Heads up! I've revised Chapter 8, starting from Kaiba's arrival at the Magic Tower. If you read it already, you might want to check out the changes.
Sorry for the late update, I accidentally fell asleep last night!
Happy reading!
— X —
Kaiba stood before Clare's door and knocked firmly.
"Would you like to check out the tower together?" he asked.
He waited a few seconds before the door swung open.
"Let's go," Clare said, the hilt of his claymore visible over his shoulder in its worn leather holder.
As they walked through the stark, stone corridors, Kaiba gestured to the massive sword. "Is that claymore a family heirloom?"
Clare was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"If you'd rather not say, it's fine," Kaiba added quickly.
"No," he finally replied, his voice soft. "It was a gift from my mother."
Sensing the weight behind his words, Kaiba asked nothing more. They continued their tour of the first floor, passing the training grounds, baths, and lavatories before finally arriving at the Mess Hall.
As they moved, they felt the eyes of other Magic Knights upon them. The glances were far from friendly, and the air was thick with unspoken rivalries between the various cliques that had already formed.
Inside the bustling Mess Hall, the scrutiny intensified. As newcomers who wore no robes and carried themselves like nobility, they became the center of unwanted attention.
"Do you want to get something to eat?" Kaiba offered.
"No," Clare said, his gaze sweeping over the crowded room. "I've lost my appetite."
"Alright. I'm going to eat. We can talk tomorrow," Kaiba said.
With a curt nod, Clare turned and walked out.
Kaiba headed to the counter. "What's on the menu today?"
The chef, a burly man with a stained apron, gestured to a steaming pot. "Thick-sliced smoked sausage with boiled beans, roasted root vegetables, and bread."
"Smells good," Kaiba said, thinking, No wonder the place is so packed.
"I'll have a portion, please."
The chef nodded, slopping a generous serving onto a metal tray. Kaiba took it, found an empty table, and poured himself a mug of water from a communal jug. He ate alone, the simple, hearty food filling him with a familiar comfort.
'I miss Sister Theresa's cooking,' he thought with a pang of nostalgia.
He enjoyed the meal so much that he went back for a second helping, and then a third. The other knights, who had been watching him with suspicion, now averted their eyes. The way he devoured the common fare made it clear he was no noble.
Finally, a pleasant drowsiness settled over him. With a full stomach, Kaiba returned to his room, locked the door, and slept for the rest of the day.
The Next Day.
The first light of dawn had barely touched the sky when Kaiba forced his heavy eyes open. He pushed himself up with a weary stretch, his mind already racing. There would be no time for the training grounds today; he needed to retrieve his belongings from the church, as he had arrived with nothing but the robes on his back.
After hastily pulling on the Purple Orca uniform for the first time, he mounted his broomstick and shot towards Nairn. He pushed his speed to the limit, the world dissolving into a blur of color and wind that stung his eyes.
'I need to get stronger,' Kaiba thought, the realization sharp and cold. If this happened during a real fight, such impaired vision would get him killed.
After twenty grueling minutes, he overshot his mark, forcing him to double back. Correcting his course, he landed moments later in a controlled skid on the cobblestones before the familiar church. He moved inside with practiced silence, slipping into his old room to gather his essentials: spare clothes, his toothbrush, and a few other personal items.
His fingers had just closed around the box when the cold, sharp point of a blade pressed against the back of his neck.
"Identify yourself," a low voice demanded.
"Father Kirei, it's me. Kaiba." He raised his hands and turned slowly, his movements deliberate and non-threatening.
The blade vanished. "What are you doing here?" Father Kirei asked, though his tone carried a distinct undercurrent of disappointment, his eyes lingering on the Purple Orca robe.
"Why did you choose this squad?" the priest pressed.
"I believe it will offer me more opportunities to take on harder missions," Kaiba explained. "From what I hear, its members are either forced to accept such challenges or actively avoid them."
Father Kirei considered this, then gave a curt nod. As he turned to leave, he paused. "Do you need money?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Kaiba said.
"Good." Without another word, the Father departed.
A faint smile touched Kaiba's lips. Father Kirei was as stern and cryptic as ever. Shaking off the thought, he hoisted his box and broomstick and headed for the exit. But just as he stepped outside, another voice stopped him.
"Kaiba."
He set the box down and turned. "Sister Theresa."
She sighed, her gaze sweeping over him before settling on the color of his robe. "Why this squad?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "I'm certain the Crimson Lions made you an offer. I know that brat of a captain."
"I chose it for a faster path to promotion," Kaiba replied.
"Really? And why is that?"
"From what I've seen, the Purple Orcas are full of cowards. It should be easy to stand out."
Sister Theresa shook her head, a mix of worry and affection in her eyes. "That clever tongue of yours will be the death of you one day. Be careful." She reached out and pinched his cheek.
Kaiba grinned. "I'll be fine. I have to go, the new recruits have a briefing."
"Alright. Take care of yourself."
"I will." He pulled her into a quick, warm hug, which she readily returned.
Then, mounting his broom once more, he kicked off into the sky and sped away as fast as the wind would carry him.
The return flight to the Tower of Leviathan took thirty minutes. Kaiba landed swiftly, hurried to his room to drop off his belongings, and immediately gathered his toiletries. He grabbed only a towel and toothbrush, knowing the squad's shower rooms were stocked with soap and toothpaste.
After a rushed shower, he returned to his room and changed into a simple set of priest's garments minus the vestment as he would be wearing his Purple Orca robe over them.
Finally ready, he headed to the second floor and the mission board area. There, he found an openly furious senior Magic Knight waiting for him. Standing before the senior, like scolded children, were Clare and the two nobles.
As Kaiba approached, the senior snapped, "Care to explain your lateness?"
"I had to retrieve my clothes from home," Kaiba said. "I arrived with nothing to wear."
"And where is 'home'?" the senior demanded.
"Nairn," Kaiba replied.
The senior's stern expression hardened into one of pure disbelief. "A round trip to Nairn would take at least three hours!"
"Fifty minutes, give or take. The shower is why I'm late," Kaiba corrected calmly.
"Do you think that's an acceptable excuse in the Purple Orcas?" the senior retorted, his voice tight with irritation.
Kaiba's gaze swept the nearly empty hall. "It seems to be. I'm sure even the easiest missions are already taken."
The senior wanted to argue, but the truth of Kaiba's words silenced him. "This is your only warning," he gritted out.
"Thank you," Kaiba said, not a shred of apology in his tone.
"Enough," the man cut in, his tone shifting to one of cool professionalism. "I am Gareth, 3rd Class Intermediate Magic Knight. My attribute is Iron Magic. I am your supervisor for this mission only; after that, you're on your own. Report: state your names, magic attributes, and functions."
The noble with white hair streaked with blue the one lectured by the receptionist the day before spoke first with palpable condescension. "I am Zane Legolant. I use Glacier Magic. It's straightforward: I summon and manipulate ice."
The other noble, a blonde, followed. "Silas Hapshass. Storm Magic. I can conjure gales and call down lightning."
"I'm Clare. I use Flash Magic," Clare said, his explanation deliberately vague. "It augments my swordsmanship and allows me to create wind slashes."
"Seto Kaiba. Dueling Magic," Kaiba stated. "I summon monsters."
"Good. Our mission awaits. Fetch your brooms and meet me outside immediately," Gareth ordered before turning to head downstairs.
The others moved to comply, but Clare remained. He had no broom of his own and would be riding with Kaiba.
The group flew to the estate of another noble family. Upon arrival, they dismounted from their brooms. Kaiba took one look at the opulent manor and muttered under his breath, "I hate escort missions."
Clare, standing beside him, was confused by the sentiment. If he were from the 21st century, he would have understood his dread from countless video games: escort missions were notoriously difficult, as the person you were protecting always seemed determined to get themselves killed.
After Gareth finished speaking with their clients, the mission began. The noble family boarded a large, ornate flying carriage, while Gareth and the others took up defensive positions on their brooms, escorting it through the sky.
The journey was profoundly boring. After a long stretch of silence, Kaiba finally turned to Clare.
"So, what's your favorite food?"
Clare seemed puzzled by the question but, finding himself equally bored, decided to humor him. "I don't have one."
"Really?" Kaiba was genuinely surprised.
"Food is a necessity, not a pleasure," He stated plainly.
"Well, we'll have to change that. We should go out so you can taste more," Kaiba said, undeterred. "My favorite is a grilled steak, seasoned with black pepper."
Clare gave a simple nod, but inwardly, he was perplexed. 'Why is he telling me this?'
"What about your hobbies?" Kaiba tried again.
"Training," Clare answered without hesitation.
"Me too," he said, seizing the common ground. "I should bring you to meet my family at the church sometime. I think they'd like you."
He was trying valiantly to keep the conversation alive, but Clare's curt responses were killing it one word at a time.
'I'm supposed to be the introvert here,' Kaiba thought with an internal sigh. 'Why am I the one carrying this entire conversation?'
The mission was utterly devoid of action. Upon arriving at the client's friend's estate, their only task was to stand guard. Hours dragged by without incident, their vigilance wasted on quiet conversations and polite laughter from inside.
Finally, the client decided to return home, forcing the squad to escort the carriage back along the same, perfectly safe route.
A profound sense of dread settled over Kaiba. One glance at Zane's bored scowl, Silas's restless tapping, and Clare's stoic silence confirmed they all felt the same soul-crushing monotony.
"Clare," Kaiba muttered as they mounted their brooms for the return trip. "Let's make a pact. No more escort missions."
"Agreed," Clare replied in tight with a frustration that mirrored his own. He had joined the Magic Knights to test his strength in real combat, not to be a decorative piece of security.
But for now, their duty remained. With a collective, unspoken sigh, they fell into formation for one final, mind-numbing escort.