The rest of the game was tiring. Melmarc did not have a moment of rest. Diret no longer focused on him, but it was as if everyone else on the team was suddenly very good. Every screen was strong, although they rarely worked on him.

  Diret tried his illusions on him a few times but didn’t find success again. However, where he failed in his illusions he succeeded in pure skill.

  Melmarc wasn't entirely sure how he figured it out. It was not in any dissonance he sensed or mana particles in the air. It was as if he just... knew. It had nothing to do with his illusions either. All he acted upon was what Diret was supposed to do. The best way he could describe it was seikuken, the skill Uncle Dorthna had taught him and Ark.

  It was knowledge without having to think about it.

  Melmarc was no longer calculating. He just knew.

  But it only worked on instances of the illusions.

  Despite all of it, Melmarc learnt a few things from the game. Skills weren’t simply combat based, and understanding them—even the combat based skills—could be used in the simplest of ways. [Weight of Jupiter] helped him become the most unmovable screen. Players ran into him and stopped dead, as if running into a brick wall. [Mana dilation] slowed how often Diret used his illusions, which already wasn’t very often. [Not So Fast] had quickly become his favorite to use, cutting down movement speeds so subtly that it would take a while before the affected target realized what was happening.

  There was an instance where Diret had lost the ball unprovoked because he mistimed his bounce. He had looked so flabbergasted, as if the impossible had happened.

  All said, in the end, his team had succumbed to defeat.

  Melmarc sat in the sidelines, catching his breath. Ark, covered in less sweat than him, plopped down beside him with a smile.

  “I like him,” he said simply.

  It got a curious look from Melmarc. “You like him?”

  “The Diret guy,” Ark clarified.

  “What makes you like him?”

  Ark shrugged. “He sees the things I see. He’s also smart on the court.”

  “Aren’t you athletes supposed to think alike?”

  Ark paused, gave a thoughtful expression. “I wouldn’t really say so.”

  Off on the court a new group played against themselves. Melmarc thought about his own game as he watched. Diret played more casually than he had played against him. The boy seemed to simply be having his own fun, unbothered by the things around him.

  He should have played me like that.

  If he had, things would’ve definitely been easier. Still, Melmarc was glad that he hadn’t. Melmarc could not remember the last time he had felt so competitive about a sport. Diret had quite literally worked the competition out of him until he hadn’t wanted to lose. In the past, he was never bothered about losing. Losing was just something that happened. Win or lose, it didn’t matter much, there was nothing at stake so there was no point to pushing himself the extra mile.

  It was different in the portal, though. Losing there meant dying. And dying was something that he could not do.

  Placing his palms on the ground behind him, he leaned back and looked up at the rafters. Diret had made him have fun. Diret had made him competitive. He had wanted to win, yet losing had not bothered him. Uncle Dorthna had told him once that as a human being sometimes all that was required of him was to live in the moment, that nothing else mattered.

  Today, he had lived in the moment, and nothing else had mattered.

  “Wasn’t Patience supposed to be in the combat team?”

  Ark’s voice pulled Melmarc from his thoughts and he turned to Ark. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Patience,” Ark clarified. “The friend that blocked and unblocked you. I thought I heard something about her and a combat team.”

  Melmarc nodded slowly, eyes panning around, looking for her. He hadn’t seen her when he’d come in and he wasn’t seeing her now.

  Did she change her mind?

  He highly doubted it.

  Ark turned to the girl sitting beside him and nudged her with his shoulder. Clarissa gave him an intrigued look, as if the game she was watching was supposed to be the most important thing and everyone present was supposed to understand that.

  “Is this all the members of the combat team?” Ark asked, unbothered by her look.

  “Some,” she answered. “We haven’t begun official practices so just a few people turn up now and again.”

  Ark thanked her with a nod before turning to Melmarc. “And there you have it. Patience isn’t here because everyone isn’t here.”

  That answered one question.

  Their stay in the court lasted until late into the evening. The teams switched around a few times. Melmarc’s team lost to Diret’s team every time they met. For some reason, Diret played differently when facing them. If it bothered Ark, he didn’t show it. It bothered Melmarc a lot.

  By the end of everything, there was nobody that wasn’t knackered. Mrs. Southfire looked at them as if she was looking at a set of fun pet projects.

  “How did that feel?” she asked after a moment of silence with all of them arraigned in front of her.

  “Tiring,” someone answered without missing a beat.

  Diret chuckled, looking at his hand as if it was a very interesting thing. Clarissa caught the action and frowned.

  “Give me a minute,” she said to no one in particular and started moving through the group.

  Ark and Melmarc exchanged a look. Ark was the one standing next to her so Melmarc wondered if he knew what was happening.

  He did not.

  “Hopefully, this small exercise would’ve added some mastery to the skills you all already have,” Mrs. Southfire was saying. “Diversity in skill use can be very helpful. Just because you have a combat skill, it doesn’t mean that you cannot raise your mastery outside of combat situations.”

  Melmarc’s eyes wandered away from Mrs. Southfire even as she spoke. Her voice slowly faded into the background as he tracked Clarissa’s movement through the crowd with furrowed brows. It was then that he noticed something different. The mana particles were no longer touching the students around him. They hovered, dimming and brightening. He couldn’t remember ever seeing them like that before.

  With each breath everyone took, they expelled mana particles from themselves, another new phenomenon. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw anyone expel mana particles without taking any in from the world around them.

  Ark placed a hand on his shoulder. “You good?”

  Melmarc replied by leaning into him without taking his eyes off of Clarissa. If Ark had [Optimum Existence] and could use [EP], maybe he also had this trait.

  “Can you see mana particles?” he asked him in a whisper, Mrs. Southfire long forgotten.

  Ark nodded. “I can.”

  “Can you see everyone breathing out mana particles?”

  “That,” Ark answered, “I cannot see.”

  “But you can see the particles.”

  “All over the place, bright and dim.” Ark paused. “Increasing in number, too. That’s… interesting.”

  “I might’ve just figured something out but I’m not sure,” Melmarc muttered. “I need to be able to confirm it first.”

  Ark shrugged. “Then confirm it.”

  “I'm doing that.”

  Clarissa was with Diret now. She grabbed him by the wrist of the hand he was looking at with all seriousness.

  “No,” she said with a sharp look in her eyes.

  Diret paused to look up at her as if he had missed something. He blinked twice. “Something is different.”

  “Nothing is different,” she opposed. “Don’t do it.”

  Do what? Melmarc wondered.

  Diret flexed his grip once more. “It’s too fast,” he said, looking at Clarissa. “Haven’t you noticed it?”

  “I have.”

  “No.” Diret shook his head. “I don’t think you have. I’m picking up pace, moving fast.” He held out his hand and moved it from side to side. “Don’t you see it.”

  “Recovery can vary,” Clarissa said, now looking worried.

  Beside Melmarc, Ark frowned. “What’s happening?”

  “I think Diret wants to do something,” Melmarc answered. The boy was expelling more mana from his breath than everyone else around.

  Perhaps he was already doing it.

  “Diret,” Clarissa warned.

  Diret paused, looked at her, then gave her a very wide smile. “You worry too much.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Melmarc saw it before it happened. Diret breathed once more and no mana particle left his nostrils. The mana particles around him ignited in dull colors, then ten iterations of Diret popped out of him, all of them heading in different directions.

  “For God’s sake!” Mrs. Southfire snapped out of nowhere, stomping towards him. “Why are you so reckless?”

  Diret still had a smile on his face as the illusions continued to pop out of him. The other students moved away from him in a hurry as if something dangerous was happening. Clarissa remained were she was, grabbing a hold of Diret as if to keep him standing upright. The illusions continued until Diret started shaking in her arms.

  “Let him down,” Mrs. Southfire commanded, taking the boy from Clarissa’s arms. She lowered him gently to the ground.

  The illusions took on another form. Some came out of him rolling along the ground, some simply stretched and yawned. All took on variations of being on the ground. Then the spasms stopped and the illusions seized to be.

  Mrs. Southfire simply watched Diret as he lay calmly on the ground, as if he hadn’t been spasming just a moment ago.

  “Did he—”

  Melmarc was already nodding, interrupting Ark’s question. “He did.”

  Diret had just sent himself into mana fatigue, intentionally.

  “Well,” Ark said. “As far as they go, he’s got a cool one. I wonder what yours looks like now that you’ve got all that new type of mana running through you.”

  Melmarc’s hand moved to a lock of his hair, the one that was meant to be white but was dyed black. He wondered what it would look like for him, too.

  “What happens when you experience mana fatigue?” he asked, watching the mana particles in the air slowly begin to return to Diret with every breath he took.

  Ark shrugged. “Nothing out of place. Spitfire just loses his shit.”

  Melmarc turned a flabbergasted look on him. “That is definitely not nothing out of place.”

  “It’s fine.” Ark waved his worry aside. “Even with his shit lost, Spitfire’s still a darling.”

  Spitfire’s a demon. A version of him with his shit lost will not be a darling.

  “So,” Ark said, as murmurs filled the group of students while Mrs. Southfire continued to watch Diret. “Did you confirm what you wanted to confirm?”

  Melmarc nodded very slowly. “I think I have.”

  “Wanna share?”

  Melmarc definitely wanted to share. There was one thing that science still hadn’t figured out. What exactly happened when someone fell into a state of mana fatigue? It knew that mana fatigue happened when you used up too much of your mana, arguably when you ran out of mana, but no one knew the specifics of it. The interface simply told you.

  Melmarc, however, had just watched in real time what happened. Diret had started breathing out mana without taking in mana, then he had breathed out nothing, as if breathing out the last of his mana.

  Was it safe to say that he had quite literally run out of mana? Then there was the thing with him talking about how his recovery was too fast.

  Melmarc looked around. Was someone casting a healing skill on them without their knowledge?

  It was very unlikely because the interface always notified you on whatever buff or debuff you were under.

  Then what was that about?

  …

  He ran out of mana? Delano typed.

  Melmarc could feel the boy’s enthusiasm in the words. He had informed Delano of Diret’s mana fatigue from yesterday’s practice, only for the boy to open a group chat with him and Eroms this afternoon.

  School must be eating you alive if it took you this long to talk about it, Melmarc replied discreetly, allowing predictive text to complete and autocorrect any mistakes he was making.

  He was currently in class, learning Delving Moral and Ethics. The subject taught the dos and don’ts of being a Delver. Their teacher, Mr. Sveinfeld was an aging man with goggles for glasses. He had a scar running along one eye that made Melmarc believe the man actually needed the glasses for ocular reasons.

  Currently the man was talking about what Delvers were not supposed to do when they returned to the world, one of which was to not undermine the government for any reason whatsoever.

  Jake asked me out, so I’ve been mulling over it, Delano answered.

  Melmarc was quick to start replying, pausing only when the group informed him that Eroms was typing.

  On a date? Eroms asked.

  Yes, Delano replied.

  But you’re not into guys, Eroms typed.

  I’m being open-minded.

  You’re being nosy, Melmarc typed quickly. What are you trying to figure out?

  My sexuality?

  A message popped up. It was a text from Pelumi. Melmarc swiped it away, not ready to leave the group chat. Instead, he turned his attention from their teacher to Pelumi. She sat in front, shooting discreet looks at him. When their eyes met, she pointed two fingers at him, then at the board.

  She could tell that he was not paying attention in class.

  Melmarc nodded, then looked back down at his phone.

  You are a womanizer with no women, Eroms replied to Delano.

  How does that even work? Delano asked.

  You like women, but women don’t like you.

  That’s harsh.

  You’re not gay.

  I could be.

  And I’m not hungry, Eroms replied, his text dripping with sarcasm.

  Fuck you, E, Delano replied. Marc, what’s this about breathing out your last mana before mana fatigue?

  Just something I noticed, Melmarc typed, eyes on the board as the teacher wrote down something about Delver rules regarding civilian interaction.

  Since when have you been able to see mana and why are you only telling us now?

  Melmarc paused. I could’ve sworn that I told you guys already.

  You never did.

  Melmarc sighed. Well, I…

  He paused, not sending the message. A frown marred his brows. He looked behind him. There was a boy sitting there. Arthur. Melmarc was very aware of him, so his spike in awareness was slightly alarming. Arthur, unaware of the effect he was having on Melmarc, gave him a confused look.

  Melmarc shook his head, returning his attention to the board. His frown deepened as something tugged on his lapel. It was enough to make him look down at his sleeves. There was nothing there.

  His phone vibrated. Looking down at it, he found a message from Pelumi. This time he read it.

  Are you okay?

  Melmarc looked up to find a worried expression on her face as she looked back at him. He offered her a reassuring smile then nodded.

  Something tugged on the back of his shirt this time. He didn’t look back at Arthur, knowing very well that the tug was not a physical thing.

  The feeling was uncomfortable, and constantly growing more uncomfortable.

  What the hell is happening?

  …

  Dorthna strolled into the house and walked straight into the living room, knowing what exactly he was going to meet.

  He found Aurora where he expected to. She was sitting on the ground, back pressed up against the wall. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and was one step away from rocking herself.

  Her eyes looked hollow.

  With a sigh, he walked up to her and sat down on the ground, legs crossed beneath him. Arms folded, he waited for her to look up at him.

  When she did, her eyes were bloodshot from crying.

  “Please,” she begged.

  If Dorthna had a soft spot for her that he was not aware of, it was not pricked by her words. He waited, wanting to see if she would say more.

  She did.

  “I can’t find him,” she sobbed. “I’ve lost him.”

  Pressing his lips into a thin line, he kept his exasperation from his face. “Is this despair?” he asked, curious.

  Aurora paused, hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t let it be,” he said. “Despair is a dangerous thing. It also has an Oath, and we can’t have you becoming the Oath of Despair.”

  Aurora paused. “Is that possible?”

  “Yep.” Dorthna nodded. “It is not beyond a former Oath to take up a new Oath-hood. Trust me, you don’t want to be despair. It won’t be able to help Mel in any way for what is to come.”

  “And David?” she asked, a touch of hope twinkling through the despair. “What of my husband?”

  Dorthna looked away from her, into the distance, in the general direction of where Madness was. “He’s trying to do what the mad do.”

  Aurora waited, hoping for an explanation.

  Dorthna gave it to her. “He’s trying to do the impossible.”

  “How?”

  Why am I spoon feeding her, he wondered, even though he knew the answer.

  “Your sons are doomed to a life of immortality, right?” he began, Aurora nodding in confirmation. “You and your husband on the other hand are going to grow old and die. Your husband is not a fan of it. So, he’s trying to stop the inevitable.”

  Realization blossomed in Aurora’s eyes and she pulled out her phone. “He’s going for Inevitability.”

  Dorthna placed a hand on the phone, stopping her from doing whatever she was about to do.

  “He is supposed to be going for Inevitability,” he agreed. “But he is on no path leading to the Oath. His path is leading him elsewhere.”

  “To Romania,” Aurora said. “But what’s in Romania?”

  “Powerful abominations,” Dorthna said with a sigh. There was always one in every world. If you left sentient beings long enough, they created the class all by themselves. “Abominations that should not exist.”

  “The council,” Aurora said. “No one knows what exactly they are. Not even their true ranks. Not me, not their government, not the Oaths.” She paused. “Why is Madness going to them?”

  “To do the one thing that they’ve done, I’m guessing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The members of the council have all died and survived.”

  “And he wants to kill them?”

  Dorthna shrugged. “With Madness, you can never be sure. Perhaps he wants to learn how to defy death.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  Dorthna palmed his head as if she was stupid. “Death is the one thing that will prevent him from continuing to be by your children’s side.”

  “So he’s going to learn how to die and come back?”

  “No.” Dorthna shook his head. “He’s most likely going to do something else.”

  Aurora paused, thinking.

  Dorthna would be disappointed if she did not get to the answer on her own this time. He’d basically spelt it out for her.

  Rather than answer, she gave him a skeptical look. “Why are you helping now?”

  Dorthna cocked his head to the side in mild confusion. “Use more words, child.”

  “I once asked you for help with the Romanian council years ago, and you said no.”

  “I did,” Dorthna confirmed. “Because I had no interest in it then. It interests me now.”

  “Why?”

  “For reasons best known to me.”

  With an abomination in Fallen High that he had not been aware of until now, Dorthna suspected that there would be things in this world that would prove problematic to Melmarc when he rose to his position as the ruler of the planet. There was no harm in helping them clear them out one by one.

  Shaking his head, he decided to change the subject.

  “Do you want to know why I want you to hurry up and regain your mantle as Oath, child?” he asked, feeling some of his benevolence from ages past slipping in. “Have you ever wondered?”

  “Because of the Apocalypse?” she tried.

  “That is one reason,” he told her. “But has any of the Oaths ever wondered how the apocalypse will come to be? Has anyone ever wondered how exactly it is going to happen?”

  Aurora nodded slowly.

  “And what answer did they come to?” Dorthna asked.

  “Nothing concrete.”

  “Then let me tell you, former Oath of War, how your world will come to an end.” He unfolded his arms and placed his hands on his knees. “Your son has made your world stronger. As we speak there is a twenty-five-year-old lawyer a few streets over who got a skill offer last night. No one knows, but I do. In Nicaragua, a fifty-year-old woman just accepted all her skills and gained the [Mage] class this morning. She gained the World skill [Length of the World].”

  “Impossible,” Aurora blurted out before she could stop herself.

  “The presence of the [August Intruder] makes a lot of impossible things possible, child,” Dorthna said, unbothered by her disbelief. “He has made your world stronger by virtue of his existence. Existence itself recognizes his presence. But you have to understand that the portals have not stopped opening.”

  Aurora was already shaking her head. “There have been no portals for a while now. They aren’t opening.”

  “They are there, child. Your son’s presence simply keeps them at bay. They attack every day, ripping at the fiber of the world. But Mel keeps the world together by being here. What do you think will happen if he is not here?”

  “If he is not here...” Aurora’s eyes widened slowly in horror. “They will all come flooding in. Opening all at once.”

  “Countless portals opening at once.”

  “It will be chaos.” Aurora gasped in horror. “It will be…”

  “An apocalypse,” Dorthna finished for her. “War against everything else. So you must regain your mantle, War. You must become the weapon your son needs to survive what is to come.”

  “But how is Mel supposed to leave the world if there are no portals?”

  Dorthna couldn’t help but chuckle. “Portals aren’t the only ways to leave a world.”

  “So, we should keep him away from Nasa?” she said with a flat look.

  Dorthna shrugged, getting up. “Keep him away from rockets, too, I guess. Who knows?” He dusted the back of his pants and started leaving. “Just know that the apocalypse happens because the [August Intruder] either breathes a sigh of relief to establish his world or leaves his world for some reason.”

  “Does Mel know this?”

  “I have not told him.”

  Aurora started typing on her phone. “He needs to know it. That way he won’t…”

  Her words trailed off, and Dorthna gave her a sad smile.

  “That way he won’t breathe a sigh of relief?” he asked, sadly. “There’s a reason it’s called a sigh of relief, child. At some point in time, keeping the portals at bay will become a burden. The hope is that the world will be ready by the time it becomes a burden to him. Not that that’s the only way for things to happen.” He gave her a sad smile. “The apocalypse will come, War. You have to be ready to support your son when it happens. Because portals and monsters will not be your only enemy. Humans and Oaths. Life and…”

  “…Death,” Aurora muttered. “That’s why he’s doing this. That’s why my husband is out there. That’s what he’s doing.”

  “It is supposed to be impossible, but Madness has not been known to let things like that stop him.”

  “How can he do it?” she pressed, getting up, phone forgotten in her hand.

  “You have to use your words, child. Only then do you deserve an answer.”

  Aurora took in a deep breath, like a child who knew they were about to say something stupid.

  “How,” she began carefully, “can my husband defy death?”

  Dorthna smiled. For a very brief moment, he felt like a proud parent—a very, very brief moment. Now, it was time to give her the answer she deserved.

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know.”