20- Also, what’s with this “Number” stuff? Don’t they have names?

In a shimmer of light, seven figures had sprung from nowhere.

I'd spilled my coffee on my pants, gaping.

The first was a man in armor. The second, an old man carved from wind, holding an emerald scepter. Then a little girl with angel wings, perched on a moon-shaped staff; a mossy stone giant; a translucent woman floating in a bubble; a young boy crowned with lightning; and finally… a giant pink rabbit, munching a carrot.

"Here are my Seven Familiars," the Magister had said, as casual as if he were showing off socks. "Each one supposedly embodies a primal force. Time, Power, Soul, Mind, Reality, Space, and… uh, Bob? You're not a primal force."

The rabbit burped.

"Fine, six Familiars and Bob."

I was trembling with excitement. "Do they… obey you?"

The armored man, whose voice echoed like metal, fixed me with glowing eyes. "We are the expression of our master's understanding of the primal forces," he said, his tone so grave it sent shivers down my spine. "Each of us embodies a facet of the universe, woven from ether by his will."

I stood speechless, unable to tear my eyes from the seven Familiars. The ether radiating from them was so dense, so vibrant, it seemed to bend the air. These spirits were so powerful their presence made me dizzy. And the Magister… seven of them? How much ether could he wield to summon and sustain such beings? It was unthinkable.

My gaze drifted to the pink rabbit, Bob, still nonchalantly crunching his carrot. "And… Bob?" I asked hesitantly. "If there are six fundamental forces, what does he represent?"

The lightning-crowned boy burst into sparkling laughter, as if I'd asked the funniest question ever. "Oh, Bob? The master wanted—"

"Bob is Bob," the Magister cut in sharply, shooting the boy a warning look. He scratched his head, vaguely annoyed, and with a careless wave, made his Familiars vanish in a glimmer of ether. "That's my innate spell," he added.

I couldn't hold back a gasp. An innate spell of that magnitude… No wonder Elder Libel kept raving about the Magister's exceptional magic. "That's… incredible," I stammered, still reeling.

The Magister shrugged, yawning openly. "Yeah, yeah. But with you, that makes three people who know about my magic. I'd rather not see that number grow, got it?"

I nodded, understanding completely. With his laid-back, almost apathetic demeanor, it was clear he hated attention. "Thanks for trusting me," I said sincerely.

He waved it off. "Had to. You're my right-hand man, after all." He yawned again, stretching with exaggerated slowness. "Now, your turn."

I blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

He sprawled out, hands behind his head, looking ready for a nap. "Obvious, isn't it? By showing you my Familiars, I've given you the chance to work with them." He gave me a lazy glance. "I'm really, really lazy, you know. No way I'm dealing with that dragon king."

I froze, my brain overloading. "Wait… what? Weren't we going together? If you're not going, that means… me, alone?"

He smirked. "My Familiars will help. The mission's success is on you now." He pointed at me, mock-solemn. "You good with that, my trusty right-hand man?"

I stared, incredulous. Basically, he was dumping all the work on me while he napped.

I was starting to see why he'd picked me, with my teleportation ability. He'd planned this, the sly dog!

But on second thought, it wasn't so bad. The Magister's Familiars were overwhelmingly powerful—their aura felt like facing gods. One alone could probably crush the dragon king.

And as Elder Libel had said, the Magister wasn't exactly efficient on missions. Using his Familiars was likely far better than having him in the field.

I swallowed a smile, keeping one last thought to myself: I just hope these Familiars can't read my mind… though something tells me they probably can.

"I'm in," I said finally, a mix of nerves and excitement in my voice. "I'll handle it."

The Magister closed his eyes, already half-asleep. "Perfect. Wake me when it's done…"

A loud snore snaps me back to the present.

I look at the sleeping Magister, my heart sinking.

How do I explain to the Matron that my ultimate ally is snoring in unicorn-dragon underwear?

"Wake up, Magister," I whisper, desperate.

The Magister rolls onto his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

"No chance, human," says the little girl, floating nearby. "Master's in deep sleep mode."

"In such cases," the armored man declares, "you must shake him. Hard."

I nod, spurred by the idea, though the image of the Magister in unicorn-dragon underwear makes me want to stay far away. "Magister!" I yell, shaking him with all I've got. "The elves demand your presence! It's a diplomatic emergency!"

Silence.

A particularly loud snore answers, followed by a vague grunt. Then, in a groggy voice barely audible under the pillow: "…Tell them I'm dead. Resurrection scheduled for tomorrow morning, no, noon."

"Noon! He's optimistic today!" the angel-winged girl giggles, doing a loop in the air.

The armored man slaps his visor with a metallic clank. "I am ashamed," he mutters.

"They'll never buy that excuse!" I snap, exasperated. "The elves will be valuable allies, but their Matron insisted on meeting you to negotiate the alliance!"

The Magister cracks one eye open, just enough to give me a lazy, amused look. "Liam," he drawls, "you know my motto?"

I sigh, already defeated. "Laziness is the mother of efficiency."

"Exactly," he mumbles, smirking. "So be efficient… and figure it out. Wake me again, you're fired." With that, he rolls over and dives back into loud snoring.

I turn to the two Familiars, on the verge of despair.

"So, human, what's the plan?" the girl asks, swinging her legs like it's a game.

I glance at the Magister, then at the door where my portal still shimmers.

A crazy idea hits me. "We take him," I say, determined, grabbing one of the Magister's legs. "Asleep or not, he's coming. Hopefully, his presence alone will convince the elves."

Then the old man appears, his emerald scepter glowing softly. "That won't be necessary, young man," he says, placing an ethereal hand on my shoulder.

His words calm me, like a hand smoothing troubled water.

He turns to the void, his gaze suddenly stern. "Number 5!" he booms, his scepter humming faintly. "Your silence is unbecoming in such a moment!"

A crackle of lightning splits the air, followed by sparkling laughter. The lightning-crowned boy appears, grinning mischievously. "Sorry, sorry! It was just too funny! The boss in unicorn underwear, the human ready to drag him like a sack of potatoes!"

I stand there, utterly lost.

The angel-winged girl, perched on her moon-staff, suddenly claps her hands. "Oh, right!" she exclaims, as if it just clicked. "We've got Number 5!"

"Please explain," I beg, feeling a headache coming on.

The elves won't wait forever.

The armored man crosses his arms with a metallic clink. His deep voice fills the room: "Human. Number 5, as we call him, embodies the concept of Reality. Manipulating appearances, perceptions, forms… that's his essence." He points a gauntleted finger at the mischievous boy. "He can take on the Master's appearance and project an aura strong enough to impress these elves."

The revelation hits me like a punch. "What?!" I stammer, staring at the lightning boy, who winks at me. "He can… become the Magister?"

Number 5 laughs again. "Oh, Number 2, you're so dramatic!" He turns to me, smirking. "The Master tried this trick last year to skip the guild council. Result?" He makes a failing gesture with his hands, complete with a fart sound. "Pfft! Couldn't copy him 100%. His ether…" He whistles, eyes wide to show the vastness. "…It's like trying to fit an ocean in a bottle. Even for me, it's impossible. His aunt sniffed out the difference." He shrugs casually.

The old man nods, his wise gaze settling on me. "Indeed, young man. A perfect copy is beyond reach. But that's not necessary, is it?" His pale eyes search for my agreement.

It clicks instantly. Relief floods me. "Exactly!" I exclaim. "We don't need the real Magister, or even a perfect copy! Just… someone who looks like him and radiates overwhelming power. Enough to sway the Matron." I turn to Number 5, a plan forming. "Can you mimic his appearance and amplify his aura… say, to seem at least ten times stronger than mine?"

Number 5 narrows his eyes, calculating. Tiny sparks dance around his temples. After a moment, a wide grin splits his face. "Ten times your ether? Easy! Totally doable."

"Great!" I sigh, ready to open the portal.

Then a milky glow pulses softly. The translucent woman, floating in her ethereal bubble, appears silently. Her pupil-less eyes fix on the old man. "Number 1. You've overlooked a crucial detail."

My heart sinks. What's she doing, ruining the mood?

As if reading my thoughts (which she probably is), the woman glances at me.

Number 1 closes his eyes briefly, resigned. "Indeed, Number 4. I overlooked that point." He turns to me, his expression grave again.

Also, what's with this "Number" stuff? Don't they have names?