Chapter 29: The Aftermath

THREE DAYS LATER

The attack on the Royal Capital ended. The Eye of the Midnight Sun were pushed back and they retreated, and the Magic Knights won a small victory. However, the pendant on Fuegoleon's neck had disappeared, and his arm along with it. The Crimson Lion Kings were missing a captain.

Meanwhile, Lars and Kirsch had been put in the same ward, and were coincidentally getting ready to go home after recuperative treatment. Lars held his naginata. It seemed… empty, like it was missing something. It obviously was missing something, the magic stone that was embedded onto it. Lars's mind raced. He had so many questions.

Why was the magic stone even there in the first place?

Was somebody hiding it?

Why would somebody be hiding it?

What would happen to his fighting skill now it was gone?

What did Fana want with the stone?

It didn't make sense to Lars, and his knees wobbled slightly as he walked down the hallways of the Royal Hospital, considering the different perspectives which sped through his mind like the spear Kivn had used to impale Frida.

Speaking of Frida, as they turned a corner, she was waiting for him and his vice-captain, twirling her hair round absentmindedly, her purple-painted fingernails hid amongst the brown locks of hair. Lars quickly tried to read her emotions - a handy skill that he had picked up ever since he was a young child, even without the use of Tiefe Analyse.

When he did this, usually, the colour of a person's aura represented their emotions. Red was anger, blue was sadness, light green was jealousy (a colour he often saw emitting off of Frida), and so on. But this? This was a colour that he'd never seen before.

It was pink. Her gaze was directed towards the vain Coral Peacocks captain.

At that moment, he realised what exactly her intentions were.

His hypothesis made him sick to the core.

"I'll give you two some privacy," he uttered hastily, before he excused the two. Oh lord, I think I'm going to spew my guts everywhere, he thought.

Kirsch, meanwhile, looked at the retreating Lars with curiosity, and another expression that Frida couldn't read. A kind of annoyance, perhaps.

"So non-beautiful!" Kirsch vainly exclaimed, flicking his hair. A few cherry blossoms came to rest at Frida's feet. She looked down, then back up at Kirsch, who was still posing dramatically.

She recalled something he had said, when they were both undergoing treatment.

The air in the rehabilitation room was sterile and still, with the faint scent of medicinal herbs wafting from nearby potions. Frida Mertens lay back against the cushioned bench, wincing slightly as Dr. Owen's magic washed over her, slowly mending the deep bruises and fractures she had sustained in the dungeon. Her usual composed demeanour was cracked by exhaustion, though she was careful to keep her emotions masked. Across the room, Kirsch Vermillion lay in a similar state, his chest wrapped in bandages, his ever-pristine hair slightly dishevelled. Even in his weakened state, he exuded that same noble vanity that had grated on Frida's nerves during their mission.

As the silence stretched between them, it was Kirsch who broke it first, though his tone still carried that trademark flair. "To think, I—Kirsch Vermillion—would require such extensive healing after such a mission. How unbeautiful."

Frida rolled her eyes, though it lacked her usual sharpness. "You're not the only one, Vermillion," she muttered, glancing at her own injuries. "But it's not like we could've anticipated what we found in that dungeon."

Kirsch huffed, a strand of cherry blossoms floating from his hair as he shifted on the bed. "True, though it was nothing less than expected for someone of my beauty and status to emerge victorious, even under such… strenuous conditions."

Frida turned her head, giving him a pointed look. "We emerged victorious, Kirsch. This wasn't a one-man show." There was a bite in her words, but exhaustion dulled the edge.

Kirsch chuckled softly, his usual flamboyance dimmed by their shared weariness. "Perhaps… you're right," he conceded, surprising her. "For once, I must admit that your abilities exceeded even my high expectations."

That made her pause. He had never directly complimented her before. Not in that way, at least. Frida looked at him again, this time her gaze softer, though she quickly masked it with a neutral expression. "That's… unexpected coming from you," she said, a little more quietly.

Kirsch flicked his hair dramatically, but his tone was gentler than before. "A Vermillion knows when to acknowledge strength, Frida. Even if it comes from a source as unexpected as yours."

Frida's brow furrowed slightly. "Unexpected?"

He glanced at her, his lavender eyes unreadable for a moment. "Yes, unexpected. You are strong, yes, but your strength is quiet. Reserved. Hidden behind all that poise and elegance," he said, his voice taking on a more thoughtful tone than she had ever heard from him. "And yet, when it was needed, you unleashed it in the dungeon. I didn't expect that… from you."

She scoffed softly, turning her head to stare at the ceiling. "Well, maybe you should learn not to underestimate people."

A small silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was contemplative, both of them reflecting on the mission.

The dungeon had been gruelling. It wasn't just the enemies they faced, though they had been relentless. It was the strange, oppressive energy that had filled the place, making every step feel heavier, every spell more difficult to cast. Frida had been forced to push herself to the edge, her Amethyst Crystal Magic becoming sharper, deadlier with each strike. Kirsch had been beside her the whole time, his Cherry Blossom Magic swirling elegantly through the air, their magics complementing each other in a way she hadn't expected.

It was during one of those moments in the dungeon—just after they had barely dodged a deadly trap—that she had first felt it. That strange, fluttering sensation in her chest. She had quickly pushed it aside then, chalking it up to adrenaline and stress, but now, lying in that sterile room, the memory surfaced unbidden.

Kirsch had turned to her after they dodged the trap, his face a mixture of surprise and respect, his usual flamboyance stripped away by the immediacy of danger. "You… saved me," he had said, his voice soft, genuine.

She had shrugged it off at the time, muttering something about teamwork. But the look in his eyes, the raw gratitude and something more—something unspoken—had stuck with her. And now, as she lay in the quiet rehabilitation room, that feeling stirred again, more clearly this time.

Could it be…?

She stole a glance at Kirsch, who was lying back now, his eyes closed in what seemed like genuine reflection, his usual arrogance dialled down to something more human. Her heart did that same, strange flutter, and for a moment, she felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

No. No, this was ridiculous. She wasn't falling for Kirsch Vermillion, of all people. He was vain, overly dramatic, and… and yet, during their mission, he had been reliable. Strong. Noble, even. His magic was beautiful, undeniably, and despite all his posturing, he had been there for her, for the team, when it mattered most.

Yep, she was falling for him.

She thought she would die of embarrassment right there and then.

...

Her eyes lingered on him a little longer than usual, her expression still unreadable as Kirsch continued to pose dramatically, completely oblivious to the thoughts swirling in her mind.

"So," Kirsch finally said, breaking the silence as he gave her his most dazzling smile. "Aren't you simply captivated by my radiant presence?"

Frida felt her lips twitch, the urge to roll her eyes nearly overwhelming. But instead, she allowed herself the smallest of smiles. "You're certainly something, Kirsch Vermillion."

Kirsch blinked, his vanity momentarily interrupted by her response. "Something… beautiful, I presume?"

Frida chuckled. "Something, alright." She turned on her heel and left.

Kirsch simply stood there, his usual air of arrogance gone, instead contemplating what Frida had said to him. "What an odd woman," he muttered. "Though her magic really is quite beautiful."

Lars came out of the lavatory, took one look at Kirsch's aura, and turned a violent shade of green, rushing in there again.

…

"The gang's back together!" Yul yelled in elation as Lars and KIrsch walked through the door. Ignoring his vice-captain, he went straight to Lars, embracing him in a hug. No words were needed, and Lars simply returned the hug.

Sharya walked up to him, and simply knocked him in the ribs. "Nice job, Casanova," she smiled at him.

"I really didn't do anything," Lars hastily said. "Also where did Casa-"

"Don't put yourself down like that!" Sharya interrupted, an angry expression on her face. "You fought against one of the most powerful members of that organisation, and from what I've been told by Yul, only lost due to heavy fatigue! She had one of the Great Fire Spirits on her shoulder, bowing to her beck and call! Don't underestimate yourself just because you lost, you're probably stronger than most of us!"

"Alright, but where did Casanova come from?" Lars asked. Sharya waved a dismissive hand.

"Don't worry about it," she said, turning her back on him and walking away.

Lars shuddered for some reason.

Oda came up to Lars, a serious expression on his face. "Lars…" he started, thinking carefully about how to phrase his words. Lars nodded, listening intently.

"I know this is a weird thing to say, but it feels like we haven't really gotten to know each other a lot," Oda said, scratching his head. "So, I guess, when you're ready, I'd like to go on a mission with you."

"Sure," Lars smiled. "I'm itching to get back into action anyways. Being idle for three days isn't a nice feeling."

Suddenly, he felt a vine tugging on the back of his collar. Theresa was beckoning him towards the kitchen. He looked at his vice-captain, and saw that he was in the same predicament. They were suddenly yanked back, and turned to face Theresa, who was holding two plates full of rice. "Eat. Hospital food is horrible," she simply said.

Kirsch flicked his hair, and was about to protest that he'd been fed just fine, but he saw the 14 year old's fiery expression and decided not to protest. The two sat down at the dining table, plates of rice in hand, and began to eat. Slowly but surely, they began to feel better.

"Theresa!" yelled Lars, turning towards the kitchen. "What's in this rice?"

"No need to shout, Lars," Theresa said. "I'm right next to you. We all are."

Lars had been busy eating his food, a nice change of face from the gruelling hospital food that he'd had to endure. He hadn't realised that every one of the Coral Peacocks had actually come to sit down with him. Oda, Yul, Sharya, Theresa, Russell, Lilian, Kirsch, even Captain Dorothy (who was asleep, but still, it was a nice gesture).

I'm grateful to have such good squadmates. Not many squads can come together like this and eat… at least that's what I heard from Russell. I truly am blessed, Lars thought as he engaged in conversation with Oda, who was on his immediate right.

…

"Captain!" Lars called. It was a new day, around 10am in the morning. Everyone had either gone on missions or was doing other stuff outside of the base. "Could I perhaps have access to your Glamour World?"

A pink mist enveloped him, and suddenly, he was in the familiar dreamscape, standing face to face with Dorothy.

"Hello, Lars!" the petite captain greeted him, her multi-colored eyes sparkling. "You'll have to excuse me about the state of Glamour World right now. I was training."

Lars looked around, seeing all the rubble around him. The captain waved her hand, and in an instant, it was gone. "Have a seat," she said, conjuring two comfortable armchairs for them to sit on.

"I'm learning a lot more about you, Captain," he said. "So this is what you do while you're asleep." He sweatdropped. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe."

The Captain, ignoring the blatant disrespect Lars had put on her name, chuckled and asked, "So what brings you here, my naginata-wielding friend?"

"I have questions," Lars began, "and I need answers. My first question is, during your fight with Fana, I could sense that you were holding back. Why? You had her on the ropes, and now the stone's gone,"

Dorothy leaned back, her expression remaining light but with a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Oh, is that so? You could sense me holding back, could you?" She tilted her head playfully. "What gave it away?"

Lars hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the strange landscape of Glamour World. "This place… it's more powerful than you let on, isn't it? You had Fana trapped here, and yet… you didn't fully trap her. I could sense something keeping her from being completely overwhelmed."

Dorothy smiled softly, her gaze drifting around the dreamscape. "Glamour World is… peculiar, let's say. It responds to dreams, to desires, to the unconscious. While I control it, in a way, I also have to let it flow. If I press too hard, it can shatter the illusion for the one I'm fighting, which would… reduce its effectiveness."

"So if you overflow it with desires, with dreams, it collapses?" Lars asked, his face betraying no emotion. Dorothy nodded, and Lars pressed on, knowing he could still yet wring information out of the captain like a wet towel. "What does that have to do with Fana?"

"Spirit Magic users have a natural resistance to Glamour World. I'm not exactly sure why, but that's how it's happened so far," Dorothy said, putting a finger on her cheek and looking up at the sky with the air of someone trying to remember something.

"Captain."

Lars's voice cut through Dorothy's thoughts, powerful and serious. The witch nodded, beckoning him to reveal what was on his mind. Lars took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"Do you think that I could create a spell like Glamour World? I mean, what it would be is just essentially projecting my mind energy into real, tangible things."

Dorothy was taken aback for a moment, and then she smiled. "How many spells do you have already? You'll find a way, Lars, I'm sure of it."

Lars thanked the captain for her encouragement, and then proceeded to exit Glamour World through a Dorothy-created door, raising a hand lazily just before he walked out. The captain really is something else, he thought. But even captains have weaknesses… Who knew?

…

Oda sighed. "Hello, Aunt Myla."

Myla Fullbright, Vice-Captain of the Green Praying Mantis, waved at Oda back enthusiastically. They were in the town of Kiten, a town along the border of the Clover and Diamond Kingdoms, therefore warranting many attacks from enemy forces. It was here where Lilian and Sharya had set off to get to the dungeon, and it was a familiar place for Oda. He used to live here, after all.

The Vice-Captain in question had the same shade of black hair as Oda, shortly and unevenly cut in contrast to the long hair of her nephew, which every day, she took great care to maintain(not). It was ruffled in a similar way to Sharya's, and to Oda, it never seemed to grow. She wore square glasses, and had a cigarette in her mouth. She was currently wearing a dark green tank top, putting her well toned muscles on display. She wore long, simple black trousers, and finishing her look off was a pair of midnight black sandals. She wasn't currently wearing the robe of the Green Praying Mantis, but if she was, it would be slung hazaphardly over her shoulder.

Myla was a flamboyant, and slightly overbearing woman, to say the least. To say that she wasn't tough would be a straight up lie, however.

Oda had grown up with his aunt protecting him. Being commoners who were most of the time short on money had meant the world wasn't particularly kind to them. Myla had gotten her grimoire stolen a long time ago when she first received it. So she developed a way of fighting without one, using just an old wooden staff, and what little magic power she had to get along in the world. Her magic attribute was Wood Magic, but she preferred to fight without it as her main attack method, instead focusing on her physical strength, and using wood as barriers or reinforcements.

Not having a grimoire would have made it difficult for this woman who was over 40 to join a Magic Knights squad. She thought she had given up on that dream a long time ago. But then one day, Jack the Ripper himself sought her out, due to rumours he had heard about her fighting power. They battled (Myla of course lost) and then he offered her a place on his squad. Things had fallen into place for her from there.

Back to the present. Oda shifted on his feet, giving his aunt a weary look as she sized him up, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Alright, Aunt Myla, what's this about?" he asked, trying to keep a note of patience in his voice.

Myla laughed, taking a long drag of her cigarette before stubbing it out on a nearby post. "Oh, come on, Oda! Don't look so serious. I called you out here because I have a favour to ask—and besides, it's good to see you." She ruffled his hair, laughing as he tried to push her hand away. "Missed you, you know?"

Oda sighed, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "Alright, alright. What's the favour?"

"Well, it's simple," Myla said, crossing her arms. "I want you to spar with me."

Oda's eyes widened. "You want to spar? Right now?"

She grinned. "Yes, right now! Unless you're afraid of a little sweat?"

Oda chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it. But don't expect me to hold back."

"Good!" Myla replied with an approving nod. "Jack always says I could use some fresh competition. And who better than my own nephew, hmm?"

They both moved to the open square, drawing a few curious glances from passersby. Oda's posture shifted as he readied himself, and Myla swung her wooden staff, planting it firmly in front of her as she dropped into a balanced stance.

"So, how's the Magic Knights treating you?" she asked, her voice casual, almost like they were having a chat over tea rather than preparing to spar.

"Better than I thought," Oda replied, watching her closely. "Though it's nothing compared to being called out to spar with my own aunt in the middle of a town."

As they stepped into their sparring stances, Myla smirked, cigarette dangling from her lips, eyes sharp behind her square glasses. Oda took a deep breath, focusing on the familiar crackle of his spatial magic. He knew his aunt was fast, with reflexes that could match—and sometimes even surpass—his instant casting.

"Alright, Aunt Myla," Oda called, his tone confident. "Let's see if you can handle a little trip around the world!"

He raised his hand. "Spatial Magic: Eviction!"

It summoned a series of swirling portals around her, each one leading to a different space in the field. Myla darted forward, but he swiftly opened the portals as she neared, forcing her to recalibrate her approach. She smirked, easily changing direction without breaking a sweat.

"Nice trick, but too slow for me," she taunted, her voice steady as she moved. Before Oda could react, she had closed the distance, her sandal barely grazing his cheek as he ducked under her sweeping kick. She created a small wood dagger, throwing it at him with incredible speed

Oda grinned, recognizing the thrill of this battle, and responded quickly. "Spatial Magic: Celestial Veil!"

The dagger disappeared into a portal, which then reopened, spewing the dagger straight at Myla, who dodged quickly, moving her head.

Myla paused for a moment, her grin spreading across her face. In that split second, Oda took a step back and cast his next spell. "Spatial Magic: Behind You!"

He disappeared, instantly warping himself behind her for a sneak attack.

But Myla anticipated it. With a swift pivot, she caught his wrist, nearly slamming him into the ground before he managed to phase out of her grip. He rematerialized a few metres away, breathing heavily.

"Not bad, Oda," she laughed, brushing her ruffled hair back. "But I hope you've got more up your sleeve."

With a small grin, the boy prepared for another round, ready to pull out his next spell.

A/N: Now we've introduced one of my favourite characters (Aunt Myla) and built a foundation for Frida's first love!

The next arc can begin!