The imagery was too much. "You're killing me."

"You like that, ya hussy? Want me to keep going?"

"Jesus, I am cramping up. What do they teach you in the Militia?"

"Plenty. You ever go on patrol, and there's just you and four dudes and a thousand lizards for like five weeks in the woods? Lonely folks get thirsty as all fuck. I'll tell you that. Tandy gets a pretty good workout practising identify friend-foe."

In the dark, Gwen tried to stop herself from waking Petra with her suppressed shrieking. Yue was the best; the damage she dealt was too great.

"So, what about you?" Yue refused to relent. "How do you, you know?"

"Caliban…" Gwen began.

"What. The. Fuck." Yue squeezed Gwen's waist. "Cali's just a child!"

Again, Gwen fought down her cramping abdominals.

"No, I mean, when I use Consume, there's this big hit of vitality, and I gotta say, it's better…? Less fuss."

"Better than…"

"Yeah. No mess either."

In the gloomy murk, Gwen noted that her friend had withdrawn her wandering hands.

"Yue?"

"Yeah-Nah," her friend's voice drifted across the dark. "So you're telling me… that you're getting off from eating people?"


Morning.
Gwen left Yue to sleep off their conversation while she jogged out with her creatures to purchase fried dough and fresh-milled soy. In the living room, she apologised to Petra, who had been kept awake by the thinness of their walls, then began her round-the-block regime.

Along the way, hawkers waved as they stacked fried tofu or piled buns in bamboo steamers, filling the avenue with the smell of dim-sims.

With her ponytail swishing like a metronome, Gwen thought about Yue. Despite Gwen's "confessions of a man-eater", her oldest friend assured her that she didn't mind. If indeed Gwen found men uninspiring because of a phallic Familiar, who was she to judge?

"Beauty! The usual?" The old vendor, Mr Yang, towed the dough through the bubbling lard. "Fresh oil today."

"I'll take twelve." Gwen smoothed out her ponytail, still thinking of Yue's endless teasing.

"Hey, line up like the rest of us!" a customer entirely immune to Caliban complained. "Boss, why's she cutting in line? Don't tell me that's your daughter."

"My shout, everyone in line." Gwen placed a stick of HDM crystal in the change box. "Keep the change."

"Thank you, beauty."
"That's our Miss Song!"
"You show the Japs, Miss Worm Handler!"

"That's Gwen Song?" The young man who had called her out blanched.

Not wanting to cause a scene, the boss hastily wrapped Gwen's dough, tossing in two radish cakes.

"Thanks, Mr Yang. You let us know if the Chengguan bother you again, alright?"

"No bother! No bother at all." The vendor shook his head as he handed over the soy milk. "They very good now. Thank you."

Gwen waved the man goodbye. A week ago, she had happened to be out buying breakfast with Ruì when they saw a Chengguan officer harassing her breakfast joint. When Ruì confronted the man, the city guard made a show of taking both Ruì and Yang in for 'obstruction' of public duty. Much displeased, Gwen straight away called Dai and told him to make himself useful.

When the municipal police showed up, they issued Mr Yang an apology and a vendor licence, then took the surprised Chengguan away. As for what awaited the guard, Gwen believed that if you can't hustle when the chips are down, maybe its best not to hustle at all.

When she returned to the apartment, Yue was up, and Whetu had come to pick his teammate up.

"Youtiao and soy milk?" Gwen materialised breakfast from her ring. "There's enough for you too, Whetu."

"Yes, please." The giant's presence made her apartment seem the size of a Kobold cave.

"You ready for Dalian?" Gwen dabbed her lips with a serviette after inhaling a few sticks of dough. "I've got an Undead demo with Walken and Wen later today. You interested?"

"Nah, don't much feel like seeing his ugly mug." Yue waved a hand. "The comp goes from mid-October through to the end of the month. Pretoria is going to take another week to arrive at least. We got plenty of time to chill. Our Instructor will arrange some Undead encounters for us, I am sure."

Gwen checked the clock.

"Looks like I gotta go. Tonight, I'll take you to that Beggar Chicken place. Bring the team!"

"I'll see who's keen. Meanwhile, have fun with the Undead." Yue blew her a kiss. "And tell Walken that Master says 'fuck you'."

"So, Alesia's walking Fireball is here." Walken rolled his eyes. "I should be happy that her master is preoccupied. Can you imagine the two of them together?"

"They do get along like a house on fire," Gwen agreed.

Standing side-by-side, instructor and student both conversed under Fudan's Handan campus Stadium. The last time Gwen was here, it had been to receive Hufei Chen's guidance. This time, the war veteran came out of curiosity.

"You sure about this, lassie?" The gruff Conjurer watched as box after box of warded freight containers backed up against the rectangular array. Also present were Wen and her assistant, Gwen's cousin, both holding biometric slates in their off-white lab coats.

Presently, Gwen wore her Mary Janes with a loosely fitted boho-floral one-piece. The getup wasn't exactly professional, but it did leave enough exposed for Petra to inscribe diagnostic glyphs on Gwen's legs, arms, back and collarbones.

"Better now than later," Gwen thanked her teacher. Reaching down, she picked up Caliban by the waist and hugged her serpent against her chest. "Cali's a big boy now. You've taught me a lot."

"Just doing my job." Hufei kept his usual laconicism. "But I am glad you wrangled your snake. And your mongoose, I've rarely seen a smarter and more obedient Spirit."

Gwen smiled politely, allowing Caliban to coil about her narrow waist.

"Gwen, please begin." Wen indicated to the testing arena. "As we're still in the fact-finding phase, I could only commission samples up to tier 6."

It was a tier which would give an average Combat Mage a headache, though Gwen's observers were painfully aware that their sorceress ate mid-tier Magic Creatures for breakfast.

"That's plenty. Dimension Door!" Gwen reappeared in the enclosed room.

"Why is she in there?" Hufei raised a brow. "You just need her snake and the Undead, right?"

Walken pinched his brows. "Overzealous perhaps. But maybe this is a good thing. She has no experience against the Undead, except for soloing a Soul Eater."

Hufei recalled the vid-cast.

"Ready the tier 2 samples!" Wen wasn't overly concerned that her samples and her test sample were now rooming together. "Start with one!"

An assistant, one of Wen's many post-graduate acolytes, performed an unlocking incantation on the creature-crates connected to the force-fenced arena.

"Murrrrgh… MURRRRGH!"

Ominous moans hinted at the container's cargo. Once the sealing ward ceased its glow, a shipment of Undead delivered fresh from the Front filed into the demonstration arena.

Presently, the Force Barrier admitted a single Zombie.

"Ew." Gwen ground her molars as the scent of rotting flesh assailed her nostrils. George A. Romero may not exist in this world, but the man was a bloody prophet when it came to predicting the likeness of the Undead. With her enhanced eyes, she remarked that the "man" was in the latter stages of decomposition, with "his" remaining flesh kept in repose by some unspeakable sorcery.

Gwen gulped.

Necromancy.

To think she was going toe to toe with actual creatures from the horror films of her alternative earth.

Presently, two forms of Necromancy existed: Sanctioned and Unsanctioned.

According to her declassified textbooks, Death Magic was the earliest form of human-made magic. Since antiquity, the worship of Death, Death Gods, and Negative Energy began long before Mages manipulated the Elements.

For Sanctioned Necromancy, one need not look further than the High Priests of Egypt. Drawing on a legacy of preserving the dead for mummification, the Hem-netjer-tep, first servant of Ra the Falcon-headed, could call upon shroud-wrapped ancestors to defend the Kingdom against intruders. Concurrently, the Sau, or Acolyte-Priests of the Kingdom, manipulated lesser corpses as mindless labour to fuel the Nile's resurgent primary industries. As for other surviving proto-cultures from Africa to China to the Israelites, death worship was embedded into their civilisations. Unlike Elementalist Spellcraft, magic users always knew there was power in death, and it should come as no surprise that the Path of Undeath begot many disciples.

Conversely, China's Northern Front was a product of the second type of Necromancy. According to her conversation with Jun, it all began in the 1950s.

After 1949, the newly emergent People's Republic of China, with the aid of Russia, sought to establish a Pan-Asia Communist-bloc. To prevent the formation of a hostile superpower, the USA, supported by the newly subdued Japan, joined the fray. The result was a proxy war fought by the two fledgeling nations across the 38th parallel.

Initially, the near Mage-less South Korean army withdrew to Pusan, but in 1954, the Commonwealth Mageocracy formally joined the conflict. Together, the two Western power blocs provided South Koreans with rapid education reforms, resulting in a slew of newly-Awakened Spell-fodder using the Imperial Metric System.

Two years later, in the Spring Offensive of 1956, the North Korean army, despite its Russian field advisors and quasi-magical battalions from China, lost Incheon. China responded by sending more men. As a result, the two sides seesawed back and forth from Seoul to Yalu. In just two years, the South Koran capital exchanged ownership five times, with the war falling into a state of attrition.

Still, the fighting continued. For the Mageocracy and the USA, the Korean conflict was a testing ground for new tactics and spells. Famously, the Korean Conflict was the first to see full-fledged Mage Flights. Infamously, Jun explained with ambivalence; Yalu was also the place where the PLA discovered that a quasi-magical NoM battalion was fodder when fielded against a mid-tier Mage Flight.

By the height of the conflict in 1957, the USA and its allies had committed 1.5 Million men to the cause, including 23,000 active Battle Mages. On the North Korean Front, 2.7 Million men were committed to pushing back the Western invasion. In the region between the Yalu Crossing and Kaesŏng, some 3 Million bodies mapped the earth, with an additional 1.55 Million cited as missing.

By mid 57, the USA, the Mageocracy, Russia and China grew war-weary. After back-channel discussions addressed each nation's concerns, all support to North Korea ceased.

As a result, in the winter of 1957, North Korea called for an Armistice Agreement with Six-Party talks between China, Russia, North Korea and South Korea, USA and Britain. However, when the signatories teleported into Pyongyang, what they found was instead the first days of the Undead Front. In response to calls for his removal as Chairman, the megalomaniac Kim Il Sung had turned to Necromancy in the maddening hour of his demise. With the Teleportation Circle now disabled, none survived the Pyongyang Incident.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

South Korea was the first to enact countermeasures. Aided by the USA and its European allies, the military fell back to Panmunjom, creating a combat zone of salted earth filled with obstacles to deter the Undead. As history proved, the abandonment of a stretch of land ten kilometres wide and two-hundred-and-fifty kilometres from ocean to ocean was the right choice.

Comparatively, the Chinese Front had met with anarchy. Woefully underprepared for the Undead spilling from Pyongyang, the PLA's Central Bureau was caught with its pants down when five million creatures crossed the Yalu River. For the next decade, the Chinese Communists only managed to contain the Undead threat.

In 1971, the Beast Tide resulted in simultaneous incursions from Inner Mongolia, Qinghai, and the South China Sea. Within weeks, the Northern Front collapsed in its entirety. Liaoning Prefecture was all but overrun in six-months, followed by the loss of three million souls in Shenyang. Sweeping through Jinzhou, a swarm numbering six million made it as far as Tangshan, two hours Mage flight from Beijing before Central committed all of its resources to stem the tide.

Today, the Northern Front extends from Jinzhou to Xilin Gol, stretching the length of Manchuria from mountain to coast.

"MARRRRGH!" The lone Zombie must have sensed her overlarge brain, for it suddenly broke into a half-crawl, half-sprint canter.

"Do I consume it now?" Gwen asked her instructors.

"Why not play with it a bit?" Walken recommended. "Since you're here, may as well get some experience. Zombies are the most numerous of all Undead, and in enough numbers, they're virtually unstoppable."

"What if I get bitten?"

"Then we get more data," Wen scoffed. "Do as you will, we don't have all day."

By now, the Zombie was almost upon her.

Caliban looked toward its mistress, waiting for further instructions.

Having watched all seven Resident Evil films, Gwen struck out a heeled foot, then stomped at the creature's chest. In her mind, she pictured the Zombie splattering spectacularly against the wall.

Crunch!

"ARRRGH!"
"MARRRRGH!"
Gwen suddenly found herself compromised by unwanted matrimony when her foot punched through the torso of the Zombie to exit the other side. Gore-soaked and covered in rotten flesh, she shrieked in place of her ruined Mary Janes, which possessed no mouth for screaming.
Leaning against her arm, the Zombie then bit her shoulder.

"G-Gross! Oh, Gods!" Gwen threw her hands wildly, striking the Zombie so that its head went flying. Shuddering in horror, she then peeled the briefly animate corpse from her quaking body.

Where it had bitten her, she could feel a slight soreness.

"HOLY SHIT!" She exposed her shoulder to Walken by pulling down the fabric. "I GOT BIT!"

"Betrayed by your strength!" Walken nodded appreciatively. "Ready for the next one?"

"What?" Gwen protested. "I got bit, Eric!"

Walken raised a brow.

"I am going to turn into a Zombie!" Gwen wailed. "How would you like that? Zombie Gwen! How would you explain that to Gunther?!"

Walken glanced at Wen. "What's she on about."

"How would I know?" The Magister shrugged.

"Gwen," Petra intervened. "Are you confusing Zombies with Vampires?"

Gwen pointed to her neck. "If you get bitten by a Zombie…"

"… then you need a healing spell?" Petra's gaze grew sympathetic.

"I don't understand?" Gwen felt her eyes moisten. She had seen her share of the Walking Dead. No matter the character's popularity on the show, one scratch and it's roll credits.

"Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban was confused as well; it had sensed no drop in Gwen's vitality, nor the slightest hint of malaise.

"Gwen." Walken pointed to the still groaning head. "You need to crush the head to release the Negative Energy."

"BUT!" his student protested, exposing her shoulder some more to show off her non-existent wound.

"Zombies are the lowest form of Undead!" Walken averted his eyes. "They manifest when minute Spirits from the Plane of Negative Energy infuse a corpse! When infused, they raise the freshly fallen as Zombies and are known to grow exponentially resilient when swarming. ZOMBIES DO NOT SPREAD BY CONTAGION. You're thinking of Vampires or Plague Priests. Did you study the bestiary?"

Gwen did study the bestiary, though it was very thick. Unfortunately, she had glossed over "Zombies" as she had seen Dawn, Night, Resident Evil AND had read World War Z.

But her Instructor's spittle seemed to indicate that she was safe.

"Void Bolt!" she silenced the chattering skull while nursing her shoulder. If she were to return as a Zombie, Walken would be her first victim.

"Feel anything?"

"Nope, no different to a Gob."

"Good." Wen motioned to the operators. "Release the rest."

"MARRRRGH!" Six Zombies limped into the arena.

"That stench is enough to kill." Gwen's hyperactive senses were driving her crazy. "Eric, how bad does it get at the Front?"

"There's a spell you can get for the smell," Walken assured his student. "These are just regular zombies, mind you. You may very well run into exotic specimens called Putrid Ones."

She breathed through her mouth. "Wen. Mind if I test some spells?"

"... Fine."

Gwen gathered her wits, then marked the shortest spell she could manage under the odious circumstances.

"Lightning Bolt!"

The room grew suddenly bright. A sizzling line of electricity pierced the Zombies. Where her positively charged mana struck, the foul creatures disintegrated, collapsing onto the floor as a smoking heap.

"Well done!" Hufei nodded in approval. "Lightning is the bane of the Undead."

"As you can see." Walken pointed to a husk decorating the floor. "Lightning disperses the Negative Energy held within the Undead's Core, destroying the 'will' that gives life to the pale flesh."

"Void Bolt!" This time, Gwen made sure to aim for the torso.

Where her mass of Void-matter struck, the Zombie's body folded in half, sans spine and left lumbar. But even collapsed on the floor, it continued to wail.

"Conversely, Void is only worthwhile against Undead that usurps vitality to regenerate," Walken advised. "The Soul Eater was an excellent specimen, for example."

The remaining zombies began to gain momentum.

"Likewise, low-tier Undead are quite fearless. Only higher-tier Undead are capable of thought and speech. The rest will swarm until everything edible is consumed, or they're destroyed."

Gwen listened as she activated her next spell. Each lesson she learned here would be one less surprise in Dalian.

"Elemental Sphere!" The ball lightning and its subsequent nova consumed her remaining enemies in a flash.

Hufei approvingly inclined his head.

"Please Consume the next few enemies," Wen interjected. "Mid-tier samples don't come easily."

Gwen signalled her compliance.
Caliban wiggled its tail.

"Release the Jiangshi!"

The second gate slid open, revealing a corpse in a lesser state of decay. The former resident of the body appeared to be Asian, and an old-fashioned one at that. As the Jiangshi left the receptacle, it began to hop in an ungraceful manner that was semi-comical and just terrifying enough to give Gwen the creeps. Unlike Zombies, which occurred naturally in places inundated by death, Jiangshis were created to act as guardians in ancient tombs. Once released, a Jiangshi possessed capabilities to transform the living into its likeness. A nightmarish stratagem found in Ming and Qing era tombs was the "live burial" of attendants. Once the tomb was sealed, the Jiangshi warriors transformed soldiers, minions and labourers alike into guardians.

"Don't let this one bite," Wen advised. "If it drains all your Positive 'Yang' Energy, you're going to turn into a Jiangshi."

"Caliban!" Gwen needed no coaxing to offer the creature a seat in Cali's all-consuming gullet. "Do it!"

The rigour-bound corpse managed about ten meters before her Void fiend coiled about its body and took the creature head-first into its enveloping maw. When the thing slid into Caliban's innards, Gwen sensed a metallic tang on her tongue. As Caliban translated its senses synaesthetically across their Empathic Link, what she tasted was akin to licking the gutter of an abattoir.

"Petra, biometrics." Wen reviewed her slate.

"I am on it." Gwen's cousin ran not one, but two diagnostic spells simultaneously. When she saw Gwen's expression, she couldn't help but wince with sympathy.

One minute.
Two minutes.
Three.

"Okay, I am feeling it," Gwen announced to the Instructors.

With a "Shaa!" Caliban delivered its payload.

"Gods!" Gwen groaned, her teeth suddenly chattering. Where the feast of life usually began as a gentle warmth near her diaphragm, growing more intense with each tier absorbed, she now observed an internally induced hypothermia. From the region of her liver, a sliver of Negative Energy flooded into her conduits, atrophying everything it touched. In the span of a second, Gwen transformed into a ghost, her eyes engorged by black-veins before her face flushed red-hot.

Gwen knelt, hugging her abdomen, dry-heaving as the world spun. An alarmed Caliban reached her side as she coughed and gagged against the barrier, trying to keep herself in one piece. When finally her Essence kicked in, revitalising her diminished vitals, she became drenched from brow to ankle in a sticky sheen of cold sweat.

"Gwen!" Petra's eyes went wide at the biometric transcripts. "Master, she can't Consume the Undead. It's too much."

"That Jiangshi was barely tier 4." Wen frowned. "Gwen, can you continue?"

"Bloody hell, Wen! A little humanity isn't going to kill you." Walken Dimension Doored into the sealed room and passed Gwen a towel from his ring. "Girl, take it easy. We can do this another day."

Thankful for the aid, Gwen took the towel from her instructor and wiped her mouth.

"Let's not do that again," she huffed. "I could feel the necrotic energy ravaging my insides."

"I know- I saw." Walken held her shoulder. "You're going to have to be very cautious at the Front. One wrong 'Consume', and you could be down and out."

"Sounds about right." Gwen inhaled and exhaled as her face regained its usual haleness.

"Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban inferred it would protect its mistress.

"Caliban can sense vitality though," she reminded Walken. "It knows what to Consume and what to avoid."

"That would be for the best." Walken studied his trembling pupil. In moments like these, Gwen reminded him of his daughters. Gone was the Omni-Mage capable of stopping a Swarm almost single-handedly, replaced instead by a young woman. "Shall we call it?"

"No, let's finish up." Gwen picked herself from the floor. "I'll be leaving Consume up to Caliban's discretion."

"Do as you will, but take care." Walken hesitated before teleporting back out.

"Are you fit to continue?" Wen's glacial voice boomed beside Gwen's ear.

"Don't push yourself." Hufei's concern followed.

"Magister Wen." Gwen shot herself a dose of Essence. "Please continue. I could use more experience fighting the Undead."

"Very well." Wen nodded. "Petra, focus. You there, release the next creature!"

Wen's subsequent trials consisted of a Ghoul followed by a Ghast. The Ghoul was a strange humanoid undead with both natural and Mage-made places of origins. Pale skinned and emanciated, the creature was hairless all over, hunching like a toad as it dribbled paralytic secretion from its maw. When it finally escaped from the stasis magic holding it in place, it launched into a quadrupedal gallop toward the awaiting Sorceress, howling and drooling as its purple tongue tasted her sweet body.

"Void Bolt!" Gwen snapped a bolt at the charging fiend, removing one of its limbs. As a mid-tier monster, the creature was more resilient than a Zombie.

Undeterred, the Ghoul landed on its shoulder, rolled, then continued its assault unimpeded by the loss of a limb. Caliban intervened, taking off an arm as it slammed into the grey-skinned humanoid. The Ghoul responded by clawing an arm-long welt on Caliban's upper carapace while simultaneously biting Cali's torso.

"Void Bolt!" Gwen aimed for the head but struck its chest when the Ghoul dodged. Unlike the clumsy Zombies, the higher tiers of Undead possessed agilities far surpassing their bumbling cousins.

A moment later. Caliban expelled the mess of flesh that once constituted a Ghoul.

The final "sample" was one of the more common "Commander" variants found in the Front. Compared to the Ghoul, the Ghast didn't so much resemble an Undead, but rather a creature akin to a Hob or an Orc. Smooth and sleek, the Ghast possessed a lean, muscular body, not unlike a human gymnast. When hunting, its jaws could distend and unhinge as wide as Gwen's head. Impressively, its flesh-coloured maw possessed a prehensile-tentacled tongue half-a-metre in length. When the grate opened, it bolted for Gwen not in a bee-line, but by bouncing from the Wall of Force.

"It knows PARKOUR?!" Gwen spluttered.

"Focus!" Walken spat back.

"Caliban!" She erected her Shield for the first time. In the next second, the Ghast slammed against her diamond-faceted barrier with a resounding thwack. Compared to the Da-Peng, however, the Ghast's assault was a mere toddler beating on tempered glass with balled fists.

What truly astounded her was that when Caliban gave chase, the Ghast fled. Gwen was aghast at the comical sight of her snake slithering behind a skittering, bouncing Undead. Frustrated, Caliban switched to its spider form.

"Wocao!" the Ghast swore as it fled.

"The fuck? IT TALKS?" Gwen followed up with an F-bomb.

"Beauty, how about we both calm down," the Ghast dodged a pair of scything forelimbs. "This doesn't have to end with one of us vanishing, whatever you need, brother will provide..."

"Umm… "

"DON'T TALK TO IT!" Walken and Wen both shouted.

"Cali!" Gwen required no encouragement to silence a creature whose only diet consisted of human and demi-human flesh. "Onslaught!"

The Ghast groaned when Caliban finally caught up. It parried the first few blows, but Cali's spider form had more forelimbs than the Ghast possessed total appendages. A flurry followed, then the howling Undead fell to pieces.

Thunk!

"I curse your family!" came its last words.

"Shaa! Shaa!" Caliban stuck its tail spike into the severed head, singing in tune as a burst of Negative Energy released into the atmosphere, spelling the creature's release from un-life.

"Is it dead?" Gwen inspected the head.

"It has passed on." Wen read the biometric reading on her slate. "Looks like Caliban is immune to the Negative Discharge. That's useful."

"Okay, we're done." Petra signalled for the walls to come down. When she approached, the odour radiating from her cousin was enough to make her eyes water. "Gwen..."

"I need a shower," Gwen declared, then her eyes grew suddenly dead-serious. "Are there hot showers at the Front?"