I wake up from my sleep. My body is a bit sore, but ultimately nothing is wrong with it. And then, when I open my eyes, greeting me isn’t the ceiling of Deborah’s room, but the vast space of the castle’s storage. I find myself once again playing the role of a patient on a makeshift bed in this cramped box they called a hospital. My wounds are not as serious like the one I had before, just a few beating by the head and maybe a broken bone, and probably a few missing teeth. Seems like they patched up my head with bandages, while my torso remains the same.

I get up, trying to assert the time of my awakening, but it seems like I am not alone. Sitting by my sheet is Iola, who’s dozing off with a book on her laps. She looks fine without any injuries, thankfully that hellish instructor stopped at only beating me to a mess. Iola’s sleepy face is kind of funny though, but I should be thankful of her, for staying by my side. I am alone now, Deborah is far away, the only people who care about me somewhat are either dead or scarce enough to be nonexistent. While I am her friend, we are not that close, maybe acquaintances at best. But times like these don’t provide me an excuse to stay aloof away from contact with others, we will soon be comrades in arms, nothing else will matter.

In short, I’m glad she’s here. While I prefer the solitary after sleep, having someone by your side also isn’t that bad of a feeling, and it’s something I need in this kind of time.

I quietly take off the bandages on my head. It’s rather tight and uncomfortable, and since the pain has gone away, I no longer feel a need to keep the mess I called hair wrapped by bandages. But right at that moment, something tips Iola off, and she suddenly wakes up, still half asleep, but awake nonetheless.

“Akuma…? You’re…awake? Wait, don’t take those off! Your head is still…hurt…”

But it’s already too late, the final strap of bandages comes off my head and lies on my hand. The bandages have stains of dry blood on them, but my head is clean without any wounds or scars. As if the bandages were put on just for show, and I was never hurt to begin with. I touch my own head to confirm it with my own hand, and my wounds have indeed vanished, or healed overnight.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either.”

I reply the baffled Iola. Somehow I’m starting to take this as something completely normal, despite how abnormal it is. Though I guess making a scene won’t be any help, better to accept it and move on. Not like having a fast healing rate would hurt.

“How long have I been out, Iola?”

I ask the gray-haired girl.

“A-About a day…The wounds in your head knocked you unconscious after the instructor was gone, so we took you here for treatment. The doctors said you would be out for at least two days, but…well, I guess you could fill in the rest.”

“Yeah.”

I bluntly reply. My head is filled with thoughts, but ultimately they don’t matter. The end result is I hate my instructor’s guts. What if I can’t heal faster than normal? What if her beating turned me vegetable? Beating me is one thing, beating my friends is another. I can’t accept an instructor like that. The thing is: What can I do to change the status quo? File a complaining letter? Sue her? Well, maybe it could work back in my world…but this isn’t my world, it’s hers, and that hellish instructor has the final say here.

Well, maybe I’ll leave that for later.

“Either way, thank you, Iola.”

I give Iola my gratitude.

“…for what?”

She replies as our gazes meet.

“For staying with me until now.”

The gray-haired girl with twin braids suddenly blushes and shies away from my gaze as she covers her mouth with the book on her lap.

“I’m…the one who own you that thank. Thank you…for standing up for me…when I couldn’t.”

The way she say makes it rather awkward for me to make a follow up. We both fall silent, unable to find a proper words to speak up, until Iola herself continues the conversation.

“Do you know why…witches and warlocks wear those ridiculous hats all the time?”

“Why?”

I reply with the most obvious answer.

“To distance themselves from the creatures we call human.”

I get that witches and wizards are basically humans with more magic powers than usual, but why the need to differentiate themselves when they are basically human in shape and spirit?

“We are born like human, act like human, live like human, and die like human. But our magical potential is the thing that make us different. We consider it a gift, but not many can have that kind of gift, and thus, jealousy was born. In war, we are powerful weapons, but in peace, we are simply objects of discrimination from the common human.”

“So your kind distanced themselves from other humans.”

I reply. The end result is rather easy to guess, if they are not, there would be no point about this talk about witches and warlocks. Iola simply nods in response.

“We made cultures of our own. We paved new ways of life, pursued new goals and put our own interest above that of humanity. We thought of humans as ignorant fools, so we decided to pursue knowledge as the ultimate end to transcend beyond our human flesh. That was why I am here, because our ancestors came to this land in search of forbidden knowledge.”

Iola falls silent for a moment before continuing.

“But the blood of man can’t be easily replaced like changing clothes. We were accepted, but treated like second-class citizens, shunned by the demons who took human forms just to survive the light of day. Ironic, isn’t it? But their land, their rule. To survive, we put aside our humanity, and dedicated everything for the search of knowledge, both good and bad. The robe and hat are the physical manifestation of our resolve, and in turn, signifying our role as witches and warlocks.”

“Then where is your hat?”

I ask. For all her talk about dress code and clothing, aside from her common clothes which somehow resembles an apprentice witch, I never once saw her putting any kind of hat over her gray hair. At first, I only think of it as a faction choice, but I never once saw Nilrem parting with her hat, and so do other witches that I know of. They really take their dress code seriously, but then why is someone as serious as Iola doesn’t want to follow it?

“To put it simply, I…don’t think I deserve to be called a witch.”

Well, that explains nothing.

“Why would you think of yourself like that? You have good grades, you are diligent and soft spoken. You are a witch to me.”

Iola plainly smiles before replying.

“Witches don’t actively partake in bloodshed on the frontlines of a war. They prefer to stay behind closed doors, drowning themselves in books and research. Yet, I am still here…I am not the kind of person you expect me to be.”

“There’s still Nilrem.”

The Headmaster certainly looks like a Witch to me, though not the scholar type like what Iola described, but rather the old hag type who sacrifices babies to make elixirs of immortality.

“The Headmaster has attained whatever knowledge she seek. Now, she is simply putting them into practical use.”

Iola replies.

“Anyway, I personally don’t think clothing could define your whole being, but apparently the Demon Realm itself doesn’t think that way. At the start of my first year, I was bullied. It was only the aside glances and being ignored at first, but eventually, they started calling me names, “human spy” was the most common. I was alone, without friend. My chosen way of life isolated me from my brethren, they understandably wanted nothing to do with someone trying to divert away from their tradition. It was only a matter of time until physical abuse started to appear.”

Despite telling me her sad past, a smile suddenly appears on Iola’s lips, like a ray of hope shining upon the empty darkness. And what she says next probably isn’t too far from that metaphor.

“And then, I met Deborah. A loner like I was, reading alone in the corner of the library. And I befriended that loner. From then, my life took a change, in a better way.”

I find myself smiling as Iola starts talking about Deborah in the most positive way possible. She has been her friend longer than I have. This is also the first time we seriously speaking with each other without anything holding us back, no war, no talk about vacations or execution, just plainly a talk between friends about other friends.

“The bullying stopped. I was protected by Deborah’s reputation. At first, I didn’t know the girl I befriended was someone who burnt down the main hall with a single thought like the rumors said. They said of Deborah like she was a creature beyond the limitation of creation, but when I knew more about her, she was just someone who’s afraid of others and her own self. She’s polite if you are polite to her, she is wrathful if you treat her bad, she laughs when someone tell a joke, she cries if something sad happens. She’s knowledgeable, yet also naïve. That was the Deborah I know, and befriended.”

“And then, you came.”

Iola gives a pause in her story as she throws a gaze at me. Our eyes meet, and then, I see Iola’s smiles briefly disappears.

“Deborah started acting strange, and more so when you came to our class as a new student. When she introduced you to us, at first, I was afraid of you, of the changes you made on Deborah, making her someone I’m not familiar with. Your following actions certainly didn’t help, what with causing a ruckus, blindly declaring fight with Amadia, jumping head-first into a familiar competition without a care.”

“Well, I was an idiot back then.”

I reply. The things happening to me afterward certainly made me realize how stupid I was.

“You certainly was. But your stupid actions changed Deborah.”

“Really? I didn’t notice. I did not personally know the Deborah before I was summoned here by her, you did. Her first impression to me has always been someone crude with a sharp tongue to match. There wasn’t a single thing I did that didn’t have her complaining in one way or another.”

Iola puts on a saddened face.

“And yet, those feelings of hers were more honest than anything I know about Deborah.”

Iola pauses before continuing saying what she has in mind.

“No matter how nice she was, there was still a wall of ice surrounding her heart, preventing her from being true to herself, and express it to others. It made her keep secrets, made her hide her feelings, only expressing smiles when she needed to smile, tears when she needed to cry. But then, you came. Your actions were stupid, but those helped melt down that wall, they made her more honest, and changed her. Her rage were genuine, it made her act rash like the time she tried to make you disqualified for the familiar competition, but those were her real feelings, acting out for your sake from the bottom of her heart.”

Does that also mean…the time where she confessed her feelings as someone who hated being “Deborah Draconis” was also her honest feelings? Of course, not entirely honest, but I don’t think she would have that kind of courage to make that talk to just anyone…

…aside from me, her familiar. The one who changed her, for the better or worse.

“That was when I knew you were here for a reason, Akuma, and that’s why I trust you as a friend. What happened yesterday only helps cement that trust.”

Iola puts on her most serious face as she announces her true intention.

“Promise me, Akuma, promise me that you will protect Deborah like how you stood up for me. Protect her from the harm of others, and from her own self. You are the only one I can trust with this.”

At this point, I understand the meaning behind all those talk, and that put a smile on my face, something which baffles Iola.

“Deborah was right, you sure are long-winded when trying to explain something. You could have told me that from the start, it would save us some time.”

But when the time for joke is over, I regain my serious face, filled with honesty from my intention, without any lies or doubt lingering behind, and thus, I declare to Iola, and to myself.

“I promise that I will protect Deborah, from others, and from herself. I don’t know if my strength will be sufficient, but I intend to keep the promise I made.”

Our fate are connected now. Just as she tried to protect me, I will also do the same to her. She is in pain and alone, and so am I. This maybe just us trying to lick our wounds, but better together than lonely forever.

“Thank you, Akuma. I know you can keep this promise.”

Iola smiles. There are some tears trying to escape her eyes, but the girl wipes them away before she starts crying for real.

“On a second thought, you yourself seem to have changed as well. I don’t think this kind of talk would be possible if it was the Akuma I knew before the war.”

She is right. I was filled with doubt about Deborah, if she tried to make me promise something like that to the me before, I would roll over and laugh until my sides go to the orbit. But bam, the war came, and the rest is history.

“No matter what people said, or what the instructor said, I don’t think Bjarni trading his life for yours was a mistake.”

I can’t find anything to reply Iola. Now that she mentioned it, there’s the problem with Brenna Lodbrok that I have to solve, and there’s no solution that I can think of inside my head. But I understand she’s trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate that gesture with a faint smile.

“Still, when you think about it, you and Deborah are very alike…you two are really perfect for each other…”

My heart skips a beat as Iola starts blushing like a maiden on her wedding day. That certainly came out of nowhere.

“Now now…let’s not getting ahead of ourselves, shall we…?”

Before things start getting more awkward, a timely intervention arrives by the form of two visitors: My buddy Caelan, and his buddy Koros.

“Yo, Akuma! You dead yet!?”

Loudly yells Caelan as the guy approaches us together with his friend.

“Quiet, Caelan. This is still a hospital.”

“Oh right! Sorry!”

Classic Caelan, never change. Now that I know about Iola’s past relation with Deborah, I’m more curious about how did a guy like him actually become a friend of Iola and Deborah.

“It’ll take more than a beating to make me die for good.”

I reply to the headstrong guy. With how fast my body healed, I guess that is true in the literal sense.

“Well, you’re fine, and that’s good.”

Says Caelan. I expect something more crazy, but that is good as well.

“So, is there anything new?”

Iola asks. The one answering the question is the Orc Koros, who simply shakes his head before properly replying.

“The instructor didn’t show up. We only did some light exercise before coming here.”

So Brenna is still sulking, I take it?

“Still, the one who stopped the instructor from beating you further showed up after we were done. It’s that very nice soldier guy that I met! He tasked us with a message for you when you wake up.”

“A message?”

I ask Caelan what the message is.

“He said: When you are done napping, drag your sorry self over to the castle courtyard after night fall. Brenna will be waiting.”

Well, that certainly sounds similar to that soldier I know of.

Aside from Caelan, who doesn’t seem to understand the situation, both Iola and Koros give me a worrying look. This is an important matter that needs to be solved, but I must do it alone, without the help of my squadmates, and they understand the risk. If I come alone and Brenna starts to act violent again, there will be no one who would help me.

And I will not have it any other way.

I stand up from my bed sheet. My body is sore, but my wounds are healed. I am ready to face Brenna and settle my business with her. Our problem is ours alone. This is something I have to do by myself.

…

I arrive at the castle courtyard after the sun has set and the moon rises to the dark sky. This place is as empty as ever, but there are standing torches around to show the way for those who have business in this place in the night. And standing in the middle of them is the one-eyed woman with long silver hair, who’s fully protected by her armor aside from her head. The daughter of the man who died saving me, the instructor bearing the hatred for me as the one who lived, Brenna Lodbrok.

And here I am, standing face to face against her, with nothing but myself and the black cloak keeping me warm from the cold night. She said this is war, and thus you have to be mentally prepared for war. And indeed, I am ready for this war, so that’s the reason why I came empty handed without any weapons.

Because the only weapons I need in our personal war are words and my resolve.

“I’ve come like you asked, Instructor. What is it that you want with me?”

I am the first one to talk. My eyes meet with her ruby-colored eye. Her gaze is sharp, it’s hard for me to read her intent, but whatever that is, it certainly feels hostile. Brenna holds her gaze, preparing to say something.

“Punch me!”

And that’s literally what she said. Punch her.

“…what…?”

Sure, I would love to, but I can’t just punch a woman out of the blue without a good reason.

“Did you not hear what I said? Or did my beating made you a deaf idiot? I said punch me, in the face, with all the strength you can mutter.”

“Sure, I heard you alright. But how can I punch you without knowing why?”

Brenna sighs, tired of these whole charade when I should simply punch her to get it over with.

“It’s just something to make us even. My actions back then was unfitting as an instructor. I got carried away by my emotion, and beat up my student without a valid reason. It’s nothing much, but my face is here for you to punch, you can punch elsewhere if you like, provide you can punch through armor.”

Okay…so she wants to apologize for what she did yesterday, but punching her after she’s trying to apologize for her mistake…it just sounds wrong.

“Is there anything else we can do…aside from punching?”

“I am no saint, kisses and hugs won’t let a grudge go that easy. It’s not only for your sake, but mine as well. I won’t stay sane knowing I did something like that and got away with a slap on the wrist. Now, are you going to punch me or what? We don’t have all night. Or are you implying you don’t have what it takes to punch a woman?”

Shit, she doesn’t want to make this easy for me, isn’t she? I am willing to forgive her if she just simply say sorry, now I can’t back down peacefully lest she berate me for being sane enough not to punch someone just to solve a dispute.

Well, I guess the only way out is to do what she wants.

“Do you promise me you won’t get mad afterward for punching you?”

I ask. A safe insurance, in case things make a wrong turn.

“Fine, I promise. Now get it over with before my patience runs out.”

With such a commanding voice it’s still hard for me to believe she’s asking me to punch her in the face. I’m more scared about the things she would do later if I don’t actually go through with this. And thus, I approach closer. Our eyes meet, and certainly she can see my gripping fists, preparing to do what she asks for, and Brenna accepts it without putting on any defenses. Her face is laid bare for me without any resistance.

And thus, I strike. I throw a punch with the strength I think is appropriate, and my fist meets up with Brenna’s face. I can feel her cheek being messed up by the force behind the punch, but ultimately it shouldn’t have any long lasting effect and will heal in two days or three. I hope this is enough to satisfy her.

But in the end, I am wrong. Brenna glares at me with eye of a devil, she grits her teeth in anger before retaliates with a very hard punch straight in my face, which sends me flying away.

“You son of a bitch!”

Brenna yells out loud, almost like a roar as I struggle to stand up after facing the full might of her fist in my face.

“You said you won’t get mad!”

I yell.

“I am mad because you punched like a pussy! You didn’t even leave a bloodied nose or send some teeth flying! My dead grandma can do better in her grave!”

Okay…so she’s mad because I didn’t punch her hard enough? What is wrong with this woman?

“Now do it again! If your punch is weak, I’ll show you what real punches feel like!”

Shit, now she’s trying to make this a contest? The anger from yesterday has returned back to me, no thanks to her punch. Propelled by emotional strength, I take up her challenge and rush at Brenna, throwing another punch straight to her nose.

“Arghh!”

Brenna finally reacts after taking a punch right at her nose. I am careful enough not to aim at the red crystal on her forehead, which will end up bad, but I hope this will be enough to wake her up from this madness.

And I am wrong again.

“Not enough! Don’t move just your hand, put the strength of your whole body into it!”

And once again, the mad woman punches me. Her fists are comparable to a truck, everytime I taste it, I feel like I got sent into another world beyond this plane, but whatever strength and resolve I have left inside prevent me from being knocked out cold. I stand up once again, and without awaiting any further input, I let my instinct guide me and punch Brenna with all the strength I can muster.

And I can directly feel the hit through my hand. Brenna falls to the back for a bit, but ultimately remains still. Yet, her nose starts to bleed, which prompts a smile on her crazy face, as if she enjoys having her beautiful face beaten to a pulp.

“Better! But still not enough!”

Brenna retaliates with her own hit, and this time, her punch is stronger than ever, with enough strength to make her earlier punches feel like a slap in the face. This time, I get sent flying again, but when I land to the dirt filled ground, my strength fades away, and my limbs fail to recognize my command thanks to the aftershock.

“Is that it? Is this the extent of your strength? You can’t even beat up a woman the proper way? If so, I really pity you. There is a future awaiting you here, but your current strength won’t be able to reach it. Better give it up and find something that fits your nature, instead of staying here to play soldier.”

“Don’t…mess with me!”

Enough of Brenna’s shit talking, enough of verbal abuse, she has no control over my future and destiny. I summon the strength that made me went through all the ordeals back during the siege, and drag myself up from the ground like my life depends on it. Maybe not my life, but my dignity does.

“Why strive to stand just to fall again? Why fight, knowing you would still get beaten regardless?”

“Because I have a promise to keep! And I don’t do things half-assed!”

I rush at her once again, and punch her before letting her have any kind of reaction.

But my strength is only enough to let my fist reach her face. Brenna is barely fazed, my desperate punch is nothing but a simple touch in the cheek. But the woman does not retaliate, she waits.

“So please…instructor…teach me how to get stronger! Teach me, so that people stop dying to protect me, and I can protect people instead!”

It’s strange for an alchemist to ask for training from a soldier. But it’s not enough to be “just” an alchemist. I want strength, and being content with my role won’t give me the strength I want to fulfill the promise I made with Iola. It matters not how I hate her guts, the woman before me is strong, and she knows how to teach people to get stronger. I care not how many runs and push up she can throw at my face, I’ll overcome all of them!

“Hm.”

The woman suddenly slaps me in the face. Not a punch, a slap. A light slap, still hurts like hell though thanks to that iron gauntlet of hers. Still, it fails to make any noticeable damage, and only helps to make me stand there like a clueless idiot.

“Your last punch is so pitiful it doesn’t even worth punching you for it. You are weak. At least you acknowledged that yourself. Well, that only makes training you worth it.”

Brenna smiles. A genuine smile from the bottom of her heart. The woman is crazy, I get it, but in the end, she isn’t any different from the people I know. Still a person with feelings.

“Your training starts now. Repeat what we have done from the start. Nobody gets any sleep tonight until I am satisfied!”

I take it back, this woman is fully crazy. But I am not afraid, because I too am not lacking in the crazy department as well.

“Damn it, you’re on!”

And we spend the whole night punching each other.

-----------

A man in armor continues watching an instructor and her student beating the crap out of each other from the castle’s balcony. This place leads to a hallway connected to the main castle, yet there is no soldiers standing guard even during night fall. Perhaps this armored man is the sole guard here, but a guard should do his job instead of watching a quarrel to the courtyard below.

“Hmm.”

Yet again, the man continues to watch the young man and his instructor, caring not about the security of the castle’s hallway. Or perhaps that is not needed, for it is not his purpose to stand here tonight.

“So, after all those time observing, what do you think about Akuma?”

From the shadow of the hallways, where the flickering fire of the torches hanging on the walls fail to touch, a witch emerges and approaches the man in armor. He does not react, and continue his observation without looking back at the Headmaster of Melas Academy.

“…Pathetic…”

The man with a skull-themed helmet mutters.

“You weren’t any different once.”

The witch Nilrem replies as she joins the soldier in watching the charade below.

“People change. I changed.”

“For the better or worse.”

Nilrem mutters as she smiles.

“Still, from Demon King Dargoth’s Right Wing to another run of the mill foot soldier was quite a change. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a punishment for your part in Demon King Dargoth’s death.”

The soldier remains silent, not willing to put up any defenses for himself.

“You are right to blame me, but that does not justify your actions after his death.”

This time, the rebuttal makes the witch herself fall silent.

“You’re right. After all those time, no matter how hard I try to convince myself what I did was right, from the bottom of my heart I knew it was a mistake. The world at is it today was born from that mistake, no matter how I try to atone for my sin, that mistake can never be undone.”

The soldier averts his eyes away and turns his gaze to the witch with her youthful cloned body.

“You’ve changed yourself. The hardheaded witch Nilrem I knew back then wouldn’t flat out admit her mistakes, especially in front of me, of all people.”

“I still am a hardheaded witch. But you are the only here who understand our struggles. Even though we hated each other guts from the first moment we met, old friends are still old friends. I guess the reason I failed was because I didn’t want to admit you were right, my pride prevented me from allowing it.”

Nilrem sighs as flashes of memories of old return in her mind. Not all of them were pleasant, but nonetheless, they made her the woman she is today, no matter how many bodies she changed, her soul remains the same, as Archsage Nilrem.

“A thousand years already, huh?”

The soldier replies.

“Sure is long. But we are not here to reminisce on the past, right?”

Nilrem takes out from her robe a large envelope and hands it over to the soldier standing nearby. The soldier immediately takes off the seal and reads the content inside.

“These are the reports of the scouting squads in the frontier after the siege was over. Strange activities here and there, not from the humans stragglers or any of their scouts. The encounters were brief, ended in the loss of some our squads, but I can confirm these strange forces are neither ours or the humans. A third, unknown party has butted in our war affair.”

The soldier makes a quick read over the reports and slides them back to the envelope afterward.

“There’s no mistaking it. The enemy is on the move.”

“There is a travel permit inside, in case you get caught by our troops and they start asking too many questions. Officially, you are to travel as my secret agent, my seal will ensure they won’t ask further details. Aside from that, feel free to do what your duty demands of you. This is the only thing I can do for you.”

“That is enough, thanks for your help.”

The soldier replies. Nilrem howerver doesn’t seem to be done with the conversation.

“Why hide and fight like a common soldier when you can simply regain your status and amass forces to combat the enemy? Out of all the ways to fight, you chose the hardest path by your lonesome.”

“The enemy isn’t as obvious as a Demon King sitting on his throne, nor will they come knocking on our door with an endless horde of demons. No, they wait not in the dark, but in the shadow, gathering allies and resources under the light of day. And when they are done, they will make their move in one swift and decisive strike that will mark the end of us all. No gods nor kings would have the power to stop them. No, fighting that way would be ineffective, so I simply fight poison with poison.”

Nilrem seems disturbed.

“The more reason why you shouldn’t do it alone.”

“You said it yourself once. It’s not our enemy, it’s my enemy. And I think you were right. This is something I have to do by myself. It’s personal, after all.”

Nilrem grins her teeth in anger as she replies the soldier.

“I didn’t think they would come and snatch the Dragonsbane away right under our nose. Not to mention their increasing presence on the frontier. It’s only a matter of time until my students accidentally stumble upon your enemy and end up like the scouts who died to give you those papers on your hands!”

The soldier remains silent, unwillingly to speak out his role over the missing Dragonsbane. But nonetheless, he has found the right words to speak.

“I won’t promise anything, but I will look out for your students out there if I happen to run into them.”

“Thank you…You go by the name Lapidoth nowadays, right? Please watch out for them, Lapidoth.”

Lapidoth silently nods.

“If there isn’t anything else, then I will go to make preparations.”

Before Lapidoth has a chance to leave however, he hears Nilrem mutters something and stops his track immediately.

“One final thing, when will you give Deborah a visit? After all, she was your responsibility to begin with.”

The moment that name comes up in their conversation, Lapidoth takes his glance off the Headmaster and into the young man lying on the dirt ground after being beaten by his instructor, who is also recovering her strength as she lies on the same ground as her student, completely unaware of the people watching them from above.

“She is in his hands now.”

With that as his final words, Lapidoth finally departs in preparation for his next adventure, or rather, his next war.