Fellowship

  July 31, Central Year 119 (P.R.E.)

  School district nine.

  As the name implied, it was a segment of the sovereign metropolis located within Ravenspurn—the sector that was entirely devoted to educational purposes. Aside from being a hotspot for dungeons and breaches, Babylon also had a prominent role in both regular and deviant educational facilities. That fact was often overshadowed by the city’s more proactive counterpart—the side of the city that dealt with the presence of extradimensional gates on a daily basis—but in general, the original purpose behind the city’s creation was to act as a safe haven for superpowered individuals.

  That was one of the few reasons why its former identity was no more.

  Deviants from all around the country, and in some rare cases, the world gathered here for various reasons. The economy surrounding dungeons in general was of course the main one, but there were also others who came to learn how to control their power. Because of that, it was necessary to partition portions of the city that were dedicated to specific roles—hence the four sectors and eighteen districts.

  A bus was currently making the rounds through the large space for schools, whizzing by a number of arcades, training facilities and of course, schools as it rolled down the asphalt. The various forms of public transportation inside Babylon were also categorized based on where they operated, which meant that school districts naturally had their own buses that followed a strict schedule, they even had a curfew.

  A silver-haired young man stood inside one of the buses, clutching the backpack slung across his shoulder and glaring out the window with a look of utter exhaustion on his face. Since it was almost summertime, the vehicle had a fair number of seats available but he hadn't opted to take any out of habit.

  Today—the 31st—three days after the incident with the infernal, he was discharged. For the past seventy-two hours, he was locked in a futile struggle with the nurses regularly scheduled to his care. Now that he finally obtained a manadite core containing a skill, the next course of action was to obviously absorb the contents of said core through meditation but his caretakers wouldn’t allow that, for some reason.

  The delicate process that usually required extreme focus was frequently interrupted by their abnormally frequent visits. The reasoning behind their persistence—as he’d been told—was that Babel medical was a place for rest and recovery, which included his mind, body and soul, therefore by extension any form of training was off limits.

  Cyril was terribly under equipped to go against that kind of passion, and with Carissa having taken off mere hours after the chairman’s visit he had no one to back him up. Thus, there was little he could do but relent. Allowing himself to be dazed by the outside scenery, he absentmindedly began counting the pulse crystals placed at fixed intervals along the road leading to his dorm—another habit of his.

  ...25...26...27...almost there.

  [Alert. Cyril, you are exhibiting signs of both mental and physical exhaustion. Calculations indicate that your combat acumen has already fallen by more than forty percent. A period of extended rest is recommended.]

  I’ll get on that soon Aria.

  [Also, allow me to clarify something about the scenarios—and my presence within your consciousness as a whole. I am not here to assist you in battle. I was appointed solely to oversee the development of your unique skill and the realm factor you host. Combat support falls outside the scope of my parameters. For clarity, I cannot refine your precision or mastery over your skills. At best, I can provide supplemental information regarding their functions as well as minimal assistance in regards to activating [Juggernaut]—much like I did during the encounter with the infernal. The applications, precision, and finesse you develop with your skills are entirely up to you and the amount of time you devote to mastering them. My role is to observe your progress.]

  Oh, so that means I won’t be getting any help from here on out, huh? Well, not like that changes much. I’ve already got a good grasp on how Juggernaut works—I can figure out the rest on my own if I practice hard enough.

  [Acknowledged. While I cannot interfere in combat directly, I am capable of performing other tasks related to your Index. Would you like me to oversee the assimilation of the skill housed within the manadite core while you rest?]

  Cyril considered it for a moment, then nodded to himself. The idea made sense. Absorbing mana from a manadite core was akin to training the mind to manipulate mana in the same way the fallen monster had, through the integration of stored manites. While the process wasn’t quite complete, he felt confident the skill assimilation was only a few steps away from finishing.

  Yeah, I’d like that. By the way, Aria—do you know where my other skills came from? Mobius, Life Surge, and Counter Stop?

  [ Answer: As of now, the origin of those skills remains largely unknown. They were intrinsic to your being even before you acquired the realm factor. Because of this, my influence over them is limited, aside from the partial suppression of their functions. Your inherent skills are passive and continuously siphon your mana to remain active. Even with your increased index, your brain can accommodate only one more skill.]

  I know. Having more than one skill is already unheard of, but I guess I’ll leave that for later, doctor Miller might have some kind of explanation for this.

  Closing the mental linkage with a thought, he pushed the small red button affixed to the wall. A high-pitched ping echoed from above the driver’s head to indicate that the bus would soon be decelerating. Upon coming to a full stop, Cyril casually stepped off the rattling vehicle and glanced up at the large multi-complex building in front of him. It had a block design and was actually composed of two different buildings joined together—segregated for gender reasons as it was a high school dormitory, the high-rise kind.

  Instantly, the contents of a certain message came back to him. It was an alert from the dorm committee informing everyone associated with his building— the one directly facing the main road — that the elevators would be undergoing maintenance today. As soon as the thought surfaced, he sighed.

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  The thought of having to walk up more than twenty flights of stairs almost made him groan, but he decided to endure it. A tempting thought surfaced in the back of his mind, one that was telling him to simply sprint up the buildings outer wall but the second he caught a glimpse of the revolving security cameras scanning the landscape at irregular intervals he banished the idea. The last time he tried that—and got caught — his dorm manager almost gave him hell. Teenagers weren’t the only ones around with flashy superpowers.

  Wordlessly, he moved towards the gaudy entrance and stepped across the revolving door. After a bit of confusion, some amount of explanation and an apology, he was able to retrieve a spare key from the staff on duty.

  “Wait...I could have just used my passcode!” He exclaimed, venting to himself as he cleared the first flight of stairs. The implications of his exhaustion were starting to set in, which prompted him to put a bit more vigor into his movements to clear the tedious task as soon as possible.

  Soon after, he arrived on his floor, high above ground and overlooking the concrete expanse of the city below. The view from the dormitory was a striking contrast between the cold, hard surfaces of Babylon and the distant hum of life moving along its streets. The towering buildings seemed almost endless, stretching in all directions.

  He took a moment to admire the scenery, intending to complete his tiresome journey with one final trek down the hall when something curious caught his eye. There were two people—whom he knew — currently staring down his doorway.

  The first to catch his eye was a high school girl radiating a rather fearsome aura. Her wavy black hair cascaded neatly down her back, held in place by the tension of a brightly colored ribbon. Her uniform, a white pleated skirt paired with a matching dark blazer, clung to her figure with sharp, elegant precision.

  She knocked on his door with an incessant rhythm, her expression unchanging as she stared at the oak barrier hard enough to make it crack under the weight of her gaze. When that didn’t work, she tried harassing the intercom a few times, but that too ultimately ended up being fruitless.

  Ready to relent, she sighed a little.

  “Looks like he isn’t home today either. Damn it Cyril where did you go?” The curly haired boy standing next to her cursed under his breath. Unlike her, his appearance was far more relaxed. Accentuating his blazer wasn’t the typical collared shirt, but instead a simple white T-shirt.

  Combined with the fact that his blazer wasn’t even buttoned, it gave him the unmistakable look of a delinquent. His posture was relaxed, almost careless, as if he didn’t care about the formalities that others adhered to.

  Since they were both wearing matching uniforms, their obvious relationship—as schoolmates — wasn’t very hard to deduce. “Henry, even if no one is around cursing like that is improper, you know. It's going to make people think you’re a delinquent, especially since you dress like that.” she told him knowingly.

  That last bit made him give a little more thought to his appearance, a suggestion he would soon dismiss.

  “But Liz, aren’t you getting anxious about this too? Its been over a week since that bastard disappeared on us and we haven’t heard anything since he went in for the final assessment.”

  The question’s implication sent a pang of guilt clenching at Cyril’s heart. A lot had had happened over the past week but he still couldn’t convince himself to use those incidents as a plausible excuse for his sudden disappearance. The strange sight and the consequences of his actions—or lack thereof froze him on the spot.

  He wasn’t sure how to proceed, leaving him silent for several seconds as his looming presence grew too noticeable to blend into the surroundings. Sensing him, Liz’s head quickly swiveled in his direction.

  The establishment of sixfold eye contact left him with no other choice but to proceed regardless of his guilt. Banishing the murky feeling, Cyril conjured a smile.

  “It’s been a while, Liz, Henry” he said, finishing with a casual wave.

  “....”

  Liz tilted her head instinctively.

  “Um, er, who are you?”

  Her soft reply, laced with neither malice nor malevolence dealt a heavy blow.

  “I know my appearance has changed and all, but it still hurts to hear that from you.” Cyril lamented, his head drooping sheepishly from the emotional blow.

  The girl gazed at his face for a few moments, taking note of both his mannerisms and disposition before a literal lightbulb of revelation went off above her head. “W-wait! Cyril, is that really you?!”

  “What? That's ridiculous. He doesn’t have a scar and he’s got silver hair. Must be some transfer student.”

  “No, no, look at his face! He’s got the same witty expression as Cyril—like a child up to no good.” Liz proclaimed, pointing at him fervently.

  Her words did even more damage.

  What kind of image of me do these two have in their heads? He thought for a moment, mustering a dry laugh.

  “You guys it’s me, Cyril. We’re classmates from Newgate academy. Liz, your real name is Elizabeth Alliston, we only started calling you Liz because everyone was saying your name sounded old-fashioned. You’re a magician and Henry is a tank, both of you are at C-rank.” Cyril’s casual recount left them speechless, particularly Elizabeth who took a half-step forward.

  “I-it really is him?” she mumbled quietly

  “Huh? Liz are you really going to believe him just like that? Anybody could have figured that stuff out, its public information. I'm not convinced.”

  Cyril shook his head slowly, unfazed by his classmate's utter lack of intuition. They had known each other for a while, so this was something he could anticipate.

  “Fine then, Henry” Cyril began, giggling deviously as he approached the door. “If you want absolute proof, I could talk about the contents of your hard drive.”

  Instantly, a wicked shiver trickled down Henry’s spine—a reaction the supposed intruder was delighted to see.

  “A hard drive?” Elizabeth repeated, shifting her gaze between them.

  “That’s right, a hard drive. Not the one in his computer, or the dummy one he keeps in his locked drawer, I’m talking about the one hidden under-”

  “Wait Cyril! Of course I believe you man, how long have we been friends for? I was joking hahaha...”

  “Thats what you get for playing stupid games.”

  “A rather quick change of heart.” Elizabeth retorted, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

  “Well, in any case, it's good to see you two again. It's been a hectic week. Would you like to come inside?" Cyril asked shrewdly as he inserted his key into the smart lock.

  “That expression...its definitely him.” Reaching her own conclusion, Elizabeth allowed herself a satisfied smile before following him across the doorway.