Authors note:
No chapters will be released next week. I have fallen behind on my writing schedule and I want to try and catch up.
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I smiled.
"This is a lot better than I expected," I said, turning toward Zareth with a calm grin.
He blinked at me, clearly surprised. "Most people panic when they realize they've been sealed into an indestructible prison."
I shrugged. "You clearly forgot who you're dealing with."
Zareth narrowed his eyes. "What gave it away?"
I tilted my head. "You mean your true curse?"
He stiffened.
His face paled just slightly, the color draining from his cheeks as realization dawned. "You knew…?"
I smirked. "The moment the door closed. I couldn't feel anything outside. My aura won't pass through the walls. Not because it can't get through them, but because there is absolutely nothing on the outside of the walls. That means this room is a demiplane."
He frowned. "That could've been a standard sealing spell. Strong mages can block sensory magic."
I shook my head with a quiet laugh. "Magic, yes. Spiritual energy? Not so easy. Nothing less than soul-level interference can block that. I've tested it. Spiritual energy can even pierce divine protections… if applied correctly."
Zareth paused at that.
His eyes flicked away, and he muttered, "Right… Primordial contract. I keep forgetting."
I kept smiling. "So this is how you earned the title Sealing Master, huh? When you were still running as an S-Rank?"
He let out a tired sigh. "Yes. Most assumed I was just a tricky illusionist. I used my incubus heritage—or rather, me being an incubus granted me illusion powers—and my pheromones can mess with the perception of others, though this clearly doesn't affect you. While they chased shadows, I used the [Curse of Isolation] to trap the real targets in spaces like this one, just without furniture or a door. One moment they were fighting me, the next—they weren't in the same world anymore."
He gestured around us. "This demiplane? It's untraceable and untouchable from the outside unless I allow it. Can't interact with time, space, sound, or spirit. Even divine beings would need to work to find this place if I didn't leave a tether."
I nodded, impressed. "Complete sensory and magical severance. Very elegant."
He grunted. "Security's pretty airtight. The room is invulnerable unless someone inside finds the weak points—good luck with tha—" he looked at me and shook his head "—or rather, good luck to anyone other than you."
He chuckled but paused. "Now that I think about it, I still have a few… things… stuck in some of my older prisons. Beings I couldn't kill but couldn't risk letting out."
I tilted my head. "So… are you planning to add me to your collection?"
Zareth visibly cringed, a sheen of cold sweat forming on his brow. "Wh-what? No! I wouldn't dare! You have a contract with a Primordial. I'm not suicidal."
He fumbled into his coat and pulled out a small silver key. "This is a secondary exit. Even if I can't let you out from the outside… this'll work from your side. Use it if you absolutely have to."
I took the key and turned it over in my fingers, nodding. "Thanks."
I paused. "Also… the artifact you use to manipulate time—does it tie into this room?"
Zareth nodded slowly. "It does. The artifact feeds into the Curse. I can't control the flow in multiple prisons at once, but with this one isolated, I can either slow or accelerate time inside. It's not something I use often—it burns a lot of power—but for this…"
I smiled and looked around. "Cool."
I walked over and sat on the bed, bouncing once to test the springs. Zareth took the chair nearby.
"So," I said, resting my elbows on my knees, "do you remember the plan?"
Zareth nodded, all business again.
"Due to a time-based seal on one of my contracts, I can't access its power until a few days after my birthday. That's still two months out. But if I stay in here…"
Zareth laughed and continued. "Your time will accelerate. I have it set to around one day outside equals thirty days in here."
"Exactly," I said. "You'll leave me sealed in here for three days. That gives me three months in here—enough time to break the contract's restriction, adapt to the power, and make it part of my arsenal. Then on Monday morning I will be able to leave."
Zareth rubbed his chin, nodding slowly. "Alright. I'll monitor things from the outside. If anything important happens, I'll intervene." He then pulled out an hourglass and put it on the table. "This one is tied to time outside. It's enchanted to last three days so you can keep track without having to leave."
I nodded. "Good. Also, there is something you should keep an eye on."
He looked up. "What?"
I leaned back slightly. "Some adventurers were talking this morning. About strange deaths—bandits, innocents, all found with their chests torn open. It's too consistent. Not clean cuts either. More like… ritualistic stabbings."
Zareth frowned. "You think it's linked to something?"
"I don't know yet," I said. "Most signs point to it being a cult, but I believe it's something else. See if the local death spirits have seen anything."
Zareth blinked. "I don't have a way to contact death spirits."
I gave him a black stare and bluntly said, "Go to a cemetery and talk to the Black Dog."
Zareth stared at me for a moment… and then his expression lit with realization. He chuckled. "Can't believe I forgot about them."
I rolled my eyes. "And you're the Guildmaster."
He waved a hand. "Fine, fine. I'll look into it."
He stood and dusted off his coat. "Well, I better leave. Things are about to get weird in here, I imagine."
I smirked. "You have no idea."
He walked to the door, hesitated for a moment, then looked back. "Be careful."
I waved him off. "I'll be fine. Not my first time being stuck in the domain of a powerful being for a few months."
Zareth froze mid-step, horror creeping across his face.
"…I don't want to know," he muttered as he closed the door behind him.
Click.
Whumm.
The room sealed again. Total silence.
I chuckled to myself and stood, reaching into my ring.
Out came the pouch of steel marbles, gleaming dully in the low magical light.
I laid them on the table and stared.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, stretching my fingers. "Let's see if I can figure out magnetism… and build a railgun."
My eyes gleamed with excitement.
'Three months to play. Three months to prepare. Let's make it count.'
[Ark's POV]
The soft bubbling of glass vials and the gentle flick of flames filled the alchemy classroom as the lesson carried on, but my mind wasn't on any of it.
I sat at our table, hands folded in front of me, pretending to pay attention.
But I wasn't.
My eyes kept drifting toward the window, watching as morning light spilled over the edge of the academy's rooftops. The breeze barely stirred the curtains. The classroom smelled like ground herbs and burnt something—I wasn't sure what—but it didn't matter.
Jack wasn't here.
And I felt… kind of hollow.
'It's stupid,' I thought, biting the inside of my cheek. 'He's not gone forever. He's just on a mission. It's important. He's helping people.'
But still…
I sighed softly, curling my fingers a little.
I knew it was selfish, but part of me wished he hadn't gone. That he was still sitting beside me, whispering clever things under his breath, gently nudging me when I got lost in a thought, or brushing against my tail without realizing it.
'I should be proud of him… not… like this.'
I frowned and looked down at my hands.
"Hey," Araki whispered beside me, nudging my shoulder lightly. "You okay?"
I looked over at him, startled, and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just tired."
He squinted at me, unconvinced. "Is it because Jack's gone?"
I hesitated, then shrugged. "…Maybe. I know he's just out on a quest and it's important, but…"
I looked at my hands again.
"I wish he was here instead."
He nodded with a knowing look. "Yeah. It's okay to feel that way."
From across the table, Zek and Orin both glanced at me. They didn't say anything, but their small, sympathetic smiles told me they understood.
It helped. A little.
But it didn't fill the space he left behind.
Ahem
The teacher, a tall older man with long white hair that fell to his lower back, cleared his throat and clapped his hands loudly, snapping everyone's attention forward.
"Alright, everyone," he said, his voice raspy but firm. "Time to move on from theory and start with something practical."
He began walking down the rows of tables, handing out single sheets of parchment to each student.
"This," he said, tapping the page as he handed it to me, "is the recipe for a basic healing potion. Simple enough that you won't blow your hands off, but tricky enough to test your timing."
I glanced down at the page. Neat, looping script listed out each step in sequence, with ingredient names underlined in faint red ink.
"Today, we'll provide the ingredients," the teacher continued. "At the end of this class, you'll be given a list of recipes and required components. You'll need to bring your own ingredients if you want to keep what you make."
Murmurs spread through the class as students looked around at each other.
The teacher held up a hand.
"Now listen carefully—if you use even one ingredient from the classroom supply, the potion belongs to the school. You must bring every component yourself if you want to keep or sell the potion you make."
I blinked. That seemed kind of strict.
But then he added, "This is to teach you planning. Resourcefulness. Knowing what you need and how to prepare. These are essential life skills, especially if you intend to be an adventurer, merchant, or alchemist."
Everyone nodded, and even I found myself understanding his point.
It wasn't just about potions.
It was about learning to think ahead.
The teacher smiled slightly, then stepped back and gestured toward the front of the room. "Now, we'll begin preparing. But first—some help."
He walked to the door, opened it, and three students stepped in.
One man, two girls. All noble upperclassmen, but one girl was a second year while the other two were fourth years.
"These three are some of my top students," the teacher said proudly. "They'll be assisting you with your work today. Potion-making often requires quick correction, and at my age, I'm not as fast as I used to be."
The male student stepped forward, offering a polite smile. "My name's Darren. Specialty in magical reagents and timing-based infusions."
The first girl stepped up next. "Vessara. I'm best with temperature control and compound balancing. If your mix starts turning brown, call me."
A few students chuckled at her dry tone.
Then the last girl, the second year, stepped forward, and the air in my chest turned to ice.
Her smile was sweet. Her uniform was perfect. Her long black hair fell like a curtain behind her shoulders, and her hands folded primly in front of her—yet it all seemed an act and forced, almost like it was an act.
"My name is Agatha Rondo," she said somewhat coldly. "I specialize in poisons, medicinal potions, and potions with elemental effects."
The four of us froze.
My stomach twisted.
I didn't move. Didn't blink.
Agatha Rondo. Jack's stalker!
And her eyes… her eyes flicked over the room slowly, calmly, almost lazily.
But I could feel it.
Something behind that smile.
Her gaze hadn't even reached me yet, and still my ears flattened.
'Why… she's here… now of all times?'
I forced myself to breathe quietly through my nose, willing my heartbeat to slow.
She hadn't seen me yet.
Maybe she wouldn't.
But that name…
That smile…
That presence…
It felt wrong.
My hands clenched under the table.
'Please,' I thought, 'please don't come this way.'