Instinct is an interesting thing.
Our bodies are full of built-in reflexes—like pulling your hand back when something burns, or throwing your arms out in front of you when you fall.
The "beauty" of instinct is that it's automatic. Some people refine it, others learn to control it; and in some cases, it saves your life.
If Lloyd had stopped to think through the whole process of propelling himself upward using his "power," well, he'd be dead.
However, a Grimoire is deeply tied to the mind—to one's instincts and emotions.
It's ironic—the original Lloyd sealed his own power because, deep down, he believed it was useless.
That wasn't a problem for this Lloyd.
"Shit… couldn't I have fought a goblin instead? I haven't even finished the damn tutorial yet," Lloyd grumbled, clinging to the top of the train car.
He'd barely managed to land properly.
The wind battered his face, making it hard to breathe—not that it mattered, since he was already exhausted.
Then something caught his attention—a translucent limb slammed onto the roof, denting it with its fingers.
"You've got to be kidding me..."
That creature was still chasing him. Lloyd was starting to think that, somehow, it was drawn to him.
I've got almost no energy left… what the hell can I even do?
Lloyd watched as the translucent figure climbed onto the car, locking its hollow gaze on him while letting out a low, hollow sound that almost resembled laughter.
I need to get rid of that thing already… but how? I can't hurt it much… Wait, it doesn't have to be me.
A grin spread across Lloyd's face. He'd almost forgotten—his power wasn't about creating "effects without cause." It was about erasing.
That technique drained him because it was complicated, but Lloyd knew sometimes the simplest answer was the best one.
Maybe I don't have to erase an object—just one of its properties.
The Djinn began crawling faster toward him, moving like a spider.
But Lloyd already had a plan.
His Grimoire shone on the back of his hand, and in that instant, the friction between the Djinn's limbs and the surface of the train simply stopped existing.
Lloyd didn't feel that mysterious power this time, but he could see it had worked. In a scene that would've been funny if it weren't so dangerous, the Djinn slipped and went sliding right over Lloyd, tumbling off the roof.
"Yeah… take that," Lloyd muttered. He was too tired to even celebrate.
"KIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUUYY!"
A piercing screech rang out.
Lloyd turned to see the monster clinging to the back of the train, thrashing furiously; the friction-negation had only affected a specific area, so nothing stopped it from grabbing on again.
Great, like I just spawned into a damn Souls game...
Lloyd sighed. If he was going to die, he'd die fighting.
Let's see… could I erase matter itself? Doubt I've got enough juice to delete enough neutrons in the air to kill it... Guess I'll have to go with something more 'kamikaze.'
"You've held out well, kid," said a voice, snapping Lloyd out of his thoughts.
Anastasia? No… she looks and dresses a bit differently.
Standing before him was a stunning woman dressed in a silver, military-style uniform—even wearing a matching cap. Her silver hair fluttered in the wind, and a faint smile curved her lips.
Lloyd noticed a violet tattoo glowing faintly on her generous chest, clearly visible thanks to her rather "daring" neckline.
He recognized her—the purple lines formed a lotus flower pierced by a sword.
So this is Isabella von Astoria—Anastasia's older sister… and the president of the Student Council.
Damn, Anastasia was hot, but this one's on a whole other level… holy hell, those are massive.
A heavy crash behind him made Lloyd turn. The creature was being crushed by an invisible force—though Lloyd already knew what it was.
Gravity: Her Grimoire's called Aether, if I remember right. Aether was like an ancient model of spacetime—basically how the ancients visualized space.
Apparently, the author used that idea as inspiration for Isabella's ability. Her Grimoire lets her manipulate esoteric particles that can warp space—or mimic its interactions.
"Well now, I thought that'd be enough to deal with you, but it seems you're tougher than you look," Isabella said, sounding almost amused.
Lloyd couldn't see her clearly from where he was, but he could hear the metal roof bending under the pressure—that force was no joke.
"Alright then. I suppose you're worthy of my blade," she said confidently. The pressure vanished just as she drew her sword. "Come on, I'll let you make the first move—though I'm not sure there's much point in talking to a Wendigo... do Djinns even understand us? At least they seem to enjoy our suffering."
Either she really likes to talk, or she's just showing off.
The Wendigo seemed to respond—or maybe it was just pissed—because it lunged at her exactly as she'd invited.
"I see. As I thought—absolutely no elegance," she said.
Magenta particles of light began to form and merge with the blade of her sword, making it shimmer with violet hues.
"Forge of Genesis: Fragarach!"
Isabella's Grimoire glowed even brighter as she spoke those words—just as the Wendigo was about to strike.
Her image blurred, vanishing and reappearing behind it. It wasn't teleportation—she had simply made spacetime itself irrelevant.
Several slashes appeared across the Wendigo's distorted body—shredded into pieces in less than a second.
The woman sheathed her sword, and the Wendigo dissolved into dust.
"Wow… that was amazing," Lloyd murmured under his breath. He could barely speak, with the air whipping his face and his body drained of energy.
"Oh, that little thing? It was just a trick—nothing impressive, really," she said with a smile.
Yeah, she definitely likes to show off… not that she doesn't have the right to.
The woman grabbed Lloyd by the collar of his uniform and lifted him effortlessly.
"Time to head back."
She took a step forward, and the ground beneath her changed instantly.
They had teleported.
Lloyd didn't recognize the train car—it was a private cabin, trimmed in gold with luxurious furniture. Not huge, but it screamed "VIP" from every corner.
"I'm impressed you survived a Wendigo as a first-year. How'd you end up in Class Omega?" she asked.
Lloyd was taken aback. She'd set him down gently on a couch—his head now resting on her lap.
No way… the untouchable president of the Student Council is letting me use her thighs as a pillow? This isn't a dream, right? The Wendigo didn't kill me and send me to heaven, did it?
Though his shock was mostly because, in the novel, Isabella was portrayed as way worse than Anastasia—someone even Reinhart feared.
"Well, truth is, I didn't awaken my Grimoire until a few days ago—or rather, I figured out how to use it just yesterday," Lloyd replied, trying to sound calm.
He couldn't even see Isabella's face from that position—her ample chest completely blocked his view.
"Oh, I see. I was the same—it took me a while to figure out how to use my Grimoire. Though it makes sense: the more powerful a Grimoire is, the harder it is to master," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair.
"So, yesterday was when you stole Reinhart's badge?"
"…"
Lloyd felt his heart stop for a moment.