Chapter 87

It was the day before the prayer festival's closing ceremony.

The city had grown noticeably more crowded as people flooded in to catch the final day's spectacle.

But amid the surge, one movement bucked the current entirely. A single carriage sped out of the city at a brisk clip.

Clop. Clop-clop.

The lively beat of hooves echoed down the road.

Mikhail, seated by the window, pulled his gaze from the passing scenery and looked down at the paper in his hand.

A mission evaluation form—marked with a perfect base score, the highest commendation, and a note requesting additional points on top of that.

Combined with what they'd earned at Colton Winery, first place in the free mission period's rankings was all but guaranteed.

"Grrrr."

The sky foxes' whimper pricked his ears. Mikhail turned his head to the opposite seat.

Han and Ul had been rolling around on the spacious bench, and now they were tapping the floor with their front paws.

The carriage had been packed when they'd first entered the city. Now it sat completely empty. The vacant seats seemed to bother them.

"Hmph."

Mikhail offered the siblings a small smile as they stared up at him.

Then his thoughts drifted to Julien and Edwin's whereabouts.

[Mikhail. I'll be heading out, then.]

[See you later! I'll take good care of Julien, so don't worry.]

Julien had kept his promise and set off for the Delporn Mountains.

Edwin had been visibly thrown by the sudden news of the party splitting up and the request to accompany Julien to the mountains.

But once he heard that Julien's chronic condition had flared up and he needed to find a doctor who specialized in it—and that he'd have no one to look after him on the way—

Edwin accepted without argument.

Though for one brief moment, his shoulders had sagged like a kicked puppy.

[…Edwin, if it's alright with you, why don't we stay for tomorrow's closing ceremony before we leave? I heard the fireworks are supposed to be incredible.]

[Oh, r-really? Seriously? You mean it? That's okay?]

[Yeah. Truth is, I wanted to see them too.]

Julien, reading Edwin's feelings perfectly, had brokered the compromise. The two reached a smooth agreement—they'd leave the city tomorrow instead.

Any updates after that, they'll send by letter.

Mikhail weighed the progress of things and tilted his head slightly.

Then he let out a quiet breath, set the paper on his knee, and turned his gaze to the window.

Rustle.

Roughly half a day from now.

That was all the time it would take before he was back at Salvator.

---

The following morning.

Knock knock knock.

The rapping on the door cut through the stillness of the dormitory room.

Mikhail left Han and Ul babbling in their sleep and dragged himself out of bed.

He shuffled to the door on half-awake legs and pulled it open.

Click.

The hallway outside was empty. But the locking formula on the parcel box beside his door glowed with a faint light.

Mikhail walked over, released the formula, and checked the contents.

A lustrous black box sat at the center, and resting on top of it was a single letter sealed with deep blue wax—

'!'

The seal pressed into the wax bore the insignia of the North.

Every trace of sleep clinging to his eyelids vanished in an instant.

Mikhail clutched the box and letter to his chest and strode to the desk at the back of the room.

From the look of it, these were Joseph's replies to the wine and letter he'd sent earlier.

Rustle.

He opened the envelope first. A single line graced the fine stationery.

[Wishing you good fortune.]

Mikhail stared at Joseph's flowing script for a long, still moment, then set the letter down.

He studied the black box briefly before placing his hand on its surface.

Keeeeen.

White formulas bloomed across the box and the lock released.

Inside, resting on a bed of silk, lay a snow-white branch.

A palm-sized length of trunk, shedding tiny silver fragments from its surface.

"…!"

The words died in his throat.

Mikhail stared at the branch with wide eyes. His hand drifted slowly toward the interior of the box.

His heart kicked into a gallop, riding a wave of déjà vu. He had a strong suspicion what this was.

[GRRRRRRGH—!]

During the first main storyline progression—when he'd faced Oz, the magical beast that had tried to orchestrate Mikhail's death.

The blade of Ethan's sword, cleaving through that pale white javelin, had scattered brilliant silver light in every direction.

Exactly like the branch now resting in his hand.

Then this is….

The World Tree.

A divine tree whose main trunk had been lost to a great catastrophe, its existence now confirmable only through ancient records.

Yet a handful of offshoots from its outermost branches had survived into the present era in various forms.

Among them was Ethan's weapon—one that resonated with its wielder's experiences, responded to potential and growth, and matured alongside them.

Until, in the end, it became an armament of such power and might that no renowned blade in existence could rival it.

Tszzzzz.

Mikhail gripped the branch tight, silver light flickering across its rock-hard bark.

Then he noticed the no reply mark stamped along the edge of Joseph's letter, and slowly closed his eyes.

"……"

Questions crowded his mind.

How in the world had Joseph Senit come to possess a cutting of the World Tree?

What had driven him to entrust something like this to his son?

The truth behind those answers felt impossibly far away.

But none of that changed the fact that he had no intention of letting go of the advantage now sitting in his palm.

Used properly, this would become an enormous asset in everything that lay ahead.

And he already had an idea of how to nurture a World Tree sapling—without disrupting the main storyline.

Mikhail tapped the stone-hard surface of the branch with his fingertip and narrowed his eyes.

Rustle.

That was when a presence nearby made him look down.

Han and Ul had crept over without him noticing, their drowsy eyes half-shut as they nuzzled their snouts against his ankles.

The sudden movement must have woken them.

Clack.

Mikhail tucked the branch back inside the box.

He lifted the siblings onto the bed one at a time, then walked to the window.

He pushed aside the curtain, then slid the glass pane open.

Shrrk.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the room.

Mikhail propped his chin on the windowsill and gazed down at the campus, where students crisscrossed the grounds below.

His mind turned to what came next.

The kingdom's southeast. Heading to Melphendes.

Ethan and Lloyd's party should have returned to the academy after finishing their second mission by now.

Which meant that four days from today, he and Ethan would depart for the third mission site together.

So he'd need to register the request in advance, just like before.

Supplies available on campus would need to be secured ahead of time as well.

And finally, he'd have to commission a piece of clothing suited for carrying the World Tree branch.

---

The midday sun beat down in a hard, straight line—hotter than usual.

Lloyd strolled along the path at an idle pace, a glass of honeyed plum soda pressed to his lips.

Salvator Academy, reached again after roughly a week away.

The broad campus looked much the same as always, though it buzzed with a touch more restless energy than before.

Makes sense, when you think about it.

The free mission period was winding down to its final stretch.

By now, the points earned from completed missions would have more or less sorted out the team and individual rankings.

Who sat in the top tier, who'd secured the most advantageous position heading into the next academic evaluation—that kind of talk was making the rounds everywhere.

Slrrrp.

The straw scraped the bottom of his cup.

Lloyd tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash bin and looked ahead.

The request office stood in the distance. And there was Ethan—standing alone in front of the large notice board, staring at it.

Naked astonishment written all over his face, not even trying to hide it.

He said he was going solo this time around, so I figured he had something planned—but what's he doing standing there like that?

Lloyd tilted his head, puzzled.

But soon enough, his trademark easy grin slid into place and he walked over to see for himself.

When only two or three steps remained between them, he called out in a deliberately teasing tone.

"Hey. Why do you look so spaced ou—"

Lloyd's mouth was still moving when his eyes flicked to the board.

He froze mid-stride, rooted to the spot, the rest of the sentence forgotten.

His gaze latched onto the top of the list and refused to let go.

The moment he registered the familiar name written in clean, block letters, sheer disbelief flooded his mind.

[Team Ranking #1 (180pt): Mikhail Senit + 2 others.]

[— Individual #1: Mikhail Senit]

[Team Ranking #2 (130pt): Ethan Welton + 5 others.]

[— Individual Tied #1: Ethan Welton, Lloyd Cloelle, Dian Kruger….]

.

.

"What the…."

Lloyd blinked vacantly, then mumbled in a dazed voice.

What the board spelled out was unmistakable: Mikhail had swept first place in both the individual and team rankings.

But what stunned him even more was the score listed beside the name.

A hundred and eighty points from just two completed missions meant he'd earned a perfect base score plus additional points to match.

What kind of missions had he taken—and how the hell had he handled them to pull that off?

"Tch."

A sharp click of the tongue from Ethan beside him jabbed at Lloyd's ear.

A frustrated exhale, like something sour had surged up from his chest and spilled out before he could stop it.

Lloyd rolled his eyes in a slow half-circle, mulling it over, then slid a sidelong glance at Ethan and smirked.

"Come to think of it—you mentioned you were going solo for this next mission. Don't tell me… you're going with Mikhail?"

Ethan's shoulders twitched. His answer was clipped.

"Yeah."

He gave Lloyd a curt nod, expression flat as stone, and disappeared toward the far side of the request office.

I'm done talking. His retreating back broadcast the message with every fiber of his being. Lloyd watched him go, snickered under his breath, and folded his arms.

His gaze, fixed straight ahead, narrowed to a keen, thin line.

---

Ding.

Inside Salvator's request processing office.

Mikhail rose from his seat the instant his call bell chimed.

He headed for the reception desk, giving the mission request form he was about to submit one last look.

〈128. Region: Ruins: Resolving the Melphendes Request〉

[Reports indicate that requests surrounding the exploration of Melphendes—a standard-grade ruin harboring mana stones and relics—have been surging at an exponential rate. Travel to Melphendes, resolve the outstanding requests, and return.]

[Reward Points: 20pt]

Perhaps because the urgency was low—the reward points this time were far smaller than his previous missions.

But it didn't matter. The points he'd already banked were more than enough to hold his ranking. And just like before, this mission's endgame would yield mana elements and some very useful items besides.

The elements I'll unlock this time are Fire and Ice. Once I collect those two, every natural element will be unlocked. By that point, both my magic and my mana should see a solid jump.

Click.

Mikhail wrote his own name and Ethan's on the request form, submitted it, and stepped out through the office door.

Three consecutive mission registrations had drilled the paperwork and verification process so deep into his muscle memory it was practically second nature.

Now all he had to do was brief Ethan on the mission site and prepare the necessary supplies—

"—Long time no see."

A familiar voice snagged his stride and held it fast.

Mikhail turned to look behind him, eyes finding the source.

"Hey there, Mikhail."

Lloyd Cloelle.

The boy leaned against a lamppost, flashing that signature sunny grin of his with a casual wave.