In Arthur's dream, the air felt heavy with static. "So have all preparations been done?" a voice, the Conceiver, asked from the shadows.
"Thankfully, you will give us enough life, such that lacking a vessel is the least of the concerns," replied the Monarch.
"If not for Inscriber's idea to add the ability to transfer the core Authority, we may not be able to assimilate fast enough."
Arthur woke up with a jolt, his breath hitching. What was that? The colors lingered in his mind—vibrant, impossible hues that faded into silver, gray, purple, and black. He looked down at his own hand; he had faded to yellow. He was suddenly wide awake, looking around the dim interior of the carriage to find Cellis sleeping peacefully beside him.
They had been on the road for days, the journey from FuriFur a grueling test of endurance. During their time at FuriFur, Cellis and Quinn had been at the location of the carriage while Herold and Arthur had been nowhere to be found, leaving the two obliged to wait for them. With the group reunited, they had continued the journey, pushing through the rugged terrain.
They rested at dawn, the forest floor damp and cold as the first light filtered through the canopy. They set up a temporary camp to recover from the long night of travel.
As dusk approached, the air grew unnaturally still. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Then, a shadow projected itself onto the tent wall despite the fire. It had come so close. The shadow grew larger, a distorted, nightmarish silhouette, and soon its claws ripped through the tent fabric. Arthur quickly rolled away, his instincts honed by the recent weeks of travel.
The wolf—a deviant—lunged and snatched Cellis, dragging her into the darkness before anyone could react.
Herold arrived a moment later, his sword drawn, ready to take it down. "Don't! It's a deviant!" Arthur shouted, his voice tight with panic.
Herold looked at the creature's eyes, which were no more than a chaotic scribble of madness. "A Knightmane..."
The wolf ignored them, its focus entirely on its prize, and moved on, vanishing into the dense undergrowth.
"A deviant," Herold remarked, his voice grim. "Jason says they are increasing these days, yet I have barely seen many of those. What luck to see them even after leaving the desolate wilderness."
Arthur replied, "It's not even that old; looks like it just started deviating."
Herold frowned. "Which is also a problem since it doesn't leave a corruption trail."
The noble Knightmane pup, which had been whimpering in Cellis's absence, suddenly stopped. It stood up, its nose twitching, and then it bolted into the darkness, tracking the deviant.
Arthur and Herold followed, the pup leading them through the treacherous ravine. The terrain was jagged and steep, forcing them to scramble over roots and slick rocks.
"I'll distract it," Herold said, his voice decisive. "You find her."
Herold charged, shouting and waving his blade, drawing the deviant wolf's attention away from the ravine's edge. He entered the cave system, leading the wolf out into the open. Arthur watched from the shadows as Herold engaged the beast. He realized with a sinking feeling that the wolf was healing as it fought. It is advancing a stage. Its back is already knitting the wound Herold just made.
Arthur let the pup down, trusting its instinct to guide him to Cellis. The search was swift in the small, cramped cave. He found Cellis lying in the dark, her mana signature strangely muted. He laid his hand on her, his touch meeting smooth, bare skin. Why is she naked? The trauma of the abduction was etched into her stillness.
He didn't waste time on questions. He carried her out, her weight negligible in his arms, and managed to return to the camp. He laid her down gently and began to pour his light mana into her, acting as a miraculous healer.
As his energy flowed into her, he felt a sudden, sharp pull—the fragment of Authority that had been within her, dormant and hidden, surged and flowed back into Arthur, assimilating entirely into his own core.
The older escort arrived then, his face grim. He saw the situation—Arthur kneeling over the naked Cellis—and immediately shied away, his professionalism momentarily cracked by the awkwardness of the scene. "Sorry to disturb you," he mumbled, turning his back.
"Please," Cellis whispered, her eyes fluttering open as the fragment left her, leaving her feeling strangely hollow yet alive. "Bring my clothes."
Arthur nodded, turning to fetch her belongings. He thought of how light mana was truly great, wishing he had possessed it during Paster's reckless adventures. He looked at Cellis, not with sarcasm, but simply observing her state. "Nothing," he said, genuinely noting there was nothing to see, especially nothing on her body as she lay there.
Cellis, meanwhile, was lost in her own thoughts. He will be looking for the underwear as well, I can let him see them, can't I, Cellis? It wasn't that big of a matter, until she remembered, No, no, no, Cellis, that would be the case if you had only the normal ones in store. Those are the ones that aren't supposed to be seen by others. They are for him to see, yes, but I want to keep it a surprise, for when I won't need to hide from him what I am wearing underneath. She had enough of her overthinking. She stood up, covered herself properly with Arthur's clothing, and moved ahead toward him.
Arthur pulled out Cellis's luggage. "It is about to be daybreak; the deviant should be settled soon." He remembered an old, horrifying memory: "That was too huge—a full deviant. I doubt this one would even be seen if I were to compare."
Cellis stopped his hand from opening the luggage. "Give it to me; I can change myself." She spontaneously slipped into the carriage. Well, I may as well do the other preparations.
The instructor—the older escort, revealed to be the true one, as Herold had been impersonating him—finally found Herold leaning against a tree trunk. Herold's arm was devoid of strength, his legs were bitten into, and his chest was bleeding from claw marks. Herold looked at the instructor as if to warn him. He got the gesture. "Pass the sword, Herold."
The wolf jumped to where the instructor had been. Herold grabbed the sword by its blade, letting the instructor catch the hilt easily. The wolf followed, taking a bite of Herold, who screamed in pain as his mana was drained. It again lunged toward the instructor. Its momentum let the instructor almost behead it, but soon, the same chaotic scribble formed stitches on its wounds, letting it heal.
"No wonder Herold couldn't kill you." The instructor pointed his sword at the wary wolf and 'accidentally' stumbled. The wolf jumped on the instructor. "Good game, mate, but the sun is up now."
He pierced the wolf in the chest, pinning it upside down on the ground in the open field he had been luring it to. The instructor asked Herold, "How was the experience, young master?"
As the sun cleared the scribbles off the wolf, its wounds reopened, its eye disappeared, and its flesh melted, leaving only its skin and bones behind.
Cellis came out fully dressed, appearing calm despite the ordeal. "Arthur, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"I heard you say that you have helped many things give birth, how come I never knew of it?"
"You were not there when it happened, remember the bears?"
"I remember them but weren't the cubs playful to Michael and Saraphin?"
"They were the main caretakers, I only helped the mother give birth."
The escort arrived, signaling that it was time to move. As they prepared to leave, Herold claimed a seat closer to the driver, ensuring Arthur and Cellis had the space to themselves in the back. Cellis settled into the seat, a small, contented smile on her face as she realized she would be sharing the journey with Arthur. The carriage lurched forward, leaving the dark forest and the remnants of the deviant behind as they continued toward the Academy.