[Undercurrents]

The midday sun hung high, its golden light filtering through the thick canopy of leaves. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the tall grass surrounding the grand manor.

Birds chirped in the distance, their songs blending with the whisper of leaves swaying above. Claude stood beside Alfred, his pale complexion almost luminous beneath the dappled sunlight. 

"Vitalis," Alfred began, his voice steady. "It is a potent force. Harbingers can manipulate it to perform acts that defy the very nature of the world around them."

"Normally," Alfred continued, "Harbingers train with their artefacts. By cycling their Vitalis through their artefact and back into their bodies, they gradually refine it—both in quantity and quality—until they reach a threshold and advance to the next stage."

Alfred sighed, glancing toward Claude. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze before he continued, "However, due to your situation, you cannot advance your Vitalis currently. So, I will instead train you in manipulating what you already have."

Claude gave a slow nod.

Seeing this, a small smile played on Alfred's lips as he strolled forward, stopping before a massive oak tree. Its gnarled bark bore the weight of age, deep grooves running along its surface like the wrinkles of an ancient giant.

Knock!

Alfred rapped his knuckles against the trunk before turning back to Claude.

"For those who have not yet bound their first artefact, we call them Novice Harbingers. They cannot project their Vitalis outside their body and do not possess unique abilities." He traced a hand along the bark as he spoke.

"They can, however, use it to coat themselves—enhancing their physical abilities and performing other feats."

As he spoke, a faint glow shimmered from his chest, soft and golden, pulsing like a heartbeat before spreading outward. It wrapped around him like a second skin, clinging to his frame.

Then—

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Before Claude could fully register it, Alfred was no longer on the ground. His feet pressed against the vertical surface of the tree, walking upward as though gravity had simply lost its hold on him.

Claude's eyes narrowed. 'Interesting…'

The sheer versatility of this technique struck him immediately. While it might not have been a direct boost to his combat prowess, the manoeuvrability it provided was invaluable.

Alfred, still perched effortlessly against the rough bark, turned his gaze downward. "If you manage to control your Vitalis to a sufficient degree, you should be able to replicate this."

Whoosh!

With a casual push, Alfred propelled himself off the tree, twisting in mid-air before landing soundlessly on the ground. His boots touched the grass without so much as a whisper.

"By doing this, you will not only gain a new method of applying Vitalis but also improve your control over it."

"Now," Alfred clapped his hands, brushing off an unseen speck of dust. "Your turn. Maintain your composure and ensure your Vitalis does not oscillate. It must remain constant around your body."

He paused, then added, "With enough practice, you can focus Vitalis into specific areas of your body, increasing its potency—but that is for another time."

Finishing his words, Alfred stepped back, gesturing for Claude to begin.

Claude wasted no time. He strode forward, stopping before the oak. Closing his eyes, he searched inward using his Mental Energy, seeking that familiar pulse within his chest.

There.

His eyes snapped open, and in an instant, an ethereal blue flame flickered to life around him. It burst from his core before thinning, stretching across his body in a translucent veil.

Exhaling, Claude lifted his foot and placed it against the bark.

Crack!

A sudden, sharp sound split the air. Before he could even attempt to ascend, a deep groan echoed from within the tree.

Crash!

The entire oak lurched. With a violent shudder, its gnarled roots tore free from the earth, tilting forward like a collapsing tower.

Claude barely had time to react before its immense form came crashing down toward him, blotting out the sunlight.

'What the hell—?!'

His mind raced. Why had this happened? Why hadn't Alfred mentioned this as a possibility?

Tsk!

Clicking his tongue, Claude tensed, readying his Mental Energy. The consequences of a rash move were secondary—survival came first.

"Watch out!" A streak of gold flashed past him.

The shimmering figure of a massive bear materialized mid-leap, its translucent form solidifying as it lunged forward.

With a powerful swipe, the golden construct caught the falling tree, muscles rippling beneath its luminous hide. It let out a low, rumbling growl before twisting its entire body, using sheer force to redirect the enormous trunk.

Crash!

The earth trembled as the tree slammed into the ground, sending a rush of wind through the clearing. A cloud of dust billowed up, swirling in the air before settling.

Claude lowered his arms, blinking through the haze.

"Master Claude!"

Alfred was at his side in an instant. His hands hovered slightly, as though prepared to steady him. "Are you alright? Any injuries?"

Claude exhaled slowly, dusting off his sleeve before meeting Alfred's gaze.

"I'm fine," he said, voice even. "But I would appreciate an explanation."

Alfred hesitated. Relief flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a contemplative frown.

"I have no records of this happening before," he admitted, crossing his arms. "This—this should be due to a lack of control over your Vitalis. But a Novice Harbinger should not possess enough of it to cause such an effect…"

"Perhaps this potent Vitalis is what has been causing your frailness." His gaze lingered on Claude, a silent question forming in his eyes. "However, I have never heard of Vitalis harming its user in any capacity..."

Claude ignored the faint pity in his tone. His mind was already elsewhere.

'An interaction between my Vitalis and Mental Energy…'

From the moment he awakened his Vitalis, he had sensed the odd interplay between the two forces within him. They strengthened each other and grew in tandem.

'Perhaps my Vitalis advanced far more than I realised due to the disparity between the two…'

He pressed his lips together in thought. He would have time later to unravel this mystery.

For now—

"Enough."

Claude shook his head and turned toward Alfred, his sharp gaze unwavering. "Let me try again."

Alfred hesitated. "Are you sure? That incident—"

Claude didn't answer.

His actions spoke for him.

With a speed that belied his sickly complexion, he was already striding toward another tree. Alfred let out a long, resigned sigh before following after him.

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"This process is taking far too long," Catherine muttered, her voice tinged with frustration. "It's been over a month since I applied for the grant for my new project idea..." Her gaze drifted aimlessly into the space before her, her mind lost in the web of doubts that had been growing ever since she submitted her application. "Perhaps those rumours were true...?"

Her brows furrowed slightly as she let the thought linger, uncertain whether she was only imagining the weight of her concerns or if something more was at play.

The rumours she spoke of were a matter of considerable concern within the High Council of Elysium. The Council itself was made up of the Official Mages and higher, but the High Council consisted solely of the four Mage Lords.

They held the power to make the final decisions on critical matters, and for projects like Catherine's—ones that required specific, often rare, equipment only found in Elysium—the issue was pushed up to them.

However, the High Council was currently tied up in pressing matters, leaving no room to review or approve anything in the foreseeable future.

With a soft sigh, Catherine pressed her lips together, her mind searching for solutions that seemed just out of reach. As an Official Mage, she had little sway over the decisions of those in higher positions.

She was small—insignificant. A mere ant in the grand machinery of Elysium. A larger ant, perhaps, but an ant nonetheless.

"Then again..." she muttered under her breath, her pupils shifting slightly as her gaze turned inward. "When have I ever not been weak?"

"Cat!"

The sudden voice snapped her from her thoughts. She blinked, looking up to find Gaspard standing before her, concern etched across his features.

"Cat, is something wrong?" He knelt, his gaze searching hers for any sign of distress. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," Catherine replied, forcing a weary smile onto her face. "I'm just... bogged down in planning my next project."

"Next?" Gaspard's eyes widened. "You've already made progress on it? Why haven't you told me about this? Have you submitted it to the Council yet?"

"Not yet," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm planning to present my findings along with the results of my next experiment. Claude is also working behind closed doors, and it wouldn't feel right to present the data without him. He's helped speed up the experiments, after all."

She paused, then noticed the silence in Gaspard's expression. A knowing smile spread across her face.

"Oh!" She shook her head with a soft laugh, the smile lifting the weight of her earlier thoughts. "You needn't worry. Claude is not like him. He's a wonderful assistant—quick to learn, patient, and open to new ideas. Though he can be a bit cold at times, his desire for truth is purer than anyone I've ever known. He won't go down that path."

"Sigh!" Gaspard leaned back, scratching the back of his head as he slouched onto the bench beside her. "I know, I know. But as mages, it's hard to forget that. The Mental Energy we wield gives us a memory far beyond that of any mortal..."

Catherine saw Gaspard's expression shift, his eyes distant. He looked up at the sky, where puffy white clouds drifted lazily by. His voice grew quieter.

"I remember that day... too well," he murmured. "The screams, the shouts, the panic... To think he'd have colluded with them..."

His words trailed off, and Catherine could sense his struggle. She knew exactly what he was thinking but chose not to press him further. She knew where his mind went, and she understood his silence.

"Stop, Gaspard," Catherine said softly, shaking her head. "We may not be able to forget the past, but we have no choice but to move forward. You know as well as I do—wallowing in it serves no purpose. As the saying goes, 'He who weeps for the past lets the future slip from his grasp.'"

"But..." Gaspard's voice faltered as his gaze remained fixed on the sky. "You know the rumours; don't try to deceive me. That's why you haven't presented your findings, isn't it?"

Catherine didn't argue or deny the accusation. Instead, she bit her lip. Her mind flooded with memories she would rather not face, but they came rushing forth, as they always did.

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"Stop being so naïve, Catherine..." The youth's voice was cold, cutting through the air like a blade. His raven-black hair hung messily over his forehead, and his piercing blue eyes glinted with a feverish intensity.

He stood atop the lifeless body of a middle-aged man whose face was a mask of blood and torn flesh. The corpse was barely recognisable—utterly marred by wounds, its final expression obscured by the carnage.

"You know why I did this," the youth continued, his words dripping with venom. "It's those damn fossils above us! They preach about serving the truth, but we both know what they are."

His laughter was high-pitched, manic, reverberating against the ruins around them. "Look at this!" He gestured wildly at the body beneath his boot. "If they were truly of one nature, do you honestly believe Elysium would be in this state?"

"No, no..." Catherine's voice quivered, barely above a whisper. Desperation flooded her chest as she shook her head violently, her eyes wide with disbelief. "This can't be true. You wouldn't... You can't have done this. It's a dream, that's all... a dream!"

The sound of distant screams, of chaos unfolding, pierced through the air. Smoke billowed in the distance, swirling up from the heart of Elysium, shrouding everything in an ominous haze.

"This rotten corpse of a council," the youth spat, his voice full of contempt as his fist clenched. "Shall pave the way for the future. My future." His foot lashed out, kicking the lifeless body of the man behind him with brutal force, sending it sprawling as he turned and strode away, indifferent to the horror he left in his wake.

"No—!" Catherine's voice broke, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached out, her trembling hand desperate to stop him, to stop this madness.

But it was too late.

With that final, damning movement, everything shattered. The memories, the world, everything—fractured like glass splintering in slow motion.

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"You're right..." Catherine's voice was soft, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips as the memories began to fade, replaced by the harsh reality before her. "I know... I've been hearing about it for some time now..."

She knew exactly what he was referring to.

The High Council had recently deliberated on sending a small force from the Inquisition to Assur to eradicate the cultist presence that had taken root there.

But the Inquisition was spread thin, distracted by growing problems elsewhere—chief among them, the Plague Bearers in Marduk.

As a result, the High Council called for volunteers to join the Inquisition's efforts. Volunteers among the Official Mages, those willing to leave their research behind and march straight into the heart of danger.

It was not a call for just any mage. It was a summons for those who would risk everything to confront the darkness that had already claimed so much. And Catherine knew, deep in her bones, that she had no choice but to answer it.

She had to join.

To face the future without the ever-looming shadows of the past haunting her every step. To avenge the one person she had ever considered family.

And, perhaps most crucially, to ensure that the horrors of the past would never repeat themselves.