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DATE:25th of August, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I got into the pharmacy but instead of going to the counter, I stayed in place, glancing outside until I visibly saw her leave.
Guess she didn't want to play hero.
The pharmacist was eyeing me strangely, but it wasn't like I cared. I approached the counter and bought a jar of aspirin at even higher dosage than that lady's. Hers was 3 grams, but this was 6. Twenty normal pills compressed into one. The whole jar weighed more than half a kilogram.
Only 4 Zols too—cheaper than tea at a cafe.
I kept raising and lowering it in my hand, mesmerized that such a thing existed.
Matthew thrived even with prices this low. Other companies would sell a normal aspirin box at 10 or 20 Zols.
Capitalism working for once. At least in part. Actual people would die from these dosages—I don't think his pharmacy even stocks the normal variety.
How is this possible? The benefits of medieval administration? This wouldn't be allowed even in my homeland, and we weren't exactly strict about regulations.
Are there even laws in Concord?
Whatever.
I got out and made my way toward the Academy. The guard should still remember me, right? It wasn't like I had any ID to show—hell, I didn't even have my phone. How long had it been since I left? Three months? Four? Time blurred together when you spent half of it in drug-induced hazes and the other half getting blown apart. I remembered the Academy technically didn't have a summer break, but by all accounts I was returning early. Not that anyone would complain. The great Aionis, back from his heroic sabbatical.
What a joke.
As I got closer to the gate, the guard shriveled. His whole body language collapsed inward like I was some kind of predator that had just locked eyes with him.
Did he remember me?
I certainly couldn't place him. One more face in the endless parade of nobodies I was supposed to give a shit about.
"Mr. Carter?" His voice cracked slightly. "You're back so soon?"
Wow. I must have left quite an impression on this guy. I didn't even remember talking to him. Had I threatened him at some point? Possible. I'd been pretty unstable back then—well, more unstable than usual.
A grizzled man in his fifties, most likely a retired hero who'd failed upward into security work. What was notable about him? The long beard? Some scar tissue around his collar? Nothing else, really. Just another washed-up has-been guarding a gate for pocket change.
"Yeah. Wanted to see the campus again. Hope I'm not intruding."
"Of course not, sir." The 'sir' felt forced. Scared.
"Great. Don't have any papers on me, but that's fine, right?"
"Ahh." He seemed lost in thought, or maybe just working up the courage to say something. His eyes kept darting to my face. "Your face…"
Still that? Gosh, I wanted the regeneration to hurry the hell up. Maybe I should just rip these scars off myself? Get it over with faster? They weren't even natural—John probably sculpted them when he was stitching me back together like some deranged seamstress. Medical malpractice at its finest.
"Yeah, an accident. This appearance is temporary. A month at most." Assuming my body didn't decide to fuck with me and keep them as a permanent reminder of my stupidity.
"Yes, excuse me. I won't hold you up." He hurried to open the metal gate, practically tripping over himself to get out of my way.
I walked through without another word.
As Dumas had explained—back when I actually bothered listening to his lectures—my 'healthy' cells reappear where they'd been taken from originally. That's how I'd lost all the scars from my childhood. Even my birthmarks. Gone. Like my past had been systematically erased and replaced with this blank, regenerating canvas. Logically speaking, this was the only explanation that made sense.
I'd been missing a lot of flesh after that explosion. Chunks of me. So John, in his infinite wisdom, had used his flesh-bending power to patch me back together with… what? Donated tissue? His own? I didn't even want to know. Point was, he'd kept me alive long enough for my body to start the rejection process. The scars were starting to itch badly now—little needles of sensation breaking through the numbness—so perhaps that meant the foreign tissue was finally being pushed out.
Or maybe I was just rotting from the inside out and the itch was my body's way of telling me I was already dead.
Wouldn't that be fitting?
Glancing around the campus really was just like I remembered it. Or better said, exactly how I didn't remember it. I could only recall how my room was shaped—the dimensions, the window placement. Everything else felt like the first time.
Who was even Headmaster now? I couldn't recall a name or a face. Or where the office was supposed to be. Only three months, but it all felt so distant. Like years had passed.
Granted, I'd gone through a lot in the meantime. At least I had that defense for my failing memory.
The students didn't give me friendly looks as I passed. Their eyes would catch on my face, linger on the scar tissue, then dart away like they'd seen something obscene. But I wasn't exactly a popular teacher even when I wasn't mangled, so their reactions didn't surprise me.
At least fear was honest.
Well, off to find the Dean's office.
Assuming I could even locate it.
_____
It wasn't as interesting as I'd thought, going through the Academy hallways again.
The place felt smaller somehow. Had it always been this suffocating, or was that just me projecting?
Not like I even remembered where the damn office was, but a quick question or two to passing students was enough to get directions. They were eager to help—probably just wanted me away from them faster. Can't blame them for that.
I knocked on the office door but didn't bother waiting for a response before I pushed it open.
Fuck courtesy.
The office hadn't changed much since the last time I was here. The same pretentious bookshelf lined with leather-bound volumes no one actually read. The same gryphon statue placed like some kind of corporate paperweight. Even the smell was the same—old wood and expensive cologne.
The sad part?
It was empty.
The Dean was probably in a meeting somewhere. Or maybe they'd heard I was coming and decided to make themselves scarce. But I doubt it.
Hopefully the new Dean wasn't as bad as the last one. That bitch had been genuinely dangerous, and I wasn't exactly equipped to battle a hero right now.
But where was this supposed meeting taking place? There was a large table in the office where we usually held administrative gatherings, but the new leadership must have wanted to distance themselves from the old regime.
Or maybe I was just making assumptions and they were grabbing coffee somewhere.
Hard to tell.
I glanced at the door I'd left open behind me. They wouldn't leave the office unlocked if they weren't planning to return soon, right? That suggested they were still working. Still on campus somewhere.
Which meant I could wait.
Or I could snoop around while I had the chance.
Anyway, if the Dean was a no-go, I could at least meet the counselor. I had some questions for her.
Leaving aside the mess with Emily and the problem with Ultraman's resurrection, my life was still in trouble.
I had to get to the bottom of my own resurrection. Who brought me back to life? Who was the figure made from light that troubled me in Ventia?
In all my life, Sasha had been the only one to realize the name of the entity puppeting me.
What was it? Daeva something?
No matter how much it hurt her, I had to get her into my mind a second time. I needed to know what happened in my contract. Why was I still alive?
Questioning it was the easy part, but I couldn't find the counselor even in her office.
The room was devastated. Everything had been thrown around as if someone had scoured it.
Where the hell was everyone?
When I left the room, fate gave me a lead. At least partly. I was met with the barrel of a handgun.
A guy two heads shorter than me was showing off his fancy weapon: a very heavy-duty pistol with golden engravings. It wasn't Ventium, so I could technically take him on, but I didn't have the professor's concoction on me and the aspirin still hadn't revealed its power...
I say that, but he didn't look like a student. His uniform evoked a bureaucrat more than anything. A dark shirt with a lighter-hue tie, suspenders holding his holster...
This guy had no facial hair. Early thirties, I guessed.
"Hands up!" He had that performative cop voice, but I doubted he was a private investigator.
Should I fight him? Ehh, I didn't think it would help my situation.
With a blank stare I raised my arms, but I think he could see how unserious I found his whole act.
"On your knees. Now!" Excuse me? I'd just entered the room. If it was under investigation, it should have been taped off.
"I'm a hero. If this is some kind of investigation, then—" I tried my best to sound reasonable, but he didn't let me finish.
"Didn't you hear? On your knees!" Now this was a bit much. I wouldn't take this humiliation.
Let's try to change the subject.
"I know Sasha personally. What happened to her?" I turned my head toward the wrecked office, letting genuine concern slip into my voice. Not hard to fake—I actually needed answers.
"How do you know her?" Looks like he took the bait.
"She had a crush on me. I wanted to check on her." I paused, let that sink in. "Do I have to repeat myself? What happened?"
The guy stood still for a moment. Processing, maybe. Or just deciding whether to believe me.
"I want an ID."
Come on, man...
Haah. My arms were getting tired. I lowered them slowly—just testing his nerve—but the bastard's finger twitched on the trigger. His whole body tensed.
Why was he so scared?
I froze, hands halfway down. "Easy. I'm not going for anything. Just tired."
"I came here by taxi. Look, just search up my hero name. Aionis? Ring any bells?"
He fell silent. Seems like he knew me after all.
Keeping the handgun up with his right hand, the man took a flexible cellphone from his pocket and made a call. One-handed, still watching me like I might bolt.
"I have Carter here."
I couldn't hear the other person on the line. The volume was set at minimum. This twat was a real try-hard.
Eventually he closed the phone and placed the gun back in the holster. Finally.
"Come with me."
What the hell happened at this Academy? This place was cursed.
I followed the guy until we reached a wing I'd never really visited—where most of the laboratories were located. Usually pretty empty, but today there were a lot of men in suits clustered near one of the labs.
They were... fuck.
These guys were with the Inquisition. I recognized that immediately because of one member—a really big guy whose skin was made of stone. Kind of hard to forget someone built like a walking boulder.
There was some other member I knew... what was her name?
Ehhh...
Ah! The magical girl. She wasn't here, though.
The Inquisitors didn't give me the best looks despite how much I'd done for this city. A little appreciation would be nice. Then again, maybe it was the same as with the Agency leaders—they didn't trust me because I'd survived that explosion.
Really? Can't a man just not die for once?
The bureaucrat from earlier guided me inside the lab.
Inside I found the biology teacher overlooking some kind of black bag placed in a cooler. Body bag, probably.
The biology teacher had squid-like features—slick skin, those strange eyes. I'd mostly ignored her during my stay as a substitute because she seemed a bit like a whore. There was a whole drama around how she'd cheated on one teacher with another and then...
Whatever. I heard she was a proficient surgeon, though. She ran the infirmary too.
But who was in the bag?
The bureaucrat got close to her and whispered that I was here, as if she wouldn't remember me. I'd been memorable enough for the front gate guard.
"Carter..." She looked me over. "I did hear about your injuries, but this is a bit grave."
She stepped closer and tried to touch my scars. I slapped her hand away before she could make contact.
"Ah, sorry."
Her skin produced mucus. Apparently men went crazy for it—natural lubricant or something. That's what I'd heard, anyway.
The last thing I wanted was for such a disgusting thing to touch me. In a way she reminded me of the Changeling. Same slick, inhuman quality.
"No, I get it. It just hurt." It actually didn't. But I needed an excuse.
"So what happened with Sasha? I saw her office. It looked like someone tore the place apart."
Her face went pale. She turned slowly toward the bag.
"She... she died."
"What?"
The word came out before I could stop it. My body moved on instinct, trying to get closer to the cooler—to see if it was really her in there—but the Inquisitor's hand clamped down on my arm.
His grip was iron.
"Ackerman killed her." The Inquisitor said it formally, matter-of-fact. Case closed in his mind.
"We don't know that for sure!"
Now, now, squiddie. Being emotional doesn't help anyone.
"It's more than certain. The Inquisition confirmed the events based on the evidence."
"When did this happen?" I kept my voice level.
He turned to me and fixed me with a serious glare. "Seventeen hours ago her body was found dismembered in the training hall. Only Mr. Perfect is capable of such attacks."
No.
That couldn't be right.
Ackerman wasn't sloppy enough to kill someone in the exact place he frequented at school. And the method... dismemberment? Asphyxiating her would have been much easier. Cleaner. More his style.
And that was assuming he even got the drop on her in the first place. Sasha was capable of knocking me unconscious with mere gestures. Ackerman might be strong, but her mind powers were lethal in their own right.
No.
This was too incriminating. Too obvious. Someone wanted it to look like him.
"Let me see her corpse."
Now the teacher was the one protesting. "No, Carter. Letting you see something like that... it's gruesome. You don't need to—"
"I've seen worse." I wasn't going to fake sympathy or pretend to be squeamish. Not now.
The Inquisitor kept his grip on my arm. "With all due respect, Aionis, she is now evidence in an ongoing investigation. We can't allow contamination of the scene."
He was getting on my nerves.
"You seem to know what I'm capable of. What will you do about it?"
He tried to grab the handgun with his free left hand, but his holster was on the right. I was quicker. I twisted my wrist to reverse his grip on my left hand, then shoved it forward to pin his gun inside the holster. He fumbled with his left hand trying to draw it, but couldn't get the angle.
With my right hand I drove my thumb into the trapezius muscle at the base of his neck where it meets the shoulder.
Even if he was stronger than my injured self, his lack of experience was obvious. This powerful hero started screaming like a little girl.
I hooked my left foot behind his ankle while still gripping his neck, destabilizing his stance. Then I pushed with my hand and pulled with my foot in opposite directions. He went down hard, but his right hand stayed clamped on my wrist. I didn't let him drag me with him.
I planted my foot on his neck with all my weight, then lowered into a crouch to pry the gun from his holster. The pain had stunned him enough to let go.
I stepped back, pointing the gun at him.
"What a clown."
He really was. These kinds of guys were too mesmerized by protocol and procedure. Probably spent more time at the range than in actual combat.
His face went red from a mix of oxygen deprivation and anger. How pathetic.
Still, it wasn't like I was going to shoot him. I'd made my point.
I ejected the magazine with a practiced motion, shook the rounds out onto the floor, and threw the empty mag across the room. It clattered somewhere behind a cabinet.
The teacher didn't dare stop me this time.
I opened the cooler and cold air rushed out, carrying the faint chemical smell of preservatives. I squatted down and grabbed the zipper on the body bag.
And... yeah. She really was dismembered.
The cuts were rough. Uneven. Almost hacked rather than sliced. Quite a sloppy job.
Even if Ackerman was angry, even if he'd completely lost control... no, it just couldn't be him. This wasn't his work.
I had no reason to defend a monster like him, but someone organizing this whole conspiracy to frame him? That spelled danger. Real danger. What other scheme could they make out of nowhere?
"You've had enough?"
The Inquisitor had risen from the ground in the meantime and was glaring at the back of my head. I could see him at the edges of my vision, trying to look intimidating. A little late if I was being honest.
"Ackerman didn't do it."
"An agent from the bureau confirmed it. The evidence is conclusive."
"Then they don't know shit." I gestured at the mess that used to be Sasha. "Look at this. Do you even know Ackerman? He was a trained professional. He wouldn't do something this sloppy. This crude."
"As if you'd know anything about it."
I turned my head halfway, still looking down at the corpse.
"Yeah, I do."
The Inquisitor went still as a statue. His whole body locked up.
This guy tried too hard even when he was confused. It was almost funny.
"Who even 'confirmed' his involvement? Which agent?"
"You don't need to know that." His voice was tight. Defensive.
I let him see me roll my eyes. Bureaucratic bullshit.
I rose to meet his level and started toward the exit.
The guy kept shouting after me. "Hey! You're now involved in the investigation. You can't just—"
He started throwing slurs at me, but I didn't bother listening. I pushed through the door and headed straight for the dorms.
The other Inquisitors outside glared at me as I passed. They were clearly aware of what had just happened inside. Word traveled fast with these people.
Judging by how one of them had 'confirmed' Ackerman's involvement, they probably had some kind of communication network. Maybe psychic.
Didn't matter.
My body was surprisingly still fine, but I wanted the excuse to rest and think about what was happening.
Sasha's death was really throwing my plans out the window.
How the fuck was I supposed to meet the thing inside me now? She'd been my only real lead.
Who else would even be aware of it?
Hmmmm...
That priestess of Saturn that Sophie had mentioned—Lucretia? I think she was my biggest lead now. But how could I meet someone as important as that woman? She was too high in the Old ventian church hierarchy.
No, that was unlikely to even benefit me. It would probably be as dangerous as meeting the Royal Governor himself. Maybe worse.
So who else?
Perhaps someone from the Inquisition? Also unlikely to help me. Dammit. That magical girl had made it seem like they liked me well enough, but things couldn't be more sour now. If they ever got to know my true nature, then I'd certainly be hunted down.
I reached the familiar dorm building and took the stairs up to the teacher's floor.
Three months huh.
The lounge was, sadly, not empty.
"Will! My, how worried I was!"
The English teacher rushed over and grabbed me into a crushing hug.
Gosh, it hurt. She was extremely strong—almost like SuperiorWoman without the flight and with lower durability. I'd avoided her back when I taught here because she had a bad habit of running her mouth. Gossip spreader.
"Yeah, it was rough." I gasped the words out, struggling for air.
I patted her on the back to signal release, but she didn't get the hint. I forced out a small pained noise to make the intention certain.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." She finally let go.
The bags under her eyes were pretty heavy. She smelled of alcohol too. Ugh. Not even hiding it.
She gave me a moment to catch my breath before gesturing toward another man currently eating at the lounge desk. At her signal, he rose and approached to offer his hand.
"Let me introduce you. This is Kenshi Yonezu, the teacher you were substituting for."
A pretty short man with Chou features. Mid-fifties, probably. Clean-cut, professional-looking. I took his hand out of courtesy.
Then a zap hit me and my legs gave out. An electric shock ran through my arm.
I looked up at him from the floor. He was chuckling, holding up his free hand. Showing off his power.
"Kenshi! That's...! Don't you see William's state? How could you do that?"
She was actually scolding a man older than her. Good job... whatever her name was. I still couldn't remember it.
"Sorry, sorry. You just had this dark expression on your face. I wanted to lighten the mood a bit." He offered me his hand to help me up, but I didn't bother accepting the gesture. I pushed myself up on my own.
A scoff escaped me.
Asshole.
Well, at least he wasn't angry about how terribly I'd taught his class. My lessons were a disaster.
"Where are the other teachers?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Positive, even.
"In class? Where else would they be?"
Right. Stupid question. Classes were still running.
She looked around the empty lounge, then gestured toward one of the chairs. "Stay with us a bit. There's so much to catch up on from these past few months."
"Like how Sasha died?"
Oops. Didn't mean to let that slip out loud.
She froze, her face going pale. Disbelief that I already knew.
"Look, I'll come back later. I'm just a little tired right now. My room is still available, right?"
She didn't respond. Just stared. Kenshi was silent too, watching me with those careful eyes.
Oh well.
I headed further down the corridor without waiting for an answer.
Checked my room and... yup, locked. I didn't have a key on me either. Hmmm. I wasn't really feeling like going back to the English teacher right now. She'd want to talk about Sasha.
I tried a few other doors along the hallway.
And by sheer luck... Alice's room was open! Her laziness was paying off for once. She never remembered to lock anything. They didn't even check the room for things she left behind. SO much trust…
I pushed inside and closed the door behind me.
Without bothering to unbutton the shirt, I let myself fall face-first onto her bed. No point worrying about wrinkles at this stage. It wasn't like my clothes were even clean anymore—there were quite a few stains of dirt and sweat from the day.
The mattress was soft. Familiar.
Still, what the fuck was I supposed to do now?
Sasha was dead. Emily was missing. Alice had abandoned me. I had no leads on my own resurrection.
I was completely stuck.
Fuck.
Who else could see my nature? Anyone would work at this point. Anyone with that kind of sight.
Haah...
I was frustrated. My brain felt like static. I couldn't pull the memory up.
I just couldn't.
But I knew there must have been others somewhere. People I'd met and forgotten. A person I'd overlooked. At least one.
The smell pulled me back to reality.
My clothes really reeked.
I had to wash them. I Couldn't keep wearing this.
But from whom could I borrow men's clothes? Were there even any male teachers left on this floor?
I got out of Alice's room and started knocking on doors along the hallway. Most were locked or empty.
At the end of the corridor, I finally found someone—Aku! Yes, the gardener. He was my savior.
He looked pretty rough himself. Probably affected by what had happened with Sasha. I remembered he had a weak heart. Just from a glance I could see his small room was a mess too—clothes piled up, unwashed dishes, that heavy air of mustiness.
He didn't seem to take my presence as a positive. Maybe the scars freaked him out. He had that look a scared dog gives when trying to play tough—all tense posture and averted eyes.
"Hey! My boy Aku! Got some clothes I could borrow? I need to wash this suit."
He turned without a word and pulled a spare janitor outfit from his drawer. Dark blue coveralls. Practical, at least.
Good enough.
"Here for the investigation?" His voice was flat. The eyes of a dead man. Lost hope already, just going through the motions.
"Nah. Here for myself. The death certainly took me by surprise though."
He looked stunned, as if he'd expected more from me. Some kind of grand scheme or master plan.
This guy was giving me way too much credit.
I took the uniform from his hands and headed straight for the communal shower down the hall.
______
After washing off the day's filth, I got dressed in Aku's uniform. But I didn't really like it. No offense to the guy, but he didn't do a great job cleaning his spare clothes. The fabric felt stiff, slightly grimy.
I grabbed the floral deodorant spray from the bathroom counter and tried to cover the smell of dirt embedded in the coveralls.
Flowers could only do so much.
But I was wasting time standing here complaining about laundry.
Who the hell would know my true self? Someone who could see past the flesh to whatever was underneath.
The uniform from Aku made me feel unsettled, like I was forgetting something important. A connection I should be making.
But what?
Flowers, Aku, and someone who knew my true form...
Ahhhh.
How could I be so dumb? That ghost girl. The one in the garden. I just needed to meet her again. She'd seen through me before even if only for a short while.
Hopefully she hadn't moved from that spot. Spirits tended to stay anchored to places, right?
It shouldn't be too hard to reach a death-like state considering my current health. My heart had already stopped once in the last twenty-four hours. I could probably force it again if I tried.
Yeah. I'd do that tonight. After dark, when the campus was quiet.
In the meantime, I went down to the laundry room and cleaned my suit by hand in one of the deep sinks. The water ran brown at first, then gray, then finally clear.
Therapeutic, almost. Gave me something to focus on besides the mounting problems.-*-*-*-*-*