Trevor Elov Byrne watched with some amusement as the kids’ expressions changed in light of what he had just told them. As much as he sympathized with Cadet Davar, he wasn’t about to meddle in some clan’s business. Not directly anyway.

“Mind you, it's not the top percentile for the current applicants,” Trevor continued, “but the top percentile for the objective results.”

“Eh?” The look of confusion on Yuriko Davar’s face, scrunched brows, pursed lips, but wide eyes, made him want to pinch her cheeks. “What’s the difference?”

“Being the best amongst the batch of students isn’t enough,” Trevor clarified. “Your scores on the exams must be at ninety-nine percent. Well, there’s some leeway, about ninety to ninety-five, as long as you have a sterling recommendation letter.”

“What quality is our recommendation letter?” Krystal Zorin piped in.

“Yours qualifies for ninety-three. Cadet Davar for ninety-five.”

“Oh, why is…” Krystal trailed off. Her eyes lit up a second later in understanding. “Ah.”

“Indeed.”

“How do we achieve that level and why would that help me?” Yuriko asked.

“That would allow you to enter the elite tier. The Academy will then recommend the course you should take depending on talents you’ve shown. But, hmmm, tell me, Cadet Davar, what position did you want to join the Legion in?”

“Striker. Ranged… er, well, I suppose melee now.”

“Ah, you wanted to follow old Virgil’s footsteps. I see. Well, you never did tell me what your Heritage was.”

“Oh, I don’t know the name of the Heritage but Elder Ramus named my Facet as Anima Resonance.”

“And what does that do?”

“Well, it seems to call up a shadow of a warrior from the distant past, and he, or she mostly, taught me some Animus Techniques.”

Trevor leaned forward, eyes gleaming, “Oh, that’s interesting. Are these techniques comparable to the ones in modern tutelage?”

Yuriko coughed. “Er, I’m not the best judge…”  “You believe that they’re better.”

Her cheeks stained pink, provoking another impulse to pinch her cheeks, one Trevor had to mentally beat down with a stick. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Of course you’d believe that. Well, I won’t ask for details, those are secrets for you and your ancestors to share, but I’d like to remind you that modern Animus techniques have gone through nearly three thousand years of improvements, optimizations, and safety checks. Don’t discount them for ancient techniques. Weigh your options, your pros and cons before you choose which one you’ll end up with. Or mix them up as you please.”

Yuriko nodded in understanding, though she looked like she was about to protest a couple of times, but ultimately kept her thoughts to herself. Well, that wasn’t ideal.

“What were you trying to say?”

“Uhm, well, when I learned some of the older techniques, the ones I learned from you and from Da no longer worked.”

Trevor frowned. “That isn’t right.” He tried to use his right hand to rub his moustache but halfway through the motion, he remembered he didn’t have a right hand anymore. Grumbling to himself, he used his left to scratch his chin instead. “Why are you unable to use the current techniques?”  “Well, the patterns the Golden Silhouette showed me were versions of the same Animus techniques. After I used the Facet-learned ones, I found I couldn’t use the previous set without it feeling…wrong.”

“Please clarify, is it that you cannot use the modern techniques or you don’t continue its use because when you tried it feels wrong to you?”

Her eyes widened in realisation. “No, I haven’t actually tried to forcefully use the old techniques; I always stopped when it started feeling wrong.”

Trevor nodded. “Well, I won’t command you to do it, but I suggest you explore everything thoroughly. Without knowing your Facet inside out, you won’t be able to advance to Apprentice.” He cleared his throat. “Some kids only explore their initial Facet to a certain point before trying to advance, but that’s foolish. Build your foundations correctly.”

Cadet Zorin nodded along with Cadet Davar though Trevor could tell they weren’t entirely sure what he meant. “Just explore the limits of what you can do with your initial Facet before you try to inlay your next one. It’s actually more important if you want to expand the Facet. Er, anyway, I think I’ll leave that lecture to the Academies. They have a systematic method already.”

“Thank you for your insights,” Yuriko and Krystal said, “and for telling us about how to qualify for the elite tier.”

“My pleasure.” He waved them off with his stump.

They gave him a short bow, well Yuriko did, Krystal curtsied since she was in a dress. Once they were gone, Trevor sighed and picked up a sheet of paper. Most of these reports involved repairs, supply quantities, and habitation requests. A brief summary showed how many swarmlings were hunted yesterday, as well as a declaration from the Watchtower that the Wave was officially over and the state of emergency of the town and surrounding villages would be lifted soon. Though he knew that repairs of damaged properties and the harvest, however meagre it would be, was forefront to their concerns.

‘Looks like we’ll need to import grain.’

When the door to his office opened, he expected his assistant but was surprised to see Spellweaver Eilis Merill come in.

“Eilis, good afternoon.” He stood politely and nodded in greeting.

“Trevor,” she said easily, eyes drawn to his stump.

Trevor walked around the desk and sat on a sofa set near the bookshelves. Eilis sat on his right and reached out to his stump. Her fingers glowed red while she traced the runescript.

“This will take decades.” She clicked her tongue.

“It’s my own fault.”

“No doubt. You really shouldn’t have fought a Chaos Lord by grandstanding with two polearms.”  “It was a polearm and a greatsword.”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not. The two large weapons were mostly to fight the swarmlings.”

She fell silent while her Animus worked on the metal cap. “You’ll need a prosthetic for this. The taint is preventing proper regeneration.”

“I see. I thought as much when Recovery didn’t alleviate the pain.”

She looked up at his eyes, her brown ones meeting his blue. “It still hurts?”

“As if the limb was still there and was slowly being roasted,” he said easily.

She shook her head. “Maybe we should sever that part of your Anima…”  “Then there would be no hope of regenerating the limb.” Trevor shrugged. “I can bear the result of my foolishness but I won’t sever my future.”

“We can request the prosthetic to be made of materials that will aid in removing the taint.”

“If you think that would help.”

“Yes. There’s none of that here, of course. We’ll have to go to Rumiga City, maybe off-plane, too.”

“Well, I guess I’ll go with the children for the Academies’ registration.”

“I’ll go with you,” Eilis said decisively.

“But the town?”

“The Legion will be stationed here for a while. There are other Spellweavers to take over.”

“Oh. Glad to have you with me then.”

“It’s your pleasure, of course.”

_____

The first day, and night, in the Shallows was surprisingly uneventful. Marron and the rest of the investigation team huddled up near a copse of trees, sheltered from the Chaos wind by the trunks, an outcropping of stone, and finally, the small hemispherical domes of the Legion. Each of those tents could shelter a couple of people.

Marron bunked in with a gruff fellow named Midhir. He was a bit older than him, in his twenties compared to Marron’s nineteen. He was built like a tank, too, muscles bulging out of his red coat, and was nearly twice as broad as the willowy youth. He looked a bit like Armsmaster Byrne, truth be told, though his speciality was more on the Warder side than Striker.

There were twelve in the party, ten legionnaires and two militia. Marron and Niamh were more of an adjunct than anything else, included probably because he was the son of the militia commander and Niamh was his back-up scribe.

The legionnaires were taciturn, understandable considering their location and the possible threat they could face. A post-Wave Shallows was anything but safe and on their way here, they had already wiped out hundreds of swarmlings. Those were dealt with the ease of stepping on an ant.

All of the legionaries were Journeyman level of Anima strength, the same as he and Niamh. Decanus was a Knight, he suspected, though she didn’t confirm it. Perhaps after this night, they would arrive at a suitable waypoint to scry the fate of the Inquisitor mission.

The watch was set after a dinner of ration bar stew seasoned with some exotic spice that made it taste both hot and cooling at once. At the same time, Marron found his Animus becoming a bit more active in his core. The Chaos seeped into all of them just by being outside the protection of the plane.

This was why he was so adamant not to let Yuriko join the expedition, aside from the fact that she would be useless baggage in the first place. The Chaos would filter into their Anima when they breathe, permeate into their cores and slowly taint it. His core was now robust enough to be able to cleanse itself as a matter of course, but for those with weaker Anima Strength, they would have to actively expel the taint. It wasn’t something they could do while they did anything else, such as fighting or sleeping. Their fate then would be having their core tainted with Chaos, and afterwards…well, there would be no afterwards.

They would either die or be killed.

“What spice did you put in this?” Marron asked Decanus Killane who was sitting next to him on a stump. Niamh was on his other side.

The young woman glanced at him appraisingly, before snorting to herself, “It’s a Vagaris exclusive brew. I’m surprised your father didn’t tell you about it, but then again, you can only get the ingredients through the legion.”

“Ah.” Well, it looked like he would have to spice his ration porridge with the usual meat jerkies to make it palatable. This particular stew didn’t have any meat surprisingly.

“How are we to proceed?” he asked.

“Once we’re deep enough into the Tidelands, I’ll form a waypoint.”

“But…”

“I know, the Dark Moon makes this harder than it should have been, but at the same time, it makes it harder for fickle luck to turn things in an unexpected direction. You and Midhir will be on first watch. Take care.”

With those words, she finished up her food, dumped the bowl in a basin and walked into her tent.

“That’s a bit rude,” Niamh muttered.

Marron shrugged. “Just doing her job. Who knows what we’ll find.”

The watch was similarly uneventful. Shorter since there were so many of them, and a lot safer, too. As long as someone was awake, the Chaos wouldn’t change their surroundings, not unless they encountered a Storm anyway.

Clear skies and the Dark Moon, along with the Season made that a one in a million chance.

The next day, they gathered around Decanus Killane. She led them along a path, entering a new waypoint that was a forest with several clearings that were connected by narrow animal tracks. It reminded him of the Shillogu Woods up north, actually.

After another hour, they came upon the waypoint terminus and exited, finding themselves in a craggy wasteland with winds scouring the sandy ground. Midway through the trek, a dust cloud in the distance warned them of something approaching.

Marron channelled Animus into his eyes, staring off in the distance. The lay of the land curved downwards, such that he couldn’t see much beyond a longstride away.

“I need a vantage point.” He said pointing to a nearby hill that was about twenty paces higher than where they were.

“Go.”

He made his way up quickly, getting on his hands and knees near the top so he wouldn’t skyline himself. Once he reached an unobstructed view, he finally saw what was in the distance, and his sudden sharp breath choked him with dust.

Legionary Midhir was behind him, along with Niamh, though they stayed far from the ridge.

“What is it?” Midhir called out, voice pitched low but it somehow reached Marron’s ears from a dozen paces away.

Marron turned around and crawled back, standing only when he was far enough from the ridge.

“A Behemoth.”

Midhir frowned while Niamh looked at both of them in confusion.

“What is a Behemoth?” she finally asked quietly while they returned to the waiting legionaries.

“An accumulation of Chaos dwellers trapped in the Tidelands,” Midhir growled. “There were too many swarmlings in the Wave, this was inevitable.”

“So, do we kill it?” Niamh asked, somewhat eagerly.

The two men exchanged looks. “Better to avoid it.” Midhir finally said, “We don’t have the strength to ensure its death and those things rarely leave.”

“What did it look like anyway?” Niamh asked.

“A three-storey high creature that looked like a gigantic stag with antlers made out of chitinous bodies. Its fur is made out of swarmling scythe-claws. What’s worse is that they don’t have any vital points,” Marron replied.

“The Legion didn’t bring any of its Colossi,” Midhir said. “It’ll be useless to fight without one. Not at our level of strength anyway.”

When they returned to the others, Marron reported what he saw.

“Make a note,” Decanus said to one of the legionaries. “I’m sure the Legate or the Tribunus would be interested in hunting it.”

They changed their course away from the Behemoth. They had only been a couple of waypoints away from reaching the Mid Marches and with this detour, they would need to cross five more waypoints instead.

Just as they reached the terminus, Marron had the sudden urge to look behind him. They were on a plateau and the view back was clear for nearly a league. He found the Behemoth next to the hill they had been to. On its back, almost hidden by the waving fur, was a figure cloaked in shadow, with burning red eyes.

Staring back at him.