Chapter 10: Return

A/N: And with that, our first arc, the Puppet Master Arc, is done. Technically, I guess you could say it's our second arc because of the Magic Knights stuff, but potato patato. Now time to get into our second arc!

Lars, Sharya and Yul were in an instant teleported back to the Coral Peacocks base. Lars had barely received any injuries during that fight, other than the emotional baggage he was carrying. Sharya, other than a nasty bruise on her back, was mostly fine. Yul, however…

"Lost…too much…blood…" Yul said, then fainted on the floor, his leg giving out.

"Prism Magic: Refracted Healing Light!"

Prisms appeared around Yul's leg, the warmth of the spell healing the wound. Lars looked up at the person responsible for this.

The mage who cast the spell stood tall with a commanding presence, her posture regal yet calm. Her long, light green hair flowed down her back in soft waves, catching the light as it refracted off the prisms she conjured. Her pale skin seemed to glow with an inner radiance, accentuated by the delicate golden patterns woven into her white and silver robe. She had sharp, bright amber eyes that shimmered with intelligence and focus, carefully watching as her healing magic worked its way through Yul's wounds. Despite her serene appearance, there was a quiet strength about her—a healer who had seen battle but remained untouched by the chaos around her.

She wasn't just a healer, however. No, this was not the only limit of her Prism Magic. Essentially, she bent light using prisms, and imbued them with mana so that they could be used for different purposes.

"Lilian!" Sharya squealed with joy. "Bestie!"

She leapt onto her, hugging her tightly. Lilian, though with slightly less vigour, returned to hug, all while keeping her focus on healing Yul.

"What kind of mess did you guys get into this time?" she sighed, slightly exasperated.

A second mage watched them silently. She had thick, wavy, pink hair that fell just below her shoulders, and large sea-green eyes. Most of her forehead was covered by a badly kept fringe. She wore a high collared, furry maroon dress beneath the standard robe of the coral peacocks, with a black tunic just beneath that. On her feet were two open-toed, knee-high boots. Her expression remained stoic and serious as she closely observed Lilian's healing magic. Her grimoire was safely fastened and almost completely obscured by a leather pouch fastened around her.

"It's always these damn newbies, man…" another voice rang out, sounding slightly annoyed. "Causing too much trouble."

Oda and Theresa walked in with another figure who had caused the outburst. His silver eyes were dull, but his pupils seemed to bore into Lars's skull. The figure flopped onto the couch, obviously quite tired. His long brown hair was split in a middle part, mostly obscuring a nasty scar on the side of his face. He wore a black tunic with silver embroidery, with black baggy trousers and leather boots. In his hand was a light brown grimoire, surprisingly 4-leaf. Lars's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to see that from any squad member. He looked around at Theresa, who was for some reason holding in her laughter. The burly man's disposition then changed, and he grinned, which looked a lot more natural on his face.

"Nah man, I'm just playing with you. I haven't seen you before though," he said, pointing at Lars. "You must be a new member! Welcome to the squad. I'm Vance. Russell Vance. That over there," he said, pointing to the prism mage, "is my good friend Lilian Fraser, and my other good friend Fana."

"The look on your face, Lars!" Theresa laughed.

He extended his hand in a fist. Lars met it with his own unenthusiastically. Russell, noticing this, queried tentatively, "You good, man?"

Lars got up. "You all seem like wonderful people. It was nice to meet you," he said in a surprisingly monotone voice. "I'm going to bed." He trudged up the stairs.

Russell shrugged. "What a killjoy…"

"Russell!" Lilian chastised. She looked at Lars's dejected figure.

"I'm sure he has a lot on his mind right now."

Lars flopped onto his bed. An encounter with the puppet master flashed through his mind.

Lars didn't move, just kept his gaze fixed on the man. "That's the difference between someone like you and someone like me," he said, his voice calm, yet laced with a cold undercurrent. "You manipulate. You pull strings. You turn people into puppets to do your dirty work because you're too weak to fight your own battles. And you thought you'd win like that?" He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming the chaos that had erupted around them. "But real strength comes from within. Not from the people you control."

The Puppet Master laughed—a bitter, broken sound that echoed across the desolate clearing. His once pristine clothes were now dirty and torn, his body hunched over, like a puppet that had its strings cut. He looked up at Lars, his gold tooth flashing in the dying light. "And you think you're any better?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You think you're a hero? You're just like me. You manipulate, you control… just with your fancy magic instead of strings."

Lars's eyes narrowed. He was about to cast his Mind Magic: Subjugation spell, but he hesitated, hearing those words. He lowered his right hand and stepped forward, his boots crunching on the scattered leaves and debris. "The difference," he said slowly, "is that I give people a choice. You take away their will. You enslave them." He glanced over at Sharya, who was still unconscious against the tree, her body limp but now free from the Puppet Master's grasp. Yul lay a few feet away, his leg still healing from the brutal trap that had nearly maimed him. Lars clenched his fists, the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You hurt my friends. You killed innocent people. And for what? To feed your sick desire for control?"

The Puppet Master's eyes gleamed with madness, his smile growing wider. "Control is power! Power is everything!"

"I said I gave people a choice. In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the right thing to say. But do I really?" He turned over, whispering these harsh words into his pillow.

"Am I just like him after all?"

...

Lars had taken the day off after his mission. He had asked Oda to take him to Kikka. Maybe a walk will give me some clarity, he thought. As he walked through the vibrant town, two little children, a boy and a girl, ran past him. Lars, remembering a boy and a girl who he had seen killed yesterday, closed his eyes and kept walking. His plan for clarity - so far not working. As you can imagine, this was not a great walking method, and Lars, not seeing some stairs, stubbed his toe on them and tripped. Just as he was about to fall, someone leaped in front of him.

"Force Magic: Upthrust!"

They raised their hands, and Lars stopped in mid air. Not only stopped, but started floating as well. Lars, in spite of all his grief, looked back at the person who cast this spell. "Force Magic! That's crazy cool!"

The person smiled. "I try. Name's Kian Voss, by the way," he said with a carefree attitude, almost like this information didn't matter to him. "And you're Lars, right? I've heard a lot about you from our vice captain. None of it was positive, but who cares? She's a bit of a… you know…" he continued, struggling to find the words. He then shrugged. "Ah well, who cares?" He released the spell.

Lars landed quite gracefully on his two feet, the sound reverberating as his boots hit the ground. He got a better look at this odd character.

His jet-black hair was short, yet neatly combed, with streaks of blue running through it. His bright gold eyes scrutinised Lars behind a pair of round glasses that sat precariously on his nose. He seemed to be chewing something, which Lars found quite odd for some unknown reason. He was quite short, yet Lars was not deceived that he was weak. He had fingerless gloves on, and wore the Silver Eagles' signature uniform, with a cloak above it that covered most of his body. He wore brown lace up combat boots that looked slightly out of place on his tiny figure, and his hands came to rest behind his head, supporting it.

Hold on a minute, Lars thought. Silver Eagle's signature robes? Heard a lot about me from the vice captain? None of it was positive?

Lars's heart sank. He rushed towards Kian in a panic. "whatevermysister'sbeentellingyouit'snottrueipromiseyouthatwomanhasitoutformeanddoesntwantmetosucceedinanythingsopleasejustignorehereventhoughshe'syourvicecaptain-"

Kian put a finger on Lars's lips. "Much ado about nothing! I hate authority trying to tell me what impressions I should have about people, anyways."

Lars sighed. "Sorry for dumping everything on you. That's…one of my weak points."

Kian, sensing Lars's emotional baggage, quickly did things the way he knew how to do things best. Having two younger siblings, he was quite used to talking things out with people. "Why don't you come to a certain cafe with me? I'm sure you won't be able to resist the fluffiest pancakes in all of Clover!"

Lars brightened up slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah…let's go."

…

"And that's how things happened," Lars said, his voice subdued as he finished recounting the story of his first mission to Kian. He stared down at his hands, still gripping his drink, the weight of his words pressing down on his shoulders. "I was too weak to save those people... I couldn't stop it. And I'm angry, not just with how things played out, but mostly with myself." His frustration came through as his voice cracked. "I wasn't strong enough, not fast enough. I wasn't... enough."

Kian, who had been leaning back in his chair with his usual laid-back demeanor, suddenly leaned forward. His silver eyes, usually half-lidded with indifference, locked onto Lars with a seriousness that almost startled him.

"It's foolish and narcissistic to think you're going to be able to save everyone all of the time," Kian said, his tone sharp and cutting. The words sliced through Lars's swirling thoughts like a blade, and for a moment, Lars blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness.

The restaurant, bustling moments before, seemed to fall silent as if the entire place were holding its breath. People at nearby tables subtly turned their heads, curious about the sudden tension. Even the servers paused in their tracks.

Kian sighed, leaning back again but keeping his eyes firmly on Lars. His usual carefree smile was gone, replaced with an expression of deep contemplation. "Lars, you have to understand—you're a Magic Knight. We're basically soldiers, and soldiers go to war expecting casualties. It's a grim reality, but one we signed up for. You can't step into a battlefield thinking you'll save every life in danger, every time. That's not how it works, and it's not how it's ever going to work."

Lars flinched slightly at the comparison, but Kian's words kept hitting home.

"Think about it," Kian continued, his voice softening but no less firm. "How can a soldier go to war and not expect to lose comrades? How can a nurse walk into a room with a terminal patient and expect miracles every time?" He shook his head, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "You can't always win, Lars. There will be losses. There will be pain. But that doesn't mean you give up, or worse—blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. These things... they just happen."

There was a brief pause. The silence hung heavily between them, and Lars could feel the sting of Kian's words. They weren't said to hurt him but to ground him in the harsh reality he was now part of.

"I get it," Kian said, his voice softening even more, "the emotional blow never stings less, no matter how many times you face it. Losing people, watching innocents fall—it's hell. And it'll stay with you. But we're Magic Knights. We protect the Clover Kingdom. We do the best we can. And when things go wrong, we pick ourselves up, we mourn, we grieve—but we keep moving. You can't stop moving because of grief."

Lars stayed silent, absorbing Kian's words. His anger and self-loathing began to waver, dissolving under the weight of Kian's pragmatism. It wasn't that Kian didn't care, but he understood something Lars had yet to fully grasp. Magic Knights couldn't afford to crumble under the weight of loss. Not when they still had lives to protect, a kingdom to serve.

"I... I understand," Lars finally said, his voice quiet but tinged with a bit more clarity. He hadn't fully accepted it yet—how could he? But Kian's words had given him a new perspective, something to hold on to when the guilt became too heavy.

"Thank you, Kian," Lars added after a pause, a bit surprised by how much he meant it.

Kian's serious expression shifted slightly, his usual casual smirk returning. "You fascinate me, Lars," he said, abruptly changing the tone of the conversation. Lars looked up, caught off guard again by Kian's sudden shift.

"You've got something special, you know that?" Kian continued, leaning forward again, this time with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. "Your magic—Mind Magic—doesn't rely on mana the way the rest of us do. It's built on your mental strength, your willpower, and that's... different. I mean, it's not every day you meet someone who can pull off something like that."

Lars blinked, unsure of what to say. He didn't feel special. If anything, he felt inadequate, especially after his first mission. But Kian's words carried a weight of conviction that made him pause.

"You may be the new kid on the block," Kian said, leaning back again, this time more relaxed, "but I've got this feeling about you. You've got potential, probably more than you even realize. You've managed to get this far using your mind—literally—and that's something. You've already done things most mages would struggle with, and that's without relying on traditional mana reserves like the rest of us."

Lars felt something stir inside him. It was faint, but it was there—a flicker of hope, or maybe pride.

Kian smiled, his carefree demeanor returning fully now. "Keep training, become stronger, and hey—maybe prove your sister wrong while you're at it. Show her that you're not just some rookie. Show everyone."

Lars raised an eyebrow. "My sister?" he asked, a little confused.

Kian waved a hand dismissively. "Eh, I'm sure she's fine, but she probably thinks she's got you all figured out, right? So show her that you're more than what she expects. You've got it in you."

Lars chuckled, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous, Kian."

"Yeah, well, I try." Kian grinned, his golden eyes twinkling. Then, he sat up straighter, his tone becoming more serious again. "But seriously, if you're worried about your attack power... I know a place. Somewhere that'll help you tap into more of that potential you've got. Interested?"

Lars felt himself perk up, curiosity burning in his chest. "Where?" he asked, leaning forward.

Kian leaned in conspiratorially, his grin widening. "Oh, you'll see. But let's just say... it's a place where you can really find yourself. You'll thank me later."

…

Lars arrived back at the Coral Peacocks base. His journey to Kikka had not been in vain, and he was grateful to his new friend. After Kian's big speech, they had talked for a longer while, and Kian had suggested something Lars actually found quite interesting; he should consider the use of a weapon, if he was worried about weak attack power. Lars happily obliged, and therefore, as he walked through the door, he carried a beautifully crafted naginata.

The weapon had a slim black handle, delicately painted and polished, with the Coral Peacocks insignia on it delicately carved across the blade. It was painted white, a design choice Lars had deliberately chosen to show that this weapon was homage to him starting on a clean slate. The blade was thin, crafted with a glossy black metal that Lars had forgotten the name of. He twirled it around. It made a weird but satisfying humming noise in the air.

Russell, his mood not dampened by Lars's actions yesterday, came up to him. "Hey man, how are you? I hope you got everything sorted ou-"

Lars prostrated himself before Russell, an apologetic look etched deep on his face. "I just wish to say I'm sorry for my self-centred actions yesterday! It was stupid for me to be so hung up over this!"

Russell laughed. "No worries, man! I know you must have had a lot on your mind! It's always hard on the first mission, man! You get used to it."

Lars got up, his apologetic face turned to a mask of determination. "I've heard that you're very proficient in weapons, Russell," he started, bringing out his naginata. "Please teach me your ways!"

Russell smiled. "Now that, I can do. Follow me."

They both left the base, hopping on their brooms and flying to the beach just outside the base.

...

Once at the beach, the two mages put their stuff down. The sunset bathed the sand in a beautiful light, enveloping Lars as he stared into Russell's eyes, silently begging him for knowledge.

"This evening," his teacher said, "I'll be teaching you Mana Coating. It's a skill most weapon masters use."

Lars gulped in anticipation. This was the path he had chosen to take.