Redheads (3)

Original Sin. Calamity. Rifts. Saints. Templars. Military. Cult.

Revolution.

I scratched my head in frustration. I felt like I knew more now, and yet I understood so little.

Return of the Quantum Mage.

***

In one tent was a blonde girl and a redhead—the blonde girl usually had dyed pink hair, and wore well-fitting robes, but given it was right after a long bath she had none of the usual cosmetics nor fancy clothes that gave her her signature je ne sais quoi. The blonde girl was bawling her eyes out while the redhead—allegedly six years her junior—stroked her head much like a doting mother would calm a baby. Somewhere outside that tent was a godlike security guard, and in the tent adjacent to that, was me.

Good old me was nursing a migraine, unfortunately. Not because of Annabelle’s lectures or the seemingly random emotional reunion I was forced to bear witness to, but because of the realisation that there was a certain uneasiness to the supposed coincidental nature of my transmigration. And to be completely honest, even I’d felt an immense sense of righteousness in the world when I witnessed Annabelle melting into Maelle’s arms, as if every struggle I’d been through—every horror I’d witnessed and every trauma I’d been afflicted with—was just so I could witness that one specific moment in the flow of time, and that if I died, I would die happy knowing I pulled her onto that carriage. But that was just a stupid thought, not the reality of things, and there were far too many things on my plate to juggle to truly soak in someone else’s victory.

This was purely Annabelle’s moment, not mine. All I did was get strung along for the ride. And in understanding that, I stepped aside and left her in the spotlight with her heroine.

After all, I needed to focus on myself.

Slave girl.

I thought about Annabelle for a moment. How she rambled on and on in her own tub as she talked about the princess. It was one of those parasocial situations where you got a sense that the person was operating on stereotypes and preconceived notions about a public figure instead of actual experiences. Still, I listened. The fables and legends about Maelle Piquet, legitimate daughter of King Philip and heir to House Piquet seemingly lived up to the grandeur—and at times paled in comparison to the reality that she was a genius beyond human comprehension. There would have been no doubt she would have been an amazing queen, and the possibility that she truly might have been a reincarnation was not lost on me whenever I saw those amber eyes.

Exile.

I shook my head.

In times like this I remembered a saying: not why, memorise. If I didn’t do a once-over on all the bullets of information Annabelle had so kindly unloaded into me in the bath, I would forget everything.

So I decided that I would tell myself a story as I best understood it: the Legend of the Quantum Mage.

Five hundred years ago, for one reason or another, there was a natural disaster known as the Calamity. The aftermath of this Calamity caused all sorts of things like monsters and temporal rifts to appear en masse, blotting the face of the world like an infection, which was why the Templars of Calice were formed by Alicia of Sienne as a paramilitary organisation to combat the newfound threats of dungeons and dragons running rampant. After some investigation, it was clear to all that an ex-mage turned demon—the nobleman Asmodeus—had caused said Calamity, and he quickly became referred to in hushed tones and whispers as the Original Sin.

The timeline had essentially split 500 years ago because of this Calamity. The rules, lore, and game world of Quanta TCG were based around something of an alternate reality of what would have happened to the Higher Continent had this Calamity not occurred—the Templars (not of Calice) were a religious organisation that held duels occasionally to solve political disputes (ranked mode), there were no such things as rifts or monsters (aside from a one-time tutorial, there was only PvP), and the practice of casting from multiple elements was not at all codified into the ubiquitous religion and culture revolving around Saint Alicia and the Quantum Mage. In fact, it was revered as an act of Sainthood, and being able to multi-cast made you ascend to the Templar rank of Divine more quickly—one that was now discontinued. The only gods were the Twelve Saints and the Quantum Mage, who’d all ascended to heaven. Now, only mortal mages existed.

Speaking of the Quantum Mage—he was apparently a hero from another world summoned by Saint Alicia when she realised her Twelve Saints were no match for the demon. In a last resort after decades of bloody conflict, she took a plunge into the Lower Realms searching for a hero who could withstand the might of a demon king who knew every spell—miraculously finding a human male who possessed the same multi-element quirks that Asmodeus did. In the epic battle that ensued, both the Quantum Mage and the Original Sin received mortal wounds, most of the Twelve Saints had died, and to prevent anything of the sort from happening again, a recommendation against the pursuit of otherworldly affairs that corrupted Asmodeus—namely time travel and alternate realities—was enacted by Saint Alicia. Eventually, the stories of troubadours exaggerated this recommendation against celestial magic to be a ban against all celestials, the word of god in the countryside took this from a ban to an act of heresy, and thus resulted in the world I got transported into eventually taking shape. Naturally, multi-casting was also frowned upon due to Asmodeus’ greed, and knowledge of anything related to that was soon lost to time along with the thaumaturgical industry of pendulums.

Reading between the lines—besides the feeling that Annabelle’s explanation glossed over the massive censorship and genocide which must have occurred—two things were clear. One, I was meant to be that Quantum Mage. That bloody Alicia had found a replacement. Two, so I died like 500 years ago?

So how did I end up here?

What about Marks?

Does that mean the magic from the card game is still possible, just that nobody knows how to do it anymore?

Can I create spells that I know existed as cards?

How are Aunt Sumire and Yui doing?

…What do I even do with this knowledge?

I sighed. Too much information. Still no answers. And nothing about a cult or a princess or a Soren.

Nothing of value, anyway—the only thing I gathered was that her exile must have been a relatively recent event, because Annabelle had heard nothing of the sort. Silvercross was by conventional stagecoach with trading stops roughly three months away from Sienne, so in the context of Calice, we were in the boondocks. News only travelled as fast as trade did, and even slower in the countryside, so it was entirely possible that Maelle and Soren were fleeing faster than the speed of news.

Where were they going, though? And why were the cultists targeting her?

Regarding the cultists—since Maelle didn’t know much about the Cult of Asmodeus besides rumours, then it obviously stood to reason that Annabelle wouldn’t, either. But I asked anyway just to cover all my bases, and she stuttered at me like I was weird.

I managed to conclude with certainty that Annabelle was not a lesbian when I broached the topic of abs. I shall not elaborate.

Also, there was one more detail about the legend that caught my attention. Before Saint Alicia died, she apparently prophesied the return of a certain otherworldly hero should the Higher Continent ever need it again. Of course, since there were lots of pretenders who attempted to profit off this cryptic prophecy, Annabelle initially treated me with a certain level of distrust… but if I was understanding this right, that famous line about a man from another world was, without a doubt, referring to me.

***

The memory of getting crushed by a truck replayed in my head. It hurt.

Could a klutz like Saint Alicia really plan that far ahead?

Frustrated with all the new information I’d just been saddled with, I went out for a quick training session to clear my head. I was meant to wait for Annabelle to finish, but I didn’t want to rush her, and I was sure she had a lot to get off her chest when it came to talking to the figure who inspired her to leave her old life behind and become a Templar. Even disregarding all of that, what teacher would complain their student was doing extra reps on their own? It’d be a pleasant surprise, and maybe even give her sounder sleep knowing I was serious about improving myself.

That was what I thought, but there was one obvious problem—it was pitch black outside.

We were still bunkered up under Annabelle’s dome, and the sound of rainwater thumping wood was ever-present. But that meant the moonlight didn’t shine through, not even slightly, and the only meagre sources of visibility were leaks from our tents… and a certain armoured knight levitating a gem of light-blue energy in his palm.

He instantly noticed me as I exited, and the gem seemed to stutter—before I knew it, there was a buzz in the air, and it had shifted hues to a navy blue instead. Instinctually, I understood it was a form of quanta… but I didn’t know what spell it was. Just like I couldn’t recognise the runic restraints around the prisoners’ necks, nor did I understand the way he so easily defeated the cultist.

Since things have deviated, how can I tell where my actual knowledge starts and ends?

“Good evening.”

His voice was distorted.

Holy shit. He’s almost as tall as the tent entrance.

“Uh… Hello.”

“Going somewhere?”

“...Uh, I don’t know.”

“Don’t let my presence interrupt whatever it is you were doing,” he said.

“...I’ll try.”

I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment.

This was painful. I was going to go back inside. I didn’t even need to be here to train anyway, right? I couldn’t cast a spell. I could just lie down and pretend I was doing something, maybe even lie down and actually do something to take the edge off. But perhaps noticing my desire to withdraw, the knight proceeded to say the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard in my life.

“Before you leave, I owe you an apology. Her Grace told me off earlier for acting so brazenly with your lover, and on further reflection, I realise she had a point. Forgive me if I overstepped any boundaries.”

Bro.

“She’s not my lover,” I blurted.

The armoured man stood there, unmoving.

“…I see,” he said. “I will correct my lady on that notion.”

The girl said that? Fucking middle schoolers these—

“In any case, I ask for your forgiveness. I have acted dishonourably.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

“Acting dishonourably.”

“That makes… zero sense.”

“I agree. Dishonour is senseless.”

“Did you graduate high school?”

Soren’s not much of a thinker. — Maelle Piquet.

This reminded me fondly of something in my life. Back in college, when I was in the soccer club and still had abs, I’d been tasked with—

I shook my head. This wasn’t the time to derail myself. If I genuinely wanted to change, I needed to understand things—and not just understand things, but embrace the reality of my new life here. It started with treating every situation with respect. I’d already learned so much simply by asking my companion questions that I’d been putting off for the better part of a week—imagine what I could discern if I just did that with everyone who had more knowledge.

This man was a Saint by technicality, and the bodyguard of a goddess. If not him, who else would I learn from?

“Sorry… forget I even mentioned that,” I said.

“I figure I must be causing you some manner of discomfort. If that is so, state your reason.”

“...”

Honestly—might as well just tell him.

“It’s just… Well, you’re extremely powerful. I should feel at ease knowing you’re protecting us, but because of you… I feel like there’s no point in me being here.”

I want to get stronger.

“That’s only natural.”

“…”

“But I feel you are mistaken. Anna speaks proudly of your magical capabilities.”

“...What’d she say?”

“She said that you possess immense potential, and would likely exceed her in the coming months.”

I resisted the urge to get annoyed.

Apprentice, Initiate, Squire, Knight, Paladin, Archon, Justicar, no more Divine. I was going to get ahead of the lowest rank in months? So what?

“...That’s it? I’m just ‘potential man’ now?”

The man’s posture was unmoving. “I won’t pretend to understand your terminology. Looking at you, however, I feel like you aren’t fully grasping the gravity of her statement. Anna is an extremely powerful cleric. That much is obvious to anyone. Her rank is simply a byproduct of something else that I’m in no position to speculate on.”

“And what would that make you, Paladin?”

“The world’s strongest Templar.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. His voice didn’t stoop to cheesy levels of “steadfast” or “full of conviction”. It was just indifferent, like it was blatantly obvious this was a fact.

And I believed him.

On the other hand, Annabelle’s statement was a bit more of a stretch.

“...I just find it hard to believe her words could be genuine, that’s all.”

“Then take it from an authority figure,” he said. “My lady foretold me about you, and she’s never wrong about these things. After all, she was the one that chose me.”

Right as he finished his sentence, the gem in his palm expanded. A magic circle large enough to envelop him appeared under his feet, and quickly—near instantaneously—it filled to the brim with a navy blue. But instead of shattering, it simply maintained its form as the prism rose and rose, until it eventually looked like a strangely shaped chandelier hanging off from the ceiling of Annabelle’s shelter. Then, and only then, did the circle dissipate.

Aqua Prison
2 Water Quanta
Spell — Enchantment
Slow Speed

On entry: Tap target card. The target card this is equipped to cannot untap, and has no abilities. Persistent.

Except I was confused. That rules text doesn’t correlate to anything that’s happening in reality. And it couldn’t have been a situation where I’d interpreted the card wrongly—at least, I was certain that I’d seen this animation thousands of times before. [Aqua Prison] was an insanely popular removal spell. But Soren hadn’t imprisoned anything, he’d simply created a glowing, blue vortex of water that was floating at the top of the camp. What was once a dark, shadowy expanse was now illuminated in subtle hues of navy, where I could see the vague outline of a certain medical area and a small tree where an undersized turkey stirred in its sleep, and as this thought went further and further I realised I was a fucking idiot. The whole point was to make a light source. Squinting, I noticed a rock was suspended in the middle of that bubble, enough to count as a valid target for the spell.

The cards and rules texts are just abstractions of magic.

His cerulean armour was all the more visible now—as well as the fact that he wasn’t just more powerful. This man was also far more creative than me.

This is a real, breathing world. I need to stop thinking so granularly.

“I heard from Anna,” he said again. “That you might have the eyes.”

…Eyes?

The flaps of the tent flew open.

“What’s going on?” said a certain redhead.

Her hood was down, and her hair was purple in the afterglow, which gave everything a strange wrongness to it. The surreality was nauseating—it was like hearing the Blue Lock voice actors speak in English for that one episode.

“Nothing, my lady. I was just illuminating the camp so that Sir Primot could demonstrate his magic for me.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me before you did that?”

“...My apologies.”

Maelle went into an animated rant. “Don’t you think making something as visible as that in the middle of the night when we’re getting chased by assassins is a little foolish? Dispel it immediately. You may have the ability to protect me, but I have the duty to not bring our two companions into danger.”

“But my lady—”

“Dispel it, Soren. I won’t ask twice. You can always train him tomorrow.”

Train him. Of course.

Wait.

Train him?

I mean, of course—training. Behind every supposed genius, behind every freak of nature was a regimen—or at least a vast ocean of knowledge that they’d built up over time, whether they achieved this through conscious practice or subconscious talent. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow, I’d waited for tomorrow for the last five years of my life. Getting this Saint by technicality to give me a dissection of his mastery was exactly what I needed today.

“Come on, Maelle. It’s raining heavily. I don’t think anyone could actually attack us in this weather. And if they saw it, they saw it already.”

Her amber eyes snapped towards me.

“You as well? You nearly died in that attack, Quantum. And I’m still yet to figure out what the cultist’s motives were. I’m even beginning to suspect their target wasn’t—”

“Doesn’t matter. Whether it’s tonight or next year makes no difference, honestly—I’ll die sooner or later if I stay useless. Plus I’m the only one that’s really in danger here, right? You have Soren, and Annabelle has herself.”

“But that’s… Hmm…”

As she considered my remark, her amber eyes seemed to start glowing a bright yellow—just like in the carriage. Or was that just my imagination?

The knight cut my sight line off. “I share your sentiment, Sir Primot, but refrain from being so crude with Her Grace. She’s simply looking out for the best interests of the group.”

“Actually, Soren—he has a point. Maybe I am overreacting.”

He turned around, as if in shock.

“My lady?”

“I sense immediate danger… or rather, I sensed it earlier today. But something’s different about our companion over here, and the lines are blurring…”

“...I see.”

The subtle hum of energy was present, and then suddenly—nothing.

Maelle sighed. “Well, it appears I was wrong. Train to your heart’s content, Mister Primot. I apologise for reneging on my promise of calling you by name earlier—it was a lapse of composure. Now, if you’d so kindly excuse me, I need to take care of Anna.”

“…”

Everyone loves Anna, huh?

She abruptly went back into the tent as quickly as she popped out of it. I didn’t want to waste any more time than I needed to, so I rushed into my next question.

“I have a request,” I said.

Soren reached up for his visor—and in a brief flash of blue light, it disappeared, crumbling into a million pieces of dust floating into the aether.

“You truly are from a different universe.”