The recent developments seem to have shaken everyone in the zone. It was also unsurprising that personal connections have influenced the state the academy once more. Chunji seemed indifferent to the entire instruction of a new faction. Another faction only meant more competition a facet of the academy that Chunji was unwilling to participate in.

"I will be going now." With the ceremony now accomplished, Chunji left his peers to their own devices. As of right now, today was free for the rest of them.

The chitter chatter of the compact's students made it clear where Chunji would head next. Ideally, he'd like to visit Professor Lumyr's lab, but he needed to head to the clinic first.

For one, he needed to check on Davil and Steeler's conditions.

Davil's was a personal responsibility. After all, Chunji had healed him within the leyline and he had returned in a worse conditions than before. Was it because he had decided to heal Davil? If so, then the blame lay entirely on Chunji regardless of the leyline accident. As for Steeler, he wanted to check on her to see if she had fared well in her separate incident.

Arriving at the clinic, he walked up to the nearest faculty that would take his inquiry. "Hello? My name is Yi Chunji, I'm here to visit my classmates Davil Wund and... Steeler's conditions. Are their conditions healthy enough to permit visitation?"

The other reason was that he wanted to see how the clinic operated. Back in the village, the technology there was rather rustic. Seeing a clinic in a more modernized setting would help in this endeavor. Perhaps he would inquire later if he could also help around the clinic. After all, Emelie was a librarian, maybe he could help out as an intern of sorts.

Wingram, Library
@Nanaya

---

It was like being greeted by an old friend, despite only knowing Michael for a little over a day. Ciara stepped up to the desk, setting her borrowed blade to rest against the counter as she allowed her gaze to soften.

As the book, ‘Scented Pawns’, hit the front desk, Ciara found herself picking it up, and flipping open to a random page. She hadn't been aware of umbralism actually having its place and depiction in literature - not that she had anything to do with umbralism.

“Your lies sound less and less convincing, dear Hunger.” One of the Voices crooned in her head.

Ciara's face flattened into a scowl, and she snapped the book shut. “Shut up.”

One thing stuck out to her as Michael spoke. For whatever reason, upon the mentioning of werewolves getting killed off, a shiver trickled its way down Ciara's spine. She tried to shrug it off; it certainly didn't pertain to her.

“Just browsin' and want me to shut up and leave ya be, or is there somethin' you're itchin' for?”

At that, Ciara allowed herself a soft smile, placing the book back on the desk. “Actually, I’m looking for practical applications of Primal magic. I, uh,” Her gaze dropped self-consciously. “I don't have any kind of formal education on it.”

She withheld the reason why she wanted a book on this. Any advantage she could get over Iraleth later that night, well, it could mean the difference between life and… whatever fate awaited her if she lost.

Her eyes strayed to the side, noticing Gulliver. The disgust that crossed her face was impulsive, and her eyes narrowed. She'd deal with that later. For now, her attention returned to Michael, earnestness in her eyes.

Hm, so would it be the case then, that anyone else who became aware of Helm of Kastrus would be able to join in the latter attunement ceremony? Otis bent his neck to the side, mulling over that idea. Valen seemed to be the type to incinerate someone for such an affront, but on the other hand, it would be interesting to see if Davil can cut his teeth there.

Interesting, if not lethal.

Regardless, the Strigidae turned towards Iraleth, seeing that Chunji and Ciara had already made their own escapes. He eyed the glower, the stiffness of her stance, and the emotional essence broiling around her, like the ambient heat of a furnace. Then, he shrugged. "We both get what we want then. Congratulations. See you tonight."

With that, he turned to leave as well, striding for the campus town. As he did so, a message was sent to Ciara's Adapa, informing her of the Principal's statement: that attunement could possibly have an effect on one's prime essence. There was still the duel, after all. And though Ciara had not gathered any advantages during the course of the day, she may as well do her due diligence and avoid any disadvantages.

For Otis himself though? While he did have his own plans regarding the Iris Record, the day was too bright to be sleuthing about, and the smell of burnt fabric reminded him of work to be done.

Simply put, he sought a fabrics store.

@AThousandCurses

WINGRAM CLINIC

"Mmm? Well, let me see..."

As Chunji inquired at the reception desk, the dreary dark-ringed eyes of the receptionist scanned over files on the clinic's Adapa. He traced a line across with his finger, muttering, "Steeler, Steeler... Wund... ah, here we are," he would conclude, nodding and turning his attention back to Chunji.

"Chloe Steeler is still under observation - her wounds have healed, but campus security swung by for questioning. Even if that weren't the case, though, she's been asked to stay under close watch for the next hour to scan for any potential permanent damage to her prime essence as a result of her injuries. As for Davil Wund, it appears he's been approved for visitation, though with instructions to stay bedridden for the rest of the day."

Leaning forward in his seat, the receptionist would clasp his hands together and lean against them, head tilting to rest as he spoke dozily, asking, "Would you like to see Mr. Wund, then?"

Just then, an orcish individual would exit through the door in front to Chunji's left, dressed in a dark blue uniform with a matching cap and cape. His posture was iron and his gaze was ice, staring towards Chunji a moment with a look betraying suspicion. With a grunt and a tip of his hat, he'd withdraw a cigar from his breast pocket, a lighter from his pants' pocket, and light it, inhaling deeply while maintaining eye contact. After another moment savoring the devil's smoke, he'd exhale and briefly lift up the side of his cape to reveal a baton and a winged badge dangling around his belt, then begin walking towards the front entrance.

"Stay out of trouble. It's day two, and our logbook is already a novella," he would state as he pushed open the clinic doors and walked out, the trail of syrup-scented cigar smoke lingering behind.

"Y-You can't smoke in the... clinic... sir..." The receptionist would give up before continuing to speak, realizing that the man had already left by the time he'd worked up the courage to speak. With a frown, he'd turn back towards Chunji, turning the clinic's Adapa towards him.

"The previously mentioned campus security, Sir Lazris Toil. The head, at least, when mannekin won't satisfy. I'm afraid that even though it appears his questioning has concluded, Steeler will remain under isolated observation for a while."

The receptionist's hand would gesture towards the clinic's terminal now pointed towards Chunji. "But we can still allow you to see Wund, if you would like? Just sign in here, by placing your Adapa against the clinic's, as proof that you were here visiting at this time. Just walk through this door, and he'll be the last door on your right," the receptionist would gesture, pointing to the door that Lazris had walked out of.

---

@ERode

CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING

As Otis made his way into the campus town, a fabric store would indeed present itself. A building seemingly made of solidified velvet and denim almost seemed to announce itself, with its pretentious array of blues and purples upon its walls, and the three sentient flying carpets that circled its rooftop like vultures. A wolf mascot danced outside with a striking red scarf, trailing the air with its movements and briefly leaving behind runes in the air that would spell out statements such as, "Hrunting for your heart," or, "There's always a suit for you," before silently cheering and breakdancing. People seemed to mostly pass by the store regardless, attracting very few eyes to its presence. Was such a pretentious and loud store even here yesterday, in the plaza of the campus town? The neon sign that blinked and shone with attention-seeking intent, reading 'Clothier de Hrunting' would certainly be hard to forget.

Regardless, were Otis to enter, he would hear the jingle of a bell above him followed by what sounded like three women singing in harmony, "Clothiiiiing, Deer Huntinggggg~," trailing off from a speaker hooked up to the ceiling. The scent of overpowering perfume radiated through the shop, which consisted of many fine tapestries and display pieces all throughout. A goblin would peek his head out from behind a checkout desk on the other side, stretching to catch sight of Otis from over some cloaks and robes, his red sunglasses reflecting off of the sunlight peering in through the nearby windows.

"Oi, oi! Day finding you well, sport?"

The goblin would waddle out towards the Strigidae, dressed in a sleeveless trench coat that dragged along the floor, jean shorts, and yellow crocs. He'd look up at Otis with an iconic customer service smile reflecting off of his flame-patterned sunglasses, hands clasped together as he looked briefly to his left and right. "Anything I can help you with today?"

---

@Estylwen

WINGRAM LIBRARY

As Ciara flipped to the page, she would briefly see references to the 'Shadow Hunt', a bloody time in the mid to late sixth century in which lycanthropy - a branch of Umbralism dedicated to the marriage and fusion between mortals and beasts from Kazaar's realm - was deemed heretical after repeated mass murders from werewolves and other such man-beast creatures forged through rituals. It was noted as the first point in history in which a branch of Umbralism was completely and utterly condemned even by fellow Umbralists, with all public information on the rituals of its practice purged, all practitioners and scholars of its use put to death without trial. The main character in this book appeared to be one of the hunters called to exterminate the practice of lycanthropy, but found himself conflicted upon falling in love with a werewolf girl struggling with her own murderous tendencies at the end of her life.

Regardless, Michael would see no problem with any of that, instead fully willing to move on to the more important subject of Ciara's book search.

"Primal, huh? Well, ya can't learn anythin' too crazy in a day regarding an entire quarter of magic's history," Michael would muse, scratching his head from overtop his hood. "But if ya want a few basics, I've got my recommendations. I ain't too good at magic, myself, but I think I've been around long enough to know what might help a beginner out."

He'd lead Ciara over to the back of the library's ground floor, though on the opposite side of Gulliver. Michael would gesture towards a sign that dangled in this quarter of the library that read 'Primal', then shrugged, muttering, "Somethin' about how primal magic always 'blooms in the northeast', or somethin', I dunno. They insisted that all primal studies and stories be compiled in the northeast corner as a result; still in alphabetical order, of course."

The hooded janitor would trot towards the 'T' section of the primal quarter, withdrawing a book titled, 'Tanglous', and handed it over to the shadow mage. Much of its color seemed faded from age, but it was a green paperback with a tree crudely carved on the front. "Here we have Tanglous, written by the Vaalin pixies of the fourth century. It details all kinds of stuff about the manipulation of vines and minor movement of trees... y'know, basic tree-hugging fey shit. Despicable little fuckers that'd decorate the trees with your guts over an unripe apple, but their stuff doesn't sound so threatening at first glance."

He'd point at the book, gesturing for it to be flipped. "Last chapter details the spell that has since been translated into the common tongue as 'Timber', in which you channel... I dunno, the belief of pixie dust or friendship or somethin' and you can summon a quickling tree - a tree that lives its entire life in six seconds, and only reaches about eight feet tall before tumbling over and crumbling into dust."

Michael's demeanor grew more uninterested by the second as he explained this, clearly doing this more for Ciara than for himself - a professional and objective scholar he was not. "Apart from that, some more minor spells in there would be 'Puff', that lets you breathe out an allergenic pollen that gives people the sniffles 'n watery eyes for a few seconds, or uh, 'Deep Breathing', to let you hold your breath longer. The fey mages in this book really just liked breathing, I guess. Breath out the bad, breathe in the good, conjure a tree because... trees let you breathe better or somethin', I dunno."

The janitor would begin walking back towards the checkout desk, but would turn on his heel one last time towards Ciara. "Hey, but don't let my indifference get in the way, I dunno the first thing about the primal discipline, compared to the greats. Who knows, ya might find something in there that I never saw."

"Gracious Astra. I will harm. I will heal. Grant me strength. Strength so as to banish the darkness before me. Grant me temperance. Temperance so as to navigate the trials set before me. In light's grace, I beseech you."

Iraleth knelt within a small chapel on campus grounds, her sword planted into the ground in front of her as she prayed. How would her father handle this matter? How would the High Bishop? She didn't necessarily want to kill Ciara. If Iraleth had to, she would. But that was a path she'd rather not go down. For all of the girl's sheer bullheadedness, Iraleth still had her doubts that she was a full-on Umbralist.

Though the distinction mattered little when the shadow witch continued to use that magic of hers, to say nothing of her interest in preserving that accursed imp's life.

Nonetheless, she continued to pray, centering her mind and focusing herself for the battle ahead. No matter Ciara's fate, Iraleth herself would not lose on this night.

Wasn’t Hrunting the name of a sword?

Despite the almost embarrassingly audacious storefront, Otis strode in without hesitation, his only expression of discomfort coming from the twitching of his nose as he was struck by a veritable tidal wave of perfume. It would take a while for him to adapt to this, no doubt, but the pieces displayed were a worthy distraction. Certainly, this was a step above his own capabilities as a tailor. The fabrics were high-quality and the stitching so seamless that he had to work to find them. It would be interesting to stress-test the products as well, though that’d be overstepping the bounds of a customer that had not yet paid. Still, the Strigidae allowed his gaze to linger for only a moment longer, before settling them upon the eclectically-dressed goblin.

“I intend on repairing a dress,” Otis replied, unfolding the scorched and punctured remnants of Chloe’s attire. “And I intend on doing so alone, while maintaining as much of the original material as possible. If you sell fabric here, direct me to the aisle and offer me your recommendations. In order to avoid future incidents, I have plans of weaving fortifying essence into the dress itself, as well as water-and-fireproofing it using various alchemical compounds. Do you deal with such reagents as well?”

There was a slight pause, as he took a step back and gestured towards his own clothing: a collection of brown and tan garments with ethnic patterns woven into it with brightly colored threads.

“I make my own clothing, and have my own tastes. This dress, however, is for a half-elf that has, if nothing else, the pretensions of nobility, so if you could point me towards resources that I could take inspiration during the redesign process, that would be appreciated as well. Also, in terms of names, I am Otis Tan Arillo. You are Hrunting?”

Chunji pursued his lips when the security man left the clinic. It was more so of him smoking inside the clinic rather than the insinuation that Chunji would be like his fellow classmates. It was a possibility considering his class's track record that he would be become collateral damage, but Chunji was confident in his skills to at least mend his wounds.

"Yes, that would be greatly appreciated." Chunji nodded towards the receptionist. Not being able to visit Steeler was shame, as Chunji wanted to discuss about Rio, but it could be left at another time. The goal of his visit could still be partially be fulfilled. Chunji pressed his Adapa against the clinic's Adapa.

"I intend to visit here from time to time. If allowed may I observe the practices of the clinic in the foreseeble future?" Chunji would have fix his schedule at a later time. For today, he'd ask and leave. He needed to see Davil and afterwards head to Professor Lumyr's workshop. It was best to start learning now rather than later.

With that all said in done, he walked over towards Davil's room. With proper manners, he knocked on the door. "May I come in Davil?" Chunji asked behind the door. Chunji needed inquire the causes of Davil's injuries and what extent did he contributed onto his classmate.

Wingram, Library
@Nanaya

---

Attunement could possibly have an effect on your prime essence.

Ciara summoned her Adapa, reading a note from Otis once, then twice. Her face immediately turned into a scowl. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Now she'd have to figure out ways of mitigating the effects of the golden pillar.

Her Adapa fizzled into thin air as she scooped up her borrowed sword, Trying to shake the message and the dark undertones of ‘Scented Pawns’ from her system, before she followed Michael to the Primal Quarter.

It intrigued her that it had its own special section. What intrigued her further, was the book Michael picked out. ‘Tanglous’. She ran her hand over the cover, enjoying the weight of the book in her hands.

As Michael detailed the spells he knew the book contained, veiled excitement slipped through her eyes, Ciara holding on to every word.

Something useful.

As Michael walked away, Ciara was already flipping through the pages, glancing gratefully back at him. “Thank you, this is perfect.”

Perfect it was. She didn't had time to sit; she stood there, completely engrossed as she found the ‘Timber’ spell Michael had detailed. Her face immediately reflexed into a frown. ‘Kindness’ essence. That would be a challenge for her. Might as well skip to using her plants for the spell.

She then flipped further through the book, reading up on ‘Puff’ and ‘Deep Breathing’, wondering what made them tick, what caused them to function, to spring forth into life.

Before she heard breathing, rolled her eyes, and slipped her book under her arm. Like two lasers, her eyes focused on Gulliver. Striding over to the opposite side of the library, she decided to address the elephant in the room.

“Hello, Gulliver. I imagined you'd be in the clinic far longer, given how bad we roughed you up when you decided to try and play god.”

She leaned on the table, pressing a hand against the wood grain, chin gesturing to his book.

“I'd ask about what you're reading. But I have a different question. Something far more pressing…”

Her head tilted. “Why're there two Gullivers walking around campus?”

@AThousandCurses

WINGRAM CLINIC

"Certainly," the receptionist would respond to Chunji's declaration of interest, a genuine smile on his face - perhaps the first of the day. "It's always good for the youth to know about basic medical practices. In the coming days, I'm sure you and your peers will get a lot of mileage out of even the most basic studies and procedures."

With that, he would allow the boy passage towards Davil's room. The smile remained on his face even as he returned to a mountain of paperwork, doing his best to stay optimistic even as the wave of injuries would undoubtedly come flooding in, in the coming days.

As Chunji knocked, the door would push open, the slightest bit of pressure seeming to be enough to allow entrance to the room. From the doorway, Chunji would see an empty infirmary bed directly in front of him, blankets cast aside, the curtain pulled aside. There were several empty vials strewn about on the nearby desk, uncharacteristically messy in comparison to the otherwise immaculate room, their corks rolled out onto the floor as if popped in a hurry. A small stream of liquid trickled out of one of the vials, crimson in color but too thick to be blood. Apart from this, the room appeared untouched, with no indications of any exit apart from the one singular entrance that Chunji took this in from.

---

@ERode

CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING

The goblin shook his head and waved his hands in front of him, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Slow down there, champ, I can only do so many things at once! This brain don't work like it used to, see."

He taps his foot against the wooden floorboards, arms crossed as one of his sunlight crocs tap, tap, and tap again on the floor, all cylinders firing to process the series of inquiries. "Fabrics are in the corner over there. Weaving tonics to allow for essence-enhanced clothing? We've got that, just gotta let me know and I'll grab it for ya - just know it'll cost a pretty sizable chunk extra," he'd state with a chuckle, rubbing his index finger and thumb together.

"...Wait a sec," he'd mutter, tracing a hand along the damaged dress, eyes darting about around as if to gauge its very existence. "This is made from vouivre leather. Softened, de-scaled, but unmistakable. Even in that state of luxury over practicality... even a dragon's flame wouldn't be capable of so much as sparking a dress woven from vouivre flesh. Either it was met with an extremely potent attack bordering on a war crime, or its weaver intentionally extracted the various durable essences of the vouivre, leaving it... mundane."

A vein was fit to burst on the little fashion criminal's head, looking up at Otis with secondhand rage. "Otis, my name is Scuzzy, and what I see before me is wasted potential. To a guy like me, this is akin to defiling a corpse, or cooking a marbled steak well-done. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen vouivre leather, and I've never seen it in such a sorry state. Its creator should be ashamed! Should end their own life, if able!"

The tapping foot turned into a stomp, Scuzzy pointing back to the corner from before in which he noted that fabrics could be found, and said, "I'm sorry to say you'll find nothing over there that can replace that fabric. Silk would be the closest in appearance and texture, though the quality difference would be notable regardless. We have replicas of several elven royalty gowns near the register, for some artistic inspiration, though this appears to be more human in make."

Before Otis might start moving around to inspect, Scuzzy would raise an arm out to stop him another moment. "...And for bringing me a work of art like this, so wasted in what it could've been, I'll cut you a discount. Half off on anything you might buy to repair it, champ."

The goblin's eyes shown with sincerity from under his sunglasses - almost apologetic, if given a deeper look.

---

@Estylwen

WINGRAM LIBRARY

"Shadow witch..."

The words rolled off of Gulliver's tongue with venom, the boy placing a bookmark within his tome and setting it aside. For a moment, a runic circle began to appear near his palm, clearly intent on beginning to cast, when all of a sudden, it dissipated. The moment that Ciara had mentioned the notion of another 'him', aggression turned to anxiety in his eyes. His own head tilted to meet the same angle as hers, as if feigning curiosity, leaning back in his chair away from her.

"Two of me? Preposterous. In the best of cases, somebody is illegally shapeshifting without written legal consent, and in the worst?"

The silvery scholar would lean forward, closer to Ciara, regaining his composure somewhat despite the tension in his shoulders. His hands were clasped together as he slid his chair in again.

"In the worst case, perhaps your eyes need adjusting. Perhaps the madness has already taken you, and everything you say or do from here on is the delusion of a madwoman the world forgot to cull. Was too soft, perhaps, to cull."

With these words, and despite the tension, a small smirk teased its way around the corners of his mouth. He looked almost satisfied at being able to say such a thing, raising up the tome he was reading to show Ciara its cover, which read, 'Astra Bids Higher: Slayer of the Dark', with the cover art depicting soldiers raining arrows upon shadowy cloaked figures en masse.

---

@Psyker Landshark

WINGRAM CHAPEL OF ASTRA

The doors to the chapel would open, and in would walk Alto. A hand relaxed on the pommel of the sword at his hip as he sauntered in, scratching his head upon seeing Iraleth. It was a loud enough entrance that there was no way to simply flee now without an awkward encounter later, and so the professor ventured inside. As he moved closer to the altar, he would await the end of Iraleth's prayers before daring to say a word, simply looking about the room until such a time would arise.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," he would gingerly declare, setting his backpack down and kneeling by the altar. Looking over at Iraleth, he'd do his best to gauge her expression and general 'vibe' while maintaining the most civil smile he possibly could. "I tend to come on down to pray, when my head's full of bad nama. Back home, and now here, thankfully. Ponder on what could've been, and what couldn't."

With hands clasped and offered towards the altar, the smile would dissipate somewhat after completing a small, silent prayer. "I wanted to apologize for how class went earlier. I got carried away, and pushed things to a place where a simple training exercise shouldn't have gone. I owe these words to the rest of them, too, but you're the only one I could find right now, so..."

Alto would trail off with a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "I also know you and Ciara are fighting later tonight. I won't be able to make it over to watch, but uh... try not to do what I did, alright? There are plenty here that would cheer if things 'accidentally' went too far and a girl suspected of Umbralist worship died, but..."

Rising to his feet, he would turn towards the paladin with a more stern expression, concern plain as day on his features.

"...It hasn't been confirmed beyond doubt that she is, indeed, Umbralist, or that she follows their ideals. I hope you fight while remembering this. To win, but not to kill. Understand?"

It was odd. From the flimsy doors that allowed him passage to the vacant bed missing its patient. Empty vials littered on the desk left red traces of their residue. Chunji thought the haphazard consumption of potions was rather detrimental to the body's healthm. Moreso that the potions themselves were unlabeled. The wrong ingredients could spell the worst of sickness. Though that brought up a question. Did Davil dabble in alchemy? The skill would be surprising to the generally careless Davil, but impressive if he did make these potions.

Though, he should really focus on the subject of where Davil had disappear too. Chunji's eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. From the ceiling to the bed, it seemed Davil had truly disappeared from the room.

There was a moment that he considered activating his Ethos, but decided against it. If he had learned back at Alto's lesson then it meant he couldn't rely on his Ethos on all sitautions. That and the potential risk of using Ethos after attunement. That meant he had use other means to locate the missing patient. "Receptionist! I do not see the patient in his room. To remedy this I will be using magic to locate the missing person." Chunji called from the room. Better to tell the receptionist what he was doing.

Chunji clasped his hands together to perform a spell.

"风。风。风。(Wind. Wind. Wind)

逆流而上，追寻命运的轨迹。(Reverse the flow, following the path of destiny)

展现天空的可能性。(Show the possibilities of the Sky)

999年9月25日 (September Twenty-Fifth Day Nine-Hundred Ninty-Nine Year)

重播" (Replay).

Finishing the spell with a few hand signs, Chunji hummed to himself. The spell required a necessary karma established between Davil and himself. Thankfully, he had healed Davil, so the spell would be quite effective. A spirit apparition that resembled Davil's shape manifested on the bed. It would enact Davil's actions and hopefully lead Chunji in on a clue to where Davil had gone.

Wingram, Library
@Nanaya

---

Shadow witch?

She'd kill him, she swore.

"Two of me? Preposterous. In the best of cases, somebody is illegally shapeshifting without written legal consent, and in the worst?"

Ciara watched him lean forward, eyes narrowing with disgust. He was denying what she saw with her own eyes, plain as day. What on earth was this kid hiding? Why was it necessary to hide such a blinding truth?

"In the worst case, perhaps your eyes need adjusting. Perhaps the madness has already taken you, and everything you say or do from here on is the delusion of a madwoman the world forgot to cull. Was too soft, perhaps, to cull.”

Ciara hissed through her teeth, bared in a snarl. He knew exactly where to strike. Knew exactly where it would hurt, what would send her off.

To add insult to injury, he lifted his book, and it was like she was looking at ‘Scented Pawns’ all over again, except this time It was a darker, more direct version. No romanticizing, just straight up killing the blasted thing she was so frustratingly associated with.

This entire day, and the day before, it was entirely about ‘did this girl have ties to umbralism?’, ‘was she an umbralist?’ It made her sick to her stomach. The fuse was struck, and anger, unbridled, boiled up in her as she stared at Gulliver's smug smile.

“Famas!”

Her thoughts a burning smudge, shadows snatched up the sword at the front desk, and shot toward her hand. Gripping the handle, she spun the blade, taking a step forward. She ended up with her nose brushing against Gulliver's, blade pressed against his throat as he sat prettily in his desk.

Her voice was low, guttural, through clenched teeth.

“You have no idea what I've gone through, what I've suffered. Associate me with umbralism again. Come on-” She pressed the blade a little harder. “-I dare you.”

Otis’s eyebrows lifted slightly at Scuzzy’s assessment. Vouivre leather? He was able to tell that it was a material as potent as that, even in such a warped, degraded form? The Strigidae himself had thought that Chloe’s dress was fancy but mundane, that it had burned away due to the ambient heat of Instructor Alto’s Ethos. To have such material sabotaged, however?

His eyebrows furrowed, the faintest bit of displeasure surfacing.

Within the World Between Doors, he could manifest any manner of precious materials, but what of it? Fantastic constructions made without consideration for scarcity were impermanent, transient. Even if it was the case that the essence was extracted from the material and placed into another such substance, that was simply a waste. One could remove the durability of stone and grant it to water, but one container was better than the other for maintaining such rupa. From a scholar’s perspective, it was interesting. From a craftsman’s perspective?

“It’s absolutely sacrilegious.”

Did Chloe even know what she was wearing?

“But I’ll be taking full advantage of your discount then, Scuzzy. And, in consideration to your discerning eye, I request your counsel with regards to fabric selection. Though this is indeed a waste, one can consider this an exercise in the value of subtraction as well. What fabrics and patterns do you believe would best highlight what remains of this leather?”

Iraleth rose as she finished her prayer, regarding Professor Alto silently as he entered. He only just realized how badly he'd nearly botched things? She gave him a hard stare for a moment as he spoke, though eventually relented into a more neutral expression.

"Something is better than nothing." She said tersely in response to his apology, stepping back to give him space to pray. "Though it shouldn't have taken this long for you to realize how poorly that could have went. I would hope that you don't give the High Bishop cause to regret this project that he's poured so much time and effort into."

And then...ugh. She should have expected this. Of course he knew. Iraleth looked the professor dead in the eyes, unwavering.

"I never sought this battle out. I don't want to kill her. But if Ciara proves to be a legitimate threat, I have every right to settle the matter decisively. Umbralists destroyed everything I knew once already, Professor. I don't intend to allow that to happen to anyone else if I can help it."

@AThousandCurses

WINGRAM CLINIC

The apparition would appear at first to be laying on the bed, resting. Suddenly, Davil's eyes would shoot open, and he would call upon his Adapa, quickly skimming over something before shutting it. He'd slowly sit up in bed, then kick his feet to the bedside before stumbling to a standing position, flimsy and with a face contorted in pain the whole time. He'd lose his footing for a moment while gripping his head, and reflexively grab onto the nearby desk. Breathing heavy, he'd dig into his pants' pockets and withdraw three vials containing liquids of different colors - one red, one grey and one that appeared to alternate several different colors gradually. He'd desperately down the red one first, dropping it against the desk as droplets pooled out of it.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he did so, his posture straightening as he uncorked the remaining two vials and downed them both at the same time, dropping them haphazardly on the desk once they were empty. He would then run towards the room's exit and down the hall, as if in desperation, and stopped by the receptionist desk to communicate something briefly. Afterwards, Davil would nod his head and sprint out of the clinic entirely.

The receptionist would be watching this apparition of Davil, and then look to Chunji, confused, exclaiming, "What's going on? What's with that phantom? Mr. Wund is missing?"

---

@ERode

CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING

Scuzzy would point to one of the display dresses back behind the counter, waddling over nearer to it. "Can't say I'm an expert in replacement on this scale of quality, but the materials of this wedding gown of the old queen of the Primelands may prove sufficient."

He would gesture towards it in its display case, eerily similar in many ways aesthetically to Chloe's own dress, albeit with many more dazzling streaks of gold in more intricate patterns, when it came to the wedding gown. Even though it was a replica, it still commanded an aura of authority on sight, clear in its intent to put all eyes on the wearer. Scuzzy would turn back to Otis while still holding out a hand towards the display case, and shrug. "The original was also said to have been made with vouivre leather, so maybe that's just a coinky-dink? Maybe the craftsman of that piece was just so enamored with the queen's legacy that they had to try their hand at it."

Waddling to the fabrics section and back, the goblin would drape various different sample strips along the counter. "Silk is the most mundane replacement, of course. We also have some wolfwool, already dyed black in... reasonably the same shade, and it'll prove more durable against the elements, if this girl plans on wearing their dress on adventures. And last..."

A finger pointed towards the last sample strip, which was slate grey and almost appeared entirely without texture.

"A new, experimental synthetic, courtesy of alchemists at Highguard Industries in the capital - Material Z5. Adaptive essence tuning, they call it - fibers with the know-how to adapt to whatever it's in contact with for prolonged periods, mainly used for repairing clothes. It's imperfect, but I've heard no end to the praises sung from the Shaktan bigwigs that can afford it in bulk."

He'd run a finger along the Z5 strip, shuddering. "Even so, it just looks wrong, Otis. Maybe it's just the days of tech outpacing me, but I don't like it one damn bit."

---

@Estylwen

WINGRAM LIBRARY

Gulliver's eyes narrowed as he stared into his potential assassin, his expression darkening. Not even a muscle was moved, and he kept as still as could be, making sure not to further stoke the flames of rage between them with sudden movements. There wasn't even sadistic joy in his eyes at this point, simply looking at her as she spoke and threatened. "What in the name of all holies do you believe yourself to be doing? Do you think this will accomplish a single thing?"

His pupils were near vacant, colors dull as his vision slowly slid from Ciara to her weapon, and over towards the checkout desk hidden partially by bookshelves from this angle. "Killing me would certainly be efficient, at least. You would delay things, or at worst, piss off some execs," he would trail off, his voice taking on a different, more casual mannerism partway through. "Maybe that really is the play here. You kill me, and someone somewhere gets real mad for a little while; that's probably worth it."

Looking back at her, the Bronsteel heir's face was a mix of casual acceptance and genuine enthusiasm, even gently nudging his neck towards her blade a little more. "If you really do believe in this 'two of me' thing, maybe the world only needs one, eh?"

He would press a bit further, allowing the blade to ever so slightly nick him, a single droplet of blood spilling onto his book below. By this point, the formal dialect of Gulliver Bronsteel had been replaced by an eerily similar - yet apparent and imperfect - mimicry.

---

@Psyker Landshark

WINGRAM CHAPEL OF ASTRA

"Hey, ouch. The High Bishop's a big man, I'm sure he can appreciate a slip-up here or there. And, granted, this one was bigger than a little oopsie, but... Astra's winds find forgiveness in those that deserve it, after all, so I suppose it's up to our great goddess to decide," Alto would exclaim with a measure of humility, dreading the notion of being known as a screw-up even from so early on.

The professor would stride forward and place his index finger atop the altar, slowly running it along to brush away a thin layer of dust. A sad smile pulled at his lips that he only somewhat held back, tracing his finger along the wooden altar and allowing his eyes to follow the aimless patterns. "Umbralists destroyed a lot for a lot of people, Kyrios - that doesn't mean we have the right to execute them one and all under our own judgment."

Alto shot the paladin a look as if to gauge her, and then continued, saying, "I was in the wrong for how I handled that class, but so too would you be for going into an on-campus duel with even the slightest idea of murder in your mind. Umbralism took something from me that I'll never get back, and yet..."

His palm fell once more to rest on the pommel of his sword, glancing at it longingly for a moment, and then back at the altar. "Yet that's not on her, she wasn't even born when things went wrong. We don't know yet if she's an Umbralist, but even if she were, would that make it okay? The world and its people haven't healed, but that gives no excuse to just kill off the ones we don't like."

Walking past her, the Wund swordsman would briefly pat Iraleth's shoulder reassuringly, before continuing to move towards the chapel's exit. "I'm on your side in this matter, Kyrios," he would state as he leaned against the doorway, looking back at her one last time with a frown. "Just don't take it so far that you'll regret the outcome later."

With that, Alto would step out of the chapel and back onto the campus.

The Davil's apparition darted out of the clinic when Chunji processed what the receptionist said. Chunji highly doubted that Davil was healthy even after consuming a few of his potions. "Davil Wund appears to have left a long time ago, and judging by your reaction, it seems that either he left before your shift or talked to someone who didn't bother to document his release." How odd. Chunji turned and bowed his head to the receptionist.

"I will be taking my leave. If there is any need to document my leave, I'll address it later." The consequences weren't of little matter; the apparition was getting away. Chunji sprinted after the afterimage. The whole situation was strange. How was the receptionist unaware of Davil's departure? Who was Davil talking to if it wasn't the receptionist? How long has it been since Davil left the clinic?

It was odd, too odd even. Chunji tried to figure out why Davil had left. Did the healing magic that he cast onto Davil have a strange effect? It is highly doubtful, as previous tests usually resulted in high volumes of pain. Was Davil trying to attend the attunement ceremony? There was a chance, but Chunji's experience with Rio dampened the possibility. That left Chunji with a pessimistic conclusion.

Davil held a dark secret. Everything led to that conclusion. Emelie's fake leg, Rio's aggression, Steeler's query, and many more instances only proved that conclusion.

Chunji prayed to the Lotus Serpent that when he found Davil, he wouldn't have to deal with the situation that Hildegrunde ran into when she chased after Steeler. He was already straining himself trying to find Davil; a fight afterward would be unideal.

Wingram, Library
@Nanaya

---

”What in the name of all holies do you believe yourself to be doing?”

Ciara gritted her teeth, staring him down. He dared to question the fury in her soul. The righteous fury, completely justified in this moment.

“Maybe that really is the play here. You kill me, and someone somewhere gets real mad for a little while; that's probably worth it.”

Ciara's eyes narrowed. Through her fury, playing like a flute in the back of her mind, a part of her ran a narrative that Gulliver wasn't Gulliver-ing. Was all of him a front? Was he a fake? Was he faking the fanciness all along?

Not enough of her cared in that moment to pursue the curious thoughts.

"If you really do believe in this 'two of me' thing, maybe the world only needs one, eh?”

And he dared to press himself further onto her blade. Ciara snarled under her breath, knowing exactly what this was.

He was calling her bluff.

And here she was debating on killing him or not. Just finish her problems here and now. Silence one more voice that bought this Astra nonsense, and condemned people like her.

Before she followed her eyes to the desk, where she knew a janitor was sitting at idly. How far would she really get if she let her anger play out like it wanted to?

Well. At least Gulliver had silenced himself on calling her an Umbralist. He wasn't playing with her on that front. Not pushing the line there.

She gripped the handle of the sword, glaring hot at Gulliver. Watching those devoid eyes of his, knowing that he already knew what she knew.

She wouldn't kill him.

Not like this.

With a huff, Ciara pulled the sword back, letting it drop into a shadowy hand as it moved to hover behind her. She glared at Gulliver before she picked up her book, turned on her heel, and stormed towards the front desk.

Deep breaths.

Before she placed the book on the desk, and said in a painfully calm voice, “I'd like to check this out.”

“Some find enjoyment in replicating marvels with what they have on hand,” Otis replied, eyes narrowing towards the wedding gown as he visualized how he would replicate or dismantle it. Imitation was, within particular contexts, a form of flattery. In other circumstances, it was an insult worthy of the death sentence.

“I doubt anyone expected to be set ablaze by their instructor on the first day of classes,” he mused as he glanced over the fabrics that Scuzzy brought up. There was no guarantee that Chloe was someone who wore only a singular outfit to every function she went to, unlike Otis himself, but if one considered the price involved, it made sense to at least use durable materials for the parts of the dress that would keep one modest. He lifted his hand up, manifesting his Adapa once more and sending the tome in a circular flight pattern around the wedding gown in order to record the details. His other hand reached to glide across the final strip of fabric that Scuzzy brought.

Otis’s expression was more contemplative than anything else as he considered the experimental fabric. Textures in clothing, like in food, enhanced the experience. The cool, permeable touch of silk, the fuzzy flex of wool. Linen, cotton, leather, denim. All of them were clearly different. And while something could be said about using the lack of texture and color to highlight the presence of others...

“I’ll take a strip of Z5 for research and development, but adaptation to prolonged exposure confers no protection against the immediate impact of a fireball. For now, Scuzzy, I’ll use wolfwool for the bodice and the waistline, then gradually transition to silk as I work down to the skirt and flounce. Do you have gold thread as well? I’ll likely do a simplified version of the design on the wedding gown, though less floral and celebratory in nature and more suitable for day-to-day use.”

Iraleth afforded the professor no further words, waiting until he left the chapel before she returned to a kneeling position, contemplating what the man had just said to her.

This notion of letting Umbralists be went against everything she personally believed. What, were they supposed to wait until after the tragedy had occurred to stop it? Iraleth wasn't so selfish as to risk the lives of others just so she could feel better about not having possibly killed one that had done no wrong. And yet...

Yet that's not on her, she wasn't even born when things went wrong.

She grit her teeth, scowling. No, it didn't matter. This was duty. This was what had to be done. It was, wasn't it?

Iraleth returned to her prayer and meditation, yet Professor Alto's words never quite left her head...

@AThousandCurses

WINGRAM CLINIC

The receptionist, with a furrowed bro, took to the clinic's terminal and furiously tapped away at it, shaking his head. "I've been the one on shift all day, and I recall no such interaction with Davil Wund, nor was he noted as having been discharged. Were he truly to have left, I have no memory of it," he would state, looking towards Chunji with harrowed eyes as he left.

As the projection of Davil was followed, the phantom darted down a nearby alleyway, seeming to pick up speed with each step. He appeared to sprint towards a dead end at the back of the alley, before seeming to tackle and pin someone against the wall - someone no longer present, and who would not appear in the projection. Davil would seem to throw a punch in frustration, then look down as if having floored the person struck.

Davil's projection would then turn around, staring dead ahead at something, before unclenching his fists. All at once, the phantom would begin to dematerialize, breaking apart like cracked glass, before vanishing entirely from Chunji's view. From where Davil's phantom stood, there would be a small crack in the stone and the faintest trace of burn marks. Apart from that, the alleyway appeared empty.

---

@ERode

CLOTHIER DE HRUNTING

Scuzzy dashed back and forth to assemble the various materials requested. Typically, a high-end fabric store of the Union - or really any store that wished to stay afloat within its borders - would employ familiars or conjured creations to see to the labor and customer service side of things. It was unusual for modern consumer culture, but Scuzzy's style of tending to each order by himself certainly harkened to a more traditional age. It would be more common to find this approach in Mirris or an old-fashioned family shop in Seer's Loft, but the hustle and bustle of Union culture often marked such an approach to business as a death sentence. Yet here, in this humble academy city, a traditionalist like Scuzzy could even thrive amidst quieter days.

Wiping sweat off his brow, the goblin waddled back to the register with all the requested materials bound and packaged, including the strip of Z5. "Should aaaaall be there, gold thread included," he'd mutter, catching his breath, thankful that the huffing and puffing of spiced lamb and potato breath was masked by the menagerie of perfumes within these walls.

"That'll come to... 10 gold, after the half-off discount. Hefty price still, I realize, but the Z5 really contributed there. Hope you're still good for it, champ. And, uh..."

Looking at Chloe's damaged dress once more, he'd tap at it for effect. "Lemme know if you find out what the deal with this thing is. Why its weaver decided to disgrace it so. Absolutely baffling," he'd scoff, folding his arms as if in defiance of the very thought of its making.

---

@Estylwen

WINGRAM LIBRARY

Ciara would hear an exhale from behind her as she walked away - perhaps relief, or simply frustration, if not both. As she approached the checkout desk, Michael's goofy smirk with a half-cracked volume of 'The Shoguknights' seemed to show his blissful ignorance of the situation, feet once more kicked up on the desk as he stared up at her. With a nod, he scanned his eyes over the book she held, once more returning to a more normal sitting position as he tossed aside his comic.

"That all for today? Satisfied with the selection, from whatever ya ended up pickin' out?" He grabbed the book and turned it towards the checkout desk's Adapa, a blue light scanning over its surface as he sat there. "Nowadays, lots of people prefer the comforts that essence-based reading can bring. 'Course, not even the capital's selection is complete, and I'm always a sucker for physical books any day."

The cloaked janitor would hand Ciara's book back to her after the scan was complete and registered, alongside a ping from her own Adapa. "You'll be gettin' a notification that this thing's due back on the 24th of the month, and its condition's been recorded in case of tampering or damage. Not that anyone thinks students'll get up to any funny business, but if it's altered in any way from when it was taken out, down to the most insignificant mote of essence manipulated, the system'll know."

Once more sliding the Shoguknights comic into his hands and kicking his feet up on the desk, he gave Ciara a cheery smile and a nod, tipping his hood towards her. "Best of luck with it, though! This school's here to raise some ass-kickers, so best get to kickin' ass. The ones like you takin' the initiative outside of class are gonna be the ones that make it, I say. Magic ain't mandatory, of course, but it can't hurt to know a little about a lot."

---

@Psyker Landshark

WINGRAM CHAPEL OF ASTRA

A faint wind blew through the chapel, uncharacteristically warm for the time of year, and almost began to hover near Iraleth and the altar. It was unclear whether it was a simple gust of wind, essence manipulation or the presence of something divine itself, but a feeling of oneness would nevertheless take over the building. Astra's calling was that of justice for the weak following the end of the apocalypse, and were this to be interpreted as a sign from Astra itself, was Ciara the 'weak' in question, or the one whom justice must be delivered upon? Iraleth was not one of the Antecedes, those Astra-devout archers so infamously respected and despised for their merciless shots that struck true with the winds of the shadowslayer, those who saw the world in brackets of Astra's pure love and deepest hate for others that once more threatened its safety. Though a paladin obligated to defend the weak and strike down evil, her duty thankfully never veered so deep as to force her along the path of an Antecede.

Perhaps that faint wind that now left through the other end of the chapel served as a brief reminder in these moments of thought; that unlike others along Astra's path such as those zealous archers, she still possessed a choice as to how much blood stained her hands. Apart from the wind's fickle calling, she was truly alone in this decision as she prayed and made her preparations.

He was gone.

For minutes, Chunji stood there trying to solve the wicked problem in his head. Chunji took labored breaths, but still, it proved fruitless. Chunji wasn't a hunter nor a hitman, detective, or dog. If he was a writer, he might create a solution to draw him closer to the ending. Alas, he was a simple student training to become a doctor.

Chunji knelt and touched the burn mark, proving Davil's presence. It was starting to get cold. Even after hours had flown by, Alto's horrendous class plagued his mind. Chunji's eyes furrowed as he tried to figure out who Davil was meeting with. They had to be with someone, considering Davil ran all this way into this specific alley. Not to mention, he tried punching them the first time he met them.

So, who was it?

If Chunji had more time, then he'd had a better grasp of the situation. But for now, he could rule out potential suspects. Judging by the time frame, everyone in the attunement zone could be ruled out. They were all accounted for unless they had a duplicitous nature like Gulliver. That left with a few people that Chunji personally knew. Chloe, Rio, and Gulliver. Chloe was held up at the clinic, and Rio disappeared. Rio was still a potential candidate, but Chunji found it hard to believe due to the way he fights. Chunji didn't know Gulliver's whereabouts, but he could act anywhere in the academy by manipulating puppets.

It was either those two, the faculty, or a third party hidden in the academy. The sample size was too big and left too many holes for Chunji to deduce who the perpetrator was. Though that could wait, finding where Davil went was paramount.

Chunji could not do this alone. Dayin manifested beside him as Chunji drafted a message.

Davil's gone missing. I need assistance in finding him. The perpetrator remains unknown and may be responsible.

Chunji sent the message to Otis and Iraleth with directions to his current location. Those two were the ones who went out of their way to locate Davil, so they may have a better chance to do so again. Time wasn't on their side as the heat faded, and so was their lead on Davil. However, Chunji didn't plan to sit idle while waiting for them to appear.

Removing his glasses, Chunji covered one of his eyes to avoid any more strain. As much as Chunji didn't want to do this, someone's life was potentially at risk. It was a doctor's job to ensure the safety of their patient. If he could find a clue, then he'd be able to pursue it with Otis and Iraleth's help.

On the other hand, the perpetrator may still be around. The consequences be damned if he at least found someone nearby.

"透过现象看本质!"

The world revealed itself once more. No concerns with his primal essence, as his Ethos seemed to be functioning normally. The perpetrator had long since left the scene of the crime, most likely taking Davil with him. However, it wasn't fruitless at all.

His eyes darted toward the ground, noticing something he had missed. A small leyline fountain that was like a needle in a haystack. Chunji's sight then followed to the mote of the wall.

With a swift movement of his scalpel, blood started dripping down from his palm. He didn't know what to expect, but it was clear that it would be dangerous.

Chunji tried to interact with the mote on the wall to see if he could do anything with it.