Session 25
"You gave what to who?!" Gwen screamed at J.J., who barely managed to duck under the pillow that she flung at his head. Belatedly, he realized that it was flying into his kitchen, and he turned to watch in horror as the pillow hurtled towards a stack of dishes he'd left beside the sink. Thankfully, the pillow lost momentum and sank at the last moment, impacting harmlessly into the lower cabinets. J.J. let out a sigh of relief and turned back around in time to take a much more solid couch cushion square in the stomach, which briefly knocked the wind out of him.
"Okay, I should have asked you-" J.J. coughed, catching the cushion before it hit the floor.
"You think?!" Gwen shouted, looking around for something else to throw at him. J.J. took the opportunity to scramble to the couch, pull it away from the wall, and dive behind it. Gwen growled at him before stalking into the kitchen and grabbing a dish towel. She ran it under ice cold water before balling it up and cocking her hand back to throw it at him the second he peeked out from behind the couch.
"But it was for a good reason!" J.J. insisted, poking his head out. Gwen almost threw the towel, but stopped herself when he disappeared behind the couch again. "I figured Dr. Newman could help us with researching the Seraphs, and-!"
"It doesn't matter what you intended, you idiot," Gwen hissed. "That book wasn't yours. It was mine, and you had no right giving it to someone without my permission. What if that was a family heirloom that we were keeping for sentimental purposes?"
"Was it?" J.J. asked, feeling the color drain from his face.
"No, which is the only reason I haven't started throwing hard objects at you," Gwen replied shortly. "But I already told you that I didn't want Newman getting his greasy paws on something that belongs to my family, no matter what it is."
J.J. sighed, pushing himself up and holding his hands up in surrender. "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry."
Gwen responded by throwing the towel at him, hitting him squarely in the face. "Sorry doesn't change the fact that you essentially stole from my family. I don't care what your reasons are, J.J. You shouldn't have done that."
J.J. peeled the wet towel from his face, walking over to the sink and wringing it out. "I know. Do you want me to get it back from him, then?"
"It's too late now. What's done is done," Gwen sighed, rubbing her eyes as she leaned against the counter with her arms folded, before once more glaring at her boyfriend. "Did you at least find anything useful?"
"Not yet, no, and I haven't heard back from Dr. Newman," J.J. replied, flapping the towel to dry it slightly before wrapping it around the handle of the oven again. "But I was hoping it might mention something about the Seraphs, since I can't think of an alchemical product more wonderous than those things. At the very least, I figured it'd have information about how alchemical objects in general work. Like if modern machines run on electricity, then maybe there are features in all alchemical constructs that can be exploited."
"If that's your line of thinking, why not give it to Susumu?" Gwen asked. "He's the engineer. Plus, I trust him a hell of a lot more than that… archaeologist."
"Susumu wouldn't be able to cross-reference things the way Dr. Newman can," J.J. replied simply. "When it comes to performing research, Dr. Newman has much more experience. Obscure sources and references would make more sense to someone with an extensive background in Almencian history, especially given how few sources we have to work with in the first place."
"Well… I suppose I can't fault your logic, at least," Gwen grumbled.
"By the way, how come you didn't tell me that you had those books in your library?" J.J. asked suddenly. "They might have been helpful weeks ago when I was first trying to find out about Almencia and everything."
"I forgot we had them," Gwen shrugged.
"Really? Priceless, one-of-a-kind books you can't find anywhere? How could you forget about those?" J.J. asked, shocked.
"Hey, the mansion has been abandoned for a long time. Most people don't even know all the games or songs in their library, even if they look at it every day. You really think I'm gonna remember every book we have stored in a mansion we haven't lived in for years?" Gwen pointed out.
"Fair point," J.J. conceded. He also reminded himself that not everyone shared his passion for books. He'd long ago memorized every book he had in his library.
"What about Tristan, though?" Gwen asked, leaning against the edge of the table with her arms folded. "Why not ask him to help you look for other books you could use?"
J.J.'s expression darkened. "What about Tristan?" he replied coldly, leaning back against a wall with his eyes closed. "He's from the Middle Ages. Few books were written in that period, and even fewer survived, so I doubt he'd even know a single title that'd be useful. As for him helping to research modern sources… he can barely speak English, much less Middle English, and I don't have time to translate for him. Especially since time seems to be so important to him, and he'd apparently rather spend it training than reading," he said bitterly.
Gwen raised an eyebrow, coughing lightly. "I'm… sure there's a story behind this?" she asked hesitantly. "It's rare for you two to fight."
J.J. sighed and explained what'd happened between them, particularly Tristan's sour attitude towards him since he'd failed to show up to train. "I haven't heard a word from him in two days," he added once he finished his summary.
"That's… odd, yeah," Gwen agreed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you can be pretty frustrating sometimes with how thoughtless you are-"
"You're not gonna let the book thing go, are you?" J.J. interjected drily.
"-No. But it's weird for him to react like that. You haven't tried talking to him?"
"Like I said, couldn't get in contact with him," J.J. explained. "The couple of times I tried, Susumu said that he'd gone out for a run. I'm thinking that he's probably trying to do things his own way, like he'd prefer."
"Uh-huh. And what're you going to do about it, then?" Gwen asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Me? Nothing," J.J. shrugged. "He wants to do things his way, fine. Means I'll just take care of this Diemon my way. I've spent the last couple days in the library looking up mythological shapeshifters when I've had the time. I figured if I could write the Diemon's name down, I could find it, dispatch it, and wrap up this entire mess while he's busy sulking."
"Given that you're saying you would defeat the Diemon, I'm guessing you haven't figured it out yet, have you?" Gwen asked.
"Unfortunately," J.J. sighed defeatedly. "I've already tried changelings, mimics, sprites, weirds… nothing seems to be the right answer. And none of those fit perfectly anyways, since most of them don't really operate through dreams. I'm stumped right now."
"Have you considered that maybe it's not a shapeshifter?" Gwen suggested.
"Yeah, but I don't know what else it could be in that case. The diary keeps rejecting every possibility I come up with. I wish I could've seen the Diemon's true face. Or that my diary just let me track Diemons without having to perform this 'true name gives you power over them' thing that it seems to run on," he admitted with a sardonic smirk.
His phone buzzed suddenly, and J.J. held up one finger to Gwen, who swept around to peer over his shoulder. "Text from your other girlfriend?" she teased.
"You caught me. I'm dating Susumu behind your back," J.J. replied without batting an eyelash. "We're madly in love, and I'm kicking Tristan out of his place to move in with him. That's why he's so miffed."
"You came up with that way too quickly," Gwen smirked. "Who is it really?"
"Tristan asked to meet with me tomorrow," J.J. sighed. "And I'm not petty enough to let this keep hanging in the air. So, yeah, I'll see what I can do about meeting up with him and burying the hatchet. This has gotten really juvenile anyways. But first… I'm going to go check out the high school, to see if we really did chase off that Diemon."
"Glad you're at least talking sense," Gwen praised him, patting him on the head petulantly. J.J. responded by sticking his tongue out at her. "For being such a good boy, I'll even lighten your punishment for stealing from me."
"You're too good to me. So… how am I going to make this up to you?" J.J. asked, taking a seat on the sofa and gazing up at her as she folded her arms and glared down at him."
"You're buying me dinner," Gwen said shortly.
"Deal," J.J. agreed quickly. "That's not too bad, actually…."
"For two weeks. Regardless of what I want," she added, smirking down at him wickedly as she trapped him, her grin daring him to refuse.
J.J. went pale and swallowed, realizing that his entire paycheck for the month was going to go into her punishment for him. "D-deal," he stammered, looking away. Thankfully, his royalty checks had given him a slight financial cushion, so he wouldn't be struggling to make rent at least.
"Good boy," Gwen praised him smugly. "I'm thinking Italian tonight. Don Mariano's. I love their cannolis."
"But… that place is like thirty dollars a plate!" J.J. protested. A sharp glare from Gwen, however, made him falter, and a moment later he sighed in defeat as he pulled out his phone and began flipping through their menu. "What would you like…?"
The next afternoon, J.J. returned to the high school and began roaming the halls, looking for Cammy. It was late in the day and classes were just letting out, but J.J. was hoping he could catch her before she left. He didn't know her schedule, but he did know that she had at least three classes in the same part of the school, so he hovered around the area outside Dr. Newman's classroom, keeping an eye out for her in the hopes that they might be able to grab her. When she came out of Mrs. Reynold's classroom, J.J. grinned and hurried over to her, waving at her to get her attention.
Cammy looked up in surprise as she saw J.J. approaching, and she jerked her head upward in greeting. "I was wondering when I'd see you again. Where's that other guy?" she asked.
"He's taking care of something else," J.J. explained quickly, stopping short in front of her. "I just wanted to stop by to see if you'd been having any more nightmares."
"Nah. Whatever you two did, it worked," Cammy told him. "Suppose I should thank you for that."
"You're welcome," J.J. smiled. A moment later, however, his smile faded. "That said, I was wondering if you knew anyone else who's been attacked. I know we didn't beat it completely, and while it might have left you alone, I want to see if it's gone after anyone else."
Cammy frowned, looking away while scratching behind her neck. "I, uh…." She looked away uncomfortably for a few moments before turning back to him. "Look, thanks for your help, but I don't wanna get more involved in this. And if I snitch, I'm scared that the nightmares are gonna come back."
"You don't have to worry," J.J. assured her gently. "You have my word. We'll protect you, so don't be afraid. Just point me in the right direction and let me know if anyone else has been having nightmares."
Cammy sighed, looking away before turning back to the pair. "You gotta swear to keep me safe if I tell you," she warned him.
"I promise," J.J. nodded.
"Alright. Another girl named Lexi, and a dude named Pat told me they were also havin' nightmares," Cammy said in a low whisper.
"That's what I was afraid of," J.J. sighed, running his hand along his face. "Just one more question, then, if you don't mind. Are they also in any of your classes? Particularly any classes that they're having problems in?"
Cammy hesitated, thinking about it, before saying slowly, "They both take math with me in Mrs. Faulkner's class. Why?"
"If there's a Diemon that's going after you for not doing your work, it stands to reason that it'd be a teacher who's annoyed that you're not doing well in their class," J.J. replied. Mrs. Faulkner… if he recalled correctly, she was the rather sour math teacher who had barked at J.J. and Tristan when they'd peeked into her classroom. From her attitude alone, he wouldn't be surprised if she was indeed harboring ill will towards her students.
"Oh… yeah, I guess that makes sense," Cammy said, before glancing around warily. "Still… I gotta get outta here, before someone sees us together."
"Sure," J.J. said, smiling reassuringly. "Don't panic. We'll keep an eye on you to make sure no one comes after you."
"Uh-huh," Cammy replied briefly, before briskly walking away from him. J.J. smiled tightly and walked the other way towards Mrs. Faulkner's classroom.
He entered her empty classroom quietly with his head slightly bowed, approaching where she sat with a red pen in her hand, slashing it like a knife across sheets of paper while muttering under her breath. She slowly looked up as J.J. approached and scowled at him sourly.
"What is it?" she asked sharply, before squinting at them. "Wait… you were here the other day, weren't you?"
"Yes. Sorry for the intrusion, ma'am," J.J. said, standing in front of her with his hands behind his back. Something about the woman's piercing gaze made him want to tuck in his shirt. "I was hoping I could have a quick word with you."
Mrs. Faulkner scowled down at the stack of papers in front of her before looking up and crossing her arms in front of her on her desk. "Be quick about it. I have a lot of work to do," she said shortly.
"I've just been worried about a couple of your students is all. One of them, Cammy, has been under a great deal of stress lately," J.J. explained, taking a seat at one of the desks in front of her. He was being very careful to toe the line with her and avoid saying anything that might set her off. If she was a Diemon, he didn't want to anger her, especially without Tristan for backup. He was hoping to gauge her reactions to even the lightest probing, to see if she was indeed suffering from D-former corruption.
"And? Is that an accusation?" Mrs. Faulkner asked shortly, raising an eyebrow and wearing a nonplussed expression.
"Not at all!" J.J. said quickly. "But you're one of her teachers, and I was wondering if it was something you'd noticed as well. I was worried about her, and I wanted to know if you had any ideas about how to address it."
"What's your relationship to Cammy?" Mrs. Faulkner asked suspiciously.
"She's a family friend. She came to me asking me for help, and it sounds a lot like she's been getting bullied," J.J. lied quickly.
"I see," Mrs. Faulkner said flatly, sounding unconvinced. "Yes, she's seemed a bit tired lately, and a bit down. Despite that, her grades have been improving, so I just chalked it up to her studying harder and staying up later."
"Do you think that's a good thing?" J.J. asked cautiously.
Mrs. Faulkner glanced back up at him with a cold look. "For now, yes. I'm glad she's taking her work seriously for a change. If I felt she was overdoing it, I'd tell her so. However, she has a great deal of work to make up, and if she's trying to do it all at once, then I'd expect her to be tired. That said, it's important to make sure that she's doing the work properly before turning it in. Like I told her, it doesn't matter how much work she gives me if it's wrong."
J.J. was slightly taken aback by the woman's callous attitude, and he said slowly, "Surely the effort is commendable…."
Mrs. Faulkner stared at J.J. levelly, and he flinched under her gaze. "I'm teaching math here, son. Math is a subject where for every problem I assign, there is a correct answer, and I expect them to find it. If the answer is wrong, then it's wrong. Yes, they get a bit more credit for trying than if they don't do the work at all, but in the end, it doesn't matter if the answer is incorrect. In a way, they could think of that as a life lesson."
"In what regard?" J.J. asked curiously.
"In most things in life, merely trying will only get you so far," Mrs. Faulkner said, tapping her pen against one of the papers. "Suppose that you were flying a plane and you almost landed correctly. In that scenario, even though you did almost everything right, you still crashed the plane, and people might have been killed because of it. Would you be satisfied that you almost did your job properly?"
"Ah… I see your point," J.J. admitted. Mrs. Faulkner nodded curtly.
"That's why it's important that Cammy does the work properly instead of just trying to hand me a paper for minimum credit," Mrs. Faulkner continued. "If that means that she has to go over the work six more times before she's satisfied with it, so be it. So long as she arrives at the correct answer eventually."
J.J. gazed at the woman quietly before smiling slowly. "You've got a rather old-school mentality towards teaching. That's not an attitude that I've seen very often these days."
Mrs. Faulkner scoffed softly, her eyes glinting like chips of steel. "Most teachers these days unfortunately have their hands tied because of how the school system treats us," she explained, folding her hands in front of her. "Parents often come into the school whining about how their kids aren't being treated nicely by their teachers simply because they're failing. As a result, many modern teachers wind up having to walk a tightrope, trying to keep the parents happy while dealing with increasingly rebellious kids who try to take advantage of the teachers' inability to do anything to them. It's part of the reason why the educational system is failing."
"But you don't fear that?" J.J. asked, tilting his head.
"I'm old, son," Mrs. Faulkner smirked. "I've been a teacher at this school for over thirty years, and I'm as irreplaceable as the walls themselves. I don't give a damn what some stuck-up parent thinks of how I talk to their spoiled brat, because if they fire me at this point, I'd just consider it an early retirement. You wouldn't believe how many parents that ticks off," she added, her grin turning malicious.
Despite himself, J.J. found himself grinning at her in return. "I… actually respect that," he chuckled.
"But there's another key that most teachers forget, and it's not just among the younger generation. I've seen it in a lot of the older ones too," Mrs. Faulkner continued. "They tend to forget that a great teacher isn't measured by how popular they are or by how hard the work is. The truly great teachers are those that are able to most effectively get their students to learn what the teachers want them to."
"Huh. That… makes sense," J.J. agreed slowly. "But… it's not that simple, is it?"
Mrs. Faulkner shook her head. "Each teacher has to find their own method to convey what they want to teach. Some can do it through sheer charisma, by being popular enough that the students want to listen to them because they adore the teacher. Others have a gift for breaking down their material in ways that make it easy for the students to understand. And some of us are so stubborn that we force the kids to keep working until they the right answer while we ignore their whining," she said with a slight grin. "But there's another element to it as well."
"Which is?" J.J. asked slowly.
"It depends on the students themselves. Just like there are different ways to teach, there are different ways to learn," Mrs. Faulkner explained. "When it comes to education, a student sometimes has to recognize when one method of learning isn't working for them. If they really want to master the material, it's up to them to bring it up to their teacher, and together they can devise a new method that'll make the learning process easier. When they do that, oftentimes I've found that it makes learning fun for both parties." She suddenly smiled the softest smile J.J. had yet seen from her. "Teachers live for students that want to learn from them, since it reminds us why we wanted to teach in the first place."
J.J. felt he'd heard enough. Mrs. Faulkner was being far too rational to be a Diemon, and if she was suffering from D-former corruption, she would have made her dissatisfaction known by this point. He glanced down at his phone, checking the clock to see if he still had enough time to do another sweep of the school for other culprits, but he realized that it was fast approaching time for his meeting with Tristan, and he wasn't going to make the knight angrier by arriving late again. It was a shame, too, he mused. He'd been finding himself getting drawn into his conversation with Mrs. Faulkner.
"I hate to do this, but I'm late for a meeting," J.J. said, standing up to take his leave. "But thank you for talking with me for a bit. You might've helped me with some of my own issues."
"Glad to do it," Mrs. Faulkner shrugged. "You… weren't one of my kids, were you? What's your name?"
"J.J. Wells. And no, I never went to school here. I attended a private school, and I only moved to the area about a year or so ago," J.J. admitted with a sheepish grin.
"I thought so. I'd remember someone like you. You're exactly the type of student that I'd want to have. You seem to have a gift for learning yourself," Mrs. Faulkner commented. "Speaking of, you're out of college, right? What was your field?"
"English," J.J. said with a slight grin. Mrs. Faulkner leaned her head back and covered her eyes dramatically.
"No wonder you were arguing with me about just getting credit for turning in work. You can get away with that in English if you've got a silver tongue," she sighed, though she was grinning at him faintly. "Just keep in mind-"
"There are situations in life where trying isn't good enough if the answer is wrong, right?" J.J. finished for her. Her grin broadened.
"See? You do learn quickly," she chuckled. "It was nice talking to you son. Now get out of here. I still have work to do."
Twenty minutes later, J.J. pulled up to the parking lot of the library and parked his bike before removing his helmet and dismounting. He quickly jogged up the stairs, emerging into the main studying space of the old cathedral. Even though it was midafternoon, the library was relatively quiet, with one corner occupied by a study group and only a few other people spread out intermittently between the tables. He was able to immediately spot Tristan hunched over one of the desks with a few heavy volumes spread out in front of him. He noticed Rachel, another one of the pages, looking over his shoulder and helping him to read some of the harder words. When Tristan looked up, he spotted J.J. and nodded, motioning J.J. over as Rachel wandered off to go retrieve more books.
"I am glad to see that you arrived early, page," Tristan commented, folding his arms over one of the books he was reading.
"Well, I didn't need you chewing me out for showing up late twice in a row," J.J. pointed out, before motioning at the books Tristan was reading. "What's all this?"
"Research," Tristan replied, in a tone that mirrored the one J.J. had used the other day. J.J. couldn't help but smile to himself.
"I can see that. What were you looking up, though?" J.J. asked easily.
"I requested Lady Rachel's help in assisting me in my search for information about alchemical history and techniques. Upon reflection, I concluded that your idea to investigate the origins of the Seraphs was a sound one, as it could indeed potentially secure a swift, bloodless victory if we discover relevant information," Tristan said.
"Oh yeah?" J.J. asked lightly, surprised that Tristan was conceding that point. "Did you find anything, by any chance?"
"I did not," Tristan replied. "I must confess that I am surprised by how little information on alchemy is available."
"Really? How come?" J.J. asked.
"You have had a thousand years to gather knowledge about a vast array of subjects, far more than we could have ever dreamed in my time," Tristan explained. "Furthermore, the information is available at your fingertips, instantaneously. That is truly magic, though your people seem to take it for granted. Yet for all your accumulated knowledge, there is little information pertaining to the study of alchemy. I find that difficult to understand."
"You can thank the Renaissance and the Enlightenment for that one," J.J. explained. "Alchemy is considered a curiosity rather than an acknowledged field of academic study. By the end of Renaissance, it was relegated to a fringe science at best, practiced by corrupt sorcerers and dark wizards. Science eventually became acceptable, but alchemy never did. Therefore, few studied it seriously."
"I see. I suppose, though, that I should not be surprised that information has been difficult for me to come by, regardless," Tristan said ruefully. "I am a warrior, not a scholar."
"I disagree. I think you could be if you put your mind to it," J.J. said encouragingly. "You're certainly smart enough."
"You flatter me," Tristan said modestly.
"I mean it," J.J. insisted, taking a seat across from him. "You've managed to adapt to the modern age very quickly. I can't imagine how alien this world must have been when you first woke up, but now you blend in pretty well. There's an entire genre of fiction about time-travelers from the past struggling to adjust to the future, but you've gotten used to it without too many problems. You wouldn't be able to if you weren't very intelligent, and if you didn't have the flexibility of mind to adapt and accept the modern age. Or, at the very least, if you didn't have an indomitable will. Either way, you've got the brain for scholarship, if you applied yourself."
"You're kind, page," Tristan chuckled. "But I would not seek to become a scholar even if the opportunity was presented."
"How come?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "You do have that opportunity in this era."
"It is simply the way I view the world," Tristan replied, sitting back in his chair slightly. "In my time, once you selected a path, it was expected that you would follow it your entire life. A warrior was meant to dedicate himself to becoming a warrior. A scholar, to a scholar. One could not deviate from their path, because to do so would be to mar their potential perfection in their chosen field."
J.J. fell silent at Tristan's explanation. It suddenly became clear why Tristan was so adamant about training with him – if it was how he had been trained to think, that would explain why he insisted that constant practice in a certain way was the only proper way J.J. was going to become a warrior. J.J. had said, too, that he intended to devote his time to becoming a better fighter, so Tristan had been trying to accommodate him the best way he knew how. And yet J.J. had resisted, and even tried to find ways around Tristan's training. No wonder he'd been so annoyed.
"Well… are you saying there's no potential for crossover between professions?" J.J. asked slowly, trying not to make it sound like he was challenging the knight. Tristan gazed at him, before tilting his head with a curious look.
"Elaborate," Tristan encouraged him.
"I mean… you study warfare, right? And you teach it, don't you?" J.J. explained. "What does that make you, if not a scholar of combat?"
Tristan blinked slowly, scratching under his chin thoughtfully. "That is a fair point, though I confess that I never thought of my profession that way," he replied. "However, the methods of education differ. I could not explain combat the way a scholar explains a book."
"Couldn't you?" J.J. replied. He was remembering what Mrs. Faulkner had said about the student having to find ways to help the teacher, if possible. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his diary, laying it out on the table in front of Tristan. "How about if we give it a shot?"
"What are you suggesting?" Tristan asked.
"Well… you know how I've been approaching my fights, right?" J.J. said, pointing to the stat page with the ice golem on it. "I've been looking at the stats and abilities of my opponents and trying to counter them with the best form I have available. I'm sure you could do the same thing, couldn't you? In fact, since you have more experience than I do, you're almost certainly able to approach them from angles I'd never dream of. Like, what about this golem here? I thought at first that just using fire would be enough to bring it down, but that wasn't the case. I ended up having to use a new Critical to weaken it instead. What about you? How would you have fought it, using your own armor?"
Tristan fell silent, gazing at the golem. J.J. watched Tristan's eyes flickering rapidly, and he could almost see the knight shadow-fighting the golem in his head. Finally, he looked up at J.J. with a shake of his head.
"I imagine that I would have come to much the same conclusion as you did, although I would have had an easier time of it," Tristan said. "My mace is well-suited for the sort of rapid bashing attacks that you used to defeat it. Furthermore, my armor is provides a sturdy defense against most magic, including his ice attacks, and with my weight, I would have been relatively unhindered by his tendency to freeze the ground, as I would have been able to continue to power through his attacks. Thus, this would have been an easy victory for me."
"I gotta agree with that," J.J. nodded, flipping through his pages. He finally settled on Abby's vampire page before looking up. "What about this one?"
"Ah, Lady Brooks, is it?" Tristan chuckled. "As I recall, fire was effective against her in this case. I would have had a more difficult time against her, but given the environment… my strategy would have been the opposite of yours."
"What, you mean torching the place?" J.J. asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Fire is not an option for me, so no. But I am referring to your command of the terrain. As I recall, you backed Lady Brooks into a corner before unleashing a wave of flames upon her. You negated her speed by limiting her options for movement," Tristan said. "By contrast, I would have limited the angles from which she could strike me. I would have backed myself into a corner and defended against her assault until she tired herself out or retreated."
"That makes sense. Though that wouldn't really be an option for me," J.J. said, looking slightly downcast. "I don't really have a defensive form. I don't have any choice but to keep playing offense until I find an opening that I can exploit."
"You think too little of yourself, page," Tristan replied gently. "You have become a proficient warrior in your own right. In many cases, your problems stem merely from a lack experience, which is why I have been attempting to encourage you to train whenever possible."
"Alright, then let me pose one more scenario for you," J.J. said, leaning forward slightly. "What if our powers were reversed? What if I had your abilities, and you had mine? How would you break through your own defenses just using Paladin Class?"
Tristan gazed at J.J. levelly for a few moments before saying softly, "Has that been occupying your thoughts, page? I did not mean for the training sessions to appear as though they were a competition."
"No, I'm curious now," J.J. insisted. "I haven't been able to figure out the answer, so I'd like to know how you'd do it. How would you beat your own armor if you had Paladin Class?"
"To be perfectly honest?" Tristan replied, smiling faintly. "I would simply keep battering at my defenses until I dropped my guard."
J.J. stared at Tristan blankly, utterly uncomprehending Tristan's answer. "What… that's it?" he asked drily.
"Page, you have been treating battles as though they are puzzles to be solved," Tristan explained. "In every fight, you have searched for a single answer that will guide you to victory. Oftentimes, it is by switching your class to attain some overwhelming advantage over your opponent. In general, that is not a poor strategy, and it suits your intellectual nature. However, there are times when a fight does not have a solution based upon statistics. Sometimes, fights devolve into simple brawls, devoid of strategy or thought. In such situations, they become tests not of intellect, but of will. That, page, is what I have been trying to impart upon you."
J.J. swallowed, looking down at the table. "So… when we were sparring the other day and I asked you if I could switch forms…."
"That is when you failed the situation that I was placing before you," Tristan nodded. "Now, on the one hand, you did indeed manage to land a strike upon me. However, you also essentially gave up when you should have continued to press the attack in Paladin Class. Had you continued your assault, I am certain that Paladin Class's raw power would have eventually secured your victory."
"But… in a battle, I won't have time to-" J.J. began.
"What is my biggest weakness right now?" Tristan asked.
J.J. hesitated before answering slowly, "…Stamina."
"Yes. Therefore, had you pressed the attack without allowing me time to recover, you would have steadily worn me down. My defenses, while stalwart, are not impenetrable, and I certainly do not have limitless energy," Tristan explained. "You are a strong enough warrior now that with sheer might and willpower, you have the potential to defeat me in a fair battle, given the right circumstances."
J.J. slowly closed his mouth, before tilting his head. "If that's the case, why didn't you just tell me to keep attacking?"
"I did," Tristan pointed out.
"No, I mean… why didn't you explain it to me in those terms, the way you did just now?" J.J asked. "If you'd broken it down and explained the logic behind it, I would have accepted your training without complaint. When you put it that way, it makes sense."
"I see. Partially? Because I was hoping that you would discover the answer yourself. You are clever enough that I was hoping you would come to that conclusion on your own." Tristan explained.
J.J. was immediately reminded of Mrs. Faulkner again. "Alright. But you said only partially?" J.J. pointed out.
"Indeed. Furthermore, it is simply the way that I learned to fight myself," Tristan replied. "I was not given a full explanation as to why a certain technique was being practiced. We were simply expected to perform it to the best of our abilities, without questioning our leaders. Those that did ask questions were punished, so we quickly learned to simply do as we were instructed. In battle, we needed to be a single, cohesive unit. We did not have the luxury of thinking our moves through, because to stop and question orders was tantamount to giving our enemies an opening to exploit."
"Okay… that makes sense," J.J. agreed. "But I'm not being trained to fight as part of a unit. You're training me as an individual fighter."
"Indeed, and that is my failing as a teacher," Tristan admitted, folding his hands in front of him. "I had not realized that I needed to approach your training another way. For that, you have my apologies, and I shall endeavor to offer explanations in the future, as doing so seems to be more effective than merely giving you orders." A faint smile crossed his lips. "I must remember that you are a scholar more than a warrior, and that I must treat you as such."
"I appreciate that," J.J. replied, smiling faintly in return. "And in exchange, I'll try not to be so… surly when you try to teach me something. I'll try to figure out why you're teaching me something, since you've never taught me a single thing without a reason behind it."
"That will be satisfactory, then, page," Tristan nodded. "So, with that settled… how are we to pursue our current Diemon? The problem has not resolved itself, after all, and our quarry is still active."
"See, that's something I've been having trouble with," J.J. sighed. "I've been blanking on what sort of Diemon it is. I've gone through a full list of potential monsters, but none of them are correct."
"What have you tried?" Tristan asked. J.J. went down the list of a dozen or so monsters that he'd put down, while Tristan listened quietly. Finally, the knight looked up at the ceiling, as if contemplating something.
"If I may make a suggestion?" Tristan asked. "The way this Diemon attacks its victims reminds me strongly of our legends about witches."
J.J. looked down at the diary, tapping the end of his quill pen against a blank page. "A witch isn't a mythological creature," he said slowly. "At least, in modern mythology, they're just ordinary people who have magical powers."
"Perhaps, but the powers this Diemon displayed reminded me strongly of a witch," Tristan explained. "In my time, witches were shapeshifters that worked spells at night. There were also legends of crones who would sneak into a home and straddle a person's chest. While pinning them down, they would give their victim night terrors, while making it impossible for them to breathe. Does that not sound like our current foe?"
"It does," J.J. admitted slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek. "A crone… wait!" He pushed himself up and strode over to a book of fairy tales and folklore, which he yanked off a shelf and began flipping through the pages while Tristan looked on curiously. "Straddling someone's chest… sleep paralysis? There's a folksy term for it… being hag-ridden!" he exclaimed, looking up and beaming at Tristan as he snapped the book shut authoritatively.
"Have you found the answer?" Tristan asked as J.J. resumed his seat in front of the knight.
"Maybe. Let's try this," J.J. said, opening his diary and flipping over to a blank sheet of paper. At the top of the page, he wrote three letters: "Hag." From there, his pen began to scribble rapidly across the sheet, filling in the stats of the monster they'd fought, while he grinned up at Tristan triumphantly.
"Good call on that one," he praised Tristan. "I never would have guessed a hag, since it's such an old legend." he asked with a cheeky grin.
"Indeed?" Tristan said, seeming a bit surprised that his suggestion was the correct answer. "So, shall we wait until nightfall?"
"We could," J.J. said, tapping his pen against the pages of the book. "But there's also-"
"E-excuse me," a hesitant voice interrupted them. J.J. and Tristan turned around to see a pale young man hunched in front of them. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and he was nervously licking his lips, glancing furtively back and forth. "I-I'm sorry to interrupt, but… we're over here trying to study, and you two are kinda being distracting."
"Our sincere apologies, lad," Tristan said easily, holding up his hand. J.J., however, frowned, trying to peer into the boy's face. The kid noticed that J.J. was tilting his head and tried to shy away.
"Wh-what do you want?" he asked hesitantly.
"Are you alright?" J.J. asked bluntly. "You're looking a little sleep-deprived."
"I'm fine!" the boy cried shrilly, before lowering his voice. "I'm fine. But we really need to get our work done."
J.J. continued to stare at the boy before asking bluntly, "You've been having nightmares lately, haven't you?"
The boy's eyes widened, and he asked quickly, "H-how did you-?"
"Can I see your arm?" J.J. asked. Across from him, Tristan stood up and positioned himself between the boy and the door so that he couldn't flee. Apparently, Tristan had also noticed the way the boy was glancing towards the doors of the cathedral.
"Why?" the boy asked sharply, backing away from the pair. "What are you going to do to me?"
"We want to help you," J.J. said soothingly. "You've been getting haunted at night, haven't you?"
The boy's eyes widened again, and he looked away. At that moment, however, a sweet voice asked, "Can I help you two gentlemen? Or, rather, may I ask you to please stop harassing my student?"
J.J. and Tristan swung around to see a young woman with honey-blond hair standing behind them with her hands folded in front of her and a disconcertingly serene smile on her lips. Somehow, the expression on her face made J.J. feel as though she was about to pull a knife on them if they said the wrong thing.
"You're… Mrs. Reynolds, right?" J.J. asked. The woman's smile somehow turned upwards just a little bit more, making it seem even more threatening.
"My, how do you know that? Have we met before?" she chirruped.
"I remember seeing you the other day. One of your students, Cammy, was turning in a paper to you, if I recall."
"Ah, yes, Cammy!" she replied with a chuckle. "I'm very proud of her. She's been working so very hard lately."
"Yeah… and it doesn't concern you that she's been stumbling around like she's cramming before the last week of finals in college?" J.J. replied.
"Oh, she had a lot of work to make up," Mrs. Reynolds replied, waving off J.J.'s concerns. "And it's important that she gets it in, which she is. The effort is what matters."
"Really? Your colleague, Mrs. Faulkner, seems to disagree," J.J. pointed out. Mrs. Reynolds' smile turned, somehow, even more sinister at that comment.
"Mrs. Faulkner… Rita and I have different approaches to education," Mrs. Reynolds replied, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "I'm willing to overlook a little past laziness so long as the students put in an earnest effort to make up their work."
J.J. sensed that continuing to challenge the woman would be dangerous, so he quickly changed the subject. "So… did you set up that little study group?" J.J. asked, nodding to the corner.
"Indeed! I'm so happy that so many of my students are trying so hard to do better in school!" she replied cheerfully. "The least I can do as a teacher is provide them with all the materials they need to succeed."
"Your dedication to your craft is admirable," Tristan said. Mrs. Reynolds turned her smile on him, though J.J. thought he had caught a very subtle undertone of sarcasm in the knight's usually polite tone.
"You're very kind to say so," Mrs. Reynolds replied. "Truth be told, it concerns me that so few teachers are willing to go above and beyond for their students these days. Our job doesn't end when the bell rings. At least, that's my philosophy. It's our duty as teachers to make sure that the kids are being diligent about studying outside of the classroom as well."
"Really?" J.J. asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Don't you have work of your own to do? Grading papers, preparing lesson plans for the next day, that sort of thing?"
"Oh, what sort of teacher would I be if I didn't adhere to my own philosophy?" Mrs. Reynolds replied, waving him off. "I prepare my lesson plans and grade my students' work well in advance of the next day. That gives me plenty of free time to check up on the kids. It's the least that I can do as a good teacher."
"When… do you sleep?" J.J. asked warily.
For some reason, that seemed to trigger something in Mrs. Reynolds, and he could see her jaw twitching slightly. If alarm bells were already going off in J.J.'s head from her demeanor, they were now accompanied by flashing sirens. "I get enough sleep to get by," she replied curtly. "In this day and age, does anyone even really get enough sleep?"
"Fair point," J.J. said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. "But that said, how long have you had this idea for a study group? It is a good one, and one that I wish more teachers would employ," he added, trying to play to her ego slightly.
"Oh, I only set it up a little while ago," she replied with a shrug. "I wish I'd been able to implement it sooner, but the students didn't seem to have any interest. A couple weeks ago, though, they came to me asking if there was anything I could do to help them with their papers, and this is what I suggested. They apparently asked a few of the other teachers first, but my colleagues were… less than enthusiastic about spending more time than they had to helping these poor kids."
"And these kids in your group… are they your best ones?" J.J. asked warily.
"No, and that's the most wonderful part!" Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed. "Until recently, they were my troublemakers! But they've discovered a new passion for learning that really warms my heart!"
"Really? They don't look very happy about it," J.J. commented, glancing over at the group of students hunched over their desks, pretending not to listen to the conversation between J.J. and their teacher.
"Well, they don't have to love school," Mrs. Reynolds admitted. "But as long as they have the desire to learn, I'm happy to teach them."
"And what about the ones that don't have that desire?" J.J. retorted.
Mrs. Reynolds' smile turned sinister once again. "They'll also learn," she said icily.
J.J. raised an eyebrow, then asked simply, "Just one more question, if you don't mind? You wouldn't happen to have spoken to a winged man in black lately, would you?"
Tristan glanced over at J.J. warily as Mrs. Reynolds' eyes widened and her smile dropped entirely. In a low voice, she whispered, "How did you…?"
"Why don't we discuss this outside?" J.J. suggested, glancing over at her students. "They don't need any distractions, since they're trying so hard to work diligently."
Mrs. Reynolds followed his gaze, before inclining her head reluctantly. J.J. winked at Tristan as he led the way out of the library. He was glad she was willing to come with them, as he cared about the library, and he didn't want to see it ruined by a full-scale battle. In the same vein, he figured that if Mrs. Reynolds' D-former corruption was based around her students' success, twisted as it was, she wouldn't want to do anything that might hinder them. It was a gamble, but it seemed to have worked.
The trio walked down the main steps of the cathedral, and J.J. led them away from the major roads towards a nearby copse of trees off the road where few people could see them. When he turned around, he was greeted by Mrs. Reynolds' livid expression.
"How?" she hissed to him. "How did you know about the Seraph?"
"We've had experience with him, and since we know how he works, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out," J.J. pointed out, folding his arms. "You sounded utterly deranged in there. Not to mention, you said you started up this study group only a couple of weeks ago, which is probably when the kids started having nightmares. Let me guess, he gave you a gemstone that gave you the power to influence dreams?"
The woman snarled at him, before sighing and shrugging. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it. Yes, he gave me a jewel. So?"
"Why?" J.J. asked, tilting his head. "Would you mind explaining that much?"
"Why should I?" Jenny snarled.
"You're a teacher," J.J. retorted with a slight smile. "I thought you'd relish the chance to teach someone who's willing to learn."
Mrs. Reynolds' jaw began to twitch, and she looked away as her voice grew tight. "I thought I would love being a teacher," she said softly. "Helping kids achieve their dreams, teaching them everything they'd need to succeed? I really wanted them to love me and look up to me as an inspiration. But when I got started… not one of them wanted to listen. Any time I tried to give a lesson, they ignored me, played on their phones, made stupid jokes to one another… and worst of all, I had to watch them fail. But even when they were failing, they didn't care. Then I had parents tell me it was my fault that their brats weren't doing well in class, when I went out of my way to encourage them to stay behind and study more so that they wouldn't have these problems.
"I thought I was being too soft on them, so I tried being stricter. My favorite teacher when I was in school was Mrs. Faulkner, and I remembered that she was tough, but that everyone respected her. So, I tried to be like her. I confiscated phones, raised my voice… but nothing worked. If anything, the kids just harassed me even more," Mrs. Reynolds sighed.
"Yeah… that sounds like how teenagers act towards everyone," J.J. said.
"But worst of all were the ones that thought they knew better," Mrs. Reynolds said, looking away. "The ones that were too smart for their own good. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to try and teach someone who thinks they know more than you do, so they refuse to listen to you?"
"Indeed," Tristan commented sympathetically, shooting J.J. a wry grin. J.J. smiled back sheepishly, inclining his head.
"I couldn't take it anymore," Mrs. Reynolds said in a long-suffering voice. "I wanted to quit. But right when I was about to, an angel in black approached me and told me that he had a way to make the little brats listen to me. Then he gave me a jewel that gave me the power to… reach them," she said with a manic grin, closing her hand around something in her pocket.
"And you've been invading their dreams ever since?" J.J. asked.
"I just prodded them to work harder outside the classroom," Mrs. Reynolds protested. "The best students are the ones that retain a passion for learning even after they leave my classroom. I just wanted them to apply themselves even when they didn't have to, to get in the habit of working hard rather than treating learning as something they had to sit through before going home. Isn't that a valuable lesson to teach them?"
"Admittedly, even many adults never learn that," J.J. agreed. "However, psychological torture and mutilation isn't the way to go about teaching."
"I had no other choice! And once they started consistently turning in their work, I was going to leave them alone," Mrs. Reynolds protested.
"And if they ever stopped, you were going to go after them again," J.J. countered.
"Well, yes, because in that case they clearly didn't learn their lesson," Mrs. Reynolds replied unapologetically.
"What if they perished from exhaustion?" Tristan countered. "I have seen it happen before."
"None of them have," Mrs. Reynolds said, waving off the question.
"Yeah, but a few of them look like they were about to wind up in the hospital," J.J. replied bluntly.
"Good! More time for them to study while they recover!" Mrs. Reynolds cried, a deranged grin on her face.
"Page… it would seem that Lady Reynolds is beyond the point of reason," Tristan sighed.
"Yeah," J.J. agreed reluctantly, before turning to Mrs. Reynolds. "I'm going to ask you something, even though I already know the answer: Will you give up your gem without a fight? You're just harming your students at this point, and I'm sure that's not what you want."
"Not until they've learned to fully apply themselves to their studies. And that could take months," Mrs. Reynolds replied. "Until then, I can't let you interfere with my lesson plans." With that, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, and in her palm, she balanced an acid-green D-former. It began to glow, and she was enveloped in a blinding green light. As the light faded, a gargantuan black lion roared at them, swiping at the pair with a large paw.
J.J. and Tristan both jumped back, and the long claws of the beast swiped empty air where they'd been standing. Both immediately had their transformation trinkets in their hands, with J.J. flipping his diary open to his stat page while Tristan gripped his shield. Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan smiled faintly at J.J., who caught the knight's grin and sighed.
"I really didn't expect that to work," J.J. commented.
"Does it ever?" Tristan asked drily. "Come. We have work to do."
J.J. held his open diary up to his left cheek while Tristan briefly held the shield to his chest before extending it out in front of him. At the same time, both shouted, "Henshin!" Their Drivers appeared around their waists, and they slotted their trinkets at the same time before spinning their personal D-formers.
"Adventure: Begin!"
"Steel yourself! Class: Cavalier!"
The two Drivers shouted out in unison as an amber die appeared around J.J. and a steel-blue die manifested around Tristan. They spun rapidly as cymbals clashed and a trumpet sounded, heralding their transformations as they were clad in their armor. When the spinning stopped, Tristan hefted his shield while J.J. held out his hand and his quill flew into his hand. As he extended it into its sword form, he gave it a little twirl while staring down the lion.
"Alea iacta est," he murmured softly. Tristan, meanwhile, touched the bull icon of his shield, and a loud bovine bellow echoed in the air as his metallic blue mace appeared out of one corner of his shield and hovered in front of him where he could easily grab it.
The lion took another swipe at them, but Tristan responded by touching the hedgehog icon on his shield. With the sound of steel being unsheathed, spikes erupted from his shield, and he hefted it up to meet the lion's attack. The claw, however, barely missed Tristan's shield as it retracted in time, and Tristan nodded in satisfaction.
J.J.'s hand edged down to his belt, and it rested on his black D-former. If Tristan was going to take point, he should provide backup, he thought. Tristan, however, glanced over his shoulder and shook his head briefly.
"Page, an indirect attack with magic had little effect last time. I believe this time, we should attempt to dispatch our opponent with an all-out assault before she has time to overwhelm us with fatigue," Tristan suggested.
J.J. paused, his thumb brushing the black D-former. "If… you're sure…." he said slowly.
"Have faith, page," Tristan assured him. "You are stronger than you believe."
J.J. grit his teeth, then nodded once and slipped his index finger to his red D-former as well. He spun both die at the same time, and his Driver shouted into the air, "Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!" A black and red die combined around him, spinning and coalescing into a silver die as a pipe organ played a few notes. J.J.'s brown armor transmuted into silver chainmail while a light grey tabard fluttered over the heavier armor, and small wings grew out of the sides of his pale grey helmet. When the spinning stopped, he hefted his halberd over his shoulder and glanced over at Tristan.
"Take point, page," Tristan encouraged him. "And do not hesitate."
J.J. took a deep breath, turning to the gargantuan lion, who once more swiped a claw at him. J.J. ducked under the attack, before sprinting forward and gripping his halberd in both hands. He cleaved the lion's paw with a short grunt before it could retract its leg, and as he did, he saw the blade phase through the lion's flesh as though it wasn't there. The lion pulled its paw back, and J.J. saw that it was completely unharmed. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, looking up at the lion.
"So that's it," he murmured. He could have kicked himself for his stupidity. This entire time, he had assumed that the hag's powers were based around shapeshifting, but that wasn't the case. Instead, it was cloaking itself in illusions. That explained how it could continuously avoid any attack he and Tristan threw at it – all Mrs. Reynolds had to do was ensure that the illusion acted in a semi-plausible way to make it seem as though the attacks had outright missed.
In hindsight, and with the knowledge that the hag's powers revolved around dreams, it made sense that she was just using sophisticated illusions. Worse, he realized, was that if he'd just used Paladin Class in the first place, he would have had a major advantage over the hag's shadow-based magic, as Paladin Class was specifically designed to fight darkness-aligned Diemons. This could have ended days ago.
"Well… hindsight's twenty-twenty," J.J. muttered under his breath, gathering his resolve as he squared off against the lion. The monster shapeshifted again, with the lion disappearing only to be replaced by a two-headed, four-armed ape. The gorilla threw a punch at J.J., but by this point the blade of his halberd was glowing white. He let out a short yell and swung his weapon upwards in a short arc, and the blade split the ape's fist in half, with tendrils of shadow curling around the brilliant light of his halberd.
The ape hesitated, shocked at J.J.'s effective counterattack, and J.J. took advantage of the pause in combat. He dove in and swung the glowing halberd in a wide semi-circle, dispelling half of the ape's shadowy form. The black clouds that remained melted away like fog in the wake of J.J.'s attack, and in its place stood the hag's true form – a woman about seven feet tall with an emaciated appearance, matted black hair, and sickly green skin. Grey rags hung off her bony figure, and her face was horribly twisted, with sharp yellow teeth, a jutting chin, and yellow-green eyes that, thankfully, weren't glowing as a sign that she'd achieved Apotheosis yet. There was still a chance to save her, he realized as he felt a wave relief.
"Don't bother throwing up another illusion," J.J. warned her. "I've got all afternoon to keep cutting them down."
The hag snarled and raised a finger, pointing it at J.J.'s chest. Before he could react, a bolt of eerie green light erupted from the tip of it, slamming into his chest. He let out a short grunt as it hit him with the force of an arrow, and he dropped to one knee as a wave of weariness washed over him.
"Sleep-based magic?" J.J. asked, and the hag let out a ragged cackle as she held up her hands.
"How else would I ensure that naughty children get to bed on time?" Mrs. Reynolds replied maliciously. "I can't spin pleasant dreams for them if they're not asleep."
"Explains why you were able to wear us down last time," J.J. said, slowly rising to his feet. "You were hiding those spells in your illusions, weren't you? The flames, the hydra's fangs, all those physical attacks… you were hitting us with the bolts while we were distracted."
"Smart boy," the hag smirked. "Too bad you can't do anything about it."
She began gathering energy for another attack in her finger, which she again pointed at J.J. and unleashed with the force of a crossbow bolt. This time, however, J.J. brought his halberd around and swiped cleanly through the attack, the glowing blade engulfing it and dissipating the spell before it hit him. The hag's grin dropped immediately, replaced with a look of shock.
At that moment, Tristan charged forward, his footsteps resounding heavily as he charged at the hag. As he passed J.J., he said tersely, "Good work, page." Mrs. Reynolds didn't even have time to react before Tristan was upon her, bringing his mace savagely down on her shoulder and causing her to cry out in pain. He followed the attack with a solid kick to her midsection before slamming his mace into her ribs.
Sparks erupted from the hag as she rolled away from the heavy attacks, hissing in pain. She opened her hands, and long claws sprang from the tips of her fingers. She raked her hand at Tristan, but the knight simply raised his shield. The woman cried out in pain as her hand smacked against his own spikes, and before she could recover, he pummeled her with two more hard swings that sent her sprawling fifteen feet away.
J.J. slowly climbed to his feet and he walked over to Tristan, shaking his head to dispel the weariness threatening to overtake him. As he approached the knight from behind, he commented, "Decided to let me take all the damage this time?"
"You deduced that she was using illusions, and Paladin Class is better equipped to fight illusions than my armor is," Tristan shrugged. "And I trusted you enough to expose her true form and to wear her magic down, at which point I assumed she would physically be no match for me."
"You came up with that on the fly?" J.J. asked. Tristan nodded once, and J.J. chuckled. "And you're trying to tell me you're not smart?"
"You're not!" Mrs. Reynolds shrieked, clambering to her feet and pointing her fingers at J.J. and Tristan, who reacted quickly to her blasting them both with her spells. J.J. was able to cut through her attack, while the one aimed at Tristan was deflected into the ground by the knight's shield. However, while the spell itself seemed to do little to Tristan, the knight was already panting from the strain of his heavy armor. J.J., likewise, let out a long breath as he struggled to stay on his feet.
"That said… weak as she is, if this battle is prolonged, she will gain the advantage," Tristan added. "It would be prudent to end it here."
"Suggestions?" J.J. asked quickly.
"Attack her with both of our Critical Kicks," Tristan replied. "Our shields should be enough to dispel any spells she throws at us, and I believe she is weak enough that combined kicks should be enough to defeat her."
J.J. nodded and pulled his diary out of his belt, reverting to Adventurer Class. He quickly flipped over to the hag's stat page while Tristan stood in front of him, shield raised to ward off any more attacks. She had about a little less than half of her health left, but she had weak defenses, so if they hit her at the same time….
"Yeah, I don't think I can stand another blast like that, and we're getting worn out" J.J. agreed, slotting his diary back into his belt. "Let's do it."
The two men put their hands on their central D-formers and gave them a quick spin as twin shouts of "Critical!" sounded in the late afternoon air. The hag snarled and pointed her fingers at the pair, but the acid-green spells she flung at them dissipated harmlessly against the spinning amber die and glowing blue shield protecting them. J.J. and Tristan both crouched down before they took off at the same time, running at the hag and jumping in the air in sync. As J.J. began rotating and Tristan extended his leg, she tried to fire off one more spell at each of them, but to no avail, as the spells once more dissipated harmlessly against the holograms. Mrs. Reynolds let out a scream as J.J. and Tristan descended, with J.J. whipping his leg around and Tristan plummeting towards her, protected by his shimmering blue shield. Their kicks connected with her at the same time, with J.J.'s hitting her neck and Tristan's colliding with her stomach. Tristan pushed off of her while J.J. flipped over her and landed lightly on his feet as neon-green cracks began spreading across her body from the impact points of their twin kicks. He could hear her shrieking in pain as he pulled his diary out of his belt and flipped over to her stats page. With a satisfied expression, he watched her health bar dwindle to nothing as she let out a final scream and her hag form shattered into a thousand tiny fractals, leaving Mrs. Reynolds laying on the ground.
J.J. turned around as he snapped his diary shut, but then a figure darted out of nowhere, cackling manically. Both J.J. and Tristan clutched their weapons as the Fool grabbed the green die lying on the ground and leaped into the air, before settling lightly on a tree and tilting his head down at them.
"Okay, how did you even know where we were?!" J.J. shouted up at the clown while Tristan swapped his mace out for his crossbow, with a falcon screeching in the air as he changed weapons.
"We have been following them this entire time," the Fool giggled, tossing the die in the air and catching it casually while Tristan leveled his crossbow at the harlequin. "We had little reason to interfere this time, as they spent much of their time screaming at each other. Why sow chaos when chaos has already been sown?"
"I'd say we've gotten over it," J.J. replied easily. Tristan growled and fired a golden crossbow bolt at the Fool, but the clown simply leaned out of the way, and the bolt flew past it harmlessly.
"So it would seem, wouldn't it?" the clown giggled. "A pity. We had hoped they would bicker longer and let the girl draw out more power, but we suppose this gem will suffice for the master." The Fool sighed and stretched, before lazily gesturing to the stat page still laying on the ground. "Take that if it wishes. We have no use for it. But do try to provide some better entertainment next time. Lessons can be so very boring."
With a screeching cackle, the Fool bounded off through the trees, avoiding the second bolt Tristan vainly shot after it. With a sigh, the knight lowered his weapon, while J.J. pulled his amber D-former out if its slot and his armor dissipated around him before walking over to the fallen stats page.
"Rude," J.J. commented as he gazed at the spot in the trees where the Fool had departed while he slipped the page into his diary. "I rather liked that lesson, myself."
"And I am pleased to see that you learned it well," Tristan replied as he powered down as well. The two men walked over to Mrs. Reynolds, and J.J. gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. The woman let out a low groan before slowly pushing herself up.
"Wha… where?" she asked blearily, looking up at J.J. with a dazed expression.
"Easy," J.J. said, slipping an arm under hers to help her up. "Do you remember anything?"
"Just… lots of flashes of… things at night?" she asked dazedly. She tilted her head at the pair before asking, "What was I doing here?"
"Teaching," J.J. said simply as he helped her to her feet. "That said, I think there are some kids inside the library that you should let go home for the day. They're exhausted."
"They're… not the only ones," Mrs. Reynolds commented wearily. "I feel like I haven't slept in days."
"You likely have not," Tristan chuckled grimly as he took her other arm, and the pair gently escorted her up the stairs.
"So after all that, she was just put on administrative leave?" Gwen asked, munching on one of the shrimp tacos she had forced J.J. to buy her for lunch.
"There's not much else the school could do," J.J. replied from behind his mask, swaying out of the way of one of Tristan's attacks before launching a thrust of his own. Tristan shifted his shoulder, but J.J. pressed the attack, following the thrust up with a hard slash that connected with Tristan's armor. Tristan nodded in approval while J.J. grinned behind his helmet.
"They could have fired her," Susumu pointed out as he dug a screwdriver into the innards of a pocket watch.
"They could have, but apparently Mrs. Faulkner intervened on her behalf," J.J. replied, pausing to shake his right hand out. "She said that Mrs. Reynolds was a good teacher who needed experience, not punishment. Apparently, Mrs. Faulkner is teaching her some tricks while she's on leave," he added with a slight grin.
"That's kind of her. You said Mrs. Reynolds used to be one of her students, right? Kinda ironic that her old teacher is still teaching her even though she's a teacher. Seems a teacher's work is never done," Susumu commented, grinning at the repeated use of the word.
"Of course not. There is always more to learn, and always more to teach," Tristan replied. "Come, page. Again."
J.J. nodded and crouched low, grinning behind his helmet. They were free-sparring, and Tristan had told him that he was welcome to try anything. So far, he had been practicing pressing the attack in one form, like Tristan had wanted, but if he threw in something unusual….
The two ran at each other, but as he got in range, J.J. suddenly spun his red and black D-formers at the same time. "Reroll! Multiclass: Paladin!" his Driver shouted, and as the red and black dice coalesced into a single silver one and began spinning around him, an organ played loudly while he closed the distance. He leaped into the air as the transformation finished, but before he could react, he saw that Tristan was aiming his crossbow at him. J.J.'s grin dissolved into a look of horror as the golden crossbow bolt slammed into his unprotected shoulder, sending him flying in the opposite direction. He rolled across the ground and grunted in pain while Tristan stood over him, chuckling faintly. He'd intentionally grazed J.J., so he hadn't taken much damage, but the impact still had him reeling.
"As I said, there is always more to be learned," Tristan commented easily, holding his hand out to J.J. "Now that you've learned the strengths of Paladin Class… we should discuss its weaknesses."
J.J. scowled and took Tristan's hand as the knight pulled him up and began to go over the weaknesses of using a large polearm at close range while off to the side, Gwen and Susumu traded amused looks.