A/N: This one's got layers. Might be contentious.
Great clouds rolled over the forests this morning. Anchorage awoke to a sky of endless gray. The winds were picking up, whistling through meadows and fields, and the dull green waters of the lake were disturbed as the boughs of the trees groaned, their leaves rustling so loudly they drowned everything else out. Instincts whispered to the animals and insects, compelling them to hide away, and the greater beasts of adjacent forests took sanctuary. With mountains encompassing the lake, the hills, and the plains upon which the settlement sat, there was no doubt in Vhesla's mind that it would shower heavily soon.
While she was surprised when she first observed the dreary colors, not at all was she displeased. She was quite fond of the rain. It made for a wonderfully cozy ambience. If she were in the city, she would look forward to an evening by the window with a book in her hand or in her Dominic's embrace. What a shame it would be that today of all days she wouldn't get to enjoy either activity, not when she was all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, and not when her husband was so busy.
The succubus sighed longingly. As much as she wanted to complain about their situation, she knew more than anybody else that Dominic worked as hard as he did for her. She only wished they had more time together. It wasn't like she wasn't working hard too, though. She was here after all wasn't she? And thankfully, with the coming of the storm, the fruits of her and Dominic's labors would be seen, and they'd finally be able to take a break for a while.
With that pleasing thought in mind, the succubus focused back on reality. She stood just by a field, peering at the horizon where the edge of the gray sky became black. Among the darkness, she could see dim flashes indicative of lightning. With how far they were, it would be at least a few hours before that main part of the thunderstorm reached Anchorage. She was no expert, but she was certain of one thing. A storm of that magnitude would surely disrupt radio waves and any incoming or outgoing communications.
Not only that, but with how dark those clouds were, she was quite sure it would be near pitch black just beneath them, and the white noise would be deafeningly loud when they started pouring. What unbelievable luck. She smiled sadly at the turn of events.
"Sorry Yukino…" she muttered wistfully to the air, staring at nothing.
The smile fell from her face when she felt the presence of a man's life energy approaching from behind. She sighed when she realized who it was. 'Please don't.'
The presence didn't heed her silent request. Arthur stepped up to her side, gazing out at the darker clouds as she was. "...That's one hell of a storm coming."
"Yep," she replied quietly, not bothering to turn and face him. An awkward silence ensued. She sighed when he didn't make any move to leave.
"...Where's Dominic, Vhesla?"
"He's busy," she replied. She could feel his gaze turn on her.
"Busy, huh?" Arthur challenged. "I haven't seen that man since we got here. And I make sure to get a headcount of everyone here every day. Where is he?"
Vhesla finally turned to him, a crease in her eyebrows. "I already told you. He's working. Every day he leaves in the morning and comes back late at night."
Arthur gave her a dry, unimpressed look. "...Even if that were true, what kind of man would do that to his wife. Not only a mamono, but a succubus. He spends no time here, no time with you, and if he works as long as you say he does, there's no way he wouldn't be so exhausted by the time he gets back, he has time for you."
"You don't know anything," Vhesla replied coolly. "So don't make assumptions."
"Maybe I don't know anything about your relationship," Arthur shrugged, "But I do know that I'm the coordinator here. It's my job to make sure nobody goes missing. I haven't seen Dominic in almost three weeks now, Vhesla. I've been holding off for a long time, but something about this isn't right. Where is he? What does he even do?"
He was getting too suspicious, but Vhesla doubted he would do anything. Still, just in case…
Vhesla's eyes lowered to Arthur's chest for a moment. "...Tonight." She met his eyes again. "He will be here in the evening. You'll see him at dinner."
Arthur stared at the woman for a long, hard moment, searching for a trace of any lie. Vhesla wasn't lying. "...Fine. But if he isn't there, I'm sending out search parties and we'll be doing an investigation."
Vhesla merely nodded. "Of course. I guess your worries are reasonable too but…No, nevermind." She gave him a lopsided look. "Is that all you came here for?" Arthur nodded. "Okay then. I'll be getting ready for the storm."
With that, she turned and walked away smoothly. Indeed, it was time to prepare.
Oliver slowly ran his fingers across the smooth surface of the paper, crossing over the thick black lines that defined the boundaries of his first spell. His dying phone light was the only source of illumination on this cloudy day, but it was enough, enough to see the circle. It was beautiful, enough to elicit a quiet breath from him. He stood up from the desk. This was it. The moment of truth.
With a slow, audible inhale, he splayed his fingers across the paper and circulated his mana. The familiar feeling of his magical power flowed quickly to his hand, but the moment his mana reached the paper, he stiffened.
He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Whatever it was, it wasn't this.
As he saw the nexus of the circle begin to glow, a foreign sensation spread across his body, starting from his fingers. At first, it was indescribable. But then, as the first step within his circle glowed, he understood what the feeling was, because the universe told him.
Instructions. Mathematics. Physics. He could feel them. Oliver gasped. 'Hoooh, man.'
How inherently abstract a concept that was. It was one thing to understand the nature of the universe, the laws that reality adhered to. But to feel those very laws, to have something abstract that only existed within the mind suddenly be a physical, tangible feeling? To know what mathematics felt like. It was bewildering, far more than anything Oliver had ever felt before—even the sensation of first awakening his mana could not compare.
And yet, as each instruction within the circle glowed, he could feel his mana executing the program, feel it all. His understanding of certain mathematical concepts that he had a grasp on seemed to solidify further, turning from an intangible numbering system in his brain to a physical sensation in his skin and bones. Then the culmination of everything, the foundations of mathematics and physics came together in the palm of his hand, and there, pressed over the scribblings on paper he had drawn was his first spell.
Oliver stared at his hand in open-mouthed awe when he raised it and the newly-formed silver-colored magic circle followed it, spinning slowly, just offset at the tips of his fingers and no more than a foot in diameter. He'd done it! "I did it…"
He took a moment to burn the feeling of the spell into his brain, then he cut the flow of his mana, allowing it to fade away. He could still feel it. The spell, the math, had been roughly encoded into his very being. He would never forget it.
Excitement burned within him, and he quickly pulled on his shoes to rush out of his tent, hip-checking the table on accident in his haste to leave. When he stumbled out into the faux street, he almost tripped into several people.
"Whoa, careful!" A woman with the appendages of a jaguar chided. "What are you, late for work?"
"Sorry, Kanya," Oliver apologized quickly, gesturing tentatively at her before spinning out of her way. He adopted a full on sprint, not even bothering to engage in a conversation that could potentially take up anymore of his time. He arrived not too soon at the small clearing he'd trained at yesterday. The wooden dummy had been replaced. Perfect.
Oliver raised a hand and put one foot forward confidently, and with feeling alone, invoked his first spell. The shimmering magic circle appeared, ready to be activated. He grinned like a maniac on a new drug as he did so.
Much faster than he expected, a sizable dent was carved into his mana-pool, and at the same time, a bright, silver sphere of perfectly stable mana manifested just inches away from the surface of the spell. It grew to the respectable size of a volleyball, the same one from yesterday, but unlike yesterday, there was no struggle to contain it in his hands, and it did not try to naturally reassimilate with his mana-core. The sensation, or rather lack of sensation brought him to greater joy.
With a mere thought, the magic blast shot from the circle, soaring towards the dummy in a straight line. A rush of adrenaline coursed through Oliver's veins at the loud, echoing explosion that followed, a small shockwave tearing up grass and buffeting against the fabric of nearby tents as the upper-half of the dummy was obliterated, showering a small area in wooden splinters.
The sight left him totally breathless. For a moment, he held that pose, hand outstretched and one foot forward like he'd seen in many anime. Slowly, he lowered his hand as the magic circle of his first spell dissipated.
"The fuck was that!?" Someone shouted from the other side of a wall of tents.
"Sorry!" Oliver called immediately after. He snorted. 'Well that was fucking embarrassing.'
Right, he probably shouldn't have done that so hastily in the morning without telling anyone. He felt a little guilty, but there was no denying the self-satisfied smile on his face. Internally he was more than proud of himself. "I did it."
He put his hands on his knees, less in physical exhaustion and more because he couldn't believe what he'd just done. "I can do real magic. Holy shit."
This was unbelievable. He wondered what his friends would have thought about his accomplishments. He imagined Edward would be jealous and…Anna would compare him to an anime character. Then of course Alex would try to power scale him like he was some fictional character, then Daniel would congratulate him with a joke about his progress, saying "Light work," or something similar.
Subconsciously, a small smile came to his lips. He wondered what his family would think too. Maybe he'll get to show them if he finds a way back…When he finds a way back.
He shook his head. 'None of that. Now's a time to be excited.'
"Oliver?"
The programmer was startled when he heard his name, but he recognized the voice instantly. He whirled around. "Vhesla! Hey!"
The succubus was facing half-away from him, as if she'd just turned her head and happened to see him while walking. It was probably the case, but Oliver refused to let the opportunity go to waste. He walked up to her, practically shoving his hand in her face.
"Look at this!" he said proudly as the magic circle manifested, spinning slowly. At first, the expression on Vhesla's face could only be described as confused, but after she adjusted to his sudden intrusion of her personal space, her mouth fell open.
"Oliver." She tore her eyes away from the circle and instead looked into his own. "I gave you the homework yesterday."
"You did," he replied cheekily.
The woman just shook her head in disbelief. "You're inhuman."
"So I've been told," he replied smoothly. Inwardly, he frowned. Her reaction wasn't as great as he was hoping. "You don't seem surprised."
"Why should I be? With how fast you grew, I expected something like this to happen," she praised, giving him a dazzling smile that made him feel warm inside. "You've done amazingly, Oliver."
"Wow…I don't know what to say." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Is that it then? You said you have nothing more to teach me, right?"
The woman smiled at him amusedly. "Actually…I think there's a couple things I could still teach you." Her smile suddenly changed, becoming mischievous. Her eyes narrowed sultrily at him in a way that made his heart skip a beat. He froze when her hand found his, warm to the touch. "Call it a reward for being such a good student."
She leaned forward. His eyes widened.
"U-uh?"
Contrary to what he thought was going to happen, she brought her lips up to his ear. He could feel her hot breath making his skin tingle as she whispered. "Meet me at my tent. Just before dinner tonight."
The devious demon giggled at the expression on his face as she pulled away from him, putting her hands behind her back and leaning forward in a way that really accentuated her chest. "Don't be late, 'kay~?"
Before Oliver even had a chance to comprehend what happened, she turned and sauntered away, putting a sway in her hips that forced his eyes to follow her, drinking in the curves of her feminine form.
When his brain finally caught up to what occurred, he took a step back.
"Oh naw."
What the hell was that!? First of all, not only was he a virgin, he'd never dated, nor had he even received a kiss before. He wasn't prepared for something like that! Especially not with a succubus that was as out of his league as Vhesla was!
'Naw, there's no way. She's married for fuck's sake! She wouldn't be interested in me, right?'
Y-Yeah! What if he was just misinterpreting all of that? He'd be such an asshole if he made any assumptions, and this was one pretty big assumption to make.
Although…Vhesla was so friggin hot it was tempting to want to believe it. And he so wanted to believe it just as much as he didn't want to believe it. 'I mean, I don't know why she'd be interested in me. I've never had a girl so much as look at me before.'
He continued to stay stockstill as he thought about it. 'Yeah…Yeah, ain't no way. She's married and she's hot as fuck. No way she's interested in me even a bit. I can't believe I gassed myself up for a second there. What was I even thinking?' He sighed painfully. 'Delusional bastard. What makes you think a girl is gonna wanna date you? Like that'll ever happen.'
He went to the gym and lost weight for a reason… Maybe it was his personality? Or maybe he really was just a fuck ugly waste of—
"Ugh," Oliver groaned, cutting off such a self-destructive train of thought. He thought he was past his self-deprecating days but apparently not? With a roll of his eyes, he released a breath.
Well, what to do now? He pursed his lips, looking around. He was alone now. Maybe he should just practice his magic more? '...Yeah. Sounds good.'
As Vhesla turned a corner, the slightly exaggerated saunter in her hips toned down to a more natural sway, and she let her arms hang at her sides as the lascivious smile fell off her face. She sighed. Acting all cutesy in a playful and seductive way came naturally to her, but she never liked doing it. Often it felt like a betrayal to her husband. She knew Dominic would never take it that way since they worked in the same boat, but the feeling is what mattered to her. Still, being able to manipulate people without them even realizing it was a useful skill to have.
It helped that there were social stigmas against succubi like her. Most uninformed individuals assumed that she was an easy lay, willing to fuck anybody at anytime, that being flirty and seductive was in her nature. As such, nobody questioned it when she worked her magic, loosening the lips of any useful men with her untouchable feminine wiles.
In this case, it was to lure that boy Oliver into her grasp. Vhesla would admit, the young man was special, a magical genius in every sense of the word from what she'd observed of him so far, but she could read him like an open book.
Although he was smart, though he didn't show it, his self-esteem was pretty minimal, at least, when it came to social relations. He carried himself with confidence, but Vhesla saw that in every one of his steps, he was wary. Wary that people were judging him, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he looked. He had this tangible doubt in his aura, his expression. He doubted his friends thought much of him, and he doubted himself.
When it came to romantics, he was even more hopeless. His "What a virgin," quip from a week-and-a-half ago said it all, and the rest of Vhesla's interactions with him told her a lot about his psyche.
From his every movement, Vhesla wouldn't be surprised if the man believed he was never going to find a girlfriend and would probably die a virgin. In fact, it was probably safe to say that, at the front of his mind, Oliver second guessed her flirting towards him and rationalized that she was just being really friendly to him or something similar to that. This was evidenced by the fact that she'd been flirting with him practically all week, and he barely responded to it. Did he even know she'd been flirting with him? Was he so oblivious, or maybe even just so self-deprecating that he couldn't believe it? Probably a mixture of both.
Either way, Vhesla knew that at the back of his mind, there was probably a small voice hoping that something would actually happen. A voice pleading for her interest in him to be real. That voice would drive him to follow through with her request of meeting up later. She had him just wrapped around her finger.
The succubus sighed again, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side in a matter that was as exasperated as it was resigned. "Ah, geez. I hate doing things like this. Sorry, Oliver."
She really did feel bad for the guy, especially since she was dealing with him using such a cruel and heartbreaking method. No mamono would ever dream of hurting a man by toying with his feelings like this, so she hated it, really. She wondered what could have happened to him for his self-esteem to be so feeble, but it was probably safer to say that some people were just more socially and romantically adept than others. And as bad as she felt for deceiving him like this, it was the best method to hook someone like him, who perceived romance as an otherworldly and intangibly impossible desire, into her arms.
"I'm sure you'll find someone in our family," Vhesla muttered to herself. "So please don't come to hate me. We'll be working together very soon after all."
She shook her head, freeing her conscience from the guilty feeling. This was necessary. For the future. But for now, she had to focus.
The woman spread her senses throughout the settlement, searching through energy signatures one-by-one. She stopped, turning her head in the direction of a particular signature. "There you are."
Hastily, she made her way through the maze of tents. When she reached her destination, she stopped in front of a tent and looked both ways. Nobody was looking in her direction. Good. Silently, she cast a low-frequency anti-suggestion spell around the tent so as not to disturb its magic-savvy occupant, then she stepped inside.
The moment she did, she was assaulted by a smell she was deeply familiar with. A pleasured moan and a squelching sound reached her ears. She froze, looking down at the half-naked yuki-onna that had been furiously stimulating her clitoris with one hand and biting the thumb of the other. Clearly, the mamono had been at it for a couple of minutes at least, given the puddle of juice beneath her lower lips, but it all came to a halt with a startled shriek when the yuki-onna's eyes met Vhesla's.
"V-Vhesla? W-What are you doing here?" the flustered yuki-onna stammered, blushing up a storm.
Vhesla could only smile in amusement and sadness. Before the yuki-onna had time to recollect herself, the succubus darted forward, throttling the mamono to the ground and clapping her palm over her lips. The woman screamed into her hand, mostly in surprise and confusion, unaware of the succubus's malintent.
"Sorry, Yukino," Vhesla apologized sincerely again as she reached into her pocket. Yukino's eyes widened when she caught sight of the fluid-filled syringe in Vhesla's hand. "Please don't struggle. I can't have you using your ice magic to shield this place from the storm tonight. Good night."
Following Vhesla's suspicious invitation to meet up with her later, Oliver skipped breakfast and spent the next couple of hours training his magic in the clearing that Layla and Natalie once sparred in, the one with the old bisected boulder. He started with a circulation warm-up, then practiced with his first spell, which he decided to aptly (and rather mundanely) name the Mana Blast.
Maybe he shouldn't be surprised considering all the crazy things he'd learned and done over the past week, but as he continued to experiment with Mana Blast, he learned a few very interesting things.
First was the malleability of the mathematics behind the spell. Since he could feel the math, If he simply thought about it hard enough—and that was the legitimate method, that is, mental calculation—he could change values on the fly, and as he did so, certain numbers and letters on his spell would change. Using that, he learned how to make advanced shapes based on what equations he knew for certain shapes. First, he went from a perfect sphere of mana to an ellipsoid, then to a cube, a pyramid, a cylinder, an octahedron, an icosahedron, and most interestingly to him, a torus. Then, when he tried to make more complex structures, he learned something he considered wild.
Not only could he modify values within the spell, but he could add instructions as well! If, while the magic circle was tangible, he used his mana control to create an isolated tendril of mana and pushed it into the circle, he could use it to draw more instructions within the circle. Though it was currently extremely difficult to do so, it was possible, and the ideas he got from it were tremendously exciting.
What if, for his next spell, he drew up a spell-builder? A magic circle that could draw perfect circles and triangles like a printer, as well as manifest a pseudo-keyboard in which he could type the instructions rather than having to write them out? Perhaps it would be costly to his mana, but making spells would be hundreds of times easier! It was settled the moment the idea was conceived—rather than any offensive or defensive magic, he would create the most utilitarian of them all. A spell-maker.
When he finally finished experimenting with his first spell, the mana blast had been modified to be a permanent teardrop shape, one of the most aerodynamic shapes he knew of. That's when he came to his second realization, and perhaps the most interesting one.
Why did he bother making an aerodynamic shape for mana? Magic? A massless energy? He should've just left his Mana Blast a sphere if it was massless because if it was massless it wouldn't experience drag or air resistance. Force equals mass times acceleration after all. But then, if magic was massless…then it wouldn't be able to interact with anything.
"Wait a fucking minute," he blurted to nobody when understanding struck him.
Mana, when manifested outside of the body, had mass. That fact changed his whole perspective on magic. But how? How could this be!? He tried to rationalize what he observed with what science he knew.
According to general relativity, energy equals mass times the speed-of-light-squared. In other words, mass and energy were inherently intertwined and interchangeable. In this context, when mana resided within the body, it remained in a state of energy that had no invariant mass, but when manifested such as to be tangible, a portion of that energy becomes matter with mass. But…that would be mathematically impossible. Unfeasibly ridiculous! If he used the relationship between energy and mass—energy equals mass times the speed-of-light squared, one kilogram of matter equaled ninety-quadrillion joules! That was the equivalent of ten modern day thermonuclear bombs strapped together with duct tape!
If the energy equation were true for this situation, the only plausible explanation would be that the mass created by the mana was infinitesimally small, which couldn't be the case with how physical his magic wass.
This meant that magic's metaphysical rules were at play. Something else was going on here, and he wouldn't understand unless he went to a university and learned about it probably. Maybe the exchange rate between mana and mass was much smaller than traditional energy and mass. Whatever the answer was though, and as much as he wanted an explanation, all that really mattered was that mana was in fact energy, and could become mass. It made perfect sense, and in hindsight, he shouldn't be surprised.
After all, that yuki-onna created intricate glasses of shaved ice made from her ice magic. Given, it is possible that she didn't create matter at all, but rather manipulated what matter there already was (the moisture in the air) and drew away enough thermal energy to make ice out of it, but regardless of her methodology, it didn't change the truth of how magic worked.
And now that he knew a little more about how magic worked, that mana could be converted to matter, the possibilities had grown evermore endless. If magic was the practice of manipulating energy to make change, then what were the limits of change? Could he synthesize rare materials out of mana so long as he knew his chemistry? Could he manipulate the flow of protons and electrons, split molecules and rearrange particles with a wave of his hand? Was it possible to turn matter into mana?
There was no possible way that he was the only one in this world to have asked questions like these, though. The fact that there were technologies like modern vehicles, airships, and radios implied a thorough understanding of everything math and physics by at least some engineers and scientists throughout the world. If they could do magic, would they not have asked these questions and done these things already? If not, then they weren't asking enough questions. If they did however, then magic must have hard limits somewhere that was stopping the progression of technology. Why else would a kingdom like Valor send out a bunch of arguably useless (with regards to building a town at speed) settlers to construct a town from the ground up?
Or maybe…were there just not enough scientists and engineers that could do magic at all in the first place? Was the ability to do magic at all really that rare? Or maybe…was it just that mathematical magic was rare in the first place since there were plenty of easier routes to go with? Whatever the answer may be, that wasn't going to stop him from personally testing the limits of magic, and he would start with projects and experimentation.
To supplement his new spellmaker project, maybe he could learn how to manifest solid mana? If he could do that, then…he couldn't even imagine the possibilities yet. Creating weapons and tools? Sure, but how unintuitive and narrow-minded that would be. The possibilities were just…!
He stopped himself before he got too deep into daydreaming about hypotheticals. First he had to see if it could work in the first place. It'd probably be a lot of work.
Oliver came to his final discovery, or perhaps, rediscovery when he started practicing his mana control again after having practiced with his spell. It turned out, Vhesla was right! Once he used the magic circle as a guideline for his magic enough times, his mana control became more and more like second nature. Now, when he manifested mana outside of his body without the help of the Mana Blast spell, he could create a stable sphere much quicker and much easier than he could before. Not only that, but whatever obscure shapes he made throughout all of his experimentation, he could now rather haphazardly create with just his mana control too.
In other words, everything was getting better. He wondered when he would be powerful enough to take care of himself out in the wilderness by himself. Hopefully, the Regional Guard from Gallant would be willing to take him to Gallant City when they arrived. Otherwise, he would be traveling a long and arduous road with either the sentinels, some of the adventurers, or by himself.
'Here's hoping…'
By the time he was finished with his training session, it was around lunch time. It was then that Oliver noticed how cloudy and gray the sky was.
Was it going to rain soon?
"Aw man," Oliver groaned as he walked back towards Anchorage. 'I was really looking forward to that volleyball tournament. Shit."
The rain came down late into the afternoon with the thunderous intensity of a micro-typhoon. As the howling winds swept through Anchorage, tossing small debris around, deafening all who attempted to wander outdoors, a curtain of blackness fell across the horizon, so thick that flashlights and lamps could only penetrate so deeply into its depths. It was only just before dinner time, but it was as dark as midnight, so everyone retired to their tents, many disappointed that the volleyball tournament had been postponed. All but for a busy few, one among them with a purpose greater than her supposed peers.
Vhesla pulled the hood of her rain jacket over her head, gritting her teeth as the endless torrents of the sky splashed across her face, blinding her eyes with water far too often for her liking. The storm was much more voluminous than she'd anticipated, more like an actual intense shower than just regular rain. Even if it was a little annoying, it did well to keep everyone inside, so she couldn't complain.
The succubus approached one of the large transport trucks. As she pulled the door open with a loud click, rain immediately soaked the interior. She took one step inside but made no move to sit down, her eyes scanning the interior. When she found what she was looking for, she smiled.
"Gotcha," she said, placing her hand on the openly displayed radio equipment. Her palm glowed softly for a moment, and with a quick lightning spell, the equipment was shorted. Satisfied with her work, she stepped out of the cabin and shut the door.
Obviously, in this weather, Oliver never showed up to their meeting, so Vhesla decided to go on ahead with her mission. Though, at this point, with how powerful the storm was, destroying all the radios throughout Anchorage probably wasn't necessary. Since it was a part of the original plan, she followed through with it anyway. It didn't take her long, and before an hour had passed, she'd gone and destroyed the transmission-capable radios of every truck in the camp. Thankfully, mobile devices weren't a thing she had to worry about since there wasn't a Magic Cell Tower close enough for any type of cellular device to work. Now, she just had one piece of equipment left to dispose of.
With a hasty stride, she hurried toward her final destination: Arthur's tent. Vhesla frowned. That man had been a constant thorn in her side since day one, a bothersome skeptic that seemed to sense something was wrong. To be fair, he was just doing his job, so Vhesla couldn't fault him, but she wouldn't lie and say she wouldn't enjoy tormenting him a little for all of those horrible insinuations he'd made about her husband being neglectful of her.
Nobody could insult or belittle her husband and get away with it, and after all these weeks, she could finally do something about the geezer's attitude. She was almost hoping for the man to be working there just so she could confront him personally.
As she approached the larger work tent however, her quickened feet slowed to a stop in a large puddle. Who was… "Oliver?" she muttered in confusion. "What is he doing here?"
Cautiously, Vhesla approached the tent. With a little magic, she muffled the sound of the rain and enhanced the sound coming from within the tent, then stood and listened…
Oliver stood nervously on the other side of Arthur's desk, the deafeningly loud downpour only slightly muffled by the canvas above them. The sound wasn't enough to distract him from the grave expression on the face of the man before him. He did shiver a little though, his clothes wet from the rain.
'I hate this. Why's the atmosphere so grim? What happened, Arthur?' he pondered, studying the way the older man leaned forward with both hands pressed down on his desk, eyes cast down slightly. 'Ugh, this is awkward.'
When the rain came down earlier, it came down hard. The volleyball tourney had been postponed as a result, much to Max's and Randy's frustrations. And as soon as it started raining, it got dark. Fast.
Soon enough, it had gotten too dark to do much of anything outside, so most of the people returned to their tents, Oliver included. It went without saying, but he hadn't been expecting any visitors, much less one as consequential as Arthur. The fact that the man had pulled him out of his tent for a private meeting that apparently couldn't wait for the weather to pass was pretty telling.
The only thing Oliver could think of that would warrant a meeting between them was his apparent status as an angel. But Arthur hadn't said anything, both during their short walk, and since they got here. The man was soaking wet, but he didn't so much as twitch, much to Oliver's discomfort.
'What is he thinking about? C'mon man, say something,' the programmer thought impatiently. The cold was getting to him. He pursed his lips.
"So…what's this about?" he asked with a low-to-high inflection. "Does this have anything to do with…y'know. Me being an angel and all."
"Sorry…" Oliver was a little surprised when the man apologized and finally met his eyes, shaking his head gently. "Yeah, it does. I had some…decisions to make."
Oliver didn't think Arthur's expression could become any more grave, but somehow it did. "Oliver, what I'm about to tell you…might as well be an act of treason on my part."
"You what?" He asked, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows in disbelief. Suddenly, he had a bad feeling about this whole situation.
"You might want to take a seat," Arthur said solemnly. He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.
Hesitantly, Oliver complied, and Arthur took his own seat. For another few moments, the man said nothing. He simply let his arms rest beneath the desk as he heaved a loud sigh. He shook his head again, then changed seating position immediately, resting his elbow on the arm of his seat and his head against the back of his hand.
"Oliver…I want you to know that the only reason I'm telling you this is because…well, this is for my own conscience."
"Okay…" He didn't like the sound of that. 'Where is he going with this?'
"I'm not gonna beat around the bush. Remember the day you and I had that little talk about your true nature?" Arthur started. Oliver nodded for him to continue. "Well, what I didn't tell you is, a little bit before we had that talk, when Lorraine told me about you…I had to report that, you understand?"
Oliver frowned. Arthur was the coordinator of Anchorage, so him giving reports was normal. What was the problem here? His thoughts ground to a stop when he remembered Arthur's hatred for the Order.
"After I gave that report, I forgot about the whole thing. A whole week-and-a-half passes, then suddenly yesterday I'm getting a request to speak with someone I've never spoken with," he continued. He shook his head yet again, scratching his cheek absentmindedly, clearly stressed. Another heaving sigh. "It struck me, because I didn't know what they could want from us. We've got nothing, and nothing to do but wait. I pick up the radio transceiver, and…suddenly I'm talking to the Valor Intelligence and Security Agency."
"…" A shiver ran down his spine, but it wasn't from the cold. It wasn't so much that he even knew what that was, but more that he knew what each of those words meant individually.
Arthur must've seen the look on his face, because he nodded at the programmer. "Now I see you're getting it. Not just VISA, but the Chief Director Iris Voidborn herself called. Top dog of the entire damn agency. If she wants it, she can have an army invading a neighboring country with a single email."
With every word, Oliver could feel himself becoming metaphorically paler, a deep pit opening up in his gut. Arthur snorted humorlessly. "I told you I was gonna be blunt, kid. I'm sorry. All it took was one misunderstanding, and…now you're a wanted man," he said hesitantly. "VISA thinks you're an Order angel. Nothing you or I say is going to change their mind. They probably already sent a squad out to come take you away."
"They WHAT!?" He felt a cold stab of fear. "They—" Then anger. "Y-You—!" Then a shattering sense of all-encompassing dread. "W-What—I—You—Are you fucking kidding me!?" he demanded. "An intelligence agency!? You—why did you—" of course, he knew why Arthur reported him to Gallant, but it didn't stop the desire to blame him and be angry from rising. He grit his teeth and he stood up violently, glaring upwards and holding back all the things he wanted to say.
Arthur observed his actions with only a sympathetic look on his face. When Oliver saw it, he opened his mouth, about ready to yell, then he held himself back again. He spun on his heel, looking out at the entrance of the tent as his hands shot up to his head. He wanted to panic. He was panicking. An intelligence agency. The CIA, the FBI, the NSA, MI5, MI6, the fucking FSB—he had a fucking intelligence agency after him.
How the hell did this happen? It was only his eleventh day in this world! He knew the relationship between the Order Kingdom and Valor was bad, but nobody told him it was this bad. And now Valor's version of the CIA thought he was an integral piece of their mortal enemy's command structure? And he had no way to disprove or cover up that fact?
"Fuck!" he screamed.
"Heh. I knew it." Oliver tried not to glare at the man. "With a reaction like that, you're definitely genuine."
"You're—" He bit back the curse again, but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his hands behind his head and pressing his arms against the sides of his head. "Shit! What am I gonna do?"
"Calm down," Arthur said. Oliver turned back to him, his expression between a scowl and a grimace. "Listen. Like I said, I didn't want to sentence a kid to his death. I know the circumstances between us are…acquaintances at best. But I trust you, kid. I trust that you're not lying about anything. That's why I'm telling you this now."
He stood up, pointing to the radio and its transceiver that sat in the corner. "When they asked me to tell them everything about you, I omitted a couple of things. All they really know is your hair color and your skin color, and that's hardly defining."
Oliver calmed a little when he heard that. He said nothing as his thoughts stirred, letting the man continue.
"Now with those agents coming, you don't want to be here when they arrive, trust me," Arthur urged.
"Are you saying…?"
"Yeah. You need to leave as soon as you can," Arthur confirmed his fears. "Probably alone. They'll question everyone and get a tally on who left, adventurers and the sentinel kids included, and if they find out those guys are escorting you, they'll have checkpoints set up everywhere. Here's what I suggest." He paused, then pointed at Oliver. "You have an ID on you?"
"I…n-no."
Arthur nodded. "Alright, good. Since you're not a Valorean citizen, your name won't show up in their database. But you need to get a new ID."
"How?" Oliver asked desperately.
"Since you can do magic now, I suggest you go to a GAC facility and sign up to take their test."
"GAC?" Oliver shook his head in confusion.
Arthur frowned at him. "The Global Adventurers Coalition. If you pass their test, they'll issue you an official ID. People from rural towns that have abilities tend to become adventurers just to get an ID. When you do, make sure to change your last name. Since you're not in either database, nobody will know. As a plus, the GAC isn't directly affiliated with any state on N'erra, so if you register with them, your name and image won't immediately be put into Valor's database. Once you do that, well, you either flee the country and find a way home to…Texas? Was it? Or you try to live in Valor with your new ID… Maybe you could figure out who you really are now that you know you're an angel. Figure out which pantheon you're from," he added as an afterthought.
Oliver sucked in a deep breath. He didn't like this. He didn't like any of it. This was far too sudden. But he nodded regardless. "I…alright." He hesitated as he finally calmed down. "...Sorry for…getting pissed. This was just fucking out of nowhere, and it's not really your fault, yeah? And you're trying to help me so…thank you."
Arthur gave him a small smile. "Don't mention it, kid."
"I'm twenty-two," Oliver said pointedly.
"You look younger," Arthur retorted.
The programmer didn't reply, too lost in the storm of his own thoughts. He still pursed his lips and clenched his fists. It was as if all the plans he had were falling apart. Not that he'd had too much of one in the first place. But now he was about to be forced on the most dangerous trek of his life. Alone.
What to do? What to think about? He needed to pack. Food, water, a map, some tools…
"Fuck me," he reiterated.
"Yeah," Arthur agreed. "I won't lie. Your situation is pretty fucked, Oliver. But I'll try to cover for you. You leave early tomorrow morning, and I'll be able to tell them you bolted."
"Alright," Oliver nodded. He swallowed thickly. "I…thank you, Arthur."
"Don't mention it, kid. Now before you leave, you'll need a map. I got one here you can use, so just…" The man trailed off. The expression on his face was no longer relaxed. Oliver realized that Arthur's eyes were no longer on him.
"What. Are you doing here?"
Oliver whirled around. His heart stopped for a moment.
A figure in a rain jacket stood in the entranceway of the tent, shrouded in darkness. It took Oliver a second to understand what the hell he was looking at, and he almost felt relieved when he realized who it was.
"V-Vhesla?" Suddenly, he remembered the meeting he was supposed to have with her before the storm abruptly rolled in. He heard Arthur step to the side of his desk.
"Were you eavesdropping?" Arthur demanded sternly.
Vhesla raised her hood, revealing her beautiful face. Her expression was unreadable. "I heard everything," she said softly. Oliver's heart dropped. She gave a small, winsome smile that betrayed nothing. "To think you were hiding such things from your mentor, Oliver."
'Oh no.' "V-Vhesla, I swear this is all just—" he rushed to defend himself.
Vhesla giggled at that. "Don't worry. I don't think you're a spy from the Order or anything like that." A feeling of hope arose within him. "But…maybe you would make a really good soldier."
"I'm sorry?" Oliver frowned.
"I have to say," Vhesla continued. Oliver watched as she slowly, deliberately stepped over to the radio in the corner. "I was a little upset when you didn't show up for our little meeting. I was so ready to reward you~" She teased as she wrapped her fingers around the microphone transceiver. "But I guess disobedient boys like you…"
Arthur stepped forward. "What do you think you're—"
There was a strange, unpleasant crackling sound. Like a hard piece of plastic being crushed into a thousand tiny pieces. And the small bits and remains of the transceiver fell from her hand like useless grains of sand in a desert of billions. "...need to be punished."
"Oliver, GET BACK!"
Oliver's eyes widened when Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back with far more strength than the older man should have. Then several things happened at once, and the world moved in slow motion.
As Arthur stepped forward, his right arm throwing Oliver backwards, the man raised his left arm, and it opened. Oliver's already wide eyes widened further, when, for a split second, he perceived the top of Arthur's forearm opening up, revealing metal insides and a thick, barrel-shaped cannon. At the same time, Vhesla's wings expanded as she bent her knees, crossing her arms across her chest as her hands began to glow. The smile on her face faded to a coldly neutral expression as she stared at Arthur. Then something bright, orange, and metallic shot from Arthur's arm, the backblast traveling towards his desk.
Then time resumed normally.
Oliver's world went white as a blast of heat washed over his face and an unknown force swept him off his feet. He tumbled, and for a moment, up was down and right was left. His back ripped through something, then there was a lance of pain when he slammed into something much tougher, dust and debris brushing off his face. His vision blurred and he felt nothing for a moment. Then it all came back.
As the ringing in his ears stopped, he realized he was now soaking wet and staring at the black, angry storm clouds above. The rain was deafening. 'What…What just happened…? Fuck. Arthur. Vhesla!"
He tried to sit up, groaning at the pain in his back, and he inclined just enough to see his surroundings. Arthur's tent was gone. Rather, it was shredded to bits, pieces of canvas strewn about, and a particularly big piece happened to land on him. There was a roaring fire in the epicenter of the aftermath, enough to illuminate the darkness with a menacing orange glow and heat Oliver could feel from where he was. Arthur's desk was split in half, now half-submerged in mud next to Oliver. But where were—
A loud pop, the pop of a gunshot battled with the sound of the rain, and Oliver's gaze snapped to it. There, Arthur stood, the top of his left arm opened up like a compartment that held a mobile grenade launcher, and his right arm, his normal arm raised, holding a six-shooter. Oliver watched in uncomprehending awe as the man fired into the darkness, then he caught a glimpse of something moving in the darkness, and it was fast.
It went back and forth, zig-zagging before it suddenly jumped, spreading its wings, her hands glowing as she rose up into the air. Then Vhesla dove, becoming a blur.
He couldn't hear what happened in the rain, but he saw it. There was a pinkish flash, then Oliver gasped. There was blood. So much blood. Terror gripped his heart as Arthur spiraled into the ground, his arms flying from his torso freely, as if they had been sliced off. The man didn't scream, or maybe he did, but Oliver could barely hear it. His heart was pounding too loudly for him to hear anything.
A pinkish light glowed in his peripheral vision. He cried as he turned to it, backing away as the face of the monster was illuminated. Vhesla hovered in the air. She was looking at him now. Then she lowered her head.
Oliver screamed. She blurred. He was shocked. Shocked when the world didn't immediately fade to black. Instead, a soft and pleasant weight gently settled on his stomach.
He looked up, staring straight into the face of his mentor. She was straddling him, looking at him with such…no. The rain blinded him, he could not see that well. Her face.
"Oliver…" Her voice! "Please, don't come to hate me for this."
There was a pain in his neck. Then the world faded to black.
Vhesla watched as the light of consciousness faded from Oliver's eyes, then a tired and heavy sigh left her throat. She couldn't believe it. He was an angel. An actual honest-to-goodness angel.
So that's what she'd been feeling from him all this time. Some kind of holy aura, huh? It really was amazing. No wonder he was able to pick up on magic-related things so quickly. She wondered where he came from, what pantheon he belonged to. He was so weak and human-like, it didn't make any sense. But perhaps He would be able to make use of Oliver.
Vhesla looked towards Arthur's tent, or, what was left of it. The man himself lay face down in the mud, bleeding profusely from the newly cut stumps she'd made. Good riddance.
She looked around further. People were coming out of their tents, screaming and shouting. They'd seen nothing of her actions, not that it mattered. All of her objectives were complete. Now the main force could clean house.
As she had that thought, there was a rumble and a loud crack that ripped through the rain, followed by a deep, guttural, animalistic roar. People screamed in horror, but she smiled.
"Dominic," she whispered lovingly. With her heart leaping higher than it ever had in weeks, she bent down and picked Oliver's unconscious body up princess-carry style, then she spread her wings and darted off into the night.
A/N: Let the speculation begin.