With the formalities petering out, the contestants moved to a courtyard lit with Dancing Lights, forming a dazzling display where illusory lanterns suffused the garden with gentle ambience.

Unlike Cuzco, the PLA proved keen on inter-team duels. However, to limit injury before the contestants ventured into an Undead Black Zone, the duels had been restricted to individual bouts.

After a speech about professional conduct, sportsmanship and safety, Magister Jamison invited the teams to offer volunteers. Likewise, to prevent damage escalation, the style was set to Oxford, meaning that contestants entered the bout without pre-buffs.

Gwen was halfway to the dais when Walken commanded her to stand down. As their ace in the hole, she was far better suited to countering enemy Mages.

"Lulan," Tei implored their sword-wielding starlet. "Do you mind starting for us?"

"Not at all." Lulan Misty-Stepped onto the announcement platform. For the evening event, the students had changed out of their formal wear into university-themed training outfits. In her tights and halterneck body-suit, Lulan positively glowed. To her unsuspecting admirers, the girl possessed a striking aura. To Gwen, she knew that Lulan's battle-heavy training regime fed the Naga Spirit like no other and that its Draconic-essence was likely nourishing Lulu.

Arriving, Lulan bowed toward the chief proctor, the overseer of the duels before facing the crowd.

"Lulan Li, Sword Mage of Fudan! I seek instruction from my seniors!"

Yue met Gwen's eyes across the room. To her disappointment, her aunt-in-craft shook her head.

"Allow me, sister," came a reply from Pretoria. "I am also a Spirit-bonded Earthen Mage. I'll show you a few tricks— if you're willing to learn."

Gwen recognised the young Mage as Ella Goosen, a flaxen-haired beauty with a bronze complexion. Side-by-side, though both were Earth Mages, Lulan's figure was compact and petite; Ella's was tall, dignified, and glowing.

"I look forward to our exchange—" Lulan bowed. A second later, she Misty Stepped into the duelling cage.

Unlike her opponent, Pretoria's Abjurer did not possess instant-movement spells.

"Let's play a game." Ella raised a hand, making a gesture for Lulan to initiate the first strike. "Attack all you like. I shall forfeit if you breach my defences before you are OoM."

"Deal." The crowd roared as Lulan slowly materialised all five blades, causing a cascade of lumen-bulb flashes to fill the arena.

"HaiiiiYA!" Lulan leapt into the air, twisting and turning her body to gain the momentum necessary to begin her blade dance. "Panzerschreck!"

She fired off a single blade to test Pretoria's defences.

"Man van Goud!" Ella's pupils transformed into pin-points of golden brilliance. "Golem, kom!"

_CLANG!_

A clay-statue rose from the ground where Lulan had expected a shield to manifest. To her complete amazement, the vague figure moved, catching her blade with mitt-sized hands, eliciting a clank of fiery sparks. Not relenting on the momentum of her strike, Lulan fell into her usual rhythm.

"Sweep!"
"Strike!"
"Pierce!"

"Golems! Defend me!"

Four human-sized gingerbread men had now manifested, and each of them clutched Lulan's blade. In the eyes of Fudan's observers, Pretoria's Abjurer must have anticipated a comfortable victory if she disabled Lulan's melee spells.

"Heart-Seeker!" Lulan waited for the moment the fourth nugget-man caught her blade before firing her final weapon through the gap.

"Shield!" Ella hurriedly manifested a shimmerin, golden shield with a malleable surface that snagged the blade's cutting edge.

"BRAVO!" came the sound of Gwen's breathless voice after seeing so much gold in one place. "Good work, Lulu! Great defence!"

"Not using Blink?" Ella ignored the hooting Void Sorceress, then snorted at the petite Sword Mage. "You do yourself a disservice."

"It's not a fight to the death." Lulan allowed her blades to crumble. "If you insist, I'll Shield Break you in the next minute."

"Do your worst, meisiekind."

"This will hurt. SWEEP!"

Lulan stomped the underfoot Force Barrier, using the rebounding energy to somersault above the haughty Mage and her gold-laced Earth Elementals. Though Lulan herself had no name for the flurry of strikes she now committed, the watching journalists dubbed the chained combination, "The Green-Iron Blossom".

_CLANG!_
 _CLANG! CLANG!_
 _CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!_

An unceasing cascade of blows pushed Ella into a corner, her golden golem-men absorbing into her shield one by one as the pressure mounted. Lulan's blows felt like a blacksmith's hammer, pounding her shield into a distorted mess.

_P—AAANG!_

Lulan changed the angle of her strike. To the audience's delight, a slice of golden metal flew from Ella's control and smashed against the vibrating wall. In desperation, Pretoria's defender let loose a shout of dismay before muttering an inaudible spell under the din of Lulan's discordant strikes.

When the Sword Mage again closed in to shave away more of her manipulated alloy, an impaling spike erupted the moment Lulu connected her blow, returning the favour.

"Lulu! Dodge it!" came the sound of her teammate's cries.

Lulan took the erupting lance without so much as a grimace, allowing it to graze her abdomen. Sparks flew as the fabric ripped, exposing her tempered abdominals. With a grunt of effort, her riposte landed, penetrating Ella's shield with an ear-grating sound of metal on metal.

"Shield Break!" The chief proctor declared with a clap of her hands. "Both of you. Well done!"

The contestants bowed, shook hands, then left the stage to the sound of thunderous applause.

"Lulu, did you see her element?!" Gwen was shaking. "Is it gold— like real gold?"

"It's a gold-alloy." Walken's Message interrupted her glee. "Did you read my notes? The regions around Johannesburg and Pretoria are inundated with rare earth minerals, precious metals and gemstones. She must have picked up a rare Earth Elemental."

"Damn it, so it's not gold?" Gwen materialised a towel for the victorious Lulan. "Here, put this on. Kusu's going to complain."

Lulan wrapped the beach towel around her shoulders. Against her tiny frame, the bath-sized fabric was just enough to cover her bruised midsection.

Next to take the stage was another member of Pretoria, the sultry vice-captain with an outrageous figure matched only by Yue. Yawning, she pointed a disinterested finger at Team Auckland.

"Alizea Kock, I'll fight two rounds. One from each of your teams. Who's first?" The sorceress' husky voice befitted her smouldering silhouette, leaving no doubt that compared to Fudan's fresh-faced lasses, she was a full-fledged woman.

Gwen focused just enough to activate her Detect Magic. Here was a Mage whose element sent her heart into bouts of palpitation. Though she had seen Wonsoo in action in Guangzhou, no further opportunities had since arisen where she could tangle with the versatility of one of the rarer quasi-elements - Ooze.

"Maka Wikiriwhi of Whitianga, here to answer your challenge!" A giant appeared on stage, emerging from a hiss of sulphur.

"Magtig, you're groot one." Alizea smirked, her clear-cobalt eyes appearing to swallow the man whole. "We're badly matched, Maka. I'd recommend someone else. Like your captain, or that fiery little bakvissie who's giving me the evil eye."

"You'll have to defeat me first." Maka stretched his arms and legs, his admirable muscles rippling across his magnificent bulk. On his face, the vivid ta moko— the tribal tattoos of the Maori people, writhed as though alive. "Come at me, bro."

"I'll be nice." Alizea Dimensioned Doored into the arena, crossing her arms under her chest. "Coming?"

Maka followed with a Blink. From the difference in their mana trails, Gwen could see that Pretoria's craft was superior.

"First Strike is all yours." Alizea stepped back. "I don't much like opening a fight, though I tend to end them."

Maka took a deep breath, then without warning, his facial expression changed. With a tremendous shout, his body expanded, his muscles tensed, his bull-neck strained, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. _"Ka mate, ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!…"_ Barking war cries erupted from the Kiwi's lips, blowing away not only the audience but Alizea.

"Jislaaik!" the sorceress shirked back, half-stunned by the sudden display. "What ancient witchcraft is this?! BOB!"

Of all the audience present, it was likely that only Gwen and Auckland's team knew the meaning behind the one-warrior Haka that Maka now performed. In the Land of the Long Cloud, the Haka and the ta moko greatly enhanced a Mage's physical and mental abilities, granting the invoker resistance and courage in equal measure.

Unfortunately for Maka, "Bob", a gelatinous ooze shaped like a cube and half the size of the arena swallowed the still-shouting Kiwi. Not expecting to be outright overwhelmed, Maka was mid-stride and half-finished when he became suddenly encased in slime.

"YOU—!" Yue shouted from below the dais. "He was getting to the good part!"

Gwen wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or cringe.

She knew what a Haka was and still, Maka managed to make her flinch with that first "Ka ora!" For someone like Alizea, it must have felt like a sonic assault.

In the cube, Maka tried to move, to invoke a spell, to bring forth his magma. Unfortunately, all was in vain.

"Maka! Get back here!" Yue fumed, scalding the air around her body. "I'll boil this bitch's blood!"

No response came. Maka couldn't breathe, much less banter. The advantage often used by Water Mages to prevent their opponents from casting was now manifested in its unadulterated glory by Alizea the Ooze Mage.

"What a wonderful Familiar," Richard muttered under his breath, his eyes gleaming. "Beautiful."

Alizea waited for half-a-minute before releasing the coughing Maka from her jello prison. Red-faced and vomiting undigested dinner, the Kiwi rolled to one side to prevent himself from been choked to death by his ejecta. With Yue foaming at the mouth, Gwen grew terrified that the competition may see its first fatality before the matches had even begun. Pulling her friend into her arms, she held the Fire Sorceress against her chest, forcing her to calm down.

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"Miss Alizea, I challenge you!" a voice rang out from behind Gwen. She turned to see a red-faced Jiro ready to rock. "Miss Bai, I dedicate this match to you!"

Gwen made a face. Elementally, Jiro wasn't a good match, though his ever-burning Firebird may yet secure a victory.

"Whatever." Alizea furrowed her brows, realising that Auckland and Fudan not only knew one another but were acquainted. If so, she would teach them a lesson. "A friendly warning though. I have the advantage. You should quit before you hurt yourself."

Jiro didn't hear a word, for the young man Blinked into the area without so much as waiting for Walken's advice.

"Idiot." Petra rolled her eyes. "Eunae?"

"Yes, Petra?" Eunae's expression grew worried.

"Get Eunae ready," Walken likewise lamented in his Message to Gwen. "Fighting an Ooze Mage in a cage? That boy's thinking with his wand."

"Contestants, BEGIN!" Chief proctor Jamison was happy so long as bodies filled the arena. "First to shield-break!"

True to their prediction, Jiro opened strong with an all-consuming barrage. To the layman observer, the Fire Mage appeared to dominate as Alizea dodged and rolled, protecting herself with blob after quivering blob of conjured Ooze-flesh. Yet, when Jiro filled the arena with fire, his expression grew increasingly disorientated until, too incoherent to control his body, he fell face-first into a pile of still-smouldering Slime. For all of Jiro's talk of overcoming hardship with guts, physiology remained an immutable barrier.

Outside, Gwen was ready with Eunae beside the stage as Alizea delivered the unconscious Fire Mage. When Jiro flopped onto Yue like a dead fish, Gwen growled dangerously, making even Yue flinch.

"May I have a match?" Her hazel eyes were almost amber with anger as she regarded the Ooze Mage. The air sparked, or at least the onlookers felt that it had.

"We may not." Alizea unsummoned her globular multitudes. "I've seen your prowess. We're not a good match up."

"Do you only fight when the Affinities align?"

"No." Alizea stood so close that the two could have touched. Refusing to give an inch, she fired back at the boisterous young sorceress of Fudan with a snark of her own. "I don't waste my energy unless I can win."

"Well said!" Magister Jamison golf-clapped. "Some would call it cowardice, but knowing your strength and weaknesses marks the true form of the expert Mage."

"Fine. Which one of you is GAME enough for a challenge?" In her wounded pride, Gwen's aura verged on oppression.

"I'm going with Eunae," Yue grumbled. Jiro had wanted to fight in her stead, meaning his humiliation belonged to her as well. Without a deathmatch, there was no way for their fire to offset Alizea's Ooze before they succumbed to her toxins. Mayhap Jiro had not possessed the purest of intentions, but he did take a bolt to the brain for her sake. "Kick their ass for me."

"May I have a match?" the voice of Pretoria's Captain filled the vox-casters. "I have heard endless praise for your prowess. Our advisor said to avoid duelling you at all costs."

Gwen stepped away from Pretoria's vice-captain, allowing the woman to pass.

"Wel gedaan," the young man intoned when his twice-victorious teammate returned, greeting her with an affirming pat. "Let's see if I measure up against the fabled Void Sorceress of Fudan. If I lose, tell the leech to step up and make himself useful."

"Good." Gwen stepped into the duelling box, materialising Ariel and Caliban as she did so, eliciting gasps from both Auckland and Pretoria. At the barrier, recalling the information Walken had provided, she paused. "Schalk, aren't you an Abjurer? I am not going to go easy, just so you know."

"Beware his Banish," Walken's voice drifted in.
"He's got a Banish loaded up," Petra warned her.
"Gwen, he's going after your pets." The third voice belonged to Whetu.

Gwen remained unfazed. Rather than wariness, she looked forward to it.

"I am what they call an all-rounder," the young man with the surname of Hertzog spoke with care. "Before we begin, hear me out. I know you're upset— you look upset. BUT— we're _competitors,_ not enemies. Once the IIUC is over, I want us to meet as friends."

"How humble." Gwen stood with a hand against her hip. The captain's diplomacy surprised her, especially considering what Walken had said about the Purists.

"You mistake my humility." Pretoria's captain regarded Gwen with irises that were carbon copies of Petra's. Schalk was a good-looking bloke; his intense eyes reminded her of a majestic male Husky. With his straight nose, square jaws and tapered chin, he appeared to Gwen a twenty-something Alec Baldwin. Of all the teams they fought so far, Pretoria's Mages ranked high as decent-looking lads and lasses, sans Gollum von Voldemort.

"I will do my best." The captain bowed. "Shall we?"

The two moved to opposite ends of the arena.

"Mages— keep it cool, keep it clean, and keep the lethality low. You'll be touring the Front in two days." Chief proctor Jamison waited for the reporters and journalists to settle before announcing the match. "BEGIN!"

At the drop of the Magister's hand, Gwen conjured two spells in quick succession "Chakram! Ariel— Lightning Bolt!"

The crowd burst into amazement at the live demonstration of oppositional elements. As an arc, a dark disc of Void sliced toward Schalk while instantaneously, two bolts of high-tier Lightning arced toward Pretoria's captain.

"Dimension Door!" Schalk appeared and reappeared, catching Gwen on the back foot even as she commanded Caliban to ambush the man when he re-materialised from behind.

Unexpectedly, her prediction fell short. The distance Pretoria's captain had displaced was just enough to render her spells null.

"Miss Song, be careful now— Scatter Shot!"

The space in front of Gwen appeared to compress. In response, she raised her double-glazed shield. A split-second later, a hundred thudding impacts clattered against her diamond-faceted barrier, pinging off the surface.

"EE EE!" Ariel warned her that Schalk had disappeared into another Dimension Door.

"Cali, spider form as soon as he reappears!" Gwen swore as she followed suit, likewise teleporting across the duelling floor. A Banish was coming sooner or later; she had to be ready.

When her world reorientated, she painted her surroundings with a Lightning Nova, hoping to catch an unsuspecting Schalk setting up his attack.

"EE EE!" Ariel screeched.

She looked up.

Schalk was standing upside down and directly overhead through Spider Climb. The man had not teleported beside her but had readied an ambush instead. Her Divination Sigil tingled as Gwen grimaced. Compared to Tei, she wasn't an expert duellist, but were her tactics that easy to read?

"Scatter Shot! Earthen Spikes!" Pretoria's captain let loose two near-simultaneous low-tier spells at once. The execution was academic and concise, precisely as Magister Jamison had requested— crisp, clean and the lethality low.

Before she could Dimension Door again, Gwen had to open another shield. Around her came the pop and crackle of rapidly expanding crystals, followed by the sound of fracturing glass as her double-glazed barrier took damage from above and below. Had she been a sorceress lacking the VMI necessary to compress and sustain her defence, the match would have been over. For Gwen, however, she was merely inconvenienced while her shield-bubble turned opaque.

"SHAAA!" A cry from Caliban indicated that Schalk's troubles were about to begin. In its spider form, Caliban Hasted itself with Gwen's vitality, then rapidly clambered toward Pretoria's Captain on spindly legs.

With complete calm, Schalk extended both hands, then swiftly drew a series of Mandalas through the air. Less than a meter away, Caliban raised both forelegs. If the multi-talented Mage refused to raise his shield, it would skewer the man like a boerewors.

The entire exchange lasted barely five or six seconds, but it was enough.

"Banish!" Schalk completed the spell with nary a second to spare. A lesser Mage would have experienced a multi-tongued kiss to the face.

"SHAAA!" Caliban fell from the ceiling, landing as though suddenly drunk, then collapsed into its original serpent form. For Gwen, the Banish came as a blow directed against her Astral Soul, though she successfully kept her Familiar intact. Though Caliban's morphic presence grew uncertain, her beast remained fully manifested in the material realm.

"It's not banished?" cries from Pretoria's side rang out. "How can this be?"

"Extraordinary!" Magister Jamison clapped. Impressed by Schalk's ability to juggle Abjuration, Enchantment and Conjuration simultaneously, as well as by Gwen's Astral fortitude. "You too, Miss Song, that was tier 5!"

Inside the arena, Schalk Hertzog felt his back suddenly drenched in cold sweat when Gwen's barrier shield dropped. Banish took a great deal of concentration, and he was counting on Gwen's disorientation to offset his spell-fatigue.

"You almost had me there," came the girl's icy voice from below. "Flash Bang!"

_BUNG!_

A star was born, manifesting so rapidly that his shield barely had time to solidify before his senses were momentarily overwhelmed. Reflexively, Schalk Dimension Doored to safety.

_BUNG!_ Came a second flash of light and sound, jarring his innards. Schalk wanted to spew; if he had possessed a softer element like Alizea's Ooze, he could have repressed the spell's potency. As a Mineral Mage, however, the vibrations shook his brain even as the refracting light made his diamond-shield iridescent.

A role-reversal, Schalk noted. The girl was as spiteful as a manticore.

"EE EE!"
"Barbanginy!"

Gwen had yet to use Walken's Thundering Shatter on anyone other than Petra during practice, but the close call with Caliban had exacerbated her foul mood. As Ariel manifested the spell at a distance, a rolling, tile-displacing, glass-vibrating clamour rumbled through the shaking duelling box.

"REMOVE THE TOP BARRIER—" Magister Jamison warned the technical team. "NOW!"

Outside, the guests' jubilant expressions paled as some realised the Wall of Force might not hold against a spell especially designed to disrupt single-pane barriers. Inside, Gwen came to realise she had miscalculated Ariel's firepower, particularly that there was no IFF for sonic damage.

"Idiot girl!" Outside, an ashen Walken despaired. Anything from Lightning Bolt to Ball Lightning could have cracked the boy's shield— why Thundering Shatter? The spell was infamously destructive without her Essence, and now with the girl's tier 7 Affinity combined with her Kirin, the spell's magnitude had grown beyond compare.

_CRACK!_ A fulmination so turbulent as to mirror the heavens splitting in twain filled the interior of the duelling area. Where Schalk had cloistered himself in a diamond-like shield, the sound of sheet-glass shattering punctuated the din. For an elongated second, the shrill whine of portable force-generators screamed like strangled cats. A spluttering fart followed, after which the devices burst into bright plumes of fizzling mana.

Walken despaired. Like all good spells, there remained a second-stage manifestation.

Just when the guests thought the worst was over, the low rumble built into a shrill-shriek akin to ceramic scratched over a chalkboard, amplified to liquefy one's soul.

Crystalware sourced from Elven artisans, having been in the Astoria's collections for decades, exploded into fine powder as goblets and pitches cracked and crumbled. Not far from where the courtyard housed the duel, multi-storey sheet-glass split into splendiferous hues, catching the shocked faces of the journalists, the proctors, and the contestants.

Stunned by the power of her magic, Gwen felt her soul grow sore, thinking of the crystal compensation soon to follow. Even now, the liqueur covered guests and the proud staff of the historic Astoria painted her lonesome figure with death glares.

"M-My recorder!" a journalist wailed when his vision turned kaleidoscopic.

"Shaa Shaa!" Caliban menaced the unmoving captain, ready for round two, heedless of the crowd.

"EE! EEE!" Ariel looked to Gwen, expecting praise for its brilliant assault.

Pretoria's captain laid very still on the floor, blinded and deafened and knowing that it was far better to remain prone than to expel his dinner.

Upon the dais, Magister Jamison took a deep breath. Had she not disabled the top-most portion of the force field, she wondered if Schalk Hertzog would have turned to jelly.

A slow clamour began to grow from the thong of guests below. Some were understandably upset. Others were applauding, while here and there, people took the unfortunate event to be a tale told and retold weeks and years from now. "I was there!" they would say. "When the Astoria had to be restored! Again!"

"LOSS, Gwen Song!" Magister Jamison growled. "For excessive force and excessive injury and collateral damage. You're worse than an acolyte, girl! Learn some control! Come here."

While Pretoria's team attended to their victorious captain, Gwen sheepishly walked toward the Magister with her Familiars in tow.

"Give the crowd a few minutes to settle, then issue an apology." The chief proctor's eyes searched Gwen's face for the slightest hint of insubordination.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Girl. Do you have enough crystals to pay for the damage?"

Gwen appeared on the verge of agony.

The Magister snorted. _Silly girl, stupid is as stupid does,_ she critiqued sympathetically. At this rate, the girl may be paying off the debt even after her graduation.

"That's it for the duels then." The chief proctor scanned the ruined party, her ageless face wrinkled by the stress brought on by the unruly sorceress. "A friendly bit of advice. Kiss and make up with Pretoria if you can. Urban warfare isn't going to be a Quest Fudan wants to do alone."

"Ha! Suffer in ya jocks!" Yue slammed the beer before crushing the can. "NEXT!"

"I yield," slurred the Lightning Mage from Pretoria, a teal-eyed youth who had challenged her to a beer-drinking contest. "For such a tiny meisie, where do you pack all that booze?"

All eyes fell toward Yue's low-cut top; many inquisitive minds reached the same conclusion.

After the duels were suspended, Fudan's vice-captain invited both teams to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant to experience "xiao ye" or midnight-supper.

For Auckland's Mages, the famous Beggar Chicken reminded them of "Hāngi" feasts. Meanwhile, Pretoria's members blew Gwen's mind when they took to eating liver, fatty intestine, and even chicken feet without batting an eye.

After two-dozen dishes populated the table, the Tsingtao began to flow in earnest.

"Oi! What are you staring at, you wanna go?" Yue barked at the shadow lurking not far from Gwen. For a while now, the last member of Pretoria had grated her nerves. Gwen begged a good oogling, but that was no reason to undress her with his eyes.

"Don't mind him." Schalk opened a can and passed the ice-cold beverage down the table. "Jean-Paul isn't used to public spaces or people. Isn't that right, Jean-Paul?"

Hearing his name, the creature known as Jean-Paul appeared to shrink into his chair.

"Say something, Jean-Paul," Alizea demanded from across the table. "Don't play the mute. We know you can talk."

The rest of Pretoria laughed, a few from Auckland and Fudan joined the mirth.

Jean-Paul opened his mouth to speak, though no sound emerged. His pallid face was already a deep scarlet, and now he looked on the verge of asphyxiation.

Across the long table, Gwen sat transfixed, likewise glancing at Jean-Paul. More so than the others, it was Gwen's undivided attention that made the man with a face no mother could love squirm.

Yue scoffed. So what if the cockroach was a Void Mage? Who could match her friend's prodigious talent? Certainly not a hairless Water Ghost.

"No matter, three CHEERs to our success on the Front! May our adventure be sweet-as!" Rona, Auckland's captain, stood on his seat to raise a toast. Like Yue, the man could drink like a fish. "Just as the headiest foam rises to the top, may the best team emerge the victor!"

"Cheers!"
"Gānbēi!"
"Gesondheid!"

Foaming cans and bottles clinked across the air. Until the beer ran dry, no contestant wanted to recall that in less than forty-eight hours, they would no longer be in a city of twenty-million living souls, but knee-deep in the Undead.


By the time the beer dried up, the three teams had become well acquainted. At Gwen's behest, each member of their Dalian foray was to deliver a show and tell, like on day one of a tutorial class.

The first to volunteer were the boisterous New Zealanders. Their captain, Rona Manaia, a stock-standard Water Mage, announced that he would spend the match in the backlines. His speciality, Illusion and Conjuration, may work wonders on intelligent enemies but was hapless against the Undead. When asked if he was a 'quaterling', Rona raised a toast.

"Yeah bro, me old woman's a halfie." The captain's endearing vernacular had Gwen in fits. "Don't knock me mum for her size though. She's sweet as they come."

"It's true," Yue cut in. "Mrs Manaia's pavlova? Ernnnngh!"

As Yue grunted in a most unladylike manner, Gwen peeked at the Purists from Pretoria. Surprisingly, Schalk and mates appeared entirely chill with the idea. If so, it was true what Richard had once said, that among the Purists, there were factions. For pursuers of unadulterated magical might, unions with higher-order demi-humans were encouraged. What united the Purists, therefore, was mutual loathing for NoMs.

"Whetu Tikitiki O Taranga." The biggest of the gathered students half-stood so that he wouldn't head-bump the greasy ceiling. "I employ Punamu. I am our team's Abjurer-Defender. I can use a little Transmutation."

In addition to Gwen's friends, the other members of Auckland were the Wikiriwhi brothers, Maka and Timoti, both Spirit-bound Magma Mages and Evokers. Maka minored in Transmutation, while Timoti was skilled in Conjuration. Their other relative, Rongo Winiata, was a rare Water Evoker.

"Too bad you and I couldn't duel." Rongo grinned at Richard. "Oi've heard of ya, Mr Undine."

"I am happy to oblige whenever." Richard looked the big man up and down. "Your spirit, its a whale, isn't it?"

Rongo abruptly lifted his shirt, revealing chiselled abdominals like those found on a polished statue, from his chest to his left lumbar, an enormous ta moko depicting a flat-headed fish impressed Gwen to no end. "Not whale, but He-Mango-Tohorā! Whale Shark!"

Richard whistled. Lulu covered her face.
Soundlessly, Lea manifesting beside him, dazzling Richard's audience with a beauty only a fay could possess. Chuckling, she handed him a cold beer. "Thanks, love."

The two men watched one another. The whale shark evidently could not manifest Rongo a cold one.

With a laugh, the next candidate, Otikoro Aperahama, announced himself as Auckland's Water Abjurer-Transmuter.

The man beside him, a giant heavily tattoed with dog-skin ta moko, introduced himself as Tua Kahurangi. He was a Sand Mage, a talent that knitted Gwen's brow and brought on unpleasant memories.

"Ruihi Keeti, Enchanter, Earth." A robust woman with dazzling ember eyes and big bushy hair stood to reveal twin arms tattooed from fingertips to her undershirt. Most jarring was the ta moko that gilded her neck to her chin, giving the impression of a beard. "My speciality is defensive buffs through the sacred art."

"And I am Opi Raharuhil, Diviner-Enchanter, Air." A slim woman as tall as Gwen stood, she sported more ta mojo than her already impressive sister-in-craft. "I specialise in the ta moko of attack."

The last of the Kiwi crew wasn't a New Zealander at all but a Sydney-sider on loan, one that grinned mischievously at Gwen before telling her story.

"My mother's an NoM," Yue declared when it came to her turn, wiggling her brows at Pretoria. As expected, a few of the members sobered up with conflicted expressions, dimming the mirth.

A dozen pairs of eyes drifted back and forth as Yue shit stirred. Fengbo Village was no place to duel.

"Good for you," Schalk broke the ice. "Are you expecting one of us to smash the table and call you a squib? I could oblige if it makes you happier."

"Schalks, you don't mind someone like Yue?" Gwen cut straight to the chase. She'd been worried about how the two would interact.

"Why would I mind?" Pretoria's captain snorted. With his pale eyes gleaming, he stood to face the half-blood sorceress. "Miss Bai, are you willing to bear me a child?"

"FUCK NO!" Yue's spray of Tsingtao missed Gwen by an inch. "Gwen, tell him he's dreaming!"

"Schalks, I am afraid Yue's not a good fit..."

"Of course she's not." Schalk grinned, the young man's charisma was palpable. "Now then, shall I rage and fume at a half-breed with no interest in partnership? We're allies of circumstance. She may do as she pleases, as will I. We Boers are objectivists, Miss Song— we're nothing like those British or the American hypocrites. Please don't lump us together."

"You surprise me more and more." Gwen raised a glass. "To your health."

"Gesondheid!" Schalk raised his bottle of half-finished beer. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Schalk Hertzog. I am a Mineral Mage, I major in Abjuration, and minors in Conjuration and Enchantment. Just so, I possess lesser talents across the spectrum. My great-grandfather is the great J.L. Barry Hertzog, a hero of the Boer Union of the old Cape. Though my ancestor's statue has been removed from the Union's lawn, he is immortalised by the Hertzoggie, a delicious jam-tart, my favourite dessert. As of today, I am the first Mage in my family to be beaten unconscious by a beautiful young woman, live, and on international vid-cast."

Gwen nursed her glass, half full of guilt and the other half sloshing with wounded pride. She wondered if Schalk was willing to accept compensation, but what could a Mage of his stature possibly lack?

"Gwen." Richard nudged her. "Announce your list of Schools, then give him the bird."

"Richard!" Gwen hissed at her cousin like a cat, causing the table to burst into laughter.

Next to introduce herself was Alizea Kock.

"Alizea, Ooze. Transmutation Conjuration. Controller." The woman flopped in her chair. "Please get on with it."

The rest of South Africa's team followed their captain and vice-captain. Ella Goosen was the Earthen Abjurer-Conjurer who commanded gold-laced minerals. Lencho Afrika and Mariete Afrika were cousins who both Awakened in Lightning Evocation and had reached tier 6. Pieter Zietsman was an Ice Mage Transmuter-Abjurer, and Pretoria's second defender. Their controller, Altus De Waal, an Air Illusionist, confessed to joining Auckland's captain on the backbench. Lastly, Pretoria's two utilitarian casters were Izette Rautenbach, a Cleric hailing from the Convent of the Reformed, and Heila Anderson, a Diviner.

"And you, sir?" Gwen finally turned to the young man half-sunken in his chair. It was the moment she had anticipated since finding out from Schalk that Jean-Paul was a Void Mage. The news had come so unexpectedly that even now, Gwen doubted Schalk's words. If Jean-Paul was a Void Mage, why couldn't she sense anything? Not even her Detect Magic saw anything but raw and mundane sorcery from the unassuming man.

"My name is Jean-Paul Bekker," came a tiny whisper.

"And are you a Void Mage?" Gwen studied the bloke whose face had been left half-finished by a cruel creator. When the man opened his mouth to speak, her heart leapt.

"Yes. I am a Void Mage," Jean-Paul's reply was a mosquito's hum. "I major in Conjuration… and Evocation."

"See? I told you. Jean-Paul is a bonafide Void Mage, with a Void Spirit to boot. Though he was thrust upon us, I can vouch for his skill," Schalk spoke in his dumb companion's stead. "Maybe the two of you could get acquainted? If you're willing to take him off my hands, that would be a blessing."

The teams looked to Gwen, then to Jean-Paul and back again. Surely, Elves weren't interested in malnourished Hobs?

Jean-Paul had never felt so much self-loathing as he had in the last few hours.

He knew he had a face even his whore of a mother would struggle to love, that his appearance was so lame and unfashionable that dogs barked when he neared. Still, until he had to sit in public with Pretoria's fair-faced contestants, he had never realised just how different he was to others. For most of his life, under Mevrou Bekker, the shape of his face and the contour of his gaunt silhouette mattered less than the Demi-humans Umzokwe took for sport.

Before he left, the Mevrou had said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Yet, here in a stranger's city, on a strange continent, sitting beside his object, a fellow Void sorceress, her perfect visage caused him physical pain.

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How could he execute Mevrou Bekker's desire when his face frightened the girl? He wasn't Schalk, who could charm the undergarment from a woman without spending a single HDM. In all his life, Jean-Paul never even had a lady-friend, much less a girlfriend. Other than Mevrou Bekker, the number of times he sat alone with a woman could be counted on both hands. For now, all he could do was watch his breath steam the air.

Goulding B1's sky garden measured only a few dozen meters across, and now that winter approached, all the plants and flowers were withered.

"Are you not cold?" Jean-Paul eyed his female companion, who wore nothing but a silk shawl over her otherwise naked shoulders. As for himself, he wore a jacket and an overcoat.

"Not at all." The girl shrugged. After the duel, she had switched to casuals. "I find the weather's refreshing."

"I hate London's weather." Jean-Paul fought to find a common subject. "I miss Pretoria's Jacarandas every year."

"I miss home too. We have Jacarandas in Sydney as well, only they're red, and we call them flame trees." The girl smiled. When she glanced at him, Jean-Paul felt a strange heat in his abdomen. "So… Jean-Paul, shall we get to know each other a bit better?"

Jean-Paul's complexion turned the colour of plums. Get to know him? Already? He wasn't at all prepared! Things were progressing somewhat faster than he had anticipated.

"I mean, you've seen mine, it's only fair you show me yours," the sorceress reiterated, sensing his hesitation. With a finger, she stirred the fabric of space and time, tearing a rip into the ever-familiar nothingness of the Void.

"Shaa!" Her Familiar, Caliban, slithered into being.

Even as a fellow Void Mage, Jean-Paul sensed the hunger radiating from the creature. Different from Umzokwe, he could sense that the beast was younger, less experienced. He could also sense that though Caliban had fed of many a lifeform, very few of its victims were intelligent. Was Caliban a Spirit like Umzokwe then? Or was it a dumb beast? Jean-Paul couldn't tell, not without inspecting Caliban thoroughly.

The serpent approached. Jean-Paul remained very still while it sniffed his hands.

"Shaa!" The creature nuzzled his hand. Jean-Paul's brows stitched. Why does the thing remind him of a cat?

"I shall show you." Jean-Paul likewise stirred the air. "Umzokwe!"

Mirroring the sorceress's Familiar on the adjacent bench, Umzokwe slithered into being. The only difference was that his leech made nary a sound. Unlike the boisterous Caliban, Umzokwe was an ambush predator.

Soundlessly, his great white leech sniffed the air, its segmented body engorged with stowed vitality. In the dim light of the sky garden, his creature was pallid, as pale as Jean-Paul himself. When hungry, Umzokwe resembled a flatworm. Now that it had fed, it was a bloated, car-sized maggot.

"Shaa!" The creature known as Caliban slithered closer, sleek and hungry, reminding Jean-Paul of its slim-limbed mistress. "Shaa?"

Umzokwe sniffed its brethren from the Void.

A vibrant feeling of near-hysterical hunger travelled across his Familiar's empathic link. Not daring to meet her eyes, Jean-Paul studied the girl's heeled-wearing feet. The girl's aura was palpable now that both their Familiars grew excited. How did she control the Void's call? By what means did she stave off its incessant appetite?

Below, Umzokwe opened its maw, within which pink tentacles akin to parasitic worms peeped forth.

"Shaa!" Caliban's carapace split, revealing two appendages, one pink and the other blue, reminiscent of an anatomy model's painted arteries.

Gingerly, their Familiar's touched tips.

Jean-Paul blanched; his mind once again engulfed with the insatiable hunger transmuted from between their Familiars. He grunted, or perhaps he groaned, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that the girl's creature was hungry and that it could eat every living being in B1 and still have space left over for B2.

_Slurp! Lick! Squelch!_

Umzokwe reared, its many-segment body undulating as though mimicking the noontide.

"Shaa!" The obsidian serpent retreated.

"HUUURRRRK!" Umzokwe opened its maw. From within the darkness, half-a-torso emerged. The head, mostly annihilated by Jean-Paul's Void spell, remained tethered to the neck by a loose ligament.

Jean-Paul blinked, his arm-hair erecting like bristles. It took him a second to realise that this was the Hartebeest Centaur he had stowed in Swaziland. The fiend had been raiding the local villages for food and women; only this time, it had found Umzokwe where it had expected a virgin.

How sweet! Jean-Paul's face formed a rare smile. His Familiar was sharing its bounty!

"Shaa!" A happy Caliban dove onto the slime-slathered, half-mangled cadaver.

"Miss Song— it seems that Umzokwe has found a friend." Jean-Paul looked up, finally full of confidence. For the first time since they conversed, he met her wondrously hypnotic eyes, noting that her pupils shrivelled to pin-points. He took a deep breath. "May we be—"

"NOOOOO! NO GOD NO!" the girl's blood-curling scream was enough to wake the neighbourhood and blast Jean-Paul off his seat. "CALI! NOOOOOOO!"

Gwen figured it must be karma.

How often had she frightened the bejeezus out of her friend and foes with Caliban? Most of the time, it was unintentional, but after a while, she felt a sadistic rush whenever her enemies reacted to seeing her fiend for the first time.

Despite her initial loathing, she had grown uncommonly fond of Cali's slick carapace and its cute, bobbing, bulbous idiosyncrasies. Even its tentacles, conditioned in her head to resemble sloppy dog-tongues, were adorable in a lamprey-tipped, soul-sucking way. Even Cali's spider-form had grown on her, and now she enjoyed riding her Familiar like a great Strandbeest.

But this THING.
This leech-maggot.
It was too much.
An aura of vertigo aside, the thing was semi-opaque like mutton fat and slick with ooze from tip to tail. As its segments undulated, she could see bits of its organs shifting back and forth, haunting its interior.

Void beasts were scentless, but even so, Gwen's brain assaulted her with recollected synaesthesia. When she was a child, her mother had asked her to bring up the groceries. Not wanting to carry such a heavy load, she made several trips, only to forget a frozen chicken, wedged in the garage. When a week later her mother returned, she dragged Gwen by the scruff of the neck down to the garage on a thirty-degree day. There, Gwen was given explicit orders not to return home until the place smelled fresh as new. When she finally gathered the courage to open the bag of swarming flesh, she near lost her mind.

So it was that despite the freezing air, Gwen began to sweat. In a second, her shoulders glistened with the effort of appearing in control. Within the recess of her mind, a voice wanted to vacuum the leech-beast wholesale. Even with her legs exposed, her knees perspired while one heel tapped ceaselessly, transmuting her agitation against the sandstone tile like a staccato drum.

When furthermore Jean-Paul's maggot opened its maw, Gwen felt a new wave of revulsion overwhelm her better judgement. She wanted to excuse herself and take an hour-long shower.

Conjuring an excuse, she looked at Jean-Paul; the Mage was gazing at their pets with a look of benevolence. Following his eyes, her attention turned to their Familiars— then she regretted possessing eyes.

Caliban and Umzokwe were shaking hands.
But worms do not possess hands. Gwen baulked as the horrid spectacle assaulted her sanity, taking no prisoners.

_Slurp! Lick! Squelch!_

As though mocking her distress, their creatures became tongue-tied, giving Gwen the impression of a deep-throated kiss.

Her eyes watered. She felt a hysterical madness coming on and wondered if this was how Void Mages grew infamously psychotic.

"HUUURRRRK!" Umzokwe projectile vomited, covering Caliban with a milky goo.

Splat!

Something landed, splattering her Mary Janes. It was a face— no, half a face, near-consumed by something akin to Void Bolt. Gwen's eyes followed the flap of skin. There was a hairy torso there, and an arm, all very much human.

"Shaa!" Caliban's delight fed into their Empathic Link.

The sensation was such that Gwen grew momentarily confused, too late to stop Caliban from sweeping up the carcass.

"NOOOOO! NO GOD NO!" she cried out, her voice suddenly hoarse as her belated dinner rose from the deepest part of her Astral Soul. "CALI! NOOOOO!"

"Is it safe to leave them like that?" Richard stood beside Yue, observing the twin silhouettes below in B1's sky garden.

"Think she's going to eat him?" Yue stood so close to the glass that she frosted the panes. "Could give her a boost, you know."

"I know."

The two gave one another an expectant look. Was this another stray cat Gwen would soon add to her collection?

"I can set up a Scry…" Mayuree gently coughed. "To maintain... subtlety, it'll just be audio. Gwen's very sensitive to targeted Divination."

"We shouldn't—" Lulan protested.

"It's for Jean-Paul's safety," Petra, who had been observing the interaction, butted in. "I don't trust Gwen to leave the man alone."

"Let's take this up in my penthouse." Mayuree pointed upstairs. "We can… protect Jean-Paul from there. If need be,"

"She's a thirsty one," Yue agreed. "You know her love of masochism. And that dude is a walking shit-show. His mates just left him like a bad smell. What the fuck?"

"But—" Lulan felt torn. There was something indescribably wrong about Scrying on her friend and saviour. Was this why Kusu was concerned? That all of these people surrounding Gwen had one chopstick longer than the other?

"No time to waste, let's go." Richard opened the lift. "Come on!"

Upstairs, Lei provided tea and snacks so that the voyeurs could spy in comfort.

"…Jean-Paul, shall we get to know each other a bit better…"
"I mean, you've seen mine, it's only fair if you show me yours…"
"I shall show you…"
"Shaa!"

"Ergn..." Jean-Paul groaned.

Gwen's closest companions regarded one another.

Then came the sound of what sounded like a jousting pair of tongues. Before anyone could comment, the spacious living room resounded with the sweet music of copulating tendrils.

Lulan sat hugging her knees, her face redder than a beetroot, her innocence wild with feverish imagination. Petra gazed into her cocktail, wondering how to face her cousin after all this. Richard sat grinning without a word. Mayuree covered her ears.

"Wow." Yue paced back and forth. "I didn't think Gwen had it in her. Jean-Paul? FUCK! What about Evee?"

"… Mind Magic?" Richard raised a finger.

"Impossible." Petra shook her head. "She's resistant to glamours, and she's wearing a Mind Shield."

"Maybe a Visual Scry could help clear this up." Mayuree raised a hand. "Give me a few seconds."

"Do I need to see this?" Lulan groaned. "I don't want to see this. Kusu is going to be so mad."

"What if." Yue paused. "She's eating—"

"NOOOOO! NO GOD NO!" came a hysterical outburst.

In an instant, Yue Blinked from the penthouse to the balcony, ten storeys above the sky garden. With her enhanced spells, she could blast the prick to cinders while sparing every hair on Gwen's pretty head. Channelling mana to her eyes, she saw the two figures below, one female and one male, and their Familiars.

Yue paused.

Her best friend was performing an obscene manoeuvre on Caliban. From her vantage, she saw that Gwen had Cali caught and cupped between her chest and her torso. With a violent, thrusting motion, Gwen dry-humped Caliban, choking her snake. Not far, the Void Mage with a face like taut foreskin kept apologising profusely. Adjacent to the heaving girl and the bowing guy, a disgusting maggot-thing swayed back and forth as though enjoying the sound of Gwen's high-pitched shrieking and Caliban's gagged singing.

"Is she alright?" Richard's voice drifted across, not at all worried. "Did Caliban eat the guy?"

"I don't know." Yue stepped back onto the balcony, her understanding no longer within the realm of reason. "Bloody hell, I am so fucking confused right now."


Once Gwen's scream-queen antics died down, she asked for Jean-Paul's forgiveness. The maggot was a leech, the Void Mage explained, and though Gwen felt no better about the pallid white slug, she conceded her mistake.

"Who is your teacher, Jean-Paul?" Gwen asked, hugging Caliban's bruised body to her chest. Earlier, she had applied enough force to feel its carapace crack, though returning its meal was no longer a possibility. Thankfully, the cadaver belonged to a monster Jean-Paul had exterminated, one that possessed the guise of a man but was very much a menace.

Once her nerves settled, she returned to the topic of their mutual magic. "You know, I've been picking at this Void thing largely on my own thus far. Can we exchange some notes?"

"I'd be delighted to. My Master is Meister Bekker of London Imperial," Jean-Paul name-dropped without batting an eye.

Opposite, Gwen's eyes had gone glassy. London Imperial was on par with Cambridge, sans the spotless reputation. And a Meister as a master was an incredible boon.

"Jean-Paul, When did you Awaken?"

"Twelve or so?"

"And you've followed a Meister for how long?"

"Almost a decade…" Jean-Paul confessed with great solemnity. "I've still got lots to learn, Mevrou Bekker has very high expectations."

Gwen's chest ached. She felt as though a scab had been rent from an old wound. To think that were it not for Sobel, she could now announce to Jean-Paul that her instructor was the great Henry Kilroy, co-founder of the Towers, Master of the Ten.

"Are you alright?" Jean-Paul leaned back when her complexion blanched.

"I am fine…"

Desiring a distraction, she re-steered the topic onto Spellcraft.

According to what Jean-Paul was willing to let on, each Void Mage of note— meaning the ones that survived, invariably possessed the means to restore their vitality. The few that Jean-Paul had met in London who lacked this critical talent and had no other option but to subsist on potion infusions and Positive Energy. As a result, their bodies invariably developed immunities or reached alchemical limits, after which they either lived as a squib or perished.

"Our creatures manifest their absorption in different ways," Jean-Paul proceeded with great patience. "For example, Magister Wen's papers stated that you can absorb traits from Caliban's Consume, correct?"

"There's a limit." Gwen felt her face growing hot when she realised that soon, her talent would become public knowledge. But then again, all she had to hawk in her early days was herself. "And… debilitating side effects."

"Well, for Umzokwe," her fellow announced. "My Spirit picks up bits and pieces belonging to creatures it consumes. Sometimes, I can recall old memories or strong emotions or particular knowledge. When I was a child, the empathy was enough to drive me half-mad, but I've since trained to resist its effects."

"Wow." Gwen's lips parted. "That is an amazing talent."

"So, what does Caliban do?"

Gwen felt guilty that she couldn't tell her new friend the truth. What was she to say? That she grew drunk on the ecstasy of Caliban ingesting her foes? That sans her humanity, she could be the second coming of the Sorceror Supreme? What would Jean-Paul think?

"He eats stuff and sends me the life-force," Gwen said. "Sometimes, I receive too much vitality, and I can't move."

"Ah, bio-feedback. Yes, it happens to me as well." Jean-Paul replied. "I have an Augmentation to manage that."

"You do?"

"Ja." Jean-Paul's expression grew hesitant and indecisive. "And Transmutations to use Umzokwe as a storage unit."

"That's WONDERFUL!" her pitch rose an octave. Storage? Caliban storage? How many goods could Caliban stow if a Caliban did stow goods? "Look, I've got CCs…"

"I am afraid we don't publish our spells to the Tower's Grimoire," Jean-Paul apologised. "Master's work is far from finished."

"Oh." Gwen lowered her hands.

"The Mevrou and I devised several tiers of Void-specific spells in the past decade. You'll see them in action during the competition." Jean-Paul's words scratched at her chest like a cat. "Familiar invocations as well, BUT to learn them— well— she gave instructions, that is…"

"That is…?"

"Er, the Mevrou—" Jean-Paul momentarily transformed into a human beetroot. He couldn't look her in the eyes. "That is—you and I could—do...?"

This time, it was Gwen who grew concerned. Still clutching Caliban, she leaned in so that her face was a few inches from Jean-Paul's sweat-soaked brow. "Are you alright?"

"Shaa!" Caliban nudged Gwen's chin with its forehead. Umzokwe replied in kind, sending her leaning back the other way.

Jean-Paul stammered painfully. "I—I am hot."

"Hot?" Gwen felt perfectly comfy in the cold. "It's single digits out there. Surely we're both immune to mundane illnesses?"

"I should go." Jean-Paul suddenly stood, sweating buckets. "See you at the Front, Miss Song."

"Wait…" Gwen reached out and took the Void Mage's arm. She wanted to hear more about these spells, at least what they did, how they functioned, what Schools they drew upon.

Jean-Paul retracted his wrist, wincing as his slimy skin slipped through her hand.

"Shit— sorry." Her face flashing white and red, she had applied a little too much strength. "I didn't mean that."

Jean-Paul paused, nursing his fingers. His lips looked as though he wanted to say something, but his grimace suggested that an Umzokwe was stuck in his throat. "W—We'll talk after the match in Dalian. Please bear witness to my master's spells."

"Shaa, shaa!" Caliban waved goodbye as Umzokwe dematerialised.

Gwen felt a wave of disappointment as Jean-Paul's gangly silhouette beat a hasty retreat. She wondered what it was that Umzokwe's master was loathed to say. Maybe, Gwen realised with a snap of her forefingers, cursing her stupidity, the Apprentice was under a Geas!

Dalian…

Dairen in Russian.
Ryo-jun in Japanese.
Port Arthur as mapped by the Mageocracy.

Some called it the Pearl of Liaoning, others the City of Traitors. To traders, it was the Treasure Port. Now, for all intents and purposes, it was a fortress city holding the Undead Front.

Before the Undead threat altered the metropolis, Dalian was a cosmopolitan city. The earliest buildings in its settlement were built by the Russians. In the sixth century, the late Tang Dynasty developed the region into a township. Fourteen centuries later, following the Sino occupation, the British transformed Dalian into an international port servicing trade between Korea, China, Russia and Japan.

Today, Dalian remains the most important logistical centre on the North Front. The city itself lay fifty kilometres from Manchuria proper. The peninsulas are joined by a stretch of granite no more than four kilometres in width, forming a natural chokepoint. To further offset the threat of the Undead, its natural landbridge had been transmuted by a strategic-class Mandala, capable of severing Dalian from the mainland.

Presently, the population of Dalian ebbed and flowed between a resident population of four million, discounting its occupational force. Of the Divisions stationed in its many ports and military encampments, the bulk of the NoM Troops belonged to the 70th to 98th Quasi-Magical Infantry Division. Additionally, rotations of specialised Divisions augmented the standing troops, such as the 206th Long-Range Sorcery Regiment, the 207th and 209th Magi-tech Armoured Regiment and finally the 4th, 7th, and 19th Aerial Recon.

Of particular note was the poster child of the Front, the 1st Force-Recon Aerial Division, the very same that in the mid-90s, gifted the nation with the Hero of the Northern Font, Captain Jun Song.

Dalian Tower.

Lieutenant General Liang Chu-Rong surveyed the young Mages arriving below as they lined up in the courtyard. Visually, the young men and women from tier 1 capitals were unimpressive. Undisciplined and full of curiosity, some meandered, others chit-chatted, while scores of them left the confinement yard to spy on the city from the Tower's lower battlements.

Yet, despite his disgruntlement, the General stood ramrod straight. For the first time in as long as he could recall, China had the home ground in an international Spellcraft competition. Win or lose, the mere fact that red-blooded sons and daughters of Mao made the team from Fudan was enough to made his soldiers hold their heads higher.

"How long until they get here?" Liang turned to the chief proctor standing beside him. He wasn't used to dealing with women of rank, much less an American Magister with a complexion the colour of caramel. In his opinion, the sooner these Gweilos left his Tower, the sooner he could get on with the operation to reclaim Shenyang. When no reply came, he added a grudging "Magister Jamison."

For the students' reception and briefing, he had chosen the operations auditorium. In the middle of the spacious, oval chamber was an American-made terrain-visualiser, a transmutation-based device capable of rendering landscape by tapping into buried Divi-probes. In times of war, it provided real-time battlefield information. In quieter times, it served to instruct strategy and tactics.

"Give them a moment, General," Jamison said. "They're young. Translocation disorientation isn't so readily shrugged off."

Liang nodded. Given Jamison's deceptive youth, he got the impression that anytime, an older Magister might find his way to the auditorium to berate his Apprentice.

A quarter of an hour later, the contestants arrived. In the front row was Fudan, their eager faces captured by the CCVC-1 crew and their cameras. Behind the home team, flanking left and right, sat Pretoria and Auckland.

"Students, welcome to Dalian. I assume you are acquainted with Magister Jamison. As you are here, I shall now proceed with your Quest. For the second IIUC round, you have been invited to participate in the Great Purge of Shanyang. This operation will involve twenty Quasi-magical NoM Divisions, ten Mage Flights, including yourself, as well as artillery and Golem support from the 206th and 209th. Your Quest, taking into account your inexperience in large-scale military operations, will be as auxiliary units. Magister?"

As Liang spoke, the sand map on the central dais changed until it transformed into a diorama of the local terrain from Dalian to Shenyang.

"Your teams will split into two Flights. For CCs, you will be assigned field objective as the reclamation progresses. Roles are split into offence and defence. The offensive team will accompany the PLA Mage Flights clearing a beachhead outside Shenyang, establishing Forward Operation Bases in Dengta, Shili, and Shahe. The second party will defend these FOBs, among other tasks."

"From Dalian to Shenyang is five hundred kilometres, which we hope to clear in one week. The FOBs will be established by Combat Engineers. Until the NoM Divisions arrive, your teams' first task is to hold the ground. Once our FOBs are up and running, each of the defensive teams will activate the Shielding Beacon and count down to the Tower's arrival. Before this occurs, expect an endless swarm of Undead. Once the Dalian Tower arrives, defenders will help with the establishment of safe zones, triage centres, field Teleportation Circles and supply depots. During this process, the attacking party will push into Shengyang as hunter-killer units. Your task is to root out Necromancers and obliterate Undead nerve centres. Your Chief Proctor will explain."

Magister Jamison thanked the General.

"To surmise, there are two stages to the operation of interest to you." Jamison surveyed the students' youthful faces, though some of the Maori Mages had beards that would have made her father proud. "For the attacking party, Stage ONE involves clearing Undead units and establishing an operations area. Stage TWO, post the Tower's arrival, involves street fighting, as the PLA will be bombarding Shenyang beforehand to soften your targets. For the defending party, Stage ONE involves supporting our NoM Divisions as they make their way to each of the objectives. Stage TWO will involve repelling what is effectively an Undead Beast Tide with the support of Dalian Tower."

"Operation timeframes are listed in your briefings. Remember that you are an auxiliary unit. You are not formally a part of the PLA's military estimates. If you strike too deep or get yourself into trouble, there will not be an Armoured Division risking their equipment and lives to pull you out. Just as well, you are welcome to forfeit your match anytime. The operation will continue, with, or without your contribution, though you have General Liang's word that the PLA shall generously reward battlefield valour."

Her eyes inspected the students.

"If you lack cold-weather equipment." Jamison glanced at Gwen, who wore one of her figure-hugging dresses, and toward the tattooed Maoris. "General Liang's quartermaster has opened his stalls. Additionally, detoxification potions and Restoration potions have been made available to you. Let me warn you that the Front's frost is no common cold. The Negative Energy inundating the region has warped the weather, not to mention flora and fauna, all of which will sap your life force."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Expect about -10°C at night," the General added helpfully. "Read your debriefing carefully and learn from your assigned advisors. Remember, any source of heat naturally draws wandering Undead."

"ANY QUESTIONS?"

The contestants had many, but none the Lieutenant General likely had the patience to answer.

"Good, I look forward to debriefing all of you again in Shenyang. Dismissed!"

With the General and his staff gone, the students crowded around the diorama display.

"Yue, what do you think?" Rona, the captain of Auckland, peeked just over the table. "Whetu, if you will?"

Whetu made a stool for his captain.

Yue eyed the map of the Dalian peninsula, then zoomed the transforming landscape in and out to get a better gander at the terrain.

"Yunnie, you know how to use this thing?" Gwen marvelled that Yue was punching the Glyphs without a glance.

"Worked with a few before," Yue hinted at her training under Alesia. "To be honest, I think the defending teams have the hardest job. Between Jinzhou and Bayuquan are tablelands, so we can see the Undead coming. But from Guizhou to Anshan, it's a hundred kilometres through hilly and mountainous terrain— also known as Ambush Central. After that, its open tundra for another hundred-and-fifty until we hit Shenyang. If it gets THAT cold, the ground's either ice, snow, or hard soil."

"Ma'am." Schalk turned to Magister Jamison contemplatively. "Can members of offence and defence switch sides during the mission's phases?"

"You may not." Jamison shook her head. "However, inter-party exchange for members lost in combat is acceptable. Note that until the FOB's Teleportation Circle is established— or until the Tower arrives, staff swapping would be impossible. Until logistics catch up, the attacking teams will be at the mercy of the Undead."

The contestant's gazes returned to the table.

"The proctors and I will be performing final equipment checks before you leave," Magister Jamison informed them. "For this mission, I would like to offer a spot of advice…"

The contestants listened.

"Considering the nature of your battles ahead, I'll allow you to keep illicit items in your rings. If you use one, there will be stiff CC penalties, possibly even disqualification. However, you may save a life, whether yours or another's or scores of others. Remember that the IIUC, auspicious as it may be, is only a competition. You have to live to be a hero. Don't let your 'pride' or your 'nationalism' get in the way of growing up to be Maguses and Magisters that can contribute to our future prosperity."

"Yes, Ma'am!" The students bowed their heads.

"I'll be downstairs with the other proctors, we're lending the PLA use of our Divi-Engines as a part of our agreement. If you have concerns, feel free to Message my device or one of my peers."

The Magister and her assistants filed out.

"Where's Walken?" Gwen looked around. "I don't see Petra either."

"Getting permission for deploying your Planar Ally." Richard joined her side. "Time's tight, and we had to split the party. So, are you going to see Percy?"

"I really should, I haven't seen him in months." A nostalgic smile touched Gwen's lips. "I wonder how he's getting along as a cadet."

"Let's get on with it then." Richard returned to the map. "Captain?"

Gwen's eyes swept over the diorama. Though her soul ached for Percy's boyish countenance, tactical decisions had to be finalised.

As expected, Pretoria was the first to sort itself. With an all-star cast, their splitting the party was of little concern.

On the offensive were Jean-Paul, Captain Schalk, Lencho, one of the Lightning Mages; Izetta the Heale, and their Diviner, an ash-blonde girl called Helia. Pretoria's defensive team was lead by their vice-captain, Alizea, their other Lightning Mage, Mariete; Ella the gold Mage, and finally Pieter the Ice Transmuter and Aldus the Illusionist.

Comparatively, Auckland's assignment was less balanced. Their offensive team included Yue, Whetu as defence, then Rongo the Water Evoker. They were joined by Timoti the Magma Mage and Opi, the ta moko Enchanter. The Kiwi's defending team included the other Magma brother, Maka, their captain, their mobile Abjurer Otikoro, the sand Mage Tua, and Ruihi, the second inscriber. Comparatively, Auckland's defence was low on damage dealers compared to Pretoria.

As for Gwen's team, she allowed the assignment to fall to Tei, who possessed experience fighting the Undead. He assigned her and Richard to the offensive team together with Lulan, Mayuree and Eunae as support. He was confident that Gwen's VMI, combined with Golos, could clear the field, and that with Eunae, Caliban may also employ its Big Bird form. For defence, Tei assigned himself, Jiro for his Fire Walls, Petra for her versatility, and Rene and Anita to protect the soldiers under their charge. When Gwen asked if the defenders needed healers, Magister Jamison advised that NoM regiments already had assigned Clerics.

All that was left then was inventory, then getting to know the PLA unit to whom they would be assigned.

Once Gwen and the others returned to the courtyard, they were greeted by Petra and Walken. In front of the gathered crowd who had come out to gawk at her cousin, Gwen dropped a small fortune onto the magic circle, eliciting gasps from the soldiers and contestants alike.

"Planar Ally!" The HDMs blazed as her invocation flared, burning the equivalent of many a Magus' salaries in the span of a dozen seconds. Despite the recent hit to her capital, conjuring Golos across time and space from his rented bachelor pad in Burma to Dalian costed far less his previous, continent-spanning journey.

Moments later, the clear sky fulminated. A retina-searing rod of lightning engendered, birthing the Thunder Wyvern. When Gwen and her Ally had last parted, Golos was injured and bloody. Now, it appeared larger, spikier, and meaner than its pre-Da-peng self.

"Calamity." Golos snorted, stretching its neck with a crack.

"Gogo. How is Phelara?"

"Heavy with eggs." Golos grinned before surveying their surroundings, its nostrils flaring. "I smell death."

"We're going to be fighting the Undead in the north." She pointed to the south with a vast and expansive sweep of her arms. "Princeling, Welcome to the Northern Front."

Richard redirected his cousin's finger until it pointed the right way. On this trip, Mayuree would be doing the orienteering. If they were to follow Gwen's sense of direction, Beijing's defence barrier might activate.

"Any word from Ruxin?"

"He said to speak to him after your match. Negotiations with the humans in their Towers are ongoing… also, what's with all these bodies? I prefer Mermen, fat ones, not primates."

"They're our comrades, Gogo, have some respect." Gwen turned to her audience. "Everyone, this is Golos, my Planar Ally, he's a Thunder Wyvern and a patriot from Huangshan. He'll be helping us out with the Undead... You may applaud now."

The stunned troops began to clap. First a few, then a dozen, then a thunderous clamour as what was likely a thousand or more people banged their perspiring palms together. Having never experienced applause, Golos appeared almost coy.

"Not much to eat if we're fighting desecrators," Golos grumbled even as he kept his neck elegantly elevated, bathing in the praise. "What's good around here?"

"Ha! I knew you'd say that. I've prepared all kinds of interesting dishes," Gwen promised. "You might want to eat in your human form, though. You hungry?"

"Now?" Golos licked its chops, its evil eyes browsing the two-legged meals standing from horizon to horizon. "Sure. Long distances make me hungry."

Gwen looked toward Tei, who inclined his head. To secure a supply of vitality for herself and to ensure an undistracted Golos, the House of M had given her containers of Wildland food-stuffs. If Golos had to eat meal-rations, he'd be a Draconic-menace.

"Alright." Gwen eyed Golos' flail-tail as it wagged. The spikes had since regrown thicker and larger. "Did you bring pants?"

"I did." Ever since Gwen introduced her Wyvern to underwear, Golos' jeans no longer chafed.

"Good." She patted the Wyvern on the knees. Since the Da-peng affair, Golos had calmed somewhat. If she had to guess, likely Ruxin had a stern word, and Phelara had sponged his bottled energies somewhat. "Let me introduce you to the other folks before we eat— also, have you met my brother?"

Percy Song had kept himself busy.

Thanks to Guo's connections, Percy had entered military service as an officer cadet. According to his grandfather, the Front was a rite of passage for the power-progeny of the PLA. There, the PLA's future officers taste the dangers of the Front while sheltering behind their seniors. After a three-month stint, the cadets would receive certificates and medals, all of which would legitimise their bid for Peking or Jiantong University.

The ordeal was supposed to be a cakewalk. BUT— with his sister's fame breathing down his neck, Percy was intent on proving his mettle. Much to the surprise of his instructors, he succeeded, demonstrating a battle-sense that delighted his babysitter, Major Chang.

After four weeks of light skirmishes with low-tier Undead including Zombies and Ghouls, Percy quickly acquired a taste for laying waste to waves of shambling corpses. Armed with light recon-armour and boots of flying, he and his friends devastated the shamblers below. In contrast to Chou, his party's Air Evoker, or even Lu or Mei's Lightning, his Salt proved leagues more effective in halting the walking dead.

According to their instructor, Salt was a natural ward as proven by the fact that the hordes avoided the sea. When Percy grew sceptical, his mirthful instructor revealed that it was because Salt, a Negative sub-type, disabled the Negative life-force of undead automatons.

"Beware higher-tier undead," Major Chang warned in turn. "Creatures powerful enough to generate Cores— or are risen using the Core of a higher-tier being, aren't easily rebuffed."

But Percy knew there was another reason why the swarms they faced proved such easy prey.

It was the Kirin Amulet.
No wonder his uncle was the Hero of the Front.

Though dormant, he could feel the stone feeding off the creatures he destroyed, especially the Undead. Limbs crushed by his Salt ceased their provocations, heads snapped off no longer chattered. With enough Undead by his side, his vitality hardly fell. Even when they had encountered a Revenant— a risen Mage turned by the Necromancers in Shenyang, Percy still slew the horror. His feat had been celebrated, for he had accomplished a task marked for Senior Mages.

"So, where's sister Gwen?" Mei paced back and forth in the barracks, looking as though a Corpse Worm was digging through her guts. As students, there were limits to their freedom on a military base. "She said she would visit, right?"

"She'll be here soon," Percy assured his companion. "Didn't you hear the thunder? That's her, I bet. Summoning her Wyvern."

"A Thunder Wyvern!" Mei gushed. "I want to touch it!"

"Sure," Percy promised, though he was a little unsure if his sister had a tight leash on the monster.

_Ding_!

"This is Cadet Percy Song," he answered his Message device. "Your orders, Sir?"

"Percy, you're requested at the Tower's mess. You've been given permission to dine there. Your sister has arranged a buffet."

"She has?" Percy raised a brow, confused by the news.

"You and Cadet Yang are relieved until curfew." Major Chang's voice had a touch of saltiness to it. "Tell Miss Song I wish her fair fortunes... and remember— Miss Li's autograph."

"Right." Percy looked to Mei. "Looks like Sis' shouting us food."

When Percy and Mei walked into the officer's mess, they were astounded by the volume the cooks had prepared. Not only were the portions gigantic, but fabled dishes like whole-coasted Wildland Goat, Thistle-boar Ham, plates of steamed Dagger-fin Arrowfish, Rock Clams, and Crystal Prawns spilt across the stainless steel tables.

Percy saw his sister standing among the crowd, a head taller as usual and as eye-catching as ever. "Gwen—!"

"SIS!" Mei bolted from Percy's side. "I've missed you so much!"

The girls awkwardly embraced, with Mei charging into Gwen's arms, eyes full of stars. "I saw all your matches! It was wonderful! I re-watched them a dozen times! Where's Ariel? Where's your Wyvern?!"

Wordlessly, his sister indicated to the right, where a topless white giant with silver hair and horns was eating with both hands. Presently, Golos was crunching through an Iron Shell Crayfish as though it were crispy rice crackers.

"That's the Wyvern?!"

"Yes," Gwen said. "That's Golos. Princeling of Huangshan."

Having deflected his girlfriend's enthusiasm, his sister beckoned for Percy.

When he approached, Gwen enveloped him like an octopus.

"Please don't…" Percy squirmed in her vice-like arms, one cheek pressed against her shoulder as she picked him off his feet. "People are staring."

Indeed, people were watching— all twenty-nine contestants, a few proctors, a dozen officers and the staff had all switched from ogling at Golos to gawking at the sibling's public display of affection.

"This is my brother, Percy." Gwen held on for what seemed like an eternity, then turned to the crowd. "Percy, say hi to everyone."

"Greetings, I am Percy Song." Percy bowed from the waist, feeling the weight of their judging eyes. With unmoving and involuntary expressions, the contestants nodded back, a few others said, "Hello".

"You've grown, squirt," A girl Percy recognised anywhere walked around him, scowling now that he was the taller of the two "Not bad. Still got a bit to go before you catch up to Gwen though."

"I am trying," Percy returned Yue's jab. "Miss Bai, I see you've remained largely the same size."

"I've grown in other ways."

Percy's already flushed cheeks took on an additional layer of colour. He looked away as Yue jiggled her brows, cackling like a witch.

Next, his sister brought him vis-a-vis with Golos. Percy had seen the Wyvern on the vid-casts, though now that the beast was a biting distance away, his skin crawled.

"Gogo, this is my kin." Gwen presented him as though her favourite puppy. "Say hello."

A crab claw paused mid-delivery. Golos glared at Percy with an icy look, then grunted, emitting a sound like low thunder.

"Calamity, he's no kin of mine." Golos crushed the claw with one hand to extract the meat. "Your brother's scent is all wrong. I don't like him."

_Well, fuck you too, lizard._ Percy said silently. On the surface, he kept up his awkward smile.

"Too bad," his sister fired back. "Just showing you who he is so you don't EVER harm him by accident."

"Boy, you stink to high heaven." Golos' voice reverberated in his head. "Calamity, what is he supposed to be? He's spoiling my appetite."

"He's a Salt Mage."

"Wer isthasy di vi Calamity ui stil vi Calamitas." When Golos replied in Draconic, Dragon-fear assailed Percy's trembling chest.

"Just eat your food." Gwen dismissed the Wyvern, then pulled Percy away. "Remember, no harming my brother. Now or in the future. I'll hold you to that."

"A fool's sentiment—" came a reply from Golos that made Percy's skin crawl. "Why—"

"HELLO!" Their banter was interrupted by the sprightly sound of Mei greeting Golos with a bow. "Sir Golos, is it true that you are descended from a mythical dragon?"

Golos burped. Percy could see its reptilian eyes measuring Mei from the tip of her hair to her toes. Surely the Wyvern wastn't interested in Mei? He grew uncertain. His sister was right beside him. If anything, in terms of looks, power and charisma, wasn't his sister the superior partner by far?

"Begone, skinny peasant," the Wyvern's steely voice berated the starry-eyed Mei. "Unless you're a fat, juicy eel-kin, I don't have the appetite to spare."

Percy relaxed.

Under his military-issue singlet, the Kirin Pendant hummed.

Lieutenant General Liang watched from the Tower's vid-casters the final muster of the recon force.

Together with the students, each Aerial Mage Flight consisted of three Wings of five Mages each, forming independent battlegroups. Behind the Recon-Flights were five Units comprised of Engineers, the Artillery unit, and the FOB Intelligence Unit. Row by row, they each appeared ready to give their all for the CCP.

Of the three rows of students, it was Fudan that stood out the most. Where every other university stood to attention, Fudan's line was disrupted by a meandering Wyvern sniffing the place and scaling the walls, harassing the troops. Above, a Kirin loitered, distracting his men. Compared to their host, the platoon of stoic giants beside them, as well as the primly uniformed Gweilos on the left, were far more disciplined.

What additionally made the General's complexion burn was Fudan's armour, which he recognised as the Shen-Teī garb from Sinomach. The design, however, was nothing like the variant his troops employed. For the men at least, he saw a resemblance, but for the women, the stylised bodysuits were unnecessarily distracting.

Comparatively, Pretoria's team wore equipment specialised to their individual roles. The defenders, including their captain, wore booster-plates made by Armscor, a South African arms consortium. The other members likewise sported protection closer to their given roles, with Enchanted monster-leathers for the controllers and damage dealers, and reinforced fabric for the Diviner, the Illusionist and the Cleric. Moreover, despite the different designs, Pretoria's equipment uniformly comprised of shades of green and blue, crisscrossed with red, white and black highlights.

As for Auckland, the giants wore singlets even in the blistering cold of winter. More than likely, Liang guessed, the Maori's resistances were tied to their vivid tattoos. To credit his hypothesis, even the expatriate member of Auckland's team, Yue Bai, had been inscribed from chin to ankle.

The General frowned.

"What designation are those?" Liang pointed to the prints on Fudan's armour.

"The Lieutenant must inform the general that those are not Division inscriptions, Sir!" a lieutenant hollered. "They appear to be Fudan's sponsors, Sir!"

"Sponsors?"

"Yessir!"

The Scryed vid-cast moved closer.

Sinomach.
Fudan University.

Such inscriptions were expected, but on the armoured plating riveted to the students' thighs, he saw an embossed golden "W" and a stylised "Centurion" in matt-black. There was also the Tonglv project's letterhead, as well as SinoTrans, SAIC Motors and finally, a very familiar logo.

"Mao-tai?" the general spluttered, feeling faint.

"Yessir." the lieutenant knew the General was fond of the nation's most expensive liqueur. What he didn't realise was that presently, ten thousand Mud-grass Horses trampled his CO's chest.

"Let's hope—" the General remarked as the advanced party took to the air. Below, the NoM Division filed into their mix-terrain carriers, each man nursing their weapon, wrapped up to the neck in quasi-magical cloth armour. If the battle went well, more than three-quarters of his troops should return. Should the operation be a failure, then all Liang could do was offer up his lapels, and hope Central wouldn't ask for his head as well.