Author's Note: Whoa! An update this early? What's next? A new Fire Emblem game announcement? Geez, I wish.

But yeah, I had some downtime and whipped up this chapter with the small amount of freedom I had allotted to myself. Thankfully, it was enough to get this chapter done.

Thanks to the reviewers for your kind words. I'm sorry I haven't addressed you personally but I appreciate you all, people who've stuck around and newcomers alike. But I will take a moment to address one of you directly.

This story is a Heroes AU. It will feature characters found in the Heroes mobile game (and maybe some other bonus peeps as well).

Anyway, I'll stop. Here's what you came for.

Enjoy.


Delthea blinked. Her hand was frozen in the air, like a statue, humming with a sensation unlike anything she ever felt before. She had gone through the same practiced motions from before. She stretched out her hands, pictured an image in her head, and gave life to what she was conjuring up. But something like this? It shouldn't have even been possible.

Wh…what just happened?

One second, the train rear cabin was in perfect shape. The next, it looked like it went through a hurricane, if that hurricane were loaded with artillery shells. The pristine cabin that was once neatly decorated and ordered was a now twisted, smoking heap of burnt wood and shredded metal.

The entire rear end of the cabin was completely gone, as was the roof covering it. The fancy bar was an utter mess, bottles, glasses, and cups scattered about the wrecked cabin like leaves. The wooden planks and wallpaper were all peeling upward from the scorch marks that decorated them. Every surviving window pane had their glass blown to smithereens.

This looked like a set straight out of a disaster movie

Except this was no movie. This garish scene was happening for real.

Even now, parts of the cabin still flickered with embers and sparks, residue from what Delthea had just done. Surprisingly, Delthea herself was unscathed, not a single speck of ash marring her. Debris had collapsed everywhere around her except on top of her. It made her stand out like the sorest thumb in the world.

Delthea's knees felt weak, the strange feeling rippling through her subsiding. In its place, the nauseous feeling from earlier began to crawl back. What did she just do? All she wanted to was to show off a little trick she used on her brother to get away. Instead, she caused—

No, wait. That wasn't important. … Well, yes, this level of destruction was unfathomable and her ass was probably grass once the train stopped, but something else was far more urgent than this wanton devastation.

Wasn't someone standing next to her, right before this happened?

"Oh, God! Claude!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. It was a surprise at all she still had her voice after her soul was beaten down by the sight of this wreckage. Wreckage she, somehow, caused. She leapt to the nearest pile of debris and began digging through. Normally she avoided activities that dirtied her like the plague, but now was no time to be picky.

"Please, please, please be okay…" she whimpered. Part of her desperately wanted to find him but to find the boy buried beneath this metric crap ton of wreckage… there's no way he'd be okay or in one piece.

She almost didn't want to find him. Delthea's heart couldn't probably handle finding the mangled body of the idol she practically worshipped and—

"Could be better, thanks for asking."

Delthea's heart leapt into her throat. She turned wildly around in the direction the voice came from.

He had been slumped against the wall just out of her line of sight, beneath a window. The shockwave must have blown him off to the side, saving him from the brunt of her little accident. Walking over a field of shattered glass whilst straightening out his wrinkled clothes, the olive-skinned boy approached her with the same-easy going smile plastered on his face, as well as a good layer of soot.

"If this is what you call a demonstration," Claude said, amusedly, grass crackling underfoot "I feel sorry for the poor sap that ever gets on your bad side."

"..."

"I'm alive, thanks for asking."

Delthea didn't know what came over her. Relief? Joy? Or maybe irritation that Claude hid his presence for so long? She wasn't sure. But what was for certain was the small sputtered noise that escaped past her lips. She was… laughing?

All that nervous tension, that knot coiled so tightly in her stomach, finally came undone, deflated by sheer anti-climax of this whole ordeal. It culminated into a torrent of laughter that Delthea could not believe nor control. Perhaps it was out of relief that, despite the horrendous wreckage, they had emerged unscathed.

"I…" Delthea barely managed, hand clutching her stomach, "I thought you died!"

"Almost," Claude chimed coolly, flicking debris off his shoulder, "But it's gonna take a bit more than that to kill the likes of me."

Delthea snorted. "You're tougher than you look."

"And you're more of a warhead than you look," Claude retorted.

"Ah, ha-ha…" Delthea laughed wryly. It reminded her to look at the mess she caused. It was still the same wreck. No illusion or trick of the light here. The rear cabin was still very much a walking, breathing disaster.

It was enough to cause Delthea's relief and laughter to evaporate. Realizing the peril they were still, the two moved away from the blown-apart end, eventually finding a safer spot to reside. They leaned side-to-side against the least wrecked wall in the cabin, which wasn't saying much. Soon, silence reigned—though, not exactly. The whistling of the wind from between the cracks of rubble broke the silence occasionally, as did the rustling of passing branches and leaves.

"So," Delthea sighed, fidgeting with her blackened hands against her dirtied blouse. "I'm pretty screwed, huh?"

Claude rubbed the back of his neck, breathing through his teeth. "That depends. You want the long answer or the short answer, Miss…?"

Delthea only then realized that she hadn't even introduced herself to Claude. She was so caught up in coming face to face with the prodigy actor himself, she didn't properly say her name or otherwise.

"D-Delthea," she cleared her throat. "And give me both. Long and short."

"Pretty name," he whistled, causing her to blush a bit. His demeanor then turned a bit more serious. "In short, yes. You're pretty screwed. The Heroes Express train is not some cheapo, dime a dozen railway you can find in the city. It's state of the art, ridiculously expensive, and, not to mention, brand-spanking new."

Delthea's heart sank with every word Claude said.

"Even just repairing the rear cabin alone is gonna cost a pretty penny." Claude surmised, tapping his foot against the singed, peeling floorboards, where the carpet had been all but torched away. He then looked at her. "And I don't like making assumptions about others, but gauging your reaction, you don't have the capital to cover that, right?"

She nodded as she swallowed back her apprehension weakly. "And the long answer?"

Claude closed his eyes and rubbed his chin, swallowed in thought. "Hm, hard to say. The peeps at the academy aren't going to be happy you did impromptu renovations to their new toy. But…"

A strange, discomfiting glint flashed in his eyes, accompanied by a smile that didn't shine as much as his others.

"They are going to take note of your ability," he stated evenly, snapping towards the wreckage surrounding them. "If it impresses them enough, they may keep you around for… less than savory things. Whether you want to or not..."

Delthea felt a shiver run down her spine, her blood running colder than ice at Claude's ominous words. Surely he couldn't be serious… could he? Granted, Delthea knew nothing of the people who ran this whole organization, so they could be good, well-intending people... or the nefarious villains Claude just described.

They could go either way; Delthea had no clue. And Claude seemed like someone who knew what he was talking about. It only compounded her growing fear, causing a slight tremble to course through her body.

"… is what I would be saying if I was actually serious."

Delthea's eyes, wide as dinner plates, hovered over to the messy haired youth.

Gone was the sinister look adorning his face, replaced with the playful grin he was most notorious for. In any other instance, Delthea's heart would be aflutter. Now, all she felt was her mood souring—and Claude noticed quickly. Seeing the visible fear on her face, Claude's mirth dampened slightly.

"… That was in poor taste. I'm sorry," he apologized, scratching the back of his head. His eyes then took on a curious expression. "You… don't know much about this side of the world, huh?"

Delthea could only assume that "this side of the world" meant one involving Channeling. She meagerly shook her head, her nerves still frayed from Claude's little joke.

He ruffled his own hair, furling his brow. "Gah, should've noticed sooner."

"N-noticed what?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He then turned his head, as if he were taking in his surroundings. There really wasn't much to glean, other than utter wreckage that became of the rear cabin. The rear deck was completely gone, a massive gaping hole punched through the hull. The parts that remained unscathed were the areas behind the explosive blast, though Delthea couldn't tell the extent of the overall damage from where she was. She shuddered at the thought of hurting Hilda or Dimitri because of this accident.

"You know, something's… off." Claude announced, turning back towards her, arms folded as he paced what length he could in the ruined cabin.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Delthea asked nervously.

Claude's eyes narrowed. "For a discharge of this magnitude, I'm surprised no one has turned up ye—"

"Delthea, are you alright?"

She wheeled to the side and was greeted with a face she was least expecting,

"Byleth?"

Least expecting, but certainly most glad to see. She ran up to him and nearly leapt onto him, if it weren't for the shakiness in her gait. Her legs were feeling rather wobbly, come to think of it. Before she took a tumble, warm, strong hands gripped her sides, steadying her. She mouthed a soundless thank you as she straightened herself out, her face flushed upon realizing.

"Are you hurt?" He asked her, letting go once she gained her bearings. Though his words were measured and calm, Delthea could feel a hint of worry in them as well. It was reassuring to think that someone was looking out for her here, so far from home.

"I-I-I was gonna ask you the same thing," Delthea replied worriedly. She eyed him up and down. No burns or bruises as far as she could see. "I'm doing ok—"

Before she could finish, Byleth gently took a hold of her soot-coated hands. Pulling out a handkerchief, he began to wipe them down. Despite how delicately his touch was, Delthea winced. She let out a barely audible yelp.

"Your hands are burned," he noted, looking up at her. Though he hadn't intended it, it felt like he was scolding her. Delthea felt herself shrink into her boots.

"That… would be my fault."

Byleth looked up, making eye contact with Claude, who had just jumped in. The ash-drenched boy looked as easygoing as ever, hands resting behind his head, an odd juxtaposition against the carnage of burnt heaping metal and wood.

"Who are you?" Byleth asked. He stepped forward in between Delthea and Claude, as if he were trying to shield her from the stranger.

"Easy, there," Claude said, retreating a step and putting his hands up to his sides. "Name's Claude and I'm not looking for trouble."

Ironic.

"Then tell me, Claude. Why is it your fault she's hurt?" Byleth demanded. His voice was subdued but biting. It was in a tone Delthea hadn't expected from the boy.

"She was looking for me after the whole explosion." He said, gesturing towards Delthea after lowering his hands. "Should've told her I wasn't buried beneath the rubble earlier."

Byleth digested Claude's words. When it looked like he was about to say something, he simply turned back to Delthea.

"Is that what happened?" He asked firmly.

Before Delthea could answer, a voice emerged from down the hallway.

"Dimitri, it's too dangerous—"

"What is going on here?"

The trio turned to the new voices that joined them in the ruined car. Greeted by such familiar faces, Delthea was about to call out to them but stopped when she saw what the two were holding. They reminded her of the object the ridiculously long-haired boy at the train station used in his duel.

In the shaky, wide-eyed Hilda's hands was a fearsome-looking monstrosity that could only be described as a ghoulish axe. Its handle clad in black leathery wrap, the axe had the crescent spiral akin to that of a mollusk shell, with spikes protruding out of it like a demented sunflower. In the very middle, it was studded with a gleaming red gemstone that shimmered with every movement Hilda made.

Next to her, Dimitri was holding what appeared to a spear, which bore a similar resemblance to the axe Hilda held. Though it appeared less monstrous, it was in no way what you could call normal either. The spear's tip was shaped like a feral beast's claw, curving upwards like a scimitar, made of the same bony, petrified material like Hilda's axe. The spear too was inlaid with a red, ominous gemstone.

"We miss the memo or something? What's up with the Gears?"

Claude was the first to talk, not that Delthea understood what he meant.

The two new arrivals relaxed somewhat thanks to Claude's casual comment but still held them poised and ready.

"A huge explosion rattled the entire train" Hilda answered for the two of them. "The attendants told all of us to remain in our booths, but Dimitri wanted to check out the situation for himself."

"Doesn't answer the need for Gears though," Claude said, motioning to the dangerous weapons the two held.

"A precaution," Dimitri answered flatly, before slinging the spear over his shoulder. As he did, Delthea noticed that the red gem's glow faded. "We apologize if that set you on edge."

Hilda followed suit and stowed away her weapon, or Gear as Claude said. Turning her gaze to Delthea, Hilda's eyes turned huge.

"Delthea, is that you?!"

The only response the young girl could manage was a nervous wave. She was still trying to come to terms with seeing Hilda carrying around a battleaxe.

The pink-haired fashion guru rushed over to Delthea's side while also managing to swipe the handkerchief out of Byleth's hand at the same time. She began to dab away at the splotches of black that clouded up most of Delthea's face.

"You're covered in so much ash, I hardly recognized you!" She said in between her wiping. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I-I-I—mmph!" Delthea tried saying as Hilda nearly smothered her whilst cleaning her up. "Fine! I'm doing fine!"

"Thank goodness." Hilda said, awash with relief. "I was worried when I saw that both you and Byleth were gone when the explosion happened. We feared the worst."

"Thanks for worrying, but can you chill on the wiping," Delthea asked, feebly. "It feels like you'll rub off my whole face at this rate."

"Ah-ha… whoops," Hilda sheepishly said, easing up on her forceful facial massage. "Sorry about that. Instincts kicked in. Ash like this is the enemy of women everywhere."

"Oh, so men should be completely fine, right?"

Hilda turned away and looked at the other soot covered student standing with them in the hall. Her eyes squinted as she tried to make out the face beneath the layer of heavy black splotches, which now flashed a charming smile at Hilda. It didn't take her as long as Delthea expected.

Instead of being excited like Delthea had been, Hilda merely scoffed and turned her attention back to Delthea, wearing a scowl.

"Thought I recognized that voice," she muttered in an acidic tone that caught Delthea off guard. "Only one person I know can stay this calm during something like this."

Claude smirked, wiping some of the grime from his face with the hem of his shirt as best he could, revealing the handsome, if still blackened, face hidden beneath. "I'm flattered that the great Hilda Valentine Goneril remembers me."

Dimitri and Delthea's eyes darted between the two.

"I take it you two are previously acquainted?" Dimitri asked.

"Oh, we're definitely acquainted," Claude answered with a wink, nudging the blonde boy in the ribs. Delthea could tell by Dimitri's face he didn't appreciate the gesture.

Hilda rolled her eyes as she finally finished with Delthea. "If acquainted means playing third wheel on that date with your co-star, then yes." She snappily shoved her handkerchief away. "We're 'acquainted.'"

"Third wheel?" Delthea repeated.

"D-date?" Dimitri said.

"Why are we still standing in here?" Byleth asked, though no one took heed.

Claude chuckled apologetically, "Got my comeuppance for that. Never seen an outing go up in flames harder than that day."

"Is that why you're so calm now?" Hilda probed, folding her arms. "Because a ruined date is more of an emergency than this?"

"Which is exactly why we should get out—"

"Hey, at least I'm not the one responsible for causing things to go up in smoke this time around," Claude retorted, leaning forward, ignoring Byleth's words. "I've never been more innocent."

Hilda rolled her eyes. "Why do I find it so hard to believe you?"

"Then who's responsible?" Dimitri surprisingly interjected. Unlike Delthea who was too absorbed into the drama and Byleth whose reason was getting consistently ignored, Dimitri seemed to have been following the conversation along for a different purpose.

"It sounds like you were back here when the explosion went off," Dimitri continued, motioning to the dark-headed boy and the ruined cabin. Delthea noticed the seriousness in his eyes and voice, and the way the blonde boy's hands clenched around the strap slung over his chest. His knuckles turned bone-white. Hilda also sensed something up with Dimitri, quietly sliding over to him and gently putting her hand on his arm.

It seemed to thaw whatever spell had come over him as Dimitri quickly shook his head.

"I apologize if it sounded like I was accusing you," he said after a deep breath, "Did you see anything or anyone?"

As Claude was about to answer, a sudden, uneasy sensation settled upon all the ruined train car's inhabitants. A feeling that none of its inhabitants had ever felt before. Byleth's eyes flashed side to side. Dimitri had to extend his hand towards Hilda to keep her from wobbling. Claude leaned against the charred train wall, favoring a leg over standing on both. Everyone exchanged questioning glances.

"I'm not the only one who felt that, right?" Claude asked, looking around. Though he tried not to show it, his words felt labored.

"No," Hilda muttered, the expected barbs in her words replaced with discomfort."What was that?"

Delthea quickly glanced around, her eyes pulled towards the window. Making her way to the broken window frame, a gasp escaped past her lips.

"Um, guys? I think we—"

She never got to finish her sentence, to tell her friends that the train had come to a stop.

A sudden, debilitating heaviness came over Delthea as did an overwhelming fatigue. Her vision darkening and legs failing, Delthea could just barely make out the faint outlines of her companions rushing towards her. Were they calling out to her, saying her name? She didn't know. She didn't even remember hitting the floor.


A harsh bright light shone down on her, piercing through the darkness that had enveloped her. How long had she been in the dark? When had she woken up? There was no way to tell. Two orbs of light standing parallel to each other, staring right at her, unceasingly, unflinchingly. How long had she been gazing into its sheen? Perhaps Delthea ought to blink.

The world slowly came back into focus, the overwhelming radiance of light lessening with each subsequent blink. Those two orbs turned out to be gigantic lamps aimed right at her. For what purpose other than blinding her, Delthea could not say nor think, her mind still a haze.

Taking in her surroundings, Delthea took immediate note of two things.

Her body felt as if it were filled with lead. Just shifting her posture slightly was laborious, straining her muscles just to swivel her head on her neck.

She was seated at a metal desk in an otherwise darkened room, the blinding lights her only company.

Her hands had been restrained together with a strange rectangular device that was tightened around her wrist. The device blinked rhythmically with a small red light. Delthea could have tried freeing her hands but what would be the use? She didn't have the energy and whoever put that on her probably did so knowing she wouldn't be able to.

She let her hands slump back onto the desk, rattling the entire room, and her eardrums, with a loud clang. Probably shouldn't have done that. Her head was still catching up with her body and did not appreciate loud noises.

"Ah, well enough to make a ruckus?"

The voice, deep like gravel, nearly made her jump out of her seat. Instead, it only made her slam her hands back down on the table for good measure, driving nails into her brain. Wincing, Delthea looked in the direction the voice came from.

From the overwhelming glare of the lamps, a large silhouette approached her, coming into view. It was a tall man, dressed neatly in a suit but that was where normalcy ended.

Instead of the more stereotypically appropriate man-in-black she was expecting, what Delthea got was an unshaven, eye-patch wearing ruffian playing masquerading as one. The shock was almost enough to make Delthea forget the direness of her entire situation.

"But not well enough to respond, huh?"

The man's deep voice had a little more bite this time around. He probably expected Delthea to respond.

"How can I get you to talk?"

"I'd feel better out of these cuffs," Delthea grumbled, raising her wrists. She grimaced when she did, noting how sore her arms were, particularly her right. She took great care not to slam her hands down this time around, gingerly placing her restrained limbs on the metal-faced table. "That not an option?"

The man laughed heartily, to her surprise. He then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical object, setting it down on the table in front of her. Confused, her eyes darted between the slender cylinder and the man.

"Go ahead," he beckoned, motioning with his hand. "Be my guest."

Delthea observed the key and the restraints and immediately realized her predicament. The "keyhole" or whatever it was called, was located smack dab in the middle face of the restraints, staring straight at Delthea like it was taunting her. She couldn't angle her wrists nor twist them to inject the cylinder inside the cuffs, unless she dislocated them. That'd probably hurt real bad.

She glanced back up at her captor.

"Is this some prank of yours?"

The man laughed before reaching over to reclaim the key. "Sorry, wanted to do that for the longest time and never had the chance. You should have seen your face."

Delthea didn't have it in her to laugh along at the joke made at her expense, let alone react. The man caught on.

"Not in the mood for jokes, I take it?" the man sighed. He looked over at his wrist and clicked his tongue. "Guess it's about time we got down to business."

Delthea felt herself instinctively straightening her back as the man pulled up a chair of his own and sat right in front of her. The glare of the light behind him darkened parts of his face, but being that close, Delthea got a better look.

The man was approaching middle-aged but had chiseled facial features, with prominent cheekbones and jawline that could probably cut through her handcuffs. He wore a more easygoing expression earlier, but now that the conversation turned serious, his face hardened somewhat. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes—well, over his one good eye, which was dark like rich mahogany. A leather brown eyepatch covered his right. Delthea could faintly see the contours of a fading scar beneath, an old, grisly wound no doubt. She could only guess what caused it.

The sides of his head were shaved to a fade while the dull red-orange hair atop his head was slicked back.

She took back what she said about this man being a mere ruffian. He looked like he belonged with organized crime.

But what would someone like that want with her?

"You probably have a million questions swimming in your head right now," the man prefaced, nodding towards her, "but I'm sure I don't need to remind you why you're here?"

He painted an arc with his hands, his gloved fingers fluttering, making a crude imitation of the incident before.

Delthea inhaled sharply. Despite blacking out, she remembered the accident aboard the Heroes Express in vivid detail as her brain began churning more and more. From the temperature of the cabin down to the smell of burnt metal and wood, it was all slowly coming back.

"The explosion aboard the train," she muttered to herself, rubbing her hands together.

The man widened his good eye with amusement. "Not even going to try denying it?"

"Would that even work?"

"Nope," the man chuckled. Despite the serious air he gave off, he seemed to be a jokester at heart. That soothed Delthea's nerves slightly. If her interrogator was a serious hardass, she would probably be feeling a lot worse than she already was. She couldn't deal with those types very well, not without flinging more oil onto the proverbial fire.

"But," the man continued in a less playful tone, "'explosion' is putting it mildly." He pulled out a file from the breast pocket of his jacket and slid it towards her. "You've racked up quite the rap sheet before even getting to Heroes Academy." A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. "Not many can claim such a title."

"You're associated with the Academy?" Delthea asked, incredulous. Though it should have assured her that this man wasn't related to organized crime, it didn't make her feel any better when someone like this was part of the academy she was headed to.

The man folded his arms, amused. "That surprise you? What did you think I was?"

Delthea didn't answer. Instead, Claude's words about how potentially shady the academy could be started coming back to her, the reminder sending ice down her spine.

Claude… Where's everyone else?

As far as she was aware, she and the man were the only ones in the room. Were they also being questioned like she was? They were all at the scene when Delthea… when she… What happened to her exactly?

She remembered feeling extremely tired out and heavy, as if someone stacked mountains of sand on her. She remembered her limbs feeling like lead but wobbly at the same time, not unlike when she was seasick. Thinking about the sensation made her shudder. She hoped the others were okay. She couldn't remember if they passed out like she did or worse.

"Wondering what happened to you back on the train?"

Delthea looked up. She realized how silent she had been for the past couple minutes. Her brain was processing her thoughts much slower than usual. Was it an aftereffect of whatever she felt on the train? Seeing no other option to find out, she nodded in response to the man's question.

He put his arms against the chair and leaned back into his seat. "Well, for starters, it's a two part answer so get comfy."

Delthea raised her cuffed hands. "Comfy as I'll ever be," she snapped. She swore she saw the man snicker under his breath. She just shook her head and sighed.

"How well do you understand Channeling?" he finally asked.

"Zilch," Delthea responded with zilch hesitation. "About as green as they come."

"No worries," the man reassured her, "Guess it's time to put that teaching degree to good use."

This guy's a teacher? Delthea made sure to keep her words to herself this time, to prevent the man from having the last laugh. At the same time, she sent her silent condolences to the man's students.

"I'm sure you're intimately aware that Channeling involves the manipulation and channeling of the elements through one's body, yes?"

She nodded, though with very little enthusiasm. She didn't need reminding of the train explosion.

"Well, a Channeler's body must be fully in tune to properly discharge channeled energy," the man explained. He then pointed to various points along his body, like his wrist. "Channelers have channeling conduits located along our bodies to help flow and regulate the energy we build up."

Delthea couldn't help but glance at her wrist.

That explains these weird restraints.

"The element you discharge depends on the affinity you possess," he continued. He then rubbed his chin and looked at Delthea for a minute. "Judging by your explosive prowess, I think it's safe to say that your affinity is most likely fire."

It was probably true. The first thing Delthea ever managed to channel was a small fireball in her hands. And most of her other tricks involved a fiery showing—though nothing like what she did today.

"Even though many Channelers may share affinities with one another, skill level and potential vary per person, just like athleticism and intellect. Everyone possesses a limit." The supposed teacher put a huge emphasis on the limit part. Then, the look in his eyes shifted to an intense degree of seriousness.

"Which is why I find it so hard to believe that a mere novice like you was able to conjure up a Class-S level discharge."

Delthea blinked. "Say what?"

"Professional Channelers and duelists practice for years, decades even, to get up to that level," he explained, closing his eye and placing his folded hands in front of him, "and even then, very few manage to eke out a Class-S showing."

His eye shot open.

"How the hell did you do such a thing?"

The sudden question made her freeze, barely managing to swallow her spiking anxiety. Biting her lip, she answered as best she could.

"Dunno."

The man exhaled languidly, exasperated at her answer. Rubbing his temples, he leaned back into his seat and shook his head.

"And here I was, concerned that you were a potential foreign spy, smuggler, or terrorist…" he muttered to himself. "No operative could possibly be this…" he then proceeded to blast a whole array of derogatory descriptions that would make even the hardiest of sailors blush.

Delthea didn't know whether to feel happy that her innocence had been cleared or insulted that the man thought so lowly of her. Brushing her concerns aside for now, she asked the man a question.

"You said that this was a two-part answer," she said. "What's the second half?" She was still curious about what happened to her back on the train.

"Well," the man groaned, sitting upright, "to dumb it down for you…"

Rude.

"... every Channeler has something like a gas tank inside of them, placing a hard limiter on what they can conjure at a given time. Exhaust that and you're going to be all tuckered out."

"To the point of passing out?"

"Not normally, no," he answered. "You'll feel extreme fatigue, soreness, and lack of strength."

Delthea recalled those exact feelings. "Then what happened to me on the train?"

He smiled wryly. "Oh, we had one of our enforcers incapacitate you with her channeling. Couldn't risk anything happening due to your little 'showcase' on the train. We prefer to keep things under control whenever possible. Knocking you out was the simplest and easiest method."

Well that was an experience she could do without for the rest of her life. Some channeling powers were beyond her imagination. The ability to put people to sleep like that? That was some Grade-A spooky stuff.

"How are the others?" she asked.

"None of them reacted as severely as you did," he answered, clearly amused with something, "after all, none of them were petered out from channeling an explosion."

Oh. Right.

She twiddled her thumbs. "So… what happens now?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "You're just now worried about the consequences of your actions?"

"It's... been a long day, okay," Delthea spat, her tone coming out more venomous than she would have liked. "In case you haven't written it down in your dumb files yet, none of this is familiar to me. I'm only just learning about all… this."

"Only some parts," he corrected her. "You'll learn more in detail next week when classes start."

"Oh, whatever. None of this is familiar and—" She blinked. "What did you just say?"

The teacher widened his good eye. "I said you only learned some part—"

"No, after that."

"That you'll learn more in detail next week?"

Delthea was flabbergasted at the insinuation behind his words. "… You mean... I'm not getting sent home?"

The teacher snorted. "Send you home after a display like that? The higher-ups will dock my pay for a blunder like that." He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the cylindrical key and undid Delthea's restraints, which came apart with a hiss. She rubbed her sore wrists, thankful that they were free.

But the man didn't stop there. He pulled out a folded slip of paper. "Despite the havoc you've wrecked, certain people see talent and potential in you."

He unfolded the paper, revealing a contract within. At a glance, it looked markedly similar to the prospective student contract she had to sign with Luthier before embarking on her trip to Heroes. Only this time, the contract was a lot more definitive about her identity with Heroes. It outright guaranteed her tenure as a student attending and living at Heroes Academy. Accommodations would all be handled by the school. All she had to do was perform well and rise to meet Heroes' standards at all given times.

It almost sounded too good to be true, being given this option. There had to be a catch. Delthea's gut warned her—and not just of nausea this time.

"And if I refuse?" she asked with a nervous breath.

The man nearly doubled over in a huff, sputtering. Setting his hands down on the metal desk, he managed to finally let out a controlled chuckle. "Trying to turn down an offer like that, eh? Quite the jokester."

The stillness in Delthea's face immediately dissuaded his misunderstanding.

"Oh, you're serious." He cleared his throat. "Well, you'll have to reimburse the school for the damages you've done, both financially and public relations-wise. Incidents like this are hard to keep under wraps, and the school year has only just started."

Her blood ran cold and her heart dropped to her knees. There was no way she could ever pay off a debt like that. It would exceed the mouthwash she lost at least by hundred—no, thousand—fold. And Luthier would probably be none too pleased that his dear sister returned home after a mere day at the academy, with an exorbitant debt riding on her shoulders.

But then again, something smelled awfully fishy about this contract. Claude's words to her from before rang like warning bells in her mind.

Delthea took hold of the contract. Reading over it, trying to ingrain every fine printed word into her brain.

"… How long do I have to give an answer?"

"You have three days, which is how long the student orienteering event is," the man replied. "Perfect timing, huh?"

Too perfect.

"Take some time to breathe in the campus and atmosphere, make some friends, and maybe learn a thing or two. Perhaps some R&R will do you some good."

"So, am I off the hook for now?" she asked, hesitant about her newfound freedom.

"You expected more?"

"I expected worse," she answered, wary. She looked up from the contract. "And I'm surprised that for such a big incident, the academy only sends one person to handle it."

"Like you're a special case, I'm a special teacher," he replied, with self-satisfied smile. "I specialize in cases like yours."

"Why does a school need someone like that?"

He laughed. "You are all young men and women in need of guidance. As a teacher, it's my job to provide just that."

"So what happens now?" she asked, increasingly growing worried at what the man was alluding to. With how casually she had been treated—aside from the whole fainting business—through this whole mess, the deal was beginning to reek of something less than savory.

"You're a bright young lady," he answered, rising from his seat, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out."

He straightened out his coat and began to walk away from the table, from the same direction he came in, that area still cloaked in pitch black.

"Oh, one thing," he said, his back turned to her. "Do keep all of this between us. The accident, the contract, and your potential. If the higher-ups catch wind of you running your mouth, they'll have no choice but to render the contract null and instead dole out your original penalty."

Delthea sat quietly for a moment. "Who's 'us'?"

"You, me, and your fellow peers who were with you at the time of the accident. But no one else beyond that."

"... and where are they?"

"They should be wrapping up their own conversations now. You'll be able to see them by going out the door right behind you."

She heard locks and gears shifting behind her, beneath the metal-sheeted walls. A sign that Delthea couldn't make out before glowed green, indicating that the hidden door behind her seat was now open. Her way out. At long last... But was it the escape she thought it was?

She was apprehensive. Apprehensive with stepping out of this room. Apprehensive with going forward. What awaited her out there, beyond these walls? What awaited her if she did or didn't take the contract? She didn't know, and that lack of knowing struck her with an anxiety unlike anything she ever experienced. Perhaps she never should've agreed with Luthier. Perhaps she ought to have just stayed home. Perhaps... she ought to stop worrying and get a grip.

That's... probably for the best.

Seeing some newly found confidence in her eyes the man gave a subtle grin. He then put his hand up, giving her a final curt wave as he blended back into the darkness of the room.

"Welcome to Heroes Academy."


(A/N): When's the next update you may be asking? Haha, I wish I knew. If I have more time, expect the next chapter any time between a week to a month. And if I don't, well, you'll know how that is. As always, PMs are always open if you have questions and I'll try to respond to reviews more promptly in the future. Thanks for reading.

And as always, have yourselves a damn good one.