Everything is fine

Daiki smiles, relieved. “I’m glad you managed to sing your way through the exam, Ash. I think it went pretty well. How about you, Wolfie?”

Ash admits that the tough part was about magical spells and items. Wolfgang nods in agreement. “I think I managed,” he says. Daiki agrees too, adding, “I can’t remember it being very hard. But— isn’t Bana supposed to join us now for the next part?”

Masaki explains he has been in the waiting room all along. “Oh yeah,” Daiki remembers, “you didn’t have to do the paper thing. Are you ready for the next part?”

“I am ready for the next part, yes.”

“So am I,” Daiki says, though he adds, “I’m kind of anxious for what we have to do.”

Ash reassures him: “Don’t be afraid, Daiki. You will manage.”

Wolfgang wonders aloud, “Do you think we can watch each other’s exams?”

Masaki tilts his head. “That would be quite interesting, but I’m not sure. It depends if they are simultaneous or not.” Wolfgang agrees that it also depends on comfort.

Ash shrugs. “I don’t mind watching. It’s like a big show, right? Shows are great.”

Wolfgang asks, “Could we then invite Miss Ablaze – I mean.. Amber, as well?”

Ash replies, “If Ambs wants to watch, that’s fine.” But none of them are sure where she is. Masaki thinks she has her own agenda for today.

Meanwhile, Amber herself is wandering elsewhere, taking a look around where her brother was, seemingly lost in thought. 

At last, the examiners return. “Hi everyone. I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Can you start with the bad news?” Daiki asks.

“The bad news is we will have to start talking about payments. The good news is—you all passed your exams.”

“Congratulations,” Masaki says warmly. Wolfgang beams. “Everyone, I am extremely proud of every one of you.”

The officials explain the next steps: they can attempt their practical exams, second or third level depending on letters of recommendation. Ash perks up, “Oh, great—exam!”

Payment is clarified: 10 gold for second level, 50 for third, with higher levels costing far more at distant institutions. Ash sighs. “Why would you want to pay all that?” Wolfgang answers firmly: “Adventuring will definitely help.”

After a flurry of calculations and arguments, the group settles. Ash skips cheerfully to the counter to pay. “Hi hi! Of course yes, I’m red and I’m a tiefling—but you’re not going to charge me double, right?” The clerk chuckles. “No, of course not.”

Daiki, having already paid too much, requests a note confirming his advance payment. The clerk obliges, stamping it with the mage’s seal. “Paid in advance,” it reads.

Once everyone has settled their dues, they are brought to a side room with a large glass window overlooking a sand-filled arena. The rules are explained: demonstrate a second level spell on a dummy, describe the ethical and safety considerations, then face a random obstacle.

Daiki volunteers to go first. “I just want to be done with this,” he mutters. His friends give him encouragement. Ashira whispers, “Good luck, Daiki. You’ll be great.”

In the arena, Daiki faces the battered practice dummy. He decides against destructive spells. Instead, he casts Spike Growth, thorny plants rising around the target, followed by a protective spell. The examiner, named Peter, nods. “I love the way you think. You’ve shown the ethical consideration instead of just saying it.”

For the obstacle, flames burst forth—an illusory fire. Daiki taps his staff, summoning a damp fog cloud, then creatively combines it with earth magic to smother the blaze. Outside, his companions see only the rising fog and feel a faint tremor in the ground.

When the fire dies out, Daiki releases the cloud. The examiner gives no result yet. “Very interesting,” he says simply, leading Daiki back to the others.

“Hello everyone,” Daiki grins. “Did you enjoy the show?”

The clerk calls for the next candidate. Masaki rises, greeted by a new mage guard named Tim. He steps into the arena, ready to begin his own trial.

Tachibana walks toward the practice dummy, glancing at where he believes a window should be before refocusing. About thirty feet away, he stops, begins concentrating, and raises his hand. Energy swirls, and from the ground a massive earthen fist rises, grasps the dummy, and restrains it. With a motion, he crushes it further.

He sets the spell down and releases the dummy. The shield and frame are bent out of shape. Asked to describe the ethical considerations and safety measures for his spell, Tachibana explains:

“As a red cloak, I am responsible for restraining and dealing with any magical troubles. This is one of the spells I use to restrain people. Obviously, there are a lot of things to think about when using this in a populated area. The area of effect is small, so there won’t be much collateral damage to nearby structures. It’s also a good way to restrain someone without damaging their physical body. Of course, if needed, there is the option to crush them—but otherwise this is a great way to stop them. On top of that, it requires a lot of strength to break out of, which spellcasters often lack. It’s a very useful tool for dealing with stray spellcasters.”

Next, he faces an obstacle. A patch of fire bursts into view, crackling five feet wide. “Don’t worry, the delusion will not hurt you,” he is told, “but it will react to anything you do.”

“Extinguish it,” Ash prompts.

Masaki explains, “Fire has several components. You need heat, oxygen, and fuel.”

“The magical energy is the fuel in this case,” Tim says.

“However, I will be lowering the temperature to remove the heat part,” Masaki continues. He pulls out his spellbook in one hand and a diamond in the other. Casting Chromatic Orb, he channels cold energy, lowering the room’s temperature. When he feels it drop as far as it can, he finishes with Prestidigitation to snuff out the flames. The fire fades.

“Very clear, precise,” comes the assessment.

Later, Masaki rejoins the group. Daiki explains what happened with the fire. Wolfgang listens, uncertain. “If this is gonna be a pattern, I’m not sure if I will pass my exam.”

Masaki talks through methods of extinguishing fire. “You can use wind.”

“Unfortunately my wind is in evocation,” Wolfgang replies.

“You can use evocation. Specifically the Mage Guard said you can in this case.” adds Masaki.

Ash reassures Wolfgang. “We’ll all be fine, Wolfie.”

Soon, it is Ashira’s turn. Together with her examiner Brechje, she enters the large sandbox chamber where a dummy waits. Told to use a second-level spell, she laughs. “Do I have to hit it? Can I hit it with my music and my song?” She casts Mirror Image, tripling her form, and begins to play. Her song grows bombastic, and three of her dance rhythmically, kicking up sand. The dummy seems charmed, then purple as she layers Prestidigitation on top.

Asked about ethical considerations, Ashira admits honestly, “This is the only spell I can do so that I can pass this exam. But if the dummy is about to attack me, and my music convinces it not to, then ethically I’ve made a hostile creature not hostile.”

Confusion lingers, but she presses her point. Eventually, she is asked to face her obstacle: a small pool of acid appears, with a delicate object floating above it. She cannot touch the liquid or let the item touch it.

Ashira thinks, then casts Unseen Servant on the island in the middle. The invisible being lifts the dodecahedron and throws it toward her. She catches it. “There we go.”

“Well done,” her examiner says, though with some reluctance. Ashira leaves, beaming, and Wolfgang praises her: “Ashira, I’m so proud of you.”

Finally, Wolfgang enters for his test. A bald mage named Frank greets him. “Absolute pleasure. The name is Count Wolfgang Rüppelshammer,” Wolfgang introduces himself with a bow.

Wolfgang, instead of striking the dummy, decides to read his examiner’s surface thoughts. He asks them to think of a color, a weapon, and their breakfast. He casts Detect Thoughts. The impressions flood into him: purple, scrambled eggs with baguette, and the dagger they carry. He announces them aloud, to his examiner’s astonishment.

“It sounds like a magic trick,” says Frank, not really convinced.

Wolfgang explains the ethics carefully. “It is a divine spell going for superficial parts only. It doesn’t affect your free will, which is why it’s allowed in both populated and rural areas. If I pushed deeper, however, it might be considered an offense against the mind, which falls under penal code chapter sixteen.”

The final obstacle is revealed: a strange creature with three heads—dragon, wolf, and moose—standing across the arena. It will not attack immediately, but Wolfgang must negotiate a truce. He tries his spell again, but the creature’s mind is hard to read.

One of the heads snarls. “You puny creature. Why should you not be attacked, killed, and eaten?”

“I might prove more interesting to you if you keep me alive,” Wolfgang answers calmly. “What is it that you want?”

The heads argue among themselves. “What do you offer?” they demand.

“I will grant you protection from those who may be evil to you—celestials, fiends, fey, undead, or elementals.” He casts Protection from Evil and Good on the beast.

The three heads debate again, then shimmer into sparkles, dissolving into nothing. Wolfgang stands alone, and the examiner nods. “Interesting.”

Frank suddenly appears just behind Wolfgang. “Interesting. Okay, please walk with me.” He leads Wolfgang to the door.

“How do you think it went?” Frank asks.

Wolfgang hesitates, then explains, “I considered using some evocation magic—evoking powerful effects to impress it—but obviously I won’t be using that in a populated area. That’s why I chose more actuation. Strength is in using magic to improve on us.”

“And what have you learned about the first spell you tried to use?” Frank presses.

Wolfgang answers firmly. “The divine magic does not affect illusionary creatures.”

Frank escorts Wolfgang back to the waiting room, where the others wait. 

“Give my regards to your partner Peter,” Wolfgang adds.

In the waiting room, Daiki brightens slightly. “It was an interesting creature you had in the area.”

“It was very hard,” Wolfgang admits.

Because the creature had moved to the far side of the sandbox, none of them had really heard what it was saying. They saw it appear, exchange words with Wolfgang, and then vanish in sparkles.

“It was interesting making a truce with a hostile entity,” Wolfgang reflects.

Tachibana shakes his head. “I didn’t see you break any rules. You were using magic creatively. You followed the objective to the letter.”

“For the second task, yes,” Wolfgang agrees. “But for the first, I needed to target a dummy—”

“That is correct,” Tachibana says, curious. “That was an interesting choice.”

Wolfgang explains, “I didn’t want to use evocation magic.”

Ash tilts her head. “Why not? I thought it was more interesting.”

Daiki sighs. “Okay, I thought it was a little bit boring with us. I didn’t see any action.”

“You could have just played a song, or impressed it with your flying skills or whatever,” Ash teases him. “But you just stood there talking. What?”

“He is no songbird,” Daiki protests.

“Oh yeah? Well just fly up and make music with your feathers, you know, and just be pretty. I made the dummy. The dummy was purple, just for you.”

“It looked amazing,” Wolfgang agrees.

The group continues bantering, reflecting on choices, teasing one another about spells, music, and fire. 

They shift between pride and self-criticism, between joking and serious talk about tactics. Daiki admits he may have stumbled into creating a new spell after seeing Tachibana’s ice orb. Tachibana invites him to join a future sparring session.

At that moment, the door opens, the woman enters again.

Daiki immediately asks, “What’s your name, lady? Because the whole day you have been talking to us, but I have no idea what your name is.”

The examinations are announced. Tachibana passes “with flying colors.” Ash passes as well. Daiki passes, though barely—he is reminded to make sure people can actually see what he’s doing next time. Wolfgang, Count Rüppelshammer, also passes, though with notes to improve his practical skills.

The group is led to a room where they receive their certification tattoos—tiny purple dots between thumb and index finger. They joke about making them music notes, pretend to faint from the pinch, or insist on always keeping them visible. Ash, dramatic as ever, pretends to die from the tiny sting before laughing it off.

When everyone is marked, the examiner declares, “You are now officially certified as level two magic-users. You may use your spells according to the law, inside or outside the city. If a Mage Card or Red Cloak asks you to present your certification, you are obliged to show them.”

Masaki asks Ashira to show her dots. Ash firstly refuses, but Masaki presses. Upon this, Ash immediately plays with her illusion magic, covering herself in hundreds of dots, making herself appear speckled head to toe. The others laugh. 

The party receives their third-level recommendation letter.

---

Meanwhile, Amber slips away to the Clovis Major Keep. The memories sting—this place betrayed her because of the cold case, but she wants to read Fury’s files again – the ones she wrote and left at the Keep. At the entrance, she encounters Daryl Blitzen, a blue tiefling she once patrolled with.

“Is that you, Daryl? Hey. Hello. I haven’t seen you in such a long time.”

“I know,” Daryl says warmly. “I’m so sad about that. You were one of the better ones.”

Amber thanks him, but explains she works now with an adventuring party called Purple Reign. She asks permission to read a report she once filed. With Daryl’s help, she searches the cold case archives, eventually finding the box. Alone, she rereads her report about Fury, hoping for some epiphany. Nothing new emerges. The facts remain unchanged, and the chaos of the past still haunts her.

She thanks Daryl, shakes his hand in a brotherly way, and departs to rejoin her companions. By the time she arrives, the others are leaving the testing center, proudly sharing that all of them passed.

---

Daiki, awkward but sincere, reassures her. “Amber, just so you know, no hard feelings. I had to put out fire, but it wasn’t you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Amber replies gently. “Fire is just… part of me. But if it’s not attached to me, then it’s not controllable.”

Wolfgang beams. “Even better news—we all passed our theoretical exam. And we all passed our practical exam of level two.”

Amber brightens. “Oh wow, really? Congratulations—that is very good.”

---

Together, the group plans their next steps. Wolfgang heads to the Chubby Angel to prepare alchemist’s fire. Amber asks Masaki to join her for a drink—she has questions only he might help her with. Daiki, meanwhile, follows the wind, humming softly, until it guides him southwest into the temple district, where sanctuaries to earth, roots, wind, and the wild heart stand. As he breathes in the air, warmer and calmer, he feels at home at last.

Daiki finally feels as though he can breathe.

“Somewhere I can resonate with,” he murmurs. “This will be the best part of the city ever—besides the parks.”

At first, he only wanders, learning the feel of the place together with Ashira. He studies the trees, the bushes, the animals. “Okay,” he thinks, “what does each area give me?” Eventually, his steps lead him to the Four Stones, the Stone Circle of the Four Winds.

The temple rises before him: a fusion of open-air sanctum and monumental urban craft. Granite pillars, stained-glass skylights, golden inlays, and wind channels hum softly at all times. The atmosphere is calm but powerful. The air always moves, even when the streets outside are still. A constant, resonant hum lingers here—the worshippers call it the Breath of Nafas.

The temple dominates its block. A circular plaza of polished white marble spirals inward with veins of gold and lapis. Twelve elemental spires stand at the outer ring, each fifteen feet high. A domed canopy of blue-green stained glass floats magically above, detached from the structure. Four marble arches mark the entrances, each themed after an element: water, fire, air, and earth.

Since he seeks knowledge of ice, Daiki chooses the water entrance. Passing beneath the sculpted wave, enchanted mists cool his skin. Ornamental gardens and reflecting pools surround the temple, their waters doubling as wards. Streets curve naturally around the place, lending it a sense of quiet separation.

Inside, the floating dome leaves the central space open to the sky. It is vast, large enough for both quiet worship and great ceremonies. Four rune-etched pillars rise at the cardinal points. He passes the northern one: water flows endlessly in fine streams down its polished surface, cycling without pause.

Further in, a levitating obsidian monolith hovers above the floor, encircled by glowing primordial script that shifts color as if the winds themselves argue for dominance.

“Primordial,” Daiki notes. He can read it, though the words are mostly about balance—the elements, and the need for harmony.

A whisper stirs. The acoustics here are remarkable: every murmur at one arch carries perfectly across to its opposite. Whispers drift with the wind, as if the elements themselves are speaking. Daiki is used to hearing whispers. He accepts them.

He approaches the water pillar. Speaking softly in Primordial, his voice flows like a bubbling brook: “Is there someone here I can talk to?” But no answer comes—only a lingering chill.

Priests in colored robes move gracefully about the temple: blue, white, red, yellow. Daiki approaches one in blue.

The priest lowers his hood—a water genasi. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a place,” Daiki says. “A very big tree, covered in snow and ice. Do you know where it could be?”

The genasi considers. “It must be in a very cold place. I know little beyond this temple. But usually, the cold lies further north. The water will guide you—water cuts through everything.”

Daiki bows. “Thank you. Lovely what you’ve done with this place.”

The genasi smiles. “You never bother me. Perhaps follow the river. It will eventually take you where you need to be. But remember—the four elements must always be in balance. If the river does not help you, try the mountains. Sometimes you must go through fire. Sometimes you must go where the wind blows.”

“Very good advice,” Daiki says, hands pressed together. “Namaste.”

“Namaste,” the priest replies in Primordial.

Outside again, Daiki lingers in the temple gardens. Flowers grow in gentle curves, guided by magic. “Maybe I just want to stay here,” he says.

Ashira has joined him. She loves the natural feeling, the sound of water. She sings softly, her voice carried effortlessly through the air. The acoustics are so fine she barely needs to raise her voice.

As she sings, Daiki moves with the wind, practicing exercises beneath the great dome. The two of them, together, find harmony in the temple’s song.

---

Masaki and Amber take a seat in a quiet tavern near the Mage Guard Keep. The place is modest, private, with a rusty charm. They drink beer together, their conversation flowing into heavier truths.

Amber laughs at the idea of training wagers. “The one who loses pays for beer.” She also asks Masaki what he was doing using the shadows during battle. “It was pain I’ve never felt before like that… I felt it, deeper than a knife or blade can cut – vraiment.”

Tachibana nods. “Keeping your head in battle is something you should train. But I admit, I may have caused you… psychic harm. My weapon, the shadow sword—it targets not only the body, but the mind.”

“You gave psychic damage,” Amber mutters. “That was not pleasant.”

“It is tied to my family’s magic,” Tachibana explains. “Music, battle rhythms. Shira helped me unlock it. My family is complicated. I have siblings. One of them may be coming.”

“Positive or negative?” Amber asks.

“I don’t know,” Tachibana admits. “My brother Raizen resents me for leaving. My sister Setsuna values family honor above all. Either could be dangerous. Only my youngest brother, Jin, cared for me—he is still at home.”

Amber twirls a ring on her necklace. “At least your siblings are alive.”

Tachibana lowers his gaze. “I left because our way of life is strict, black and white. There was an opportunity to explore, and I took it. I don’t know if it was right… but meeting all of you, I think it was.”

“You have family,” Amber says softly, “and chosen family. That makes a difference.”

“Perhaps,” Tachibana says, “our two families will meet.”

“Will they be a problem?” Amber asks bluntly.

“Possibly yes,” he answers. “Possibly no. We’ll find out.”

They share another drink, their words lingering with the weight of things unspoken.

Amber smiles warmly. “Thanks for telling me. I understand you better now.”

The two meet up with the party in the Chubby Angel.

---

“So while we’re having dinner,” Daiki asks, “what are we going to do next? Besides checking up on Dink, because we have to check up on Dink.”

Ash agrees fiercely. “We really, really have to check up on Dink. I don’t trust that son of a bitch for a second.”

“Yeah. But after we rescue Dink, what are we going to do? What will Purple Reign do?”

“I think we all have the intention of going to Huliavar’s funeral,” Wolfgang says.

“Yes, of course,” Ash nods. “I made a great song.” 

“And now we’ve completed this exam,” Wolfgang adds, “we could go for some local adventure.”

Daiki shakes his head. “I would like to go north. To where there is snow. You guys know I’m looking for a big tree, right? And Granny showed me there is a very big tree with snow and ice. So I want to go north to find the snowy tree.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Wolfgang says.

Amber looks at him. “What about Ashira’s contract?”

“Is there any time constraint?” Wolfgang asks.

Ashira shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Can I read it?”

“Yes, you can,” she allows.

Wolfgang peers at the papers and mutters about devils, bargains, and ominous names. Ash laughs nervously. “Why does everybody want to read my contract? It’s just a piece of paper I only sign my name on.”

Wolfgang shakes his head. “It’s a binding contract. The penalty for not fulfilling its requirements is immortal pain and torture.”

“That’s lovely,” Ash deadpans.

The mood shifts between banter and unease. Daiki suggests maybe the contract could be destroyed—burned, ripped, or otherwise undone. Ashira jokes about slipping it into Amber’s hair to catch fire. Daiki derails into wondering if Amber’s fiery powers affect… other bodily functions.

The conversation spirals into absurdity, leaving Amber poking at her plate, mortified. She shoots Wolfgang a look. Wolfgang smirks, lifting his wine.

The night winds down, but Daiki still feels restless. He speaks of practicing magic, and Tachibana and Amber take him along to a fighting pit, the same where they practiced before. 

Amber shrugs. “On y va, it will be fun. Like—they’ve been talking about my bathroom schedule, so I’d rather have them talking about how good I can swing an axe.”

They head to the guild’s pit, where practice fights are allowed.

“I just want to show my new idea for magic,” Daiki says.

---

Daiki studies his competitors—swords, big axe—and considers, I might do a Barkskin. 

Amber laughs, “It’s awesome that we do this because we now see each other’s fighting styles. It’s handy when we’re really in combat.”

Masaki begins, his blade song resonating. He cast Mage Armor earlier, so now he adds the song and summons an Earthen Grasp toward Amber. A massive hand of soil rises to clutch her, but she breaks free, shrugging it off, on fire because of her rage. “Okay great,” she says. The hand remains, looming, though unused.

Amber charges Masaki. Ignoring Daiki, she focuses entirely on her rival. The blow barely grazes Masaki, dealing only a scratch, though it forces him to hold his concentration. He counters with an opportunity strike, but it fails to land.

Daiki, watching, shapes ice into a replica of Masaki’s sword and hurls it as a knife. The shard misses its mark but explodes in frost, catching Masaki with a chilling force. The cold bites deeply, far more than expected.

Masaki retaliates. He summons a shadowy blade from nowhere, darker and smaller than the dreamlike version Amber once saw, but still sinister. He closes in on Daiki, striking with psychic force that leaves Daiki sheathed in booming energy. A second swing, however, glances harmlessly away against Daiki’s barkskin.

Amber presses again, circling with Masaki to flank Daiki. She swings her greatsword, but once more the barkskin resists. Still, her weapon manages to carve a shallow line, just enough to sting.

Daiki realizes the danger of being surrounded. With a misty step, he vanishes from between them. Free of the booming energy’s effect, he reappears at a distance and calls up withered plants from the ground. Dark vines coil toward Masaki and Amber, leeching a little of their strength.

Round after round, the clash continues. Masaki teleports to mirror Daiki’s position and swings again, but his shadowblade cuts only air. Amber watches the lingering shadows around Masaki, wary of his resistance to damage. With a sharp grin, she pivots—then turns her greatsword on Daiki instead. The strike lands perfectly, a devastating critical hit.

“Holy guacamole,” Daiki mutters as the blade connects. The damage overwhelms him, and he drops, unconscious. Amber, catching herself, eases her finishing blow into the flat of the blade. It’s practice, not death.

Masaki, bloodied, steadies himself. Amber breathes heavily, satisfied. Daiki is down, but not gone. The battle ends.

Afterward, Daiki awakens to find Amber and Masaki leaning over him, offering hands and asking if he’s alright. Amber shrugs off her own scratches—barely harmed at all—and then channels healing into Daiki, restoring him gently.

---

Later, at the tavern, Amber slaps a gold coin on the counter. “Drinks for the rest of the night—for me, Masaki, and Daiki.” Daiki shakes his head. “No drinks, thank you.” Amber insists he can have tea or food if he prefers, but Daiki heads upstairs after a short while.

The night stretches on with laughter and rounds of beer. Ashira joins too, drinking alongside them until they’re all half-stumbling back to their room. Amber, tipsy, hugs Masaki before collapsing onto her bed. In the confusion, Ashira ends up sandwiched between them in that drunken hug, half-asleep.

Wolfgang, woken by the noise, listens for a moment. Hearing the laughter, he smiles, shakes his head, and drifts back to sleep.

---

After a long night, the group finally rests. Wolfgang wakes first, vibrant and full of energy, while the others remain sluggish and hungover from their drinking adventure.

“Did you sleep in or not?” Wolfgang asks Daiki.

“I slept,” Daiki replies, though Amber admits, “I didn’t.”

Wolfgang is restless. He heads to the library in search of the Spiral Archive. Daiki perks up at the mention.

“Are you going to the Archive? Absolutely, I will join you.”

“That would be a pleasure,” Wolfgang says warmly.

Daiki explains, “Yesterday I was told there might be more information in the Archive. If you go there, maybe it’s worthwhile.”

Together, they walk to the Spiral Archive. Wolfgang asks, “So, what are you looking for in the Archives?”

Daiki reminds them of a vision. “Do you remember I told you about the big gold tree in the snowy landscape?”

“Did you tell me about it?” Wolfgang frowns.

“Oh no, you were dead.”

“I prefer you talking about me not walking the earth at the very moment,” Wolfgang says dryly.

Daiki continues. “Granny showed me something. I wanted to know my next destination, and I saw a very big gold icy snowy tree.”

“Not unlike your life tree in your own grove?” Wolfgang asks.

“Yeah, kind of like that. But gold, with fewer flowers.”

They discuss the trees—elemental, flying, burning, connected to breeze and flame. Daiki recounts visiting the Temple of Four Winds and meeting someone like Amber, but tied to water instead of fire. Wolfgang grows interested. “Maybe we can go to this temple afterwards.”

First, though, they split in the library to search. Wolfgang looks for information on Ashira’s task: “to destroy the Devil Ranger before the outcome of his plan has concluded.” He finds much on Bell, a high-level pit fiend. Meanwhile, Daiki searches for trees. He discovers an illustrated book that depicts his own tree, and others like it. One, golden and immense, is said to stand in the far icy north of Udura, likely within the Shazera Dynasty. There, three snowy villages are mentioned: Drycoast, Hearthmoor, and Nipfrost.

Daiki is struck by the revelation. “Apparently I found something in the Shazera Dynasty. That’s far away. In the north. The far north of Udura.”

They finish their research and leave the Archive, Wolfgang suggesting a cup of tea at the Ink Latte café. But soon they decide to visit the Temple of the Four Winds instead.

The temple rises ahead of them, marble pillars gleaming. As they pass beneath the arch of wind, hidden flutes carved in stone whistle with the breeze. Inside, Wolfgang feels an immediate sense of belonging.

“I feel at home, Daiki,” he says quietly.

Guided deeper, they reach the heart of the temple. The air shifts with balance: warmth of fire, moisture of water, whispers of wind. Wolfgang prays at a chamber dedicated to Naphas, an elemental genie of air. The space is serene—a simple stone pool mirrors the winds above.

He kneels. “I am grateful for the gifts I get from Naphas. Whenever he requires payment, I will offer what I have gathered. I hope to continue serving him, on my quest to stop the Devil Revival, to help my friends bound in a battle with the Duke of Hell.”

Daiki stands nearby, silently humming the tune of home in his head, respecting the quiet.

A faint shimmer stirs at the corner of Daiki’s eye—something fairy-like, made of dust, slipping behind a pillar. He chooses not to draw attention to it. Instead, he presses a coin into Wolfgang’s hand. “This place needs a clean coin,” he whispers. Wolfgang donates it to the pool.

---

Meanwhile, far away in restless dreams, Ashira plunges into darkness. A hand of molten brass claws at her, burning into her skin. Immense eyes blaze open. A voice pierces her mind:

“You made it back, little ember. Now you burn when I say you burn.”

She sees chained souls spiraling into fire, a moonlit village, a cherry blossom tree whose starlit petals wither into ash. A broken bell tolls, and the voice returns:

“This light dies. When it dies, something wakes. Follow the fading glow. Stop the rot. Evermere burns.”

Shadows writhe around the tree. Crimson veins spread through the soil. Then—blinding light. She is ripped back into fire.

“You want freedom, little ember? You want power? Then cut out the roots before it spreads. Find the tree. Follow the glow. Or die choking on ash.”

Ashira wakes with a scream, her chest burning, lungs tight, the sound of cracking wood still in her ears. Though she has rested, she feels exhausted, more drained than before.

Amber notices at once. “You had a bad dream? That’s probably because of the alcohol. I don’t feel good either.”

Ashira shakes her head. “Liquor doesn’t burn like this. It was a vision. About the devil in my contract. About a tree… Evermere… something with fire.”

Amber frowns, studying her. “That might have been a vision.”

The conversation drifts into the details of the contract. When Amber asks Ashira to read it aloud, Ash struggles—the words blur, nonsensical and fuzzy. Amber realizes she has difficulty reading. Gently, Amber tries to help.

“You can read music, yes? Words are another kind of language. I can teach you. Do you want to understand these scribbles?”

Ashira resists, frustrated. Amber coaxes her further, even trying to sing the words clumsily, despite her poor voice. Slowly, with halting progress, they work through the text together:

“The undersigned agrees to a bargain where Bell, Duke of Hell and First Lieutenant of Zariel, will restore the undersigned… and give a boon in the fights to come. In the end, the undersigned will destroy the Devil Revaj before the outcome of his plan has concluded.”

Amber exhales. “You traded your soul. A good deal, maybe—but clear and binding.”

As Ashira struggles with the weight of it, Masaki brings coffee upstairs, only to find the two locked in this tense, intimate lesson. The room fills with a mix of stubbornness, laughter, and frustration—but also a step closer to understanding the bargain that ties Ashira’s fate.

---

At this moment, the group goes down for breakfast, and at that moment, Wolfgang and Daiki are back from their visit to the Spiral Archive and the temple. 

Wolfgang is full of energy again, calm and at ease, conversing with Daiki.

“So what are you up for today?” Wolfgang asks.

Amber stretches, bright. “Yeah, I had my coffee, I sang a song. Everything all okay.”

“Yeah, of course we sang. Now it makes a lot more sense.” Ashira adds.

“What makes a lot more sense?” asks Wolfgang.

“The contract—I turned it into a song. Oh, Amber tried to help me.”

Wolfgang leans in. “Ashira, I tried to look up some of the names in your contract. Good Bell, the Duke of Hell and First Lieutenant of Zariel. Yeah. He’s an important figure in the Nine Hells. But this…” Wolfgang pauses. “Revaj is something I couldn’t ascertain more information about. Unfortunately.”

“Revaj. Well, I don’t know either. Something about a tree. Have you looked under trees?” Amber suggests.

“I’ve been looking on trees. Is it the demon?” Daiki wonders.

“Devil. Why are they—oh yeah. I had a vision tonight. There was like a tree and Evermere burning, rotting. And there was a tree with blossoms.” answers Ashira.

“Your memory is very odd. You did not tell me about a tree. You just said—” Amber interrupts, confused.

“I told you about a tree.”

“Oh yeah, you told me about a tree, about rot and Evermere. And now you’re telling more.” Amber takes a breath. 

“It’s always like music. Sometimes the notes are jumbled up in your memory. But as you let them marinate, they stretch out into a bar of music and things start making sense.”

“What kind of tree did you see?” Daiki presses.

“I saw a—like, there were white flowers maybe.”

“I can recall for you,” Wolfgang says.

For Ashira, the tree glows a little at the beginning. Cherry blossoms.

Here, though, the tree is more pinkish. Very pink, shining so bright it almost appears whitish. The tree itself radiates light, though darkness surrounds it. An enormous cherry blossom tree, beautiful, with a well-established name before it.

Wolfgang continues carefully. “Ashira, yesterday I proved my proficiency in reading someone’s thoughts. If you allow me, I can try to look back into your memory. We can talk over how you think and how I think. It might be an interesting experience.”

“You need to buy me a drink first before you start digging. But yeah, sure.” 

“You can always ask me to stop, but please do not resist. I will push gently.” Wolfgang breathes deeply. “I will cast detect thoughts. Do you resist it? Try to resist it.”

Ashira looks at him. “I’m just looking at you, wondering how this is going to feel.”

The first thing that comes is the burning eyes of Bell.

The vision presses deeper. Every moment of Ashira’s dream unfolds, though Wolfgang experiences it in fragmented scenes. First, he approaches a shining cherry blossom tree. Then he sees a bell threatening. Flames consume. There is a yearning for freedom. A spark, a light that dies. And when the light dies, something else wakes.

For Ashira, though, the dream is never straightforward. “It’s always like music,” she explains. “Variations on music. I’m constantly rewiring my memory, doing everything out of order, making variations. You see parts of states or certain notes woven together, not tied into a pattern. I’m trying to find the right arrangement, but it doesn’t sound quite right.”

The dream, disordered as it is, remains clear in its power.

When Wolfgang senses no more to uncover, he withdraws. He touches his throat, mimicking the gesture Ashira made, then belches up stomach acid mixed with gall and small bones.

Amber grimaces. “Don’t tell me—I know what you’re going to say. That was rather unpleasant.”

“Thank you for letting me penetrate your mind, Ashira. It was quite pleasant to see your thoughts. And at the same time—it scares me, a bit, what you saw and who made you see this.”

Ashira presses, “What did you see?”

Wolfgang describes the tree, the square, the blossoms, the environment. “It is not Evermere. It seems more like another village.”

Ashira’s memory sharpens. Yes. There was once a village with a cherry blossom tree that shined faintly. A very special tree. “That was Kal Lume,” The group recalls: it lies in the north, near the harbour forest, not far from places Ashira has visited before.

Conversation shifts to distance. Travel by carriage or by horse is discussed. Normally one walks twenty miles a day, but a horse can cover thirty. Roughly two to three hours from here lies Kal Lume.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Ashira realizes. “We can do it today.”

“So we go to this town?” Amber asks.

Wolfgang nods. “We might have sufficient time.”

The decision still balances against other duties. Daiki reminds them: “We have to save Dink.”

“We can take Dink with us,” Amber suggests. “It could be an excursion.”

Wolfgang hesitates. “The village might be too dangerous for a child.”

“If you’re fine with child abuse, it’s fine,” Ash retorts sharply. “So you are then responsible for the child abuse, and then we just go.”

Wolfgang weighs it out loud: “The potential child abuse versus travel abuse or evil abuse is something worth considering.”

“He was crying. I wouldn’t call that fine,” Daiki corrects.

“Because he destroyed one of his toys.”

They debate. Tachibana suggests, “We can go tomorrow to the cherry blossom. We can check on Dink today.”

Amber adds, “I have one thing I want to do, because Masaki needs to show me the place he told me about, where—what was it—the occult? Lady of the Occult. I have to do something.”

“Yes,” Masaki confirms.

Wolfgang considers alternatives. “As for Dink… what about the Hana Wildflower orphanage? They take in young adolescents up to sixteen.”

“Are you suggesting we take Dink to the orphanage?” Amber asks.

“Yes. If his closest relative proves not to be a safe harbor, this could be an option.”

“For sure.”

“Let’s go visit Dink,” Daiki decides.

“Sounds good.”

Masaki asks, “Do you need me to come with you?”

Amber stretches. “I am going to find Madame Occult. Madame Ora.”

The plan is settled. Amber heads toward Madame Ora. The others make their way toward Dink.

---

The group finds the flyers easily. They are plastered everywhere, pointing the way to Madame Ora.

The moment she steps inside, incense smoke washes over her. It is thick, cloying, impossible to ignore. From the back of the room a voice calls, “Welcome, my child.”

Amber bristles. Instantly, I hate this woman, she thinks, though she says nothing.

“How may I help you?” the woman asks.

Amber keeps her tone even. “It was told to me that you can scry upon somebody you’re looking for.”

“That is one of my specialties.”

“And your price?”

“The price— 150 gold pieces”

Amber nods grimly. She knows Tachibana warned her it would be expensive.

Amber exhales, then asks, “And you can do this now?”

“I can do it once, twice—it is not a big deal.”

Amber pulls gold from her pouch and sets it firmly on the table. The woman beams, glad to take the payment. Amber remains skeptical about everything—the incense, the tassels, the too-practiced voice. The only reason she is here at all is Tachibana telling her this woman is legit.

She touches Amber lightly. “What is his name, the one whom you’ve lost?”

Amber feels her skin prickle. A chill runs down her back. How the fuck did she know? She read my mind totally. She thinks of Wolfgang, and of detect thoughts. “You’re probably reading my thoughts, right?”

“If you believe that, then perhaps this is not for you. Please, sit.”

Amber sits reluctantly. The woman lifts a crystal from the ground and places it on the table. It is large, smooth, loose in shape. Smoke curls within it.

Amber studies it, wondering if it is a trick. Her mind races. If this looks false, I’ll walk away. But if it looks real…

The orb gleams convincingly.

The woman ignores her, sitting across the table. “Think of the one.”

Amber tries to keep her mind blank. Smoke begins to swirl inside the orb. The table shivers. Candles flicker. Warm wind brushes her face, and whispering voices circle the room. The orb glows faintly, and within it a figure appears—male, with fiery hair. His shape burns at the edges, indistinct.

“I see him,” the woman says. “A brother. He is far from here. You haven’t seen him in a while. He is looking for you.”

Amber fights to keep her thoughts empty. The woman’s eyes roll back, turning milk-white. “Yes, he is looking for you. But he is far away. He cannot find you. He is being kept away. He wants you to find him.”

Amber’s breath catches.

The table shakes violently. The orb glows brighter. “You have to find him. He is well—but I don’t know for how long.” Then, just as suddenly, the woman leans back. Her eyes return to normal. She exhales calmly. “This was a good one. I hope you got what you needed to hear.”

Amber swallows. “Not quite. I need to find him. I know he is kept away from me. That he is alive is a relief. But I need to know where he is. Can you give me an indication of the environment?”

The woman closes her eyes again. The orb glows. Sweat beads down her temple as she chants in a low voice.

“He is in a warm place.”

Amber frowns. “Oh really? That’s interesting.”

“I am sorry. That is all I can give. The mystic arts provide what you need to hear, not always everything you want. But take comfort: he is alive, he wants you, he is in a warm place.”

Amber exhales, defeated. “Okay, yeah. Merci. Have a great day. I wish you the best.”

“And may you find him well,” the woman replies, covering the orb.

Amber leaves the smoky room, heading toward where the others wait.

---

“Dinky, Dinky,” Wolfgang murmurs. “How could someone raise a family in such a small estate?”

“It’s actually rather common,” Masaki adds. “I always wonder the other way: how could somebody find their children in such a large manor? Most parents don’t interact with their children there.”

“You have servants to nurture and teach,” Wolfgang counters.

“Yeah, so you get one firm handshake at your eighteenth birthday from your father. It’s a nice childhood.”

“And potentially a nice ring as well,” Wolfgang adds.

“Where’s the cat?” Ash asks.

“They’re around,” Daiki answers. “The same cat we fed tuna.”

They spot cats, but not the same one.

“So what’s the plan exactly?” Wolfgang asks. “What is it that you aim for?”

Daiki answers, “We need to get proof. Jack—Uncle Jack. Dink is the kid, Jack is the bad guy. Jack is abusing Dink.”

“Why do you think so?” Wolfgang asks.

“Because we know so,” Ash replies quickly. “We have something better than proof—we have a gut feeling.”

Wolfgang shakes his head. “A gut feeling is good but not sufficient. That’s why we want proof.”

“So you can read people’s minds,” Daiki reminds Wolfgang.

“Not anymore today.”

“Then we go for plan B, Wolfie,” Daiki says.

“You’re leaving us with no choice, Wolfie,” Ashira warns. “We thought you could just read his mind and get all the proof we needed.”

“Maybe he’ll get scared when he sees Bana with the red cloak,” Daiki suggests.

“Maybe. Just a bit of harassment from a red cloak,” Ash says.

Wolfgang frowns. “Proof under torture is not eligible for court.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ash shoots back.

“It has to be.”

“I think it doesn’t.”

Tachibana interrupts. “And what is your plan B exactly?”

“You know what plan B is.”

“I do not.”

“What do you think plan B is?” Ash presses. “Name some words that start with B.”

“Backfire. Booking. Bury,” Daiki suggests.

“Ding ding ding,” Ash teases.

“That just makes you worse than child abuse,” Tachibana warns.

Ash retorts, “We save the child, and we kill the abuser.”

“That’s definitely worse,” Tachibana argues. “Why? Because now two people are living. If you kill one, then only one is living.”

“So you’re saying it’s a zero-sum game?”

“Life should be preserved no matter what,” Tachibana replies.

Ash challenges him. “Then why were you killing goblins?”

“That’s different,” Tachibana insists.

Ash pushes harder. “It’s because they’re not conscious? They don’t feel pain? They have a three-second memory? It’s like fishing? So tell me, Bana, what’s the difference here?”

They argue back and forth until finally Wolfgang grounds them. “We were tasked by the city to save it from goblin infestation. That means the law enforcers extended their arm to us. But we have no such extension for the patronage of Dink.”

Ash frowns. “So if this guy abuses somebody and doesn’t get caught, he gets to do whatever he wants?”

“Isn’t that what you always say?” Tachibana reminds her. “You can do anything you want as long as you don’t get caught.”

Tachibana concludes, “That’s why I’m here. Proof.”

Ash relents. “We’re getting proof. Wolfie would read his mind. But he can’t.”

Wolfgang offers, “Would it be better if we talk without you, or with you?”

“How about you and I see if Dink is available?” Tachibana suggests.

“My point exactly.”

---

Tachibana and Wolfgang approach the door. After some time, it opens. A man stands there: pale, with a rough stubble beard, short hair, and a sleeveless shirt. He eyes Wolfgang suspiciously.

“Yes? What is it, red cloak?” His gaze lingers on Wolfgang’s fine clothing.

“Good morning,” Tachibana says calmly. “We have business with your son, Dink.”

“What does Dink have to do with that? Has he done anything?”

“Like I said, I have business with him, not with you.”

“As legal guardian, I do have business. May I ask what kind?”

“We just want to talk to him,” Tachibana says evenly. “We’ve met before and made certain promises.”

“About what?”

“About catching up. About seeing how he fares.”

“Why? He was brought to me to take care of him.”

“Exactly. And we were the ones that brought him here.”

The man looks outside, scanning for familiar faces, but sees none.

Wolfgang steps forward. “My apologies for not introducing us. We are friends of Dink. We would like to talk with you, maybe both, and see what you need. Perhaps we can provide some financial support or other aid that might benefit you.”

The man narrows his eyes. “It sounds like you’re bribing me. Telling me I can’t take care of Dink.”

“That’s definitely what it sounds like,” Tachibana admits.

Wolfgang winces. “I apologize.”

“Do you have any legal information? Because I am his guardian.”

“As stated before, we are friends of Dink,” Wolfgang insists. “We like to check up on him, as you would check up on friends.”

“I’ve already had friends check up on him yesterday. And the day before. New people are coming every day now. It’s a bit much, don’t you think? Once a month would be fine. But every day?” The man shakes his head. “Yesterday it was a leaf guy and some tiefling. Today it’s an elf and some kind of bird.”

“We merely want to check up,” Wolfgang says. “Do you provide opportunity for us?”

“I would like to know why,” the man presses. “I still haven’t heard why, since people have been checking every day.”

“Some have raised concerns,” Wolfgang says carefully, “that the shock of raising someone might be too much to burden.”

“What kind of concerns?”

“We don’t know,” Tachibana replies. “That’s why we’re here.”

“They saw him yesterday,” the man retorts. “He was fine.”

“They saw him crying,” Wolfgang counters.

“Because kids never cry?” the man scoffs.

“That’s why we’re here to check up,” Wolfgang says.

The man crosses his arms. “He broke a toy. I checked him for bruises and everything. I don’t even know why I let them in. Have you checked that? Because that’s weird. I planned to send them away, and suddenly I was fine with letting them in.”

“Are you saying they used magic on you?” Tachibana asks.

“I have no idea. Now that you mention it, that tiefling did gesture something.”

Wolfgang stiffens, unable to keep his face straight. Oh my god.

“That sounds quite serious,” Tachibana says.

“It is.”

“I was thinking about making an official complaint,” the man mutters. “But I didn’t know where to go.”

Tachibana wants to make a report of the magic use, and Jack leads them into the living room. A moment later, Dink appears. Jack says, “Dink, get out,” and the boy runs off. Tachibana gives Wolfgang a little look to go after him.

Tachibana tries to keep Jack’s back turned to Wolfgang, distracting him with questions. Jack becomes completely preoccupied with the conversation, describing hand gestures he remembers—though not very well. Tachibana compliments him, saying he has a really good memory and that it’s helpful for the investigation.

Meanwhile, Wolfgang looks around the living room. It isn’t filthy—just normal, a bit dark, with curtains mostly closed. Jack calls out toward the kitchen, “Maria! Grab us some drinks! We’ve got guests. A red cloak and some rich guy.” A moment later, his wife enters: pale, a little red on one side of her face. She sets a tray of tea on the table, places cups, and then quickly walks back to the kitchen.

“That’s kind, thank you Maria,” Wolfgang says politely.

The group continues their questions. Wolfgang asks how Dink is handling the loss of his parents. Jack admits, “He’s having a hard time. That might also be why he was crying a bit more than usual.” Wolfgang offers, “Sometimes children—or even adults—feel better when they can talk to strangers about their losses.” Jack brushes it off.

Eventually, Jack asks only that a formal complaint be filed to keep “those two” away from his home. Tachibana promises to speak with the guard captain about extra patrols. Wolfgang suggests a recommendation letter for school, but Jack insists they don’t need that. “We just want those crazy people gone.”

While this unfolds inside, Ash and Daiki linger outside. Daiki considers climbing the house but decides instead to wild shape into a cat. Slipping into the alley, he transforms into the likeness of a stray cat he sees, then climbs to a window. Through a gap in the curtain, he spots Dink at a desk, drawing quietly in a book.

Daiki taps softly at the window. Startled, Dink comes closer and cautiously cracks it open.

“It’s me, Daiki,” the druid whispers. “There are people downstairs—you know, Wolfie and Bana are here. We just want to check on you. Are you doing okay?”

Dink nods uncertainly. “My aunt… she has a hard time.”

“Do you want to stay here?” Daiki asks.

“I want to stay with my aunt. She’s nice,” Dink insists.

Daiki accepts this. “Okay. Just be honest with us and then we’ll leave.” He promises, “If you need help, look for Purple Reign. We’ll help.”

Dink pets the cat gently before closing the window as Daiki slips away and rejoins Ash outside.

Back in the living room, Tachibana, Wolfgang, and Jack finish their tea and depart. They regroup in the street a little later. Tachibana pulls out his notebook. “First of all, Dink is fine. No bruises, no marks. He looks fine.”

Ash interrupts, “The emotional state of Dink was not fine.”

Daiki adds softly, “He stays because his aunt isn’t safe.”

They all agree: Dink is physically fine. Emotionally, it’s complicated.

---

Then Tachibana raises the second point. “Dink’s caregiver Jack made an official complaint. Against you, Ashira.”

“What?” Ashira exclaims.

Tachibana explains Jack’s accusation: that she influenced his mind with magic. Ashira protests, “Objection. Overruled. That’s not how this works. There’s no proof.”

They argue heatedly. Tachibana insists Jack described the hand gestures and words of spellcasting. Ashira counters, “There’s never mumbling in this kind of magic. I just said the word outright. He’s lying.”

Daiki stands by her. “I was there. I didn’t see any spellcasting.”

But Tachibana presses on, insisting the witness testimony is enough. He declares a fine of one hundred fifty gold pieces, warning that a third offense will mean even harsher penalties. Ashira refuses. “I will not pay. I am fundamentally opposed. There is no proof.”

Voices clash back and forth. Daiki argues that Jack is just trying to get rid of them. Wolfgang suggests, “Innocent until proven guilty—that’s how it should work.” Tachibana replies, “Not in this country.”

Ashira fumes. “It’s sad this happens. I cannot pay.”

Tachibana warns, “If you do not pay, there will be consequences.” He reveals, almost casually, that the first time he met Ashira was when she was in jail. The others are stunned.

Ash storms forward, face hot, every step sharp with indignation. “Take me to jail. I’m going to take it up with your superior.” She points without hesitation. “Bring me to your superior now. We’re going to resolve this because you don’t have any proof. Just the word of somebody that seems to lie already about mumbling—Never any mumbling. Doesn’t even—Is not even involved.”

Tachibana holds his ground, quiet but firm. “My superior—No.” He tries to keep the situation from escalating, but Ash will not be placated.

Tachibana exhales. “All right, let’s go to the Mage Guard Keep then.” The party moves, reluctant momentum carrying them toward the mage guard keep. Amber mutters, “I hate that place,” and Daiki, keeping pace, says, “Let’s solve this.”

Ash paces like a caged thing. “Yeah, because you’re afraid that you’re wrong and your superior will be like there’s no proof and you’re not going to get anything.” Tachibana answers carefully, “If I’m wrong then I’m completely fine with that. And I would be more than happy to apologize to you.”

Ashira, mostly silent until now, steams toward the guard keep. “Bullshit bureaucracy…” she mutters angrily.

“I’m just doing my job,” Tachibana supplies. Daiki murmurs, “I’m so not impressed,”

Amber on her turn, is pleased with Masaki’s determination. 

Wolfgang jogs to keep up, complaining that he might as well fly instead of walking. Ashira quickens her pace; movement speeds and exasperation are traded like weather. At the guard keep’s entrance a red-cloaked figure stands—a superior. Ash pushes forward, unbowed. “Yes. I’m being unjustly prosecuted. I would like to make a formal complaint and I would like to speak to his superior. I know the guy,” she demands. Tachibana explains the situation briefly: coin was issued and now someone disputes it; the woman in the red cloak listens.

Ash summarizes angrily. “He’s trying to make me pay for using magic without any proof. Didn’t see it himself, just one guy saying ‘hey this magic happened’ and I think this magic happened.” The red-cloak asks what kind of magic. Tachibana replies, sharp and certain, “Enchantment.”

Details come out in halting bursts. Tachibana recounts his conversation with Jack Needlewood—how the man’s mind seemed to change, how he first wanted Ashira away and then invited them in. Ash interrupts to say, “We just convinced him.” Tachibana produces notes: hand signals he wrote down, sketches that attempt to capture gestures. 

The red-cloaked superior, Ms Madras, scans the notebook. The question is plain and pressing: do those hand gestures look familiar? The answer comes, measured: the gestures seem familiar. “This does look like enchantment magic,” Ash says. “The drawings are very bad,” she adds. The group exchanges glances: recognition, then worry.

Ash mentions a past—brief, stark—“I have been in jail for that,” and says she just got certification for the second level enchantment today. The alleged incident, she confirms when asked, happened yesterday. The timing hangs in the air: certification comes after the complaint. Everyone realizes, without dramatics, that the possibility exists she could have cast something before being certified. Ash says, honestly, “I don’t know. It could be, but I don’t know. I think I have it under control.”

Witnesses give their statements. Wolfgang and Masaki make clear their connections—conflicts of interest are offered aloud. The red cloak accepts that, asking only for the story itself. Daiki speaks: he was present and recalls the hand motions; his perception is good enough that the motions register. “I am kind of confirming that,” he says. The red-cloak tallies the pieces: hand gestures observed, hand gestures recognized, a change in Jack’s behavior that follows those gestures. Taken together, they are “quite convincing that a spell has been cast.”

Ashira protests, desperate for fairness. “There’s not enough proof,” she says. The red-cloak listens, then notes that though the gesture is recognized and many people can remember hand positions, the context matters. There is also the problem of the discarded fine..

The conversation shifts from assigning guilt to managing risk. The red-cloak frames the problem practically: if Ashira might accidentally cast spells when emotional, the party needs a plan. “Act as long as you are in the party as a correctional officer for Ms Ashira,” Madras suggests—someone should stay close enough to interrupt any accidental casting. Tachibana objects that their arrangements and sleeping patterns make constant supervision difficult. Ash, affronted, orders him to accept the duty, though he protests. The red-cloak presses for consensus: one of the party must always be with Ashira in situations like this, and the party as a whole must learn to recognize enchantment spells and how to interrupt them.

They discuss concrete steps. “Interrupt it if someone’s enchanted. Make sure that something that gets broken right as quickly as can,” the solution is paraphrased; Daiki agrees—“We have to learn how to disarm the spell.” Practical training, not punishment, becomes the path forward. The red-cloak offers leniency: rather than a fine that divides them, let it become a warning if they all agree to take on the responsibility and train. The party exchanges looks, weighing pride against pragmatism. The red-cloak formalizes it: the incident will become a warning, and the entire party holds shared responsibility for preventing a recurrence.

After the meeting, the three of them step outside, Tachibana stayed behind to talk to his superior. Ashira speaks first. “Just to be super clear, if Bana is in great danger and all I have to save him is enchantment magic, I cannot use it.”

“Only when someone’s life is in direct danger,” comes the reply. “If someone is casting a spell that could kill them, then yes, you could intervene.”

Ashira frowns. “What if other people are trying to influence Bana’s mind?”

“They should be stopped directly. Bana is trained to protect himself,” Amber counters.

“I hope so,” she mutters.

Daiki and Amber exchange thanks. “Thank you for listening to our experiences and giving Ash a second chance,” Daiki says.

“Thank you, Ms Madras. I’ll do my best, and with my party’s help, I think I’ll be fine,” Ash adds.

When Tachibana exits, he apologizes to Ashira. After, they discuss strategy and teamwork. Tachibana says, “I could have presented the facts more clearly.”

“Always start with a conversation first,” comes the advice from Ashira. “Listen. People calm down when they feel heard.”

Later, the group decides on a small token of their bond. Daiki grows a little flower, Wolfgang considers rings, and Amber and Ash share ideas. “Purple Reign,” they chant together as petals fly from Daiki’s magic, reminding them of dreams and past adventures.

Plans shift to travel. “We go to Kal Lume today,” Daiki declares.

Amber notes, “We can stay there tonight, small town, peaceful.”

They discuss logistics, payment, and visions Ash has seen, but the consensus is clear: tonight they leave the city together. Wolfgang and Tachibana will stay, and travel in the morning: Wolfgang paid for his room in the Chubby Angel upfront to brew his alchemist fire, and doesn’t want to break the process up. 

Ash laughs. “All right, group hug. Everyone in.”

They embrace, purple petals swirling around them, a quiet, magical confirmation of their unity.

“Let’s move,” Daiki says. “Kal Lume awaits.”