Cal could safely say this was the craziest day he'd ever been through. Yes, the trip to the hells was close, but today featured a category five demon and a spirit of old. That wasn't something easily beaten, and he was looking forward to the look on Mask's face when he one-upped him.

  He had a feeling his report, or the one written by Olivia, would be taken with a healthy grain of salt. When it had just been a demon, that was within the bounds of believability. Now? Their first assumption would, no, should be that he was pulling their leg. If the brass took him seriously, he'd lose what little respect he had for them.

  Due to that, he was on the hunt. Not just for the shady guy, but for something else from this place that could serve as tangible proof that he was here and these things happened.

  Cal stalked through the halls, moving through unfamiliar rooms as he searched for another passage up. He'd entered via the ground level and used the main staircase to go up seven floors before hitting a roadblock, or a ceiling block, as it were.

  There was no longer any entrance there to the eighth floor; Ferguson's makeshift elevator had sealed it up. While it would be easy enough to make his own entrance, Cal was trying to not draw attention to himself just yet.

  What was weird was that he felt like he was being watched intently. There was one plausible reason for this, and Cal glanced at one of the marble busts protruding from the wall. The woman's face was poorly defined, but that seemed intentional on the part of the artist. Her eyes were pupilless, and they seemed to follow him.

  It was disconcerting, because he knew who that should signify, and she was dead. If there was any doubt about that, B's reaction was telling enough. Grief or isolation had driven it mad, and now Ferguson was making it even madder by trying to knock down its stupid tower.

  Cal shifted his footing as the floor tilted thirty degrees and then changed it again when the tower was forced back into position. Ferguson and B had not stopped, and neither side looked to be ready to give in.

  It was an absurd battle, and he wasn't saying that because of the level of power being thrown between them. No, it was absurd because they were doing all that for no tangible benefit. They were in a stalemate, and it was mildly infuriating to witness. Had he been up there, things would be done and dusted.

  It was a childish thought, and he reined in his derision. There was a reason he was the go-to for situations that required a hammer. It wasn't just because he sat outside of briefing rooms and loudly complained about being bored whenever he smelled a developing crisis either.

  No one could fight with reckless disregard as well as he could, and the apex of that was blowing himself up. Even the demon, who had presumably seen him do it before, had been caught out by it. That was the benefit of keeping a tight lid on the magic contained inside his body; they never knew how much danger they were in until the boom.

  Cal vaulted over a long-fallen column, only to see it rise and smoothly slide between the floor and ceiling. The marble beam seamlessly melded with the cracked base and capital, becoming whole once more.

  Whatever B was doing wasn't just preventing the tower from falling but was actively fixing old wounds as well. Carpets now furnished the floor, paintings were no longer faded, and that oppressive layer of dust was conspicuously missing.

  It made searching for a way up difficult, as he could pass a hallway once only to have to double back after it was 'refurbished.'

  He would have scaled the stupid thing and looked for a window if he'd known it would be this hard. With each passing second, making his own window slid higher on his list of ideas.

  Cal halted upon reaching a room he hadn't visited before. All sides were covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and yet only the one directly in his path offered him a reflection.

  He looked down at himself, running his hand along the tattered and thoroughly soaked-through blazer. Behind him was a trail of bloody footprints.

  Walking up to his party looking like he'd finished an afternoon stroll after confronting a demon that warranted the evacuation of a city struck him as... inadvisable. To not be a complete idiot, he stabbed himself a few times with his palm and defaced his school uniform.

  The wounds had sealed, but the damage was evident to his naked eye. The mirror, it seemed, disagreed, and his pristine appearance was put on display. His gaze sharpened, and the image flickered.

  Callum, not Callum Ardere, stared back at him. With grey eyes, dark hair, and that Federation uniform, it could be no one else. Their expressions were identical up until the image formed a snarl.

  Cal was having none of that and did the sensible thing of racing forward and punching the glass. His knuckles smashed into the cool surface, and a ripple ran through it, blurring the image but doing little else.

  The image's hand reeled back, and Cal beat it to the punch. His second fist, coated with flames, shattered the glass, and he jumped back as the pieces fell to the ground.

  Logically, the fire he'd called on should not have had that much of an impact, and so he thought the situation strange. This reeked of bullshit god magic, and he should turn around and get as far away as possible from this room.

  However, behind the space the mirror once occupied was an ominous passageway. It went a few feet until stopping at a curtain of darkness that concealed all that lay beyond.

  If any of the other mirrors in this room functioned as intended, he'd be able to see his own conflicted expression. Cal raised both hands up, visibly weighing which path to choose.

  Inevitably, he stepped over the broken glass. He didn't dive right through the curtain, poking it with a finger experimentally. It went all the way through and back without harm. Cal hesitated a final moment before taking the plunge.

  The chamber he found himself in was devoid of all light. Dried leaves crunched under his feet as he went further in. The room was in the shape of an octagon and smaller than his shared living space with Alice. Aside from the foliage under him, it was completely bare.

  Cal's head tilted upwards, seeing a pool of brackish water suspended in the air. It reminded him of the one upstairs, only this one wasn't glowing.

  A glint of light caught his eye, and he reconsidered his statement. In the depths, there was a faint shimmer, and something inside of him urged him to seize it.

  He forestalled any rash action and let his magic run through his system. There was no sign of being compromised, and he deduced it was his curiosity again.

  Cal hopped up, giving the water the fingertip test again. It passed with flying colors, and he double-checked his shell before taking a larger leap.

  Moving through water while not feeling it against your skin was always an odd experience, but he didn't let it bother him as he swam upwards. The light grew slightly brighter, and a final kick saw him emerge from the surface of a pool. His head swiveled as he took in the surroundings, and his eyes met another's.

  "Yo," Cal said plainly, waving a hand. "Fancy seeing you here."

  The man he was looking for froze at that. His expression was hidden by those wrappings he wore, but Cal guessed he was surprised. The feeling was mutual, and Cal paddled to solid ground.

  This new area was of similar size as below, but the majority of the space was taken up by the body of water. The only dry land was at the edges and the small island he pulled himself onto. It was a tight squeeze, as it was only a few feet wide and housed a singular tree.

  Cal spared it a glance while keeping the majority of his attention on the man. The trunk was exposed, with pieces of its bark flaking off. Skeletal branches craned in all directions, and one in particular was of interest to him.

  Sitting precariously at the end of the withered piece of wood was a golden nugget radiating a soft glow. It was the only source of light in the room, and Cal pegged it as souvenir material.

  "Didn't you perish?" the man's questioning voice rang out. There was no hint of anger or scorn, only genuine befuddlement.

  Cal sized him up as he responded.

  "You're going to have to be more specific."

  To his credit, the man didn't blink at that.

  "The demon should have eviscerated you," he stated clinically. "I felt your dying breath, yet here you stand. Most curious. That uniform… you are a member of what those barbarians call an academy? No, that can't be right. Your name."

  The last bit was not a question but a command.

  "That's a rude thing to ask without giving yours," Cal said, displaying no hostility. The last time he kept this guy talking, something horrible happened, but the odds of that happening twice were astronomically low.

  "You may refer to me as The Watcher," the man said with no fanfare.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  That name meant absolutely nothing to him, and he resolved to look up a list of all the major criminals this world had to offer after getting back.

  "Then you can call me The Problem," Cal replied smoothly. If everyone was going to have nicknames, then he could give himself one as well.

  He expected irritation at that, but the man's gaze didn't change in the slightest.

  "I'm unfamiliar. However, the matters of the western continent don't normally concern me. Organizing shipments to these lands was the extent of my involvement with them, but even that was a chore. I would have never taken this posting if not for the tower itself," he rambled, almost bored-like before his voice grew curious again. "Tell me, how did you breach the sanctum?"

  Cal's brow rose and then rose again. For one, his fake title was taken as a matter of fact, and that was concerning. Then there was talk about shipments. Finally, he was in the sanctum? That made a disturbing amount of sense.

  "Honestly. I found a room with a bunch of mirrors downstairs. I broke one and it led me here, or there," he finished while pointing at the pool.

  He looked past where the man stood, where the wooden doors stood. One of them was still ajar, and like the curtain of darkness, he was blocked from sensing anything beyond.

  "No such room exists," the man responded quickly, shaking his head. "I've mapped every floor extensively. This was the only space unaccounted for."

  There was no reason Cal could find to correct the man and so he didn't fight the confident assertion.

  "Say," he continued casually, tensing his muscles. "You wouldn't know anything about a grand summoning, would you? Asking for a friend."

  Seconds felt like hours as Cal observed the man, waiting for a 'gotcha' moment that never came.

  "One and the same, all of you," he said with a mixture of condescension and mourning. He reached down into the pond, grabbing a handful of water before flinging it away. "Grasping in the dark with scraps of knowledge and praying to your deceased idols. What a truly ignorant question."

  Cal did not appreciate the tone, but it was the tone of someone who knew things, and so he was all ears.

  "Tell me more." His eager voice caused the man to glance up from the water.

  There was an evaluating light in his eyes that Cal found himself indifferent to.

  "Hmm. Power? No, you killed one of their stronger specimens. Knowledge? Doubtful." He paused and nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see. Another fool looking to test their mettle against the horrors of the hells. Sense enough not to cross into the hells themselves, yet senseless enough to bring them here without proper preparation. How your lands are not barren and spoiled is a mystery."

  Another fool? Who were the others? Cal didn't dwell on that, reviewing the man's words carefully. It wasn't sounding like he knew about any current summoning, which was disappointing, but it did sound like he knew about them.

  "Let's say I'm one of those," Cal said without care. "Do you know of anyone planning one or how to set one off yourself?"

  He set up a two-part answer, intent on getting something of use out of the man.

  "Whether it's waves or summonings. You truly know nothing." The man's voice cut short, letting a few seconds pass in silence. Cal considered crossing the pond and giving him more motivation before he spoke again. "In this age, a grand summoning is impossible."

  That gave him a lot to think about. Frustration came, followed closely by disbelief. Finally, denial set it.

  Cal had spent close to two months in the Academy, and this guy was telling him the whole reason he was there was an impossibility? There was always the chance of that, and he should be glad that it was the case. Why did such a large part of him rebel at the very idea of it?

  The man took a step back as Cal's magic spiked dangerously. He corralled it a moment later but used the threat he posed to follow up.

  "Why?" he demanded. "I know there was one before. What changed between now and then?"

  The Watcher's eyes aged in an instant, and he gave a tired sigh.

  "I was imprecise in my language," he said while waving his hand erratically. "It's a product of my vexation for having such a tantalizing prize out of reach." There was another pause as if he was collecting his thoughts. "Do you know what separates a summoning from a grand summoning? Many things in actuality, but what stopped me was the sacrifice. Quantity was never an issue, quality was. Nothing less than an inheritor qualifies, and they're a rarity."

  No matter how oddly helpful this guy was being, he wasn't leaving here alive. Not with how callously he described an event that would see the death of hundreds of thousands.

  "What's that? And why are they hard to find?"

  It wasn't a term he was familiar with, and knowing what his foes were after would narrow his search tremendously.

  "Carriers of their power." He spoke like a lecturer who'd given the same lesson a hundred times. "They were hunted to near extinction. There is one I know of, but they're unlikely to be viable. The magic is very particular and it wouldn't take kindly to being served something artificially made."

  Their didn't have to be specified. He was speaking of the gods. Cal hadn't known any of their powers had been handed down, and the thought filled him with questions.

  "Artificial?" he asked while attempting to sort the storm brewing within.

  The man stood at his full height and provided a simple nod.

  "Yes. I'm astonished they had any success, muddling about as they did. Though, can one define it as such when they didn't even realize it was? Not until it was too late for most of them. A few of my colleagues might consider it a tragedy. I consider it sloppy workmanship."

  That did not help his spinning head, but he wasn't about to shy away from this.

  "Who were they?" he asked, despite knowing the answer already.

  For all the weight behind his question, The Watcher responded as if talking about the weather.

  "The Federation."

  The first conclusion he drew, and the one he convinced himself was true, was that it wasn't him. She had told him where he'd come from. Where She'd found him.

  And it wasn't a Federation lab.

  As much as they might wish he was, he wasn't a weapon they created.

  He was an anomaly. Something that wasn't meant to exist.

  But if not him… then who?

  He thought back to everything he'd experienced, and a name came to his lips. The implications were too much to think about right now, but one thing was certain.

  He was going to need a new uniform when he got back.

  The chamber rumbled, the water in the pool pulled and pushed, splashing over the sides. Cal glanced at the tree, seeing one of the branches crack. A piece of it fell, and by the time it reached the floor, all that remained was dust.

  "I had wanted to abscond with that," the man said with regret while eyeing the nugget. "It would have eased the loss the simpleton forced onto me. Alas, its vitality is depleted, and without the spirit's care, it will soon cease to be."

  Cal didn't want to talk about a plant, no matter how valuable it may be.

  "Why are you being so open about all of this?" Cal asked seriously, aware he wasn't in any position to verify what this man said.

  Everything could easily be lies.

  Another sigh replied, and Cal could feel the years behind it.

  "This world." He spread a hand, pointing at Cal and then himself. "Barbarians and civilized people alike, they're content to turn a blind eye to the past, to their present, and even their future. Inconvenient truths are hidden away and we're told not to speak of them. I've watched this pattern repeat itself, and I detest it." The words from his mouth dripped with venom, and his dim magical presence fluctuated. "However, I'm a pragmatist at heart and will never be the hand that turns the world. Informing those who can, nevertheless, is something I can accomplish. I wonder what you will do? Hmm. Yes, this current investment may have closed, but it has yielded another. I'll watch your progress intently, Callum Ardere."

  Cal crossed the distance, grabbing the man's throat and holding him aloft. The man produced a dagger, and Cal would have laughed at the intent if it wasn't for the man's target. The blade sliced into The Watcher's skull, and the body jerked before turning limp.

  His magic invaded the corpse, finding it strange, almost hollow. This wasn't a real person, at least not any he'd ever inspected.

  A creaking alerted him, and he turned to see his departure from the island had not been kind to its sole inhabitant. Cracks spread across the bark, and at once, the tree crumbled.

  The golden nugget, having lost its support, fell toward the water.

  Cal dove back from where he came, catching the nugget in his hands.

  "Dibs," he muttered to himself, clutching it tightly.

  It was time to regain control of the situation.