Michele tossed a cursory look at Zephyr through the screen door. He looked back, eyes half-lidded as he chewed on a mouthful of noodles.
The Summoner observed this exchange, and slid the second door over, ending the staring match and leaving her alone with her moody blonde Unit.
It was humid and dark, the only source of visibility the ambient light from the house's windows.
"So, you wanted to talk about something?" the Summoner said, sitting down on the edge of the porch. Aah, Noel really screwed up her momentum by kidnapping her for all those hours. She hadn't been able to get anything done today, save for roping Zephyr into her twisted little family.
Michele hesitated, and it felt wrong to associate hesitation with Michele, before looking right into the Summoner's eyes, face contorted in frustration. Her posture shifted to something aggressive and much more Michele.
"Today," she said, hands on her hips, "in that odd chamber."
The Summoner winced. That was what she wanted to talk about? Well, it was only to be expected. "I know you told me that you wouldn't give me any second chances, and it's okay to do what you want since I broke that agreement, but I-"
"That's not what I meant!" Michele said. "I expected you to lose. You are pathetically weak, after all."
"Gee, thanks."
"It's just…" and there it was again, that look. The blonde's eyebrows furrowed, and she broke eye contact with the Summoner.
"You can say whatever you want," the Summoner said. For some reason, Michele's lack of confidence made her feel guilty. She wasn't sure why she felt responsibility towards someone who physically hurt her and was generally terrifying. "I'm a person who is as insignificant as an ant, so it's like you're speaking to yourself."
"I know that!" Michele replied, with some anger. Well, it was more frustration than anger. Then she was quiet for a moment, as if summoning her will. "During the trial today, why did you protect me?"
What?
The Summoner didn't recall such an event. She didn't remember much from the battle with Mock Karl at all, actually, save for a lot of water, pain, and coldness. The subsequent barrage of paperwork also made her block more of the afternoon out.
Though… now that she thought about it, there was a point where Karl had been about to shoot the human equivalent of a Hydro Pump at her squad, so she shoved them out of the way and taken the blow herself. Which was stupid in hindsight, given that she was untrained and incompetent, and her Units were seasoned fighters.
But Michele was clearly a fire type! She didn't need to sustain critical damage fighting for someone whose cause she didn't even believe in.
And now that she thought about it some more, that blast should have killed her. She faintly recalled the wet snap her neck made as the frigid stream of water threw her into a wall. Since she was here, dealing with the epitome of awkward social situations, instead of in a mortuary, the attack hadn't killed her. Why hadn't it?
"Huh, I shouldn't have survived that," she muttered.
"What other brilliant deductions would you like to make?" Michele snapped, stomping a foot in annoyance. "Did you think you were stronger than me, enough to take a blow in my place?"
The Summoner put up two hands, the classic "don't shoot" position. "I wasn't thinking, 'hey, I'd like to belittle Michele's skills right now!' when I did it!"
And boy, here came the cheese line.
"I didn't think about anything at all, at that moment. Protecting you guys felt like the natural thing, as simple as breathing or blinking. S-sorry if you got the wrong impression." Of course she was red like a tomato as she said it. Why couldn't she be smooth and cool like Sera? Or immune to embarrassment, like Karl? Heck, even Noel's soullessness would be preferable.
Michele's head was lowered, her bangs shadowing her face and making them even less visible in the dank night air.
"…You guys are my responsibility, after all. Even though I'm untrained, I still have standards," she finished weakly, lowering her hands and letting them rest on the warm wood of the porch.
Say something, Michele. The Summoner might die in this oppressive atmosphere. Neither said a word, the only sound the cacophonous chirping of cicadas in the bushes.
"So you're not arrogant then. You're arrogant and stupid!" Michele roared, charging at the Summoner, her axes glowing red.
"W-what are you doing, psycho?!" she shouted, rolling onto the ground. She really couldn't damage any more of Karl's things, and a singed ground was easier to conceal than a singed porch.
"You piss me off!" Michele responded. The Summoner jerked her neck left to avoid the downward sweep of a blade, which embedded itself into the spot her head had occupied moments ago. The hot metal hissed as it made impact with the ground, faint wisps of steam rising from the crack in the ground.
"You piss me off more!" the Summoner retorted. "Can't you just ever plainly say things without the violence? Speaking to you feels like I'm trying to defuse a bomb! I hate it!"
"Why'd you summon me, then?" Michele snarled.
"Didn't really have a choice the first time, princess! And for the second time, sorry for thinking you could be reasoned with! If you dislike it, tell me and I'll be sure never to summon you again."
She didn't know why, but Michele looked surprised her statements. The Summoner took advantage of her momentary weakness, and tackled the shorter girl. She didn't hope for much, but at least Michele let go of her axes. They flew a few feet away, melting away the grass they made contact with.
She was surprised that she could pull that off. At this rate, maybe she could even walk out of this situation alive.
"OW. HOLY FUCK. DID YOU JUST BREAK MY ARM?" the Summoner screamed, rolling over in agony, clutching the limp appendage.
Was this what death felt like? The cool grass tickled the skin of her inflamed arm, and sent shockwaves of pain roiling through her body.
Back home, she was a peace-loving civilian. She had visited the hospital once before, and it had been to visit her pregnant aunt. She'd never broken a bone in her life, much less hung around the sort who could break arms with a twitch of a hand.
The Summoner really couldn't comprehend Michele, or angry people in general. It seemed easier to live life with a cool, content head than try to fight every person who got in her way. The erratic jumps from tense conversation to all-out brawling made her uneasy.
"I… really hate it."
Michele's weight settled on top of her, legs straddling her body.
"I hate that someone as weak and stupid as you felt like you could protect me! Who do you even think you are? How dare you," and here, the girl's shoulders hitched, and locks of blonde hair tumbled over and tickled the Summoner's face. "How dare you make me feel powerless like that?"
The Summoner frowned at her. "How do you think I feel, surrounded by people who can literally break my arm if I make them mad? Full of power?"
Michele's eyes swam with red anger and frustration and something else that the Summoner couldn't quite describe. Maybe the Summoner was being unfair; she was someone who boasted about being calm and level-headed, but here she was, exploding on the second night of her arrival. Michele didn't deserve all the annoyance she was directing at her. Some of it was a result of the pent-up annoyance and helplessness at her situation.
On the other hand, Michele had broken her arm, a fact that the Summoner was constantly reminded of by the pulses of pain that shot up the limb.
"Look, I suck now, but I'm trying to get better. And if that's not good enough for you, then you can turn around, no obligations. If you want to stay, then let's talk about things, instead of being all… explodey," she gestured explosions with her good arm. "Otherwise, I don't want you. I want my team to be comfortable with talking to me, and vice versa. Or else I can't call them my allies."
And that was it. She felt odd – this kind of aggressiveness wasn't normal for her. But then again, this situation wasn't normal for her, either. She rarely got injured, and she almost never got transported to fantasy worlds.
Hopefully this kind of rapid change wouldn't backfire at some point, in a "due a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become a villain" kind of way.
"I'm mad. Sorry," the Summoner said. "I think we should take the night to cool off. Tell me what you think tomorrow. Or take as long as you want." When she gently pushed the other girl off, Michele offered little resistance.
She opened the heavy door and stepped back into the kitchen, leaving the scene behind.
Zephyr raised an eyebrow. "Your arm," he said.
There was no way that he didn't hear everything that transpired. The Summoner gave him a smile, half-hearted in her tiredness. "Yeah, it's super broken right now."
She sat down at the table, wincing as she slowly used her good arm to lift the broken one onto the stable surface. "This has got to be the worst possible first impression ever. Sorry. I kind of want to scream right now, but I'm too exhausted to even try. And it's late." Not that the lateness of the hour affected the screaming match she just had.
She didn't know the first thing about Zephyr. He seemed cautious and intellectual at first glance, but who knew what he thinking behind those impartial cobalt eyes?
Well, it wasn't fair to assume the worst of him. The point still stood, though; he could be a bloodthirsty psychopath, for all she knew.
"May I borrow your cutting board?" Zephyr asked, cutting through the awkward silence that had settled around them.
"Oh? Yeah, go ahead," she said. He stood up with a confident grace that she envied, and walked over to the cutting board, and removed a knife from the chopping block.
…Wait. Hadn't she just been wildly theorizing that he might be a bloodthirsty psychopath?
Zephyr ran a single gloved finger over the sharp edge of the knife, and seemingly satisfied by its quality, laid it down. He walked over to the fridge, and pulled out a bundle of colorful leaves and several bottles filled with bright liquid. He also pulled a few small glass jars out of his robes.
She couldn't see what exactly he was doing, but after a few minutes of quiet chopping, he walked over with a mug half-filled with a dark liquid and some paste in a bowl.
"Drink this," he ordered. She accepted the cup into her hand, and took a small sip.
Her retching almost made her spill the liquid out of the cup, but Zephyr caught her wrist with a firm grasp before she could drop it.
"That is disgusting," she said, huffing. The drink was so horrible that she was out of breath from trying it.
"It doesn't make sense for medicine to be appetizing. Why associate positivity with something negative, like injury?" He took her broken arm and gently spread some paste onto her forearm, rubbing it with two deft fingers.
That made an impressive amount of sense. "A lot of Elgaian medicine is sweet, though."
"Elgaia doesn't know how to make medicine," Zephyr insisted. Wow. Noel would probably fight him for saying that. "The dosage required for Elgaian medicine increases exponentially as symptoms become more severe. A cure for most shallow cuts and stabs will suffice, but for more serious injuries, you'd have to drink two or three of them."
He was like… the human incarnation of Wikipedia, or something. Was he even human? "What's this, then?"
"Something that will help mend your bones. It will also give you a strong resistance to illness as long as it is present in your bloodstream, and fortify you against future injury. There's also some calcium in it, to combat that growing deficiency of yours."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
He smiled. It was kind of cute, if the situation wasn't super weird. "Your nails," he said, brushing a finger over the chipped nail of her pointer finger.
"Wow, you're pretty impressive," she said. "Thanks. Two questions."
He released her arm, which was covered with the thin oily film of the paste, and set it down on the table again. It didn't hurt anymore. It didn't feel like anything, actually. The numbness was odd, like she didn't have an arm at all. "Yes?"
She sighed. She couldn't deny him when he made it for her, and it had such awesome effects. "Why isn't this more popular if it's more effective?"
"The recipe isn't very well-known. It's one of the first elixirs I ever synthesized." He muttered something about not having healers, but she didn't catch it. "Also, the sweetness of the common cure is much friendlier to the public than this."
She was going to shotgun this like espresso. She swirled the drink in the cup, giving it the evil eye. Ugh, why did her other arm have to be broken? She could have pinched her nose shut with it.
Holy shit, it was horrible. She somehow choked it down, resisting the urge to gag. It took her probably around twenty seconds to finish it off, but it felt like twenty minutes instead. Light-headed and dizzy, she opened her mouth to ask the second question.
Instead, her vision swam, and she blacked out.
She was woken by the obnoxious beeping coming from the table. Flipping up the glass screen of the communicator provided to her from the Summoners' Hall, she rubbed her eye with the other hand and was greeted by her favorite baby-faced incarnation of Satan.
A hologram of Noel scrutinized her messy hair and greasy face. "Are you serious?" he scoffed. "It's already ten. How can you even begin to be productive if you sleep half the day away?"
There was silence for a moment as she let his words sink in. "Haha. That is your mistake, buddy," she said, the effect of her comeback lessened by the clear grogginess of her voice. "You are assuming that I am a productive human, and not a leech on society's upstanding citizens."
He scoffed, and she grinned. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship, she thought. The Summoner surveyed her surroundings. She was lying on Karl's bed, her coat draped over its headboard. Someone, probably Zephyr, had laid a blanket on top of her and taken off her boots, which sat at the room's entrance.
What a nice guy. Her arm felt good as new, too.
"Anyways, I doubt you're the type of person who calls for fun, or knows what fun is," she teased, "so what do you want from me?"
He rolled his eyes. "I called to remind you that while most of your correspondence with the Summoners' Hall will be electronically through this communicator, you also have a physical mailbox in the Administration office. If you let it get too clogged up, the cleaning staff will grow to hate you."
And rule number one of succeeding anywhere: do not piss off the service staff.
"Got it. Anything else?"
"I advise that you stay away from the Arena, in your current state. You'll be needlessly embarrassed-"
"Wow, rude-"
"-and considering that your admission into the Army was unorthodox, and you're an outsider, you might be bullied or something."
Well, that wasn't surprising news. She sighed. "Alright. Thanks for letting me know. See, you care after all."
"In your dreams," Noel retorted. "Since you have a 'mission' from Lucius himself, you won't be assigned to a squad. However, you will be responsible for submitting a report about your mission progress and personal progress every other week."
"Oh? What happens if I don't?"
"You'll answer to Sera, then."
"Ah."
Noel: 1, Summoner: 0.
"Hmm." The Summoner tapped a finger against her chin as she stared intently at the glass display case.
She knew… absolutely nothing about weaponry, she realized after walking into the store. The lady at the counter recognized the army's insignia on her outfit, and probably thought that the Summoner had at least a clue about fighting. Social anxiety, aaaaaah.
There was a large claymore-type sword on display in the center aisle. She walked up to it and admired the ornate hilt, which was studded with red and green jewels.
That wouldn't suit you at all. It's ugly. And it screams "please steal from me!" to anyone who sees it.
In surprise, she stumbled and fell over with a yelp. At least she hadn't knocked anything over.
"Are you okay, miss?" someone who was probably a worker asked.
She rubbed her head and smiled sheepishly and lifted herself off the ground. "Yeah, thanks. I recently healed from a serious leg injury, so I'm trying to get used to walking again."
The worker's eyes widened. "I see. Good luck, then." He returned to his task of unboxing goods.
Inside, she was punching herself. Why did she say all that? It was absolutely unnecessary. She didn't even know why she did it.
And there was the reason that she fell over in the first place.
…Kuda?
Is there a reason why you're saying my name?
Okay, what the actual fuck.
What are you doing in my head?
I just saw an empty room, and decided to sit down.
Hey. Rude. She was sure that her mind was full of excellent, entertaining things. Kuda was just the worst.
This is really weird. A pause. Then: Wait a sec, you can see out of my eyes?
Kuda made a humming noise that sounded like yes. By the way, you've been mixing up the shampoo and body-wash since you arrived. Unless that was intentional?
She must have looked like an insane person, tripping over nothing and then turning bright red.
Thanks for the advice? I think. But I'd prefer if you NEVER HAD THE MEANS TO FIND OUT THINGS LIKE THAT, EVER AGAIN.
There was a smug silence, and she buried her face into the flat of her palms, the burning of her cheeks hot on the skin on her hands.
So that was a thing that was new. She felt a hard-to-describe synchronization with her Units when in combat, like she was them, performing each of their actions. It was even weirder when more than one of them was present.
It was like… each Unit was a string on a violin, humming at a unique frequency, and she felt every vibration at once. Eze was something high-pitched and energetic, while Kuda and Zephyr were lower, softer sounds. Michele was somewhere in the middle pitchwise, but very loud and confident.
Hey, she wasn't a writer, okay? In English class, she was happy with Bs.
You have an interesting way of looking at things. The music analogy is fitting with the appearance of your mind. That was Zephyr, by the way.
Oh? Kuda made it sound like her mind was a derelict, dusty cellar with moldy walls.
It's a large, ornate auditorium. The seats are red plush, and there is a piano on the stage illuminated by a spotlight. …It is empty, save for Kuda and myself.
Well, that wasn't demoralizing or anything.
I imagine that you can visit this place if you meditate before falling asleep. I'd take you now, but the shopkeep is looking at you suspiciously.
She looked towards the counter, and she was indeed being given the stink eye by the lady. In the cashier's defense, she had been standing there for several minutes, not blinking or doing anything.
Quick, buy something. Throwing money at problems inevitably solved them, so she grabbed some training blades from a bin, paid for them, and left the store.
Upon seeing Tilith's miffed expression when she walked through the gate, the Summoner threw herself onto the ground, head bowed low.
"Please forgive me, venerable Goddess Tilith," she said, planting herself at Tilith's feet. "I was held hostage by a gremlin and I wasn't able to do anything yesterday! Here is a loaf of walnut bread, to express my remorse and conviction that I will never show such sloth ever again."
She held the fresh loaf over her head.
"Uh," Tilith said, accepting the treat, "Thanks!"
Crisis averted. The Summoner secretly thanked the god of baked goods, who never led her astray.
"Anyways, this is the Forest of Beasts," Tilith said. She waved an arm at the trees, whose canopy extended so high that only faint rays of sun were able to seep through, casting a dim glow on the foliage. "It's full of monsters, but I think you can handle those easily!" She finished her statement with a smile.
The Summoner returned her smile. Gosh, cheerful Tilith was calming to the soul. "Thanks."
"Of course, the real danger is the suspicious individual hunting all the monsters." Say what, now? Tilith's smile twitched into a smirk for a second, before she opened her mouth again.
Wait, was Tilith actually a sass master? The Summoner was intrigued.
"Have you equipped spheres to your Units, by the way? They can turn the tide of a battle with their powers. Anyways, see you once you've cleared this area!" And the goddess was gone.
"…I haven't equipped spheres," the Summoner whispered sadly at empty air.
Okay, real talk: why couldn't Tilith just teleport her across the forest if the girl was capable of doing it to herself? Wouldn't that be more efficient? Heck, why didn't Tilith stay by her side and help fight, so that their quest could be completed faster?
"I suspect it's because she does not have the strength to teleport multiple people across regions. Remember, you're crossing a territory under the control of a Fallen God," Zephyr said as she summoned her squad. "Furthermore, she may have multiple tasks. She is a disciple of Lucius, after all, and the gods are…capricious, to say the least." His voice turned rather sardonic at the end, and the Summoner wondered what the story behind that was.
"I'm grateful for the information, but is there a way to stop you guys from reading my mind? It's kind of invasive and uncomfortable," she said.
Zephyr cocked his head. "I won't do it anymore. My apologies. It's rather hard to ignore, though – your thoughts are like an open book."
Kuda interjected here: "It's more like a speaker playing obnoxious music. Impossible to ignore, even if I wanted to."
"Sorry about being so loud, I guess. I'll try to keep it down?"
A twig crunched behind her, and she turned to see a sullen Michele.
Welp.
She had said some things in the heat of the moment, and now she had to deal with the fallout. The Summoner hated confrontations…
Before she could say anything, Michele spoke.
"It annoys me when people try to be subtle, so I'll say it now. I'll fight alongside you. You should feel honored that I'd lower myself to that level. In return for my exceptional service, you'll obey my every order in training! And you'll never try to take a blow for me again," she said.
The Summoner took a moment to put that into a normal-person translator: I'm sorry for hurting you. I would love to stay on the squad, and am interested in overseeing your self-improvement. I also feel anxious when you are injured, so I would greatly prefer it if you allowed me to take the brunt of the damage in future battles.
She smiled, and raised her arms. "Okay. Let's hug."
Michele looked flabbergasted. "What are you-"
"Sssh. Accept it," the Summoner said, "and please don't break my arm again." She threw her arms around Michele, and laid her head on her shoulder. "I can't say anything about not taking hits for you in the future. Life's kind of crazy, and I don't like making promises that I can't keep."
Michele was tense. "…Fine," she admitted begrudgingly. "Can you let me go now? The others are staring." And they were: Eze looked half-confused and half-annoyed, Kuda bored, and Zephyr curious.
"They're just jealous of our intense Sapphic love," the Summoner said, releasing her.
There was a pause.
"Wow," Kuda said.
"What does 'Sapphic' mean?" Eze asked.
Michele's responding blush was so cute. The Summoner was lucky to have such adorable people in her life.
The way she was punched into a tree was less cute, but hey, baby steps.
"Don't worry, Eze, that's just how girls communicate love to each other," she said, stuffing another tissue up her nose. Michele had taken the lead in their trek through the forest, melting every Mandragora and Mossy she came across. This was way easier than the Snowfield.
At that moment, Michele delivered a fire-powered slap to a little hooded girl with cat ears, and sent her flying past the blonde warrior. The Summoner stepped over her prone body.
"Women are terrifying," he responded.
"Yeah, but we get stuff done."
"Don't teach him that kind of stuff," Kuda said scathingly. "He's so stupid that he'll actually believe you."
"HEY!" Zephyr looked intrigued by the brawl that broke out within seconds.
"W-wait…" the lump of girl said.
"Oh, you're still alive? Not bad," the Summoner said. "Does that mean the others get to fight now, too? I think Kuda's getting fat from all the food I've been making, and he hasn't had a chance to exercise." A tactful flick, and a familiar whip-sword grazed her cheek, some blood dripping from the shallow wound. "Love you!"
"N-no." The girl trembled. "I'd like to join you, if you don't mind."
"That's different, then." The Summoner helped the girl up with one hand, and picked up her wooden staff with the other. "Welcome aboard."
"Thank you." Her eyes were warm brown and seemed kind of wise, even though the Summoner was pretty sure that she was maybe twelve or thirteen years old. "My name is Claris." She held the staff, which looked oversized in her small delicate hands, and rung the bell attached to its tip once. It chimed a light, clear sound, and the wounds on her body disappeared.
"A healer, then?" Healers were badass.
She nodded, hood bobbing up and down. Now that the Summoner looked at her, Claris didn't have cat ears, but her hood was starched stiff and stood up at sharp corners. "I'm a geomancer."
"I don't know what that means, but we can talk about that later, yeah?" the Summoner said. "Michele's probably getting impatient."
"T-that scary beast?" Claris asked, pointing at the scary beast who was stomping towards them.
"She's pretty scary, but she's no beast," the Summoner said. "Michele's pretty awesome once you get to know her."
"What is taking so long-?!"
They moved through a small, innocuous clearing, the lack of trees providing slightly more visibility in the dark forest.
Kuda grabbed her by the hood of her cape and pulled back roughly. Her head jerked back, and an arrow shot through the space her head would have occupied if not for a certain assassin.
"Holy balls-"
"I'm just constantly in awe that you've managed to survive this far in your life. You're welcome, by the way."
"Your reflexes are that bad? I'll double your conditioning, then!"
"Do you have a scratch on your nose? Come here, I'll heal you right up-"
"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Her attacker shouted. While he might have looked cool, perched languidly in a tree with an arrow nocked into the fine curve of his bow, the tearful look on his face destroyed any effect he was going for.
"Che. This is our opponent? He doesn't look like much," Eze said, unsheathing his sword from his back.
"Like you should talk, elemental weakness. If it wasn't for Corkscrew over there," Kuda pointed at Michele, "Then you'd have a hell of a harder time in this forest."
"Corkscrew? What does that mean?" It was a wonder that Michele hadn't threatened to mutilate Kuda yet. Probably because she had the Summoner to get angry at, but now that they were (tentative) friends, Michele could focus down the true snide bastard of the group.
"Well, have you looked in a mirror lately?" Kuda replied. He twirled his finger in a circular motion. "Or are you blind as well as lacking in fashion sense?"
Michele roared and launched herself at him, and it was kind of like déjà vu.
"…You're ignoring me again…" the archer in the tree muttered. "Don't you have the sense not to turn your back on an enemy? " He leapt from the branch and aimed an arrow at Michele.
She batted it away without looking. "You're annoying," she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye like he was a cockroach. With a swipe of her axes, everyone's weapons took on a reddish hue.
And the fight after that could only be described as a curb-stomp.
"That felt like bullying," the Summoner said, as the slim archer fell to his knees and dissipated into a fine mist of energy. "We're bullies, aren't we?" In the background, Michele and Kuda were still decimating trees. Well, Kuda was pretty much condemning the trees to death by darting behind them to avoid Michele's attacks.
"Well, the elemental advantage that Michele provided us proved to be a great boon in this battle. You had more difficulty in the Snowfield, correct?"
For a second, she wondered how Zephyr knew all that, but it was probably because he read her easily-readable mind.
"Yeah. I guess Eze and Kuda have been getting stronger, too. I've been fattening them up with slimes, so that I can harvest their bodies for meat to sell on the black market."
Eze gave her an alarmed look.
"I was kidding, darling," she said, booping him on the nose. "Anyways, I have more than twice the amount of teammates with opposable thumbs, so I guess that counts for something. Remember when I had to use Sparkies as filler units? Man, those were the days. The day before yesterday, really."
Zephyr looked thoughtful. "Your development over three days, one of which was spent out of battle, is intriguing."
She smiled. "Yup, that's what I am. Intriguing. Anyways, do you want to tell me what the heck spheres are? Tilith kind of ran off before letting me know."
Then, the Summoner realized Tilith didn't know that that she was from another world, and was therefore a complete scrub at summoning. But should she tell her? After all, Tilith seemed to have these expectations of her, and there was a kind of innocent confidence to the goddess that the Summoner didn't want to mess around with.
Guuh. It was like she was never allowed to have peace in her life.
"Spheres are meant to amplify the powers of Units," Zephyr lectured, performing his role of walking encyclopedia with practiced ease. "They have a variety of effects, from strengthening to defending, preventing illness, and more. They're more of a conduit for your own power – the materials focus your energy in a way that benefit the unit."
They were in the sphere house, a medium-sized facility with several stalls. In each stall, there was a complicated-looking mechanism of glass tubes, and a cauldron in the ground.
"Okay," she said. "But how do five of these-" She picked up five green fangs that Zephyr had asked her to lay out on the table, "turn into a 'sphere'? Or anything useful, for that matter?" Her hoarding urges had made her keep everything the enemies dropped, but she didn't expect them to be used.
"You melt them down and stir," he said, pointing to a cauldron. He was sitting down next to her on the small bench at the side of the stall. "Then you turn this switch on, and if you have enough Karma, then a sphere will form once the materials finish mixing."
"Karma? Like the Buddhism stuff?"
"I'm not familiar with that term," Zephyr replied. "Karma is accrued when you fight, and can be expended to produce items. I'd liken it to eggs in baking. Without some liquid base, your separate components will not mix. Karma allows incompatible elements to combine together and produce exceptional effects."
That was actually really easy to understand. It was pretty much like spiritual energy money. "I get it," she said. "You're really awesome, you know that?"
Zephyr quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you, I suppose. What is 'Buddhism'?"
"It's a system of belief in which people are reincarnated depending on their actions in their life. Karma is your actions, and determines how you will be reincarnated in the next life. The end goal is to reach nirvana, which is freedom from the cycle."
He took a moment to digest the words.
"It's a religion that doesn't depend on gods. Rather, the personal actions of the individual affect divinity. Fascinating."
"I think there's branches of Buddhism that worship the original Buddha dude? I'm not an expert," she replied, laughing nervously. Her encyclopedia skills were vastly inferior to Zephyr's.
The liquefied claws started climbing up the glass tube when she turned the switch on. By the time the liquid reached the top of the tube, it had turned a deep blue.
"Oh hey, that happened."
"…Do you know who I am?" Zephyr asked after a moment.
When had the mood shifted to something more serious?
"Uh. You're Zephyr," she said, uneasy.
"I was once one of the Twelve Guardians of the Gods," he said. "The second-in-command."
Ah.
"To hear about a belief system in which humans are completely independent from gods is fascinating. In my earlier days, everything I learned was for the sake of protecting the Gods and carrying out their will."
It was nice that he found her heresy interesting and not insulting, then.
"There's a lot of religions like that where I come from," she said, babbling a bit. "There's even one that believes that gods don't exist at all, and once you're buried in the ground, life is over." She probably agreed with those ideas before, but then her life got flip-turned upside down by the likes of Lucius, and she wasn't even sure which religion got it right at this point.
He looked flabbergasted at the idea of atheism. "I'd like to hear more about that, if you don't mind."
"Sure. You've been so helpful to me, so I'll tell you whatever you like."
"And you get a sphere, and you get a sphere, everybody gets a sphere!" So she was in a desolate, dark world where nobody else knew about the glory that was Oprah Winfrey other than her, but she'd make it work.
Eze looked particularly happy to receive his Famous Blade, and slotted it into the base of his sword. "Alright, I feel pumped already!"
"Wow, you look energetic," someone commented.
"Hey, Tilith! This place absolutely sucks, doesn't it?" The Summoner said, turning towards the source of the voice.
Tilith groaned. "Right? It's so humid and disgusting. There's mosquitoes everywhere. I hate it."
The two stood in quiet misery for a moment. Then:
"Congratulations on clearing the forest so quickly, though!" Tilith said. "I thought you were a sham when I first saw you, but you look pretty dignified and cool right now! You get along with your squad really well, too."
"Um, thanks?" Ouch, Tilith. The Summoner knew that their meeting wasn't one of her proudest moments, but that honesty hurt.
"I think Lord Lucius chose the right summoner," Tilith said, patting the Summoner on the back. "Anyways, it's gross here, so I'll wait for you at the Shrine! Good luck clearing the Wetlands!"
Then, she was gone in a flash of light.
The Summoner slumped onto the damp floor, blowing air up at her forehead in an attempt to lift the slick bangs plastered to her forehead.
"Unfair."
Michele rubbed at her temples. "If you're going to learn anything, learn how to fall properly first. You're going to injure yourself if you just drop like that, and we all know you can't afford that, since you're stupid and all."
For Michele it was oddly monotone. The Summoner lifted her head from the puddle she landed in after tripping over some random stupid floating plant's roots, and groaned.
"How do you fall, then?"
"Keep your arms and legs close to you. Convert your falling momentum into energy to get yourself back on your feet." Michele dropped to the ground, performing some kind of odd roll that let her stand up with ease.
"It doesn't really count if you're anticipating the impact," Kuda said, and shoved the petite girl.
Michele fell to the side, and threw an axe at Kuda, which he caught with one hand. She twisted to the side and recovered with ease, rising with a small splash of water.
She glared at the smug assassin, who tossed her blade back to her. "As much as I hate that guy, he has a point," Michele said. "As practice, I'll be pushing you when you don't expect it, and you'll try to recover from it."
That just sounded like assault.
"Don't catch yourself on your hands like that! Do you want your wrists to snap like the worthless twigs that they are?"
"If you fall like that, you'll throw your back out before you hit thirty."
"I was going to push you at random intervals, but you keep falling without my help."
"…Hopeless…"
This was hell. She was in hell, right? And Michele was Satan.
Somehow, this was probably all Noel's fault.
Some punk with a gun appeared. Whatever. She didn't really remember. Zephyr showed off his fighting for the first time – he conjured a large, purple magic spear and gored the pistol-user with ease. There was a Barney the Dinosaur joke to be made here, but she didn't have the energy or heart to make one. And that said something about the grimness of the situation – when did she not have the heart for Barney the Dinosaur jokes?
While Claris's healing spells closed her scratches and prevented infections, they did little for the bruises and aches and soul-crushing despair she was feeling.
"You've got to fight me sometime, Zephyr," Eze said, looking impressed by the display of power.
"Once she returns to Elgaia, I wouldn't mind a spar," he agreed.
Eze gave a barking laugh. "Alright, who's next? I want to show off, too!"
"That would be I."
A lone figure stood in the middle of the group's path. His glasses gave him an intellectual look, but the Summoner surmised that he was an idiot, because who wears full robes and a cape in this kind of humidity?
Eze seemed to know the answer to her rhetorical question.
"Weiss?"
Welcome to Quorum, where everyone is kind of an asshole and eris tries to write a shoujo manga in prose form, and fails because she is about as romantic as a piece of gum stuck to the floor. As I was writing the scrappy fistfight against Michele, I realized: with Michele filling the tsundere role, what do I do about Seria? ROOKIE MISTAKES, man. Rookie mistakes. Whatever, I'm just glad that I can write more girls now. This fanfic was becoming a gross sausage fest.
What to look forward to in the next chapter when/if it comes out: WE'RE GONNA CLEAR MISTRAL GOD DAMN IT, another summon, a private rendezvous with the main love interest of this story? Just kidding, there is no main love interest.
Thanks for reading,
-eris