---

The sun's rays don't shine on this place. Darkness reigns supreme. The only weapons there are to fight it are raw talent and burning wills. The Midnight Tournament!

Students from schools all across Rhea compete every week for glory and invaluable experience they may be hard pressed to find anywhere else. 16 students fight every day of the week for the privilege of advancing through to the Final Night, where 8 fighters battle to see who will be crowned a Champion of Midnight. Tonight is not one of those nights, but the competition still promises to be fierce like nothing else.

But there are rumors on the wind. Something is different about tonight for someone. Out of the 16 today, 8 have already been eliminated. That someone has yet to reveal themselves, but now might just be the time.

@Crowvette @KillamriX88 @Scarifar

The sun is setting. The school grounds are bathed in warm, red light, but as the source of day's unapproachable radiance continues to dip below the horizon, the shadows begin to encroach on what is unrightfully theirs.

The halls have already emptied. Some bastions of life still remain, but they have very little reason to still be here. The student at the Library who had lost track of time. A student waiting on her friend from the club.

The sun is sinking. The shadows are growing stronger.

"Manami! You're finally done!" The girl happily exclaimed.

"Yeah, cleaning up took waaaaay longer than it should have." The other girl sighed. "Stupid Junpei, I don't know why we still have him in the club..."

Their enthusiastic chatter continued long into their journey of Clausewitz's empty halls. They had no way of knowing what was to come next, did they? They had no way of knowing the consequences. But who could blame them? It wasn't their fault, after all.

This school, these students... Really, it wasn't their fault.

"Manami, after this do you want to-..." The first girl started to say, but when she turned, her friend was gone.

The shadows were growing longer, almost as if they were reaching out for her. But she hadn't noticed yet.

"Manami...?! Where did you..." She began to speak again, but a coil of shadow suddenly whipped around and grabbed hold of her leg.

A scream! No doubt discovering the caustic properties of the shadow in question.

A flash of light, and the shadow retreated. Its prey did have the ability to fight back after all. Clausewitz... oh, Clausewitz, famed for churning out Champions. But mere strength hadn't been enough to stop this.

The bubbling black ooze was everywhere now. Slowly filling the halls, seemingly coming from nowhere. Relish the hunt my little friends. It's time for the invasion to begin.

@AtomicNut @KillamriX88 @Crowvette

---

Across the largest city in the world, letters had been sent out. They said precisely what they needed to, and just a bit more, to bring those the sender desired to one, very specific place. That place was the Nightman Therapy Clinic, run by Dr. Nightman himself.

The letters were sent to those who were or had been in peril. Those who had seen or experienced things that no one should have had to. Things that may even have been secrets, and yet suddenly were known, at least in part. Enough to raise questions, but also to speak to the ability of the one sending the letters.

They knew these things and offered to help.

A boy named Reverio who had been cast aside and whose country had fallen around him, a boy named Ken who'd been forced to flee turmoil, only for his own family to once more bring turmoil to him, a girl named Chinami who'd lost her father in a sudden flurry of violence and been forced to fight for her life through pain and blood at too young an age, and others still. He had reached out, offering to help.

Demanding, if need be.

The girl was stubborn, so her schooling was placed on the line. Refuse, and her ability to continue would be in jeopardy, never mind that she'd spoken to hardly anyone of what she'd experienced. How could they know what she needed? Why did they care so much?

While few others needed their arms twisted quite so much, they also went to schools that at least pretended to care far more, so at the suggestion that their students were suffering, or at least to make sure they were fit to continue operating under the name of their institutions, they strongly urged them to go.

After all, their reputation was stellar and they promised miracles.

Free of charge.

Now please, check yourself in at the receptionist's desk, have a seat, be patient, and welcome to Dr. Nightman's Clinic. The road to feeling better begins here -- and it might just be shorter than you could have ever imagined.

---

---

Block, block, side-step, block, WHAM! Wolf's back hit the ground, an almost thunderous noise reverberating throughout the room as he body slammed against the training mat. He just lay there a second, trying to breathe, not really wanting to get back up.

Until a foot less than gently hit his ribs. It wasn't quite a kick, but it was enough to get across the annoyance of his sparring partner and make it clear his impromptu breather was over.

"Get up! And get it together already! How am I supposed to get anything out of this with that kind of sorry display? Or is this really all that fancy military school martial arts amounts to?" the girl scoffed at him.

"Sorry, Vera..." Wolf muttered under his breath as he forced himself back to his feet.

"It's supposed to be the best school. I thought I was lucky when you got in, but if you can't even teach it to me properly, what's the use?!"

". . . sorry." He could only avert his eyes.

"And you're apologizing too much again."

"So-" A glare silenced him.

"Ugh. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Are you even trying?! You look like you're asleep on your feet! WAKE UP!" she berated him, clapping her hands loudly in his face. Wolf's lips tightened, a hint of real annoyance on his face. "Hmm, what's that? Someone actually alive in there after all?"

His hands tightened into fists, "Can you ju-"

"Can I just what?" She crossed her arms. "You mad or something? Why? I'm the one wasting their time here. If your delicate pride is hurt, go ahead, use your fancy powers and make yourself feel big and strong! Otherwise, do us both a favor, get your ass in gear, and get over it!"

". . ." Wolf let out a tense breath and nodded glumly. "OK," he choked the word out.

They both resumed their stances. They began again, Wolf a bit more aggressive this time. It changed little. "Fancy military school martial arts" or not, he'd always been playing catch-up when it came to Vera. His guard was off, her fist flew in, and-

---

Wolf found himself face-down on the floor, blood leaking from his mouth. He blinked a few times and managed to get one arm under him. He hated it when they did this. Clausetwiz's Open Sparring Day. It happened maybe every other month if they could find enough volunteers from other institutions.

He'd gotten himself sucked into 2-on-2 match. His partner was already down and he was seriously debating staying down himself. Then, for better or worse, he saw it. His perhaps only friend in the whole school giving him a worried smile and a double thumbs-up, trying to silently cheer him on and tell him he could do it.

Wolf slowly closed his eyes and sighed. He'd had a rough time getting himself going in the new school year so far. He'd been riding a constant wave of stress and tension all last year, and it was hard to get back into that flow after being out of it. He kept himself well out of the spotlight, which was how he preferred it, but Clausewitz wasn't a school for people like him. It was for those with ambition; those who chased the spotlight.

People like him got looked down on, so no matter what it wasn't easy.

If he sank any further into the shadows, he'd just get kicked out.

So... fine.

He stood up, coughing a bit as his body protested. He'd tried fighting at close range, but one of his opponents had a power that could physically reinforce him, so, uh, that had gone poorly.

This time, Wolf stayed where he was and grit his teeth. The air behind him distorted as three spheres of psychic energy formed. Then, suddenly, something else formed behind him. Something startlingly large, that towered over the training field. A mechanized behemoth that loomed over them all, quickly pointing red targeting lasers at his two opponents.

"I don't want to hurt you..." Wolf told them, though it was more of a threat all things considered.

For a moment, the two paused. Because of course they did.

"Pfft, y-yeah right! Where was all this earlier, huh? It's a trick!" spoke the first one, attempting to call his bluff. The targeting laser that had been on his chest lowered, and then a beam of energy arced out, charring the ground at his feet... and exposing the boys boxers as the front of his pants had been burned away, centimeters away from searing his manhood as well. The laser then quickly went back to his chest.

The boy sucked in a panicked breath and quickly covered his lower region with his hands, "O-OK, OK! I give up!"

The other boy groaned, but capitulated as well in turn. With the match then concluded, the mechanized monstrosity that Wolf had brought to the field vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Wolf blinked a few times, clutching his head. Coordinating his powers the way he just had after being punched repeatedly in the head wasn't fun.

"I... need to go lay down..." He told the sparring coordinator, skipping right past celebrating his victory.

- - -

Rest would prove to be fleeting. He got maybe an hour or so, little of which was actually spent asleep, before he was startled by a panicked shriek. Wolf jumped up, attempting to roll out of the infirmary bed, but his head spun and he collapsed to his hands and knees.

He staggered to his feet, bracing himself against the wall, "H-hello!?" No response. The nurse must have stepped out. Perhaps they'd left to investigate? Then again, it was getting late, so perhaps they'd gone home. It was an infirmary, but it wasn't exactly stocked with drugs, so no one cared if a student was left alone to sleep off a headache.

And if it was so late... what would be causing someone to scream in terror like that?

"Dammit..." Wolf couldn't just ignore it. Head still a bit fuzzy or no, he made his way to the halls to see what was going on.

The Nightman Therapy Clinic was a two-story, rectangular affair, sizable enough to be approximately a dozen rooms deep on the shorter width of said rectangle -if she had to guess at a distance... the distance in question being several hundred feet away atop a rooftop overlooking the detestable institution of her ire.

Chinami's crimson eyes narrowed at the building, a barely restrained snarl on her lips. Her blood was still curdling in rage from the letter she'd received at Kiburi's earlier that morning. Its contents... They were damning, but devoid of context, and once she had finished lying through her teeth with a straight face to the faculty, they had been robbed of credibility as well.

After all, who were the staff of Kiburi going to believe: one of their star, model students... or some crackpot letter filled with baseless accusations?

Obviously not the latter.

Unfortunately, the ease with which Kiburi's had accepted her lies had also been the same ease they foisted off the solving of this problem to her. The clinic -assuming it was legit- would unfortunately have enough sway that they might be able to threaten her enrollment. Certainly, they could make themselves enough of a nuisance that it might be more trouble for Kiburi's than it was worth to keep her around. That said, even if it was the incompetents at Kiburi's, it was plain to see that they were just as baffled by the letter as she was.

The Letter (and it deserved the fucking capitals) had made some shockingly accurate observations about her past. Objectively, she could see where her frankly abusive and negligent childhood could seem concerning. In fact, she could certainly see how the Final Tomb Event could be the straw that broke the camel's back. However...

That was 4 years ago!

It should be blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that she had -quite possibly by divine or demonic providence- come away from those events remarkably mentally intact -if not flawless. While her athletic body may have been scarred beneath her baggy clothes, her mind was a stubborn iron trap. She had survived at half their age where many adults would have faltered. She had survived, conquered and prospered, overcome every obstacle, slain every enemy. And now, finally, she was ready to rest, had been resting for nearly half a decade, only for this... bullshit to come up now!

The first sign that these people were hacks was their blatant disregard for the most basic principle of psychology, something even she knew: you can't help someone who doesn't want to be. They will resent you. They will hate you. They will double down on their every issue and bite, scratch and claw the whole way down, doing themselves as much harm -if not more- than they are helped. To ignore this simple thing already, to ignore her firm and reasonable rejection of the initial invitation...

Already, that had her attention.

In psychology, you couldn't help someone who didn't trust you, and she most certainly did not trust them! They would have to be utter fools not to know that, and yet still, they persisted. So, that was issue number one.

The second problem began to crop up once she realized that she would inevitably have to go to the Clinic and started doing some research. What she found was... strange.

On the surface, the reviews for the institution seemed legit, positive even. Only... they were too positive. Frankly, the wording, the way the writers almost seemed to- to gush over the experience was just... People -real people- just didn't talk like that! Or rather, what she was reading sounded more like statements from people who had just found religion and were getting way too into it, and it was consistent, a constant litany of heaping flowery, purple prose praise!

And worse?

There were no negative reviews.

Not. A. Single. One.

There were a few ways to take that, and none of them were good. After all, the simple Law of Averages dictated that with the sheer volume of totaled reviews, the absence of even a single dissenting opinion should have been outright impossible. Moreover, every rating was marked as high as it could go, Five Stars across the board! A lukewarm opinion? Mere satisfaction? What were those? They certainly couldn't be found here! Every review might as well have been frothing at the mouth with joy, and that fucking terrified Chinami to her core.

The Goth girl couldn't help her gorge rising as she processed the number of... of victims laid out before her. Just... what had been done to these people? Could it be undone? She couldn't say until she had the opportunity to examine a victim personally. Even so, just how long had this operation been going on under the peoples' noses? How entrenched were they economically and politically? They seemed to have enough sway to inconvenience the Four Academies, literally some of -if not- the most integral institutions in the whole country.

Someone had discovered her past. Had they divined it? Had one of her former colleagues been too loose-lipped even after she got their oath of silence? It could be all too many things in this mad world, where the gods and demons alike bestowed absurd power upon irresponsible mortals. Someone wanted her here. That, or they wanted her specifically away from Kiburi's for a time. Given the odds on the latter, she was more inclined to think that this was a trap specifically targeting her, not the school. So, they wanted her at this so-called "clinic". They wanted her "treated" with whatever the fuck all these poor souls had been snorting. And they had access to information that no-one should have!

Something stank to high heaven, and she was going to have to get to the bottom of it... whether she wanted to or not.

That said...

Like hell she was walking into a trap.

If there was anything her years of spelunking in mysterious and cursed tombs and ruins had taught her, it was that you never resorted to tripping the trap to pass it if you could go around or simply disable it. More often than not, such mystical obstacles had fail-safes designed exactly for cheeky people who thought that tripping them was the way. In fact, most mystical traps were able to automatically reset anyway. Thus, disabling traps ahead of time was the only intelligent thing to do.

This was just another tomb.

It was time to fucking raid it.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

I don't need therapy, was Ken's first thought when receiving the letter from 'Dr. Nightman's clinic. His next one was, That's what someone who does need therapy would say.

He was in the family home when he received the letter, a comfortable apartment that contained four rooms, including one for himself. This was an apartment that combined Izumo and Rhean aesthetics, with modern chairs surrounding a traditional kotatsu table with a heavy blanket underneath the tabletop. There was also a television with the latest videogame consoles, although the boy preferred the computer in his room for videogames and online conversations.

His parents and he had a warm relationship, and he knew they all loved each other - That's why they would insist that he do a background check on 'Dr. Nightman' first and take every possible security precaution which did not involve taking out the Ame-no-Murakumo, which was to be used only in Vigilante work and even then only when there was no other way to deal with a problem other than quick and (relatively) clean violence. If he was to walk outside of the apartment for any other reason, he was to leave it behind, and if he believed he was in any risk of danger, he was to write a note saying to exchange the Imperial Heirloom in exchange for his safety.

Despite realizing that he did need therapy, Ken was still suspicious of Dr. Nightman's offer, and so wrote that note in Izumo Kanji and set it on the Kotatsu, before taking Gimlé and the Ankh of Life with him. He would not need offensive capabilities to save his own life, after all, even if he did feel 'nerfed' by not taking the heirloom. As an added precaution, he made sure to record a message on his computer and on his school notebook detailing the offer of therapy, Dr. Nightman's clinic's address, and their knowledge of himself and the family 'issues'. He also composed a timed email to be sent to his friends in the Vigilantes in 24 hours telling them all about the 'Therapy'.

Was such paranoia proof that he needed it? Yes. But that paranoia was merited, considering how much 'Dr. Nightman', if that was ever his real name, knew. But Ken was still coming because one, the Doctor evidently had subtle means of coercion at his disposal, and two, he genuinely needed someone to talk to about his troubles, even though the chances of the offer being genuine were vanishingly slim. So the boy got his wallet, a small bag of snacks, and went off to the Nightman Clinic early enough to get to his appointment in time - But not before he did what background checks he could of the place and its resident doctor...

-------

Ken arrived at the clinic more suspicious than ever; he still didn't bring the Ame-no-Murakumo, but that was only because he valued the relic and the heritage it represented more than he did his life; an observation which prompted him to seek therapy from a more reputable institution once this mess was done. But unlike Chinami, he had no knowledge of traps and how to disarm them except for what he read in books or watched in shows or played in videogames, and so he went inside, checked himself in, and then took a seat, ready to coat himself in Gimlé's magical shield should things get too spicy.

It seemed he was alone, so the boy made sure to measure the distance between his seat and the door and hoped the latter didn't self-lock.

@Lewascan2@KillamriX88@Dezuel

AKA Andras

Alexandria tightened her hand into a fist. She had actually done it this time. This was the first time she had really headed out and done something on her own in ages. And she had even won a fight already. 'To think I wouldn't have even been able to hold Vera at an arms' length with my gift before all this... And now!' A brief flash of anxiety washed over her body. If she did too well, her counselor might hear about it. She wasn't supposed to be using her gift for something like this, but there was no way Alexandria - no, Andras was going to have this power and refuse to use it. She grinned to herself. 'That's right. Andras did that. The Demon Lady, returned from the Void Dream of Purgatory.'

~~

There was snickering and murmurs when she had entered the first round. "Demon lady? Is that even a girl?" "It looks like a stiff breeze could lay her out." "Aren't demons supposed to have red skin?"

But the murmurs turned to silence when she grasped her cards - abstract squares of light that seemed almost ethereal - and dramatically summoned a new one from nowhere. It was a simple move, and didn't require the theatrics, but of course Andras was going to make a show of it. She knew what the card was the second she grasped it. A simple, yet powerful spell.

"Listen girl, I'm sorry to do this, but you knew what you were getting into with this. You can give up now if you want, but I'm not going to think twice if you don't." Her opponent prattled on, not knowing their doom was already sealed.

Andras covered one side of her face with her free hand, giving a low chuckle that rose into a loud laugh. "Your fate is already sealed. If anyone should concede now, it is you. Do you know what magic I hold in my grasp?" She held up the card she had just drawn.

"Some flashy lights aren't going to scare me. What are you going to do, hit me with those?" The opponent scoffed.

Andras continued, almost speaking to the audience more than her opponent. "This is a piece of the Root of All Magic. It was a divine miracle, codified by the miraculous waves sent by the gods of the oceans to protect those they favored. Akashic sages codified it... and now I hold it in my grasp."

"I warned you..." The opponent sprang forward, closing the gap between the two fighters. Their power flared up, tiny spouts of flames welling from where they stepped.

Andras didn't brace herself for the attack. She merely moved her hand forward, the card held between her two fingers. With a flick of her wrist, the card launched forward. The golden glow of the card seemed to change into a blue arrow, before the entire card seemed to burst into a torrential jet of water. The force of the immense wave of water struck Andras's foe directly in their chest, knocking them clean out of the fighting area and sending them careening into the spectator's area. They groaned from their splayed position, unable to stand back up without the help of nearby spectators.

"The ocean is a cruel mistress. Perhaps another time for you." Andras replied, grinning as she turned to the crowd.

~~

It was taking all her nerve to stop from erratically hopping with joy. She had managed to play it cool and even throw in a perfect one-liner. Alexandria was truly, for a moment, the demon Andras in that match. It mixed with a fear of what she might run into next, of course, but her hand of spells was formidable enough. Her cards floated around her as she mulled over their effects in her head. Plenty of possibility, and she still had seven spells left to cast. She was ready for whatever was next. Andras could take on anyone. She had, after all, dragged herself out of much worse and lived to tell the tale.

Reverio Galand

Dripping. It fell. Droplets of the essence of life. The skies roared softly in the distance, the clouds dark and slowly approaching. Where were the light in this day? A question asked often. A young man traversed his way down the street leading to Dr Nightman's clinic, clad in a brown longcoat with golden buttons, the rainwater trailing down his umbrella. He could clearly see all the various signs to various buisnesses and shops along the path. Bakeries which were no doubt cheap rip-offs of his homeland's finer desserts. There was a funeral firm building next to it, run by a Mr V. Twinveil. A couple of people in dark raincoats were leaving the building, apparently mourning the recent loss of a famous banker, as they climbed into a dark limosine before driving away slowly.

"What a downpour..." The young man said softly, lifting his umbrella slightly, revealing his piercing blue eyes and gazing up at the roaring skies above. "Weeping won't solve anything..." He blew some air out through his nose, his blonde wavy hair bouncing slightly as he made his way up a pair of stairs in order to reach his destination.

'This must be it then? A therapist. Dr Nightman...' He squinted his eyes slightly to the sign, before proceeding to the main door. The young man shook the water from his umbrella, before letting it rest against the building wall. 'Someday the sun will once again shine, perhaps not this day. But someday.' Reverio thought as he raised his white gloves to the door handle, opening the main door and heading inside, closing the door neatly behind him.

The first sight he was greeted by were a corridor, walking down the corridor his blueeyed gaze fell upon a mirror that hung on the wall, as if it were there to mock him. His face turned away from the mirror, and he continued along his way towards the reception area. Reverio gave a few glances about, and noticed he wasn't the only one there. Believing the other young man there was in line before him, he decided to sit down next to Ken, albeit at a reasonable distance not to invade his personal space.

"Fair day. Despite the downpour." Reverio offered a polite nod to the side towards Ken. "One cannot ask the sun to always shine upon us, right?"

@KillamriX88@Lewascan2@Letter Bee

A darkened sky and intensifying downpour concealed her approach towards the structure, as Chinami vaulted across rooftops, propelled at least in part by a spectral gasp of her own making. Were it not for that same spectral hold, currently enveloping her whole body, she'd have been soaked to the bone by the rain, but as it was, the pale spectral figure that moved in unison with herself, overlapping her body and hair with its own equivalent shed the droplets from heaven off her form like water on a duck's back.

As she landed overhead and peeked over the lip of the adjacent rooftop, two sets of eyes -the azure one far more powerful than her crimson- scanned the grounds warily and found nothing of note... at least on a surface level. The downpour couldn't have been timed better for her purposes. She didn't know enough about the clinic to know if it had armed security patrolling outside, but if it did, they weren't present right now, nor was -for that matter- pretty much anyone else. The streets were remarkably bare aside from the occasional commuter with an umbrella and at least one unfortunate soul without.

One of those commuter's caught her eye, in large part because they were about to enter the clinic.

Blonde. Ostentatiously dressed. About her age at a glance.

Probably a student. Could be a noble. Even odds on both really. She didn't recognize them, so she (he? Chinami's second set of far sharper eyes caught sight of the jawline and what might have been an Adam's apple from this angle; that fucking pink twink had certainly sharpened her identification skills) wasn't from Kiburi's. He stood out rather too significantly to escape her memory, even accounting for her general apathy towards her fellow students.

Chinami's jaw clenched at the sight in consideration. If this clinic was screwing with people's minds... there was a lot of potential there. Unruly nobles could be pacified. Loyalties could be usurped. Frankly, it was easy to see that the religious fervor with which people referred to this institution indicated an unusual attachment -even loyalty- to the proprietors therein. She already knew that this damned clinic could inconvenience the Four Great Academies (or at least browbeat Kiburi's), so who was to say they didn't have ties to corruption in the government?

Assuming they were actually screwing with minds to begin with, of course, but Chinami was uncomfortably willing to bet the answer was, "yes".

Chinami shook her head free of such speculation. In the end, she didn't really know anything for absolute certain yet. All she had was perhaps well-placed suspicions, and what she needed was proof to back them up... Proof she could hopefully obtain before anyone else fell prey to the schemes within.

And if she actually found what she was looking for... or even something close enough? Well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

However, one thing was certain: by the end of today, this clinic would no longer be Kiburi's -and more importantly, her- problem any longer... One way or another, her quiet life would be back on track, even if she had to reduce this place to rubble.

She waited until a rumbling peal of thunder sounded out, before leaping once more, clearing the space between rooftops along with the fence surrounding the destination. As soon as she landed, her pearly-white spectral palms splashed wetly onto the gravelly roof, and her vision expanded.

Before her eyes, an almost translucent kaleidoscope of rooftops bloomed all around her, the vast majority of which looked the same. There were outliers, some of wood and stone, others of steel and lightning, but she shoved these to the side in favor of the duplicates... or so one might assume at first glance. Though it was outside her current line of sight, as interconnected as it was, Chinami knew from experience that what she was seeing was not merely different versions of the rooftop, but the entire clinic, and she wanted a few in particular.

"Looped cameras." Underneath her spectral fingers, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of options were cast into the void, not that she was particularly counting as her options narrowed to those where the cameras would loop a whole two hours' worth of footage. In truth, what she physically saw was typically only ever what was "closest to reality", the "alternate presents" that had been most nearly avoided for the current. Honestly, the well she dipped into with this ability was so deep that she'd never dared to try and perceive the bottom, certain that she might go mad if she did. In fact, were it not for her interactions with the Pink One, she might not even be able to look as deeply as she did now. The way her powers had absolutely spazzed out daily at the merest sight of the Pink One had -of all things- actually exercised them in a way, flexed the "muscle" of her power in a way it hadn't been before. It was the equivalent of looking into the void and, miraculously, not having it stare back just long enough for you to look away, recover... and then stare again for even longer each subsequent time.

"Security record malfunction." An even larger portion of the options were stripped away, as she doubled down. As the security systems were surely plugged in, they were intrinsically connected enough to her original target -the clinic itself- to spread her power there. With this in place, even if the cameras miraculously returned to functionality, nothing they observed would be properly recorded. And then, once the transformation automatically faded away in about three to four hours, there would be no evidence, even if somehow both problems were solved, since the recording would fade away into the aether when being replaced by the return of the building's original form.

She could specify more, but she didn't want to commit too hard at this stage. Too much power and too many changes might gather attention before she was ready to exfiltrate. So, these alone would have to do.

"Otherwise unchanged." Closing her eyes, Chinami brushed away the remainder and took hold of her selection, pressing it down against reality. In much the same way her spectral second body currently overlayed her form, so too now did her choice begin to sink into the clinic with a light, barely perceptible vibration, the kind that only a dog might whimper at. Her power pressed into the building with it over the course of the next couple minutes, imposing the alternate present into taking its new rightful place.

A vein lightly bulging in her forehead from the effort, Chinami breathed deeply for several long moments afterwards, catching her second wind from the size of change. Honestly, she hadn't even been trying for much, but that had still almost felt like a gut punch. Overall, however, it should be worth it to keep anything that happened here from coming back to haunt her... hopefully.

Standing up, a thought occurred that might save some time. Striding over to the stairwell, she briefly tried the door.

Locked.

Giving a long-suffering exhale, Chinami's second body stepped away, and her primary near-immediately became soaked by rainwater in the wake of the lifted protections. Grumbling at the black hoodie and hair now clinging to her form, the Goth observed through her extended soul's eyes, as the pearly-white and electric-blue golem-like being phased through the door to the roof. On the other side, a short stairwell stood silently, as expected of a mere two-story building. Glancing around, her Spirit sighted the doors to both the second and first floors proper, searching for... an apparently absent directory of the premises. Instead, they were quite unhelpfully labeled "first floor" and "second floor".

"Wonderful," she drawled. It was strange. What was the point of even labeling something so obvious?

She retracted her Spirit back out into the rain with a frown, brows furrowed, before firming her shoulders and beginning to slowly walk a large ring around the center of rooftop. With a flex of will, the currently soaking girl's Spirit abruptly turned near-entirely invisible, as its selective tangibility rendered all but its glowing blue eyes capable of contacting light. Appropriately concealed, the projection of her soul slipped silently down into the roof as she walked, poking its eyes out to glance at the rooms below.

Soft beige and blue colors appropriate to the building's claimed purpose greeted her. The floors were tiled in the general walking areas along with what appeared to be some sort of customer service area... currently unstaffed. Frowning deeper, Chinami's stride took her over the areas with doors, offices. There were surprisingly few for the size of the building... shockingly few -only about four- for an operation that supposedly had the sway to push around the Great Four Academies. These too appeared to be barren of life, not a single doctor or patient in sight, nor so much as a janitor cleaning up whatever might have assumedly spilled to clear everyone out.

Assuming there was a spill... and assuming there were ever doctors and other staff to begin with. She couldn't speculate for certain on where everyone had gone or what might have happened to them... if, indeed, there had been anyone for something to happen to at all, but this area clearly wasn't well equipped for receiving patients. If whoever was responsible for this trap wanted to maintain even a thin veneer of legitimacy, they must have been keeping patients limited to the bottom floor. But...

The sound, even to her Spirit's vastly enhanced hearing, even with the low drone of the rain overhead and rushing in her first body's ears...

It was... quiet...

"Too quiet," Chinami murmured.

And almost too convenient. A barren empty floor with empty offices? This smelled so much like a trap that it felt like ants were crawling up her spine. Would she even be able to find anything of incriminating value up here at all? If there were no doctors... Or rather, if the likely fake doctors all kept their offices on the lower floor, then she might just be wasting precious time unlocking and searching empty filing cabinets. Speaking of which...

Irregardless of how few of them there were, several filing cabinets and drawers could be found in those few offices that did appear functional. Whether they were stocked at all, she couldn't say from her current position, but better she not waste the possibility that she'd strike paydirt.

Bringing her Spirit to a standing position atop the roof, Chinami walked into its space, rolling her shoulders in satisfaction, as the rainwater was all but leeched off of her body, sloshing into the large puddle on the rooftop. Settling for one of the offices that faced away from the main road outside, Chinami stepped over to the side of the roof, glancing around briefly for potential witnesses, none of which seemed to be forthcoming in this weather.

With a grunt, her fingers took purchase on the chain-link fence circling the roof and bore her upward. In a smooth, practiced motion, she hefted both legs over the top one at a time and clambered down till her feet found footing on the lip of the roof. Crouching, she took hold of the lowest rings of the fence and began lowering her legs, before switching her hand grip to merely the lip of the roof entirely. Glancing down unworried at the two-story drop that frankly paled in comparison to a fair few she'd faced in ruins so long ago, Chinami released her grip, going into free-fall for the split second it took her enhanced hands to snag the windowsill below.

Huffing, she held herself steady, as her Spirit relinquished its protection of her left arm to phase through the window and unlock it from the inside, before reaching down to smoothly slide it open and lift away the closed blinds. Chinami promptly hefted herself up, ducking, as she hooked one leg up and sat in the opening.

Crimson eyes narrowed warily, as she paused briefly, waiting to see if crossing the threshold triggered any sort of alarm or perhaps magical ward. After a long few moments, when none seemed forthcoming, she rolled her jaw and entered fully, her Spirit phasing the water from her once more soaked arm. She briefly considered closing the window behind her but decided it probably mattered little, given the circumstances. That said, she still closed it halfway and replaced the blinds to keep the rain from simply spilling in blatantly.

Striding over to the door, Chinami phased her Spirit's eyes through, making a final cautious glance around for any sign of incoming unwanted company. Seeing none, she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, eying the filing cabinets and drawers in the room.

The more she saw, the more her unease grew. Some small part of her had actually thought she might be acting paranoid, that she was spitefully rejecting genuine -if misguided- good will from a concerned citizen... Well, that part of her was well and truly silent by this point. Cracking her knuckles, she stepped towards the cabinets, her Spirit preparing to phase any pesky lock tumblers into their rightful place.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Michael looked down at his wrists and forearms, trying to determine more efficient shapes for his Symbolism. Michael was trying to use the Midnight Tournament for training rather than actually winning it. For now, he was determined to use only his Symbolism, and only to give his body a physical boost. He wanted to know how far he could go by relying on hand-to-hand combat.

Michael got lucky with his first opponent, who had the ability to enlarge his muscles and increase his strength. Michael painted symbols all over his body, increasing the resistance of his upper body while also increasing the speed of his lower body. He also painted symbols around his eyes to aid their ability to observe his opponent's movements. He believed these enhancements would be enough to serve his purposes. After all, Michael's opponent was strong and tough, but slow. Michael spent the majority of the fight dodging and deflecting blows. Michael did face some attacks he could not evade a couple times when his opponent stomped on the ground and released a shockwave that knocked him down and disoriented him. However, Michael managed to roll away to recover before any real damage could be done.

Eventually, his opponent began to show signs of exhaustion, prompting Michael to begin his counterattack. The muscleman tried to defend himself, but Michael was just a bit faster, slipping past his defenses and hammering away at him. Michael did not give him a chance to use big moves, and the small ones were easily countered. Any of his opponent's attempts to strike back were met with a deflection using one arm and a solid strike using the other.

Finally, Michael's moves took its toll on his opponent, and the muscleman fell to the ground, battered and defeated. The spectators cheered as he went down, and Michael placed his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths to recharge his body's energy. It was only the first round, after all. He still had a few more to take on, and he wanted to be ready for them.

---

The next fight ended much quicker. Sometimes, people just wanted to watch a quick beatdown, and that was what Andras provided. There was an exchange of grandeur and posturing, and then the match was over with a simple beam attack. Michael never did understand the desire to display so much bravado and, quite frankly, found it ridiculous. Still, at this point it was basically a ceremony to perform in each battle, so Michael did not dwell on it too long. As the match ended, Michael provided a simple clapping as a gesture of congratulations to Andras.

"That was a powerful blow, Alexandria, but was the one-liner really necessary?" Michael asked, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

Alexandria gave a small yelp of surprise when she noticed Michael. "O-Oh, I-I didn't see you there." She put a hand to her chest and steadied herself. "I-I mean." She cleared her throat. "Alexandria? You must be mistaken. I am A-Andras." Her voice was shaking slightly with nervousness.

Andras turned her face away from Michael. 'Why did someone I have to know be here?! He was the one who's seen me get winded climbing up stairs for the past year!' She took another deep breath as a new wave of embarrassment washed over her. 'But I already went and acted like I was someone else... What do I do?!'

Andras turned back, giving a weak and awkward laugh. "A-haha. A-After consulting the Root of All Magic, I can see who you really are now, Michael. Though I don't know this Alexa- This girl you seem to think I am! I will humor you." She flashed an uncomfortable fake grin.

@Scarifar

---

Two of their star patients for the day had arrived. The receptionist handed then paperwork to fill out, but they would not all be seated long. A man with graying hair, glasses, and a moustache strode into the room and smiled.

"Ah, two of you already. Well, nothing wrong with being punctual. The paperwork should keep you busy for a bit longer, so why don't I get one of you started so the other doesn't have to wait too long after they finish?" He gaze flitted between the two before settling on Ken. "Ken, isn't it? I believe I had you scheduled first. I'm Dr. Nightman. Now, if you'd just come with me, we can worry about your paperwork later," he told the teen before gesturing for him to follow.

They went down the hall, passing a few empty rooms, before settling on Room #7.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured to a comfortable, cushioned chair set against the wall. The room was sparsely furnished and not terribly large. THere was another chair opposite the one Ken had been directed to use that the doctor took for himself, and beside the doctor's chair was a small cabinet to his right, and a bookshelf to his left. The bookshelf had a few books and trinkets to allow the eye to wander a bit. Aside from that was simply a small end table to the right of Ken's chair.

There was a window, but the blinds were drawn, not that there was much light to let in on such a cloudy day.

There was notably no clock, though the doctor had a wrist-watch.

For a moment, the only noise was the faint sound of rainfall outside.

"So," Nightman broke the brief quiet, "I feel a certain level of trust is required for someone in my profession to succeed. In order for me to ask you here, I had to do some research, so I already know a bit about you. I feel it's only fair that I begin by allowing you to ask any questions you may have. Even the playing field as it were. So... is there anything you wish you ask?"

---

---

Reverio would, a short time later, see Dr. Nightman return.

"All right, your turn, Mr. Galand. Come with me, would you?" The boy would then be led a short way down the hall to Room #5. "Please, take a seat." The room was sparsely furnished and not terribly large. There was another chair opposite the one Ken had been directed to use that the doctor took for himself, and beside the doctor's chair was a small cabinet to his right, and a bookshelf to his left. The bookshelf had a few books and trinkets to allow the eye to wander a bit. Aside from that was simply a small end table to the right of Reverio's chair.

There was a window, but the blinds were drawn, not that there was much light to let in on such a cloudy day.

There was notably no clock, though the doctor had a wrist-watch.

"Now, Reverio, I prefer a first-name basis if that's fine with you," he began, "I'm afraid your history is not much of a secret. I won't say more than that until you let me know you're ready to discuss it, but that is why I've asked you here. This is not to say there has specifically been any worrying behavior noticed by the faculty at your school, but... when individuals go through trying experiences and seemingly emerge from them unscathed... that can be a cause for concern in and of itself. If you'd like, you can consider this appointment an... assessment, to see if those concerns are founded or not," he told the boy. "So, before I continue, is there anything you would like to say or ask?"

---

---

The cabinet surrendered quickly to Chinami's power and gave up its contents. Inside were files in alphabetical order.

The first belonged to a man named Albert.

As Chinami continued on to violate the man's confidential medical information, she discovered his age, date of birth, address, phone number, his gifted power, and many notes about his weight and suggested nutritional plan... wait.

Back on the desk of this office, there was a name tag reading "Dr. Anita Sorian, Nutritionist." Ah, wrong office. She'd have to violate someone else's medical history. That said, one had to wonder, did this mean the office was real? Was Anita real? Was Nightman alone a fraud and the rest of the office legitimate?

Was it all real?

The only way to know for sure would be to find Nightman's office. Alternatively, there was an entire call-center full of unattended computers and desks back in the deserted customer-service area. If this place was real, if it had ever had employees, then perhaps the simple grunts weren't so careful as the mastermind behind it all.

Or, Chinami could simply show up for her scheduled appointment and confront the man head on while her intrusion remained undetected.

These were the options before her. The most obvious ones, anyway.

The young man flexed his fingers, still unaccostumed to the feeling of the biker gloves. With slow, careful steps of his boots he entered the madness of the ring. He had chosen some heavy duty clothes for his protection, which gave him a rough and tumble look.

Well, except for the neon pink t-shirt with a lime green logo, who said "PIZZA TIME". He did need a sponsor after all. Unlike half of the rich kids and their flamboyant powers, he had very little on his back. He could asked Celestine for more... but that person seemed to take more than give at times. So, he had settled for humilliating himself with such a garish look.

A booming voice was heard, of a metallic quality.

"YOU FOOL, BASK IN THE PRESENCE OF PSYLORD OVERMIND. I SHALL GET RID OF YOU AND YOUR CRIME AGAINST FASHION WITH MIND BULLETS" His opponent, was tall and lanky, and seemed to sway in mid air. He had chosen to attach random shiny metal bits to a jumpsuit, as well as glowsticks.

"Says the one with a bucket on his head with glowsticks taped to them."

"PSY HelM, FOol!" His voice cracked with bluster. "DISAPPearRr!"

And it hit him. A rain of mental psychic energies that bruised his flesh badly...like an airsoft shootout. While the initial bout of pain startled Parker, he had been through much much worse.

Stone the powerless freak! And his freak girlfriend!

He gritted his teeth as he endured the pain, and as soon as the rain stopped, shot a withering glare to the so called Psylord.

"FEEL THE PAIN TRAIN!" He screamed at Parker, before he noticed his glare."Uh...shouldn't you be going down or something?"

Parker cricked his neck in response, before closing the distance fast, and in a display of martial skill, landed a kick on Psylord's solar plexus.

"Mommy!" The cretin said, before assuming a half-assed fighting stance. "BuT SOON you wiLL fEAR me. I READ YOUr moves!" He said, while dodging Parker's blows.

In response, Parker became even more unrelenting, and faster. Psylord kept dodging, but eventually there is so much cardio a basement dweller could do.

Clonk!

With a mighty kick, the bucket was sent off flying, as the acne ridden face of a greasy youth with teeth brackets, who had the hint of a nosebleed, feverish eyes looking at his opponent.

"You will payyy!" He squeaked, as Parker could feel an invisible force lifting him off the ground, no matter how hard he flailed. His eyes kept being locked with those of the Psylord.

"I SHALL UNVEIL ALl oF YOUR secrets!" He screamed. "I see a pink haired girl, in a shower, smiling coyly... just like you wished... and she turns around and..."

It was at this point that Psylord stood still, becoming very silent. He clutched his eyes. "...cant unsee!" He squeaked faintly. "It burns..." He said, as Parker was dropped like a hot potato.

He got up immediatedly, as he towered over the crumpled Psylord.

"Say it." He said.

"Say what? I am sorry, oh god please..." The pathetic wimper of the psychic teenager was heard.

SLAP

The hand of Parker colliding with Psylord's cheek made a sound that was heard through the entire arena.

"Ow!"

"Say it." Parker insisted, his palm firm and open, ready for a reprise.

"Say what?"

SLAP

"Ow! I yield! I give up!"

It was at this point that Parker's hand turned to tap Psylord's shoulder, before whispering to his ear. "Next time you voice my inner thoughts I will break your legs in three places, understand?"

Psylord just nodded, to which Parker gave a him a friendly pat on the head before leaving. The bruising stung a bit, but it looked he still was in the tournament. Oh well.

Ken to Reverio

"Indeed," Ken said to Reverio. "So, it seems that you got the message as well? By the way, what should I call you? Prince, Your Highness, or just Reverio or 'Rev'?"

He knew of Reverio's life before coming to Rhea; the other youth might be older than him, but Ken was still his academic senior plus interested in the lives of his fellow students. Well, most of them. To be honest, the boy suspected his fellow student of hiding the very mental issues that Dr. Nightman had said he had, and 'Rev's' appearance in this clinic provided circumstantial proof of that.

Or was he just being judgemental? His parents always said that he failed to consider multiple angles and the 'human factor' in strategy and tactics and management. Maybe Reverio was the kind and good and fun-loving person he always seemed like; maybe the trauma of his family's death and his own exile hadn't actually made him a worse person or driven him to self-destructive tendencies. Maybe Ken Illustrious Ikari was being paranoid or even projecting his own issues onto someone in similar circumstances.

Maybe. But he had to admit, he doubted...

Ken to Dr. Nightman

Ken was upfront as he said, "I've done my background check on you; absolutely no one has your level of unreasonably good reviews unless bribery, coercion, and fraud or any combination of such are used. Nevertheless, on the off-chance you are sincere, I'll share a few things about myself which will only harm me in the long run, not the short term."

He then breathed in and out, "I'm an arrogant asshole deep inside. I like thinking of myself as a genius, a prodigy, and using big words to make myself look intelligent. I also want the throne of Izumo even if my parents do not want to have it or are perfectly willing to stay in Rhea, which, granted, is one of the best cities in the world."

The boy then took a few moment's pauses before continuing, "But I value my friends to try and curb that truth about myself. I support them and their goals and try and help them as much as possible. So if you, and this is only speculation, want to brainwash me into turning against said friends, I am ready to fight."

Ken then looked at the Doctor's eyes as he tried to assess the impact of his words, "But if you're actually sincere about wanting to help me, present proof now or I will have your corpse cooling on the ground, damn the consequences before you get to Prince Galand..."

@KillamriX88@Dezuel@Lewascan2

Reverio Galand

Reverio shook his head quickly to Ken, his nickname as the prince of peasants were one he disliked with a passion. Although he seldom allowed his disdain for it be shown, but then again most titles were a thing of the past.

"That's right. Ahh... Rev works." He said with a slight smile, and were just about to ask for the other young man's name and shake his hand, but he were interupted by the doctor who had by then shown up calling the other young man up. Parting his name to Reverio, neither had the chance to introduce themselves. Back in Vaquelin this would had been an outrage at court, even amidst the servantfolk. But he wasn't in Vaquelin anymore, Rhea had it differences, and to be completely fair had many things going in it's favor.

The peasant prince offered a polite nod to Ken as he was called forth, and another to the doctor. Had he really been that fast at getting to the clinic? Perhaps the streets were shorter than they appeared. Reverio blew some air through his nose and leaned back into his seat, throwing a glance at the ceiling and overall decoration of the room, then came his own turn to be called by the doctor.

"Yes." The blonde young man replied to the doctor's beckon to follow him, there was no reason not to, after all he had been called to this place and come willingly to find out. Why? Upon entering the room labeled as number five, it made him wonder just how many worked in this clinic for there to be at least five rooms. Pondering aside, his eyes scanned the room, which didn't seem anything extraordinary. There were a chessboard in one of the corners of the room, close to one of the covered windows.

"I hope you don't mind if I stand for awhile doctor, I sat plenty in the reception room. There's something about being able to think more clearly while you are standing upright or wandering compared to sitting down. I am fine with using firstnames, does that mean you shall part yours in return?" The blonde young man offered a soft upturn at the corner of his mouth, as his hand softly caressed the side of the chessboard.

"You are correct, my past has been written and spoken of by many during these years, even prior to coming here to Rhea. That is why I didn't think it would be anything odd in being called in this manner, after all your work is to help people right? At least that's what I have understood. When it concerns my past, I have come to terms with it, three years have passed since. There's not much use in dwelling on the past, as you cannot ever change it, and even if you had the power to do so, what's to say you would succeed in your goals? The people of Vaquelin have no desire to go chase off a cast-away prince of peasants after all. Their anger were towards the king and the queen to be." Reverio blew some air through his nose, as he looked towards doctor Nightman, before throwing a glance to the chessboard.

"You play chess?" He asked in a curious tone and a slight smile, before reaching out to the pieces on the board. "A few of the pieces here are in the wrong place though, perhaps a former game? Disarray can be a common thing after going through various experiences as I am certain you are well aware of. In every person's life." Reverio reached out with his gloved white hand, gently taking hold of one of the white bishops, which stood on the king's spot on the board, and then moved the pieces back to their original places.

"But I understand, you didn't call me here to play chess, I just think life is very much like chess, in that we all take turn to make our moves. In the hopes of winning the game. In real life that could be respect, power, wealth, love and many other things, but most could be summerized as success. The white pieces fight the black, and vice versa, each hoping to win by inflicting a checkmate on the king. But that's where things differ. Outside of chess, the defeat of a king doesn't mean ultimate success. But perhaps that is because we have a much more advanced set of rules which we abide by. Life would have been so much simpler had it been akin to chess, but would it had been as enjoyable, doctor?" The blonde young man shook his head softly from side to side, causing his hair to slightly bounce.

"You became a therapist in order to find an answer to a problem of your own didn't you? I know that isn't my buisness, but I think most people have their problems, some smaller, some greater. But personally I don't see a reason to talk about a past that is just that. The past. I would rather talk of the future." Reverio straightened himself up, walking over towards the bookcase, looking over the various books stored in it. Then the young man turned around towards the doctor, his eyes momentarily closing as he smiled.

'But even so, the past events shape your path towards the future no matter how hard you try to deny it. For us all. An unforgetable thing.' The young man thought to himself, he didn't believe this doctor would hold anything he desired. But what harm would there be?

@Letter Bee@KillamriX88@Lewascan2

A single drop of water splashed upon Alyona's face. And a second. And soon the air was saturated with drops, all seemingly pointed directly towards the young woman. She clicked her tongue and picked up her pace. "Of course. There was a two percent chance of rain today. 'No, Alyona, you don't need to bring an umbrella, there's no way the heavens themselves would bend over backwards to inconvenience you!' I'm such an idiot."

Being in a new city had almost diminished her bitter pessimism. New sights, new people, none of which knew her as the walking curse that she actually was. It was nice... But reality crept back in, as it always tended to. Alyona started up to a brisk jog as the rain began to intensify, as if it had locked onto the poor girl. 'Of course there's not a single piece of cover overhead as well.' The long brick wall she was walking along opened to a gate which opened up to a school courtyard. 'Good enough for me!' She thought, turning her jog into a dash to the school's entrance area.

Alyona sat down on a bench and caught her breath. Her clothes were already saturated with water, but she had managed to protect her bag from having water soak into its contents. She was just thankful that she didn't slip while running across the featureless school courtyard and break something. "Well. Now wha-"

A scream from deeper inside the school interrupted Alyona's self-directed question. "Ah. This must be that kind of school. Well... Not my problem." She went back to observing the rainy school courtyard, humming to herself.

After a moment, she suddenly shot to her feet. "Wait! I can probably save the day and get some chump to buy me a ride home. All right! Perfect. Forget getting an umbrella... Or even walking!" Alyona grabbed her bag and started towards the source of the noise.

Michael had a curious expression on his face as he stared at Alexandria, curious about the "Andras" name. He hadn't heard this name before. It certainly never came up before in the times they hung out. Clearly, it was a persona to use in situations like this tournament. Whatever the case, Michael didn't really care about it.

In the end, he decided to play along with her. Shrugging, he replied, "Alright then, Andras. Just wanted to say that I wanna see more of these amazing feats you can do with this 'Root of All Magic'." At the very least, Michael knew her ability was the real deal, and it was what fascinated him the most about her. "I have high expectations of you," he added, smiling back at Andras. Leaning closer, Michael whispered to her, "If you want to use a persona, though, might I suggest bringing a mask or something, so a situation like this doesn't happen again?"

In hindsight, she maybe should have double-checked for traps on the filing cabinets beforehand.

Well, to be fair, as her Spirit's fingers deftly maneuvered the lock tumblers and extracted the contents of several cabinets, nothing actually jumped out at her. This time. Honestly, after half a decade, she'd gotten rusty, complacent. Life had been good to her, too good in some ways. Despite the frustration of reeducating herself, she had plodded along unbothered by nearly every other metric, exactly as she wanted. And that sort of quality of life ease was want to soften even the most hardened soul.

Point being, in hindsight, she'd made several mistakes in her approach thus-far, mistakes she hadn't been punished for, but that could be as much due to luck as anything else. She'd been acting irrationally; she would admit it freely. She was stressed and... angry. Furious, in fact. Chinami genuinely could not physically recall any event prior that had elicited such a bout a sharp, roiling and all-consuming rage and hate for another being, and so, she knew that she was biased, heavily so, irrationally so. She was looking less for truth and more an excuse to handle this is a way that was, objectively, absolutely horrible for her future prospects in living a quiet, peaceful life.

It was that acknowledgement of the self-destructive nature and consequences of indulging that rage that tempered her wrath, that stopped her from simply burning the clinic down just to be safe... and, admittedly, for the offense of wasting her time and inconveniencing her so drastically. Although, the risk of harming innocents had... not necessarily been factored out. She didn't think of herself as a cruel or crazy person. Spiteful and willing to dole out what others might see as disproportionate retribution, yes. But never truly cruel for cruelty's sake, especially not to those that had done her no wrong.

And it was that self awareness that drew her lips into a thin line and furrowed her brow, as she used her Spirit's high-speed perceptions to quickly flick through the patient files in alphabetical order, skimming everything but the sections related to treatments and prescriptions. She wasn't a doctor, so she wouldn't be able to pick out a particularly suspicious chemical on its own. However, if the files kept any record of an unusual amount of people taking the same thing with mismatched symptoms, then that could be a clue.

A clue that refused to surrender itself.

Closing her eyes, Chinami took a slow, calming breath, as her Spirit straightened out and replaced the files, beginning to lock up the cabinets once more. While she'd had the good fortune to stumble upon the nutritionist's office, the files that would have likely contained something out of place in the area she'd been most suspicious of were barren of useful information. At this point, if there were any place she'd be certain to find incriminating info -if, indeed, there was anything to uncover to begin with...

It would be Dr. Nightman's office.

A traitorous thought whispered that it would be all too simple to get access if she would just go to the appointment, but...

Exhaling in frustration, Chinami restrained a snarl.

No.

Not just 'no'.

"Hell no," the Goth girl hissed under her breath.

Even if she was wrong. Even if her paranoia was misplaced. No matter what, she would not ever allow someone to intimidate her in such a manner and threaten her present and future success! She, Chinami Nadakai, had claimed her rightful destiny of a peaceful civilian life through blood and sacrifice, had escaped the drudgery and danger of an uncivilized lifestyle and taken control with her own two hands! She had passed a mystical test by means even she didn't understand, a test that only proved what she already knew: that her way was the right way, the path she had chosen for herself, and thus, the Only True Path!

This piece of shit doctor, with his platitudes and prescriptions... he could take his concerns and his schemes and shove them up his ass! Chinami Nadakai would never submit to anyone that would rip her free will, her divine right to choose her own destiny, away from her! No matter their intentions! No matter their methods! She would prevail! That was the power granted to her, the divine right to alter the world for herself! That world had no right to demand she change in turn! And yet, even still, she didn't ask for much, didn't impose her will on others tyrannically! No! She had chosen to restrain herself, to live quietly and peacefully, adhering to the rules of society! She didn't pick fights or engage in violent vigilantism. She didn't abuse her powers to oppress others! She had done all this, done as any good, lawful citizen should, abandoned her dangerous lifestyle as so many of her former colleagues wished she would.

And after nearly five years of doing everything right, what did she get for it?

Threats, a massive invasion of privacy, and the abject humiliation of a fucking mental clinic trying to associate itself with her.

Unacceptable.

White knuckled and resolved, Chinami sent her Spirit through the door once more to scout ahead, spying a satisfactorily empty hallway. Unlocking it, the Goth hurried her pace. She had no idea how long she might be alone up here, but she knew what she needed by this point, knew exactly what she should be looking for. So, with that in mind, Chinami hurried to each of the three remaining upstairs offices, entering quickly and checking the name tags on each desk.

Nope, nadda and zilch.

Not one belonged to Dr. Nightman.

That confirmed it. Locking up each room securely, Chinami nodded to herself resolutely, dismissing the documents left unsearched in each. Logically speaking, if this were a trap, only an absolute moron would store anything incriminating on an entirely unguarded floor. Unfortunately, she wasn't lucky enough to be facing one, and she was merely wasting time up here. The real bounty -if there were anything to find- would be downstairs. Her Spirit, aside from its blue eyes, turned intangible to light again, diving into the floor, as Chinami started a hurried jog down both sides of the upstairs halls, prepping to start diving her Spirit about along the ceilings in search of a particular office. Her Spirit's accelerated perceptions would allow her to thoroughly canvas the area, even without taking a slow methodical search.

Her search was unexpectedly waylaid by serious paydirt.

Dr. Nightman himself, striding down the main hall...

And he had a patient, a brunette boy in green.

Tensely, Chinami cut her search and drew her Spirit near fully into the ceiling, carefully poking the eyes out on occasion, as she followed along behind at a steady pace. Honestly, she couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. If the Doctor was going to pull something untoward, she could witness it personally and intervene if necessary. All she needed was one definitive serious misstep, but... If there was truly nothing to be found? Well, regardless, a plan, a genuinely reasonable strategy, had started to formulate within her.

And the more she thought about it, the more she almost started to hope this asshole was legitimate. In some ways, to achieve victory in such a reasoned, rational way would be even more satisfying than resorting to ultra-violence, elicited even more glee within her at the idea up shoving proverbial salt in the wound. Chinami couldn't help a smug grin twisting her expression, as she truly considered the alternative, digging her phone out of her pocket and scrolling through her contacts to a very particular number.

Even if she had to go through them. Even if it cost her a favor... Yes, now her lingering doubts were laid to rest. With this backup plan in place, she would inevitably triumph in the end. And even if it inconvenienced her a bit in the short term, it would still be leagues less annoying than humoring this pathetic clinic.

The boy and Dr. Nightman entered his office, and Chinami briefly retracted her Spirit to unlock the room directly above it, moving in and locking the door behind her. Striding to the center of the room to expand her Spirit's effective reach to the area below, Chinami crouched down and sent her Spirit forth once more, peeking its eyes out overhead, shielded in part by the overhead light covering up their glow. It would likely take close and deliberate scrutinization -more than a casual glance- to catch sight of them... or so she hoped.

Nightman and the boy took admittedly comfortable-looking seats across from each other, and Chinami had her Spirit pan a quick visual once-over of the room with its gaze, noting the sparseness of it all. Originally, she'd thought the general lack of decor and content was unusual, but then again, she'd never gone to a place of therapy before. Perhaps that wasn't something so odd. What did seem a bit out of place, regardless, was the lack of a clock, indicative of... nothing she could say for certain yet.

After a small stretch of quiet, the Doctor began talking, presenting his little pitch of the context behind his actions, to which Chinami frowned. Apparently, this kid was another student. She didn't recognize him, but that was hardly unusual. The Doctor's pitch sounded relatively reasonable... too much so. Rather, it was so well worded that she could end up being the one that seemed unreasonable for opposing it. In fact, now that she had a baseline for what to expect, Chinami would put good money on herself being able to successfully spoof such an assessment herself and simply get on with her life... She could get this over with, go home, and hopefully never come back again...

Yeah, fuck that.

Doctor Nightman could feed his assessment to the dogs. She wouldn't be coerced, no matter how well he put it. The more she heard, the more certain she was that either of her plans would work just fine. The only question was which one the "Good Doctor" would elicit from her in the end.

The boy began speaking, and Chinami all but choked on her own spit. It was... Okay, some of it was like listening to a disturbing funhouse mirror of her own concerns regarding the situation. In other respects... Holy shit, this guy had fucking balls -if nothing else. The fact that -if he was being genuine- he would just spill his whole psychology out on someone else at the drop of a hat, regardless of whether it was a therapist or not, was mind boggling to the Goth.

There was also the... interesting moral platitudes he was giving, that would assumedly rather sharply clash with his self-professed arrogance and king-complex. King complex? The throne? This guy was related to Izumo royalty? Him? He was either ambitious as all fuck, delusional or some fascinating combination of the two, but she could admittedly respect his guts... somewhat. She wasn't sure if to call the outright threats he ended off with brave or fucking mad.

Also, Prince Galand? The name strongly tickled her memory, but the conversation -turned potential confrontation- at hand was too important to ignore. So, Chinami, her Spirit wide-eyed and coiled like a spring, watched and waited for the Doctor's reaction. If there would be any early and definitive test of character that would inform her approach going forward... it would be now.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

---

The was a brief pause as Ken decided to start off his appointment by overtly threatening the doctor's life. The man then just chuckled.

"Oh dear. Mind control? No, no, while I can only offer you my word that that isn't the case, well, that simply isn't the case," the man said. After all, how could one prove they didn't posses mind control powers aside from... not doing that. "So, you've made quite a statement, so let's start with that, shall we." The man leaned back, folding his hands on his lap. "You've already suffered a betrayal in the past, and so a healthy skepticism of those around you is warranted. That said, when skepticism grows into paranoia, we can no longer truly call it healthy. So, I'd like to ask you, does this threat on my life come from a place of suspecting I work for those who've harmed you in the past, or do you hypothesize I am potentially a new threat entirely?

"It's an important distinction, you see. Are you simply wary that they will try again, or have you begun to see enemies hiding in every shadow? Neither are entirely unreasonable considering what you've experienced, but one is far more troubling than the other, so I can't help but wonder what it is you feel."

---

---

"Ah, of course." The doctor smiled. "I get a little too far ahead of myself, sometimes. My full name would be Dr. Simon Nightman. As for that chess set, well, a former patient of mine loved chess. A few patients since have enjoyed fidgeting with it, so I've kept it around is all. Never did find the time to learn it myself," he told the boy before continuing to listen to his... speech. The child wasn't shy, that was for sure. "Hmm, looking to the future. In some ways, that is a positive thing to do, so long as it isn't born of an aversion to ones past. The past, after all, is the foundation upon which the future is built. If we are not at peace with it, that foundation may crumble."

He stood up, leaning against the cabinet, so as to be on similar footing to the boy, "So, do you mean to suggest you feel you are already at peace with your past? I must say, as much as I wish for that to be true, for your sake, I find myself skeptical. Very few could weather such a storm unscathed, and just as few could recover so quickly."

He pauses a moment, "But, regardless, it's unpleasant isn't it? And we've only just begun speaking, so let's do as you say and look at the future. At this moment, do you have a picture of what the future is for you? Or, at least, what you wish it to be?"

---

---

Ahh, good old Midnight. A place to get a drink and watch idiots pound each others faces in, and all in a place far, far removed from anywhere her parents would ever approve of. She was running late for the night's festivities, but made it just in time to watch some moron wearing a literal bucket on his head get the shit smacked out of him by some guy in a pizza shirt.

Fantastic.

"Hey, bitch, where've you been?" A gregarious girl suddenly draped herself over Vera.

"Oh, you know where I've been. And if you don't, I'd rather keep it that way anyway." Vera didn't flinch at the invasion of her personal space.

"Hmm, lemme guess, being the teacher's pet and making sure your homework is done first?" the girl mocked her.

"Pfft, of course. I'm aiming a little higher than just being a delivery service for your latest fix, dumbass. Change your tune and be nice and I might even scoop you out of the gutters some day." Vera smirked.

"Ha, speaking of whi-" The girl began reaching for Vera's purse, but her hand was slapped away.

"Patience, dear. There are prying eyes everywhere." Vera slithered free of the girl's grasp and went over to lean against the bar where she'd have a decent view of the upcoming fights.

"Well, we're in the quarter-finals now, ladies, gents, and dredges! For the first match, the little devil herself, Andras!" The MC announced loudly over the speakers.

"The hell kind of name is Andras?" Vera quirked an eyebrow.

"I dunno, she's just some weird girl who talks a big game. Real head in the clouds type, but she won her last fight in like five seconds, so I guess she's not all talk," her friend explained, still edging toward Vera anxiously. "So, uhh-"

Whatever her friend said next was lost to the ether as Vera just sort've... left mentally. The girl who went by Andras walked into view and for a second Vera thought nothing of her. In the next second, everything else just went away. Something was gnawing at her fiercely and would suffer no distraction. She never even heard the girl's opponent announced.

"-to Vera! Hellooo?!" She was snapped half-way back to reality by her friend literally shouting into her ear. Vera just reached out, grabbing the girl by her face, and shoved her aside, not even sparing her a glance as she complained. "What the fuck?!" But Vera was already walking toward the arena and the soon to begin fight within.

A few other people suffered her friend's fate as they were shoved out of her way and in the next moment... Vera was in the arena.

"Uhhh, hold up folks..." The MC was as baffled as everyone else.

Vera, meanwhile, was simply staring at "Andras", trembling and on the verge of hyperventilating. Words wouldn't come out. She tried. She tried again, but only a weak whimper could escape even when she finally bid her lips to part. Her legs, however, were still working, albeit barely. A halting step toward the girl, then another.

Those in the audience, perplexed and annoyed as they were, seemed to have picked up on the state Vera was in and for a moment longer at least, most held their tongues hoping to sate their curiosity by letting things play out.

"A-Alex?" Vera finally managed to voice the name that had finally come to her. "It's-"

There was one, however, who turned out to be far less patient than anyone else. Andras's opponent. He stomped over, grabbing Vera's arm, but as if his hand was on fire Vera, violently jerked herself away, her steps towards Andras suddenly hastened.

"I-it is you, isn't it? Alex?" Vera's voice shook, sounding almost as if she was begging for herself to be right. Up close, she was more convinced than ever that she was right... but it had been so long. They had all grown. They were all different.

For some reason she now had an eyepatch. Why did she have an eyepatch!?

"I-it's me, Ve-" And her arm was grabbed again.

"Look, bitch, I don't care who either of you are and you're in the way, so get the fuck-!" But he hadn't gotten the memo. Vera would suffer no distraction.

BOOM!

Vera once more jerked her arm free, but this time her elbow rocketed back up into the guy's face. He took one wobbly step backwards -- and then teetered over and collapsed, out cold, all punctuated by a collective gasp from the crowd.

Afterward, Vera simply stood there, breathing heavily, eyes wide with hostility, completely out of sorts, and a line of tears leaking form her eyes as if they'd finally been shaken free by the sudden burst of motion.

"Ho-lee shit...!"
"Vera, what the fuck!"

"Heeey hex girl!" A coy voice shook Alyonna from her thoughts, as confident petite steps danced around the rain, the most vomit-inducing yellow umbrella of all things. On their other hand, there was one most curious thing. A stupid eyed-pigeon alongside a letter, whose bird eyes darted in every direction.

"So are you heading to beat up santa clauses? Those folks at Clausewitz sent me a letter of challenge. On a pigeon. Also your homework is ruined. This is why I text people." Celestine had arrived in tow, as they hurried along with Alyonna.

"Actual people use text messages." Celestine harumphed as they stopped all of a sudden just for a lightning bolt to narrowly miss them. "HAH, Nice try!". They jeered at the sky.

"Do I smell trouble over there?" Celestine reacted as they caught up. "It's dangerous to go alone! Take this." They said as they stretched their hand to Alyonna.

"Coo?" said the pidgeon at the motion of being offered.

---

Parker watched the situation. A crazy bitch in pink hair was causing trouble already. The situation was familiar. Whatever, he could use the chaos to thin the numbers. Less opponents, more staying chances.

"I would like to issue a protest and ask for the disqualification of the Demon Lady. Friends cannot intervene in a fight. And that... lady just floored a tournament player."

Ken to Dr. Nightman

“It’s the latter,” Ken said, “And you still have not explained why your reviews have the tone they did, which adds fuel to the fire that is already there. And no, I do not see enemies hiding behind every shadow, I see enemies hiding behind the most… suitable shadows from whence they can strike. As it is, while I am technically an Imperial Prince or even an Imperial Claimant, that’s not the only reason why I feel so paranoid.”

He then fixed a glare at Dr. Nightman, even as he measured the distance between his fist and the man’s face and whether the desk proved to be any obstruction. He also thought of tipping over the desk to unbalance the other man if he proved to be hostile. Nevertheless, Ken felt a need to talk about his psyche and its inner workings anyway, just in case the ‘therapist’ proved to be genuine or knew enough psychology that he can trick some actual advice from the guy. So the boy continued.

“I have ‘Main Protagonist Syndrome’, or rather, I suspect I have it. This is basically an unrecognized variant of ‘Narcissistic Personality Syndrome’, but the effects are the same: I see myself as a protagonist in a story centered around me but I am self-aware enough to know that it is a bad thing. I see myself acting out and trying to be ‘top dog’ in my group of friends or trying to ‘fix’ problems they are capable of fixing on their own or even trying to make their own problems all about myself and how I am affected.”

The boy shuddered with self-loathing. “And I don’t want that. I don’t want to harm my friends just because I want greatness or the feeling of greatness and I’d rather cut out my own heart than hurt them. So fraud or not, I know full well you know enough psychology or just ‘raw people skills’ to either one: Help anyway, or two, take advantage of this tendency to further some sort of ulterior agenda. For example, offering me a Quest to fight an ‘Evil Greater than the Ancient Evil’ or telling me about someone with a tragic backstory I can’t help but want to fix. After that, whether I succeed or fail, you gain something even if it is amusement.”

He then paused for a few seconds before saying, “Of course, it could be that the fact I think I’m important enough for someone to manipulate in such a long convoluted way means that I am a narcissist and the fact that I think in terms of tropes is evidence of much deeper mental issues than I already have. But enough about me - Please answer why your reviews are the way they are and present proof you’re not a threat to me or furthering some plot which will eventually harm my friends or die right now.”

Ken activated Gimlé then, and the ring cloaked him in a golden aura which when amplified by his real Blessing, ought to protect him from magical and physical counterattacks. Of course, he didn’t have a weapon, but he can always smash ‘Dr. Nightman’s’ head with the nameplate he had on his desk… Unless Dr. Nightman gave proof that he was sincere, of course.

@KillamriX88@Dezuel@Lewascan2