The Storm Wolf: Gathering Clouds - 16. Chapter 7 Lovers (2/3)

"We need to talk," I said firmly, pressing my paws on the table. "But obviously, not now."

The Altai wapiti let out a moan that I couldn't quite decipher, while the jet-black wolf seemed oblivious to my words. They both leaned on the table, heads in their hands, faces twisted in almost identical expressions--a dissonance or oddly harmonious--who can tell.

"But after all the drama, I think some things need to be clarified, to make sure we're on the same page." I glanced at the Altai wapiti and the wolf in turn, patiently waiting for their gaze to meet mine. "Can you both agree to continue with the current arrangement for now?"

I kept my statement intentionally vague--there's a reason strategic ambiguity is called "ambiguity," and I was confident they understood my point.

"Of course," Kotetsu replied first, attempting to straighten up before quickly retreating into a slouched posture, seemingly still sensitive to the light. "I don't see a problem."

"Fine," Aether sighed, lowering his paws out of my view after a glance at the Altai wapiti. "Nothing has changed; I won't interfere with your friendships."

"Ah, so the beach party events were just social activities then?" I tried not to push too hard, but I truly couldn't handle a repeat of that scene.

"Just party games to lighten the mood--very common," Kotetsu replied nonchalantly, waving a hand.

"When in Rome," Aether added with a shrug, making me want to roll my eyes.

Well, since they put it that way, let's let the weirdness pass and start anew.

"Kotetsu, Aether is a Nyx faction wolf. Besides his exceptional logic and memory, he's incredibly intelligent!" I reintroduced them, salvaging the speech I had prepared before the bizarre turn of events. "Librarians of the Library of Alexandria hold a highly respected status, granting access to all the world's knowledge!" I emphasized the last part, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Altai wapiti toward the wolf.

"Still in training," Aether muttered.

"And very modest too!" I noticed his right ear twitch but chalked it up to shyness. "Kotetsu, as you know, is my senior mentor. He's an Altai wapiti from the Federation, the highest-ranked psychic herbivore alive, and one of the leaders of the Utilitarian faction."

"'Leader' sounds odd," Kotetsu grumbled, scratching his ear.

"Exitus acta probat?" Aether tilted his head, scrutinizing the wapiti for a few seconds. "Interesting."

"See? I knew you'd get along!" I said in my most optimistic tone, though their mutual side-eyes made me quickly add, "No pressure if you don't!"

Come on, I worked so hard to lighten the mood. Play along!

"I have a lot of important evaluations coming up these days--not much bandwidth to spare." I stated plainly, immediately noticing Aether's ear twitch again. "Not that clarifying our relationship isn't important, but the unexpected chaos of the party threw everything off balance. Things were much smoother in my imagination." I hastily added, trying to bury the sinking feeling that I was digging myself deeper.

Looking between the Altai wapiti and the black wolf, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty while also relieved that their probably sluggish minds worked to my advantage.

"Anyway," I concluded with my trusty fallback line, "let's maintain the status quo for now until we're all ready for a proper discussion." After confirming their eyes still had some focus, I asked for their agreement. "Alright?"

"Sounds good," Kotetsu said with a shrug, slumping further into his chair.

I locked eyes with Aether's golden gaze, hoping to glean some clarity. Before I could draw any conclusions, he lowered his gaze and gave a small nod.

"Since we're all on the same page, let's leave it at that for now!" I got up, preparing for my Dream-walking License exam. "And you two can... um, talk things out." I gestured toward the cafeteria terminal. "It's on me--order whatever you like."

The Altai wapiti and the black wolf exchanged glances before signaling their agreement with subtle gestures.

Taking that as a positive sign, I left the cafeteria, content to focus on the upcoming test.

"Not qualified," Resolute declared in a flat, professional tone, her expression and posture entirely unmoved.

"Eh? Why?" In my worst imaginings, I thought I might fail due to some mistake or oversight, but I never expected to be denied entry to the test site entirely, not even making it through the door.

"Prerequisite courses require passing Advanced Calculus," Resolute said, tapping a few times on her terminal before glancing at me. "I just checked. You're not on the list of those who passed."

"What Advanced Calculus?" I fought to control my frustration and anger, though my tone still sounded unfriendly. "I don't recall that being listed anywhere!"

"Updated this year," Resolute replied, showing me her terminal screen. "Cadets are responsible for staying informed about the latest requirements."

"No way," I couldn't help but bark. "Rules like that should follow some kind of non-retroactivity principle, shouldn't they?"

"They don't." Her response was succinct.

"That's ridiculous!" Frustrated by the sheer lack of logic, I crossed my arms, making my dissatisfaction abundantly clear.

"You can reapply for the test once you meet the qualifications. There's no time limit on obtaining a license," Resolute said with a shrug. "Even after leaving the Academy, you can still try."

"I am qualified!" Though I knew raising my voice wouldn't help, I was enraged enough to nearly bring up my past experiences successfully dream-walking and navigating through Tel'aran'rhiod in physical space to prove my capability. Of course, such an outburst would only result in more people seeing me as reckless and unruly.

"You are not," Resolute said, pulling up my course records and shoving her terminal under my nose.

Suppressing the growl of frustration rising in my throat, I turned and left, deciding to stop humiliating myself any further.

Since I couldn't take the license exam, I arrived two hours early at the virtual reality chamber.

The empty room gave me the eerie feeling that I was about to be swallowed by the surrounding darkness--or perhaps it was the hollow ache in my chest that was consuming me.

To shake off the discomfort, I decided to distract myself with some practice. Logging into the room's terminal, I loaded a previously saved environment setup.

Accompanied by the sharp sound of shifting grains, the floor transformed into several tons of adamantine sand.

Tilting my snout upward, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Riding the waves of expanding consciousness, I freed myself from gravity's constraints and floated in midair.

Snow and wind swirled, drifting along.

An endless expanse of silver-white stretched out, the cold touch of melting snow on my nose.

Piqsirpoq clenched both fists and struck the edge of the balcony, sending some of the snow scattering down.

Cold exploded against the side of my face, the wet chill soaking into my fur.

A flash of light streaked across the gray sky, faint amid the falling snow.

When a gentle touch caressed the fur on my face, something felt... different.

Those cold, hard ice crystals had finally all melted, turning into a warm stream that trickled down, following the contours of the fur around my eyes.

Ominous dark clouds gather, blanketing the entire sky.

Wait--what?

A raging storm howled.

Tearing through millions of tons of armor plating felt as easy as pulling a tab on a soda can.

What was happening--this feeling?

Their screams echoed in the void that should have been silent...

Stop. Stop now!

After a sudden sense of falling, I found myself back on solid ground, the room resetting to its default mode.

Still reeling from the abrupt and jarring experience, I gasped for air, trying to steady my breathing and make sense of what had just happened.

What was that?

"Spectacular." The sudden voice startled me, and I spun toward the source, finding Master Field standing at the door.

"Master," I hurriedly bowed, struggling to mask my unease.

"And filled with anger," the towering dragon said as he approached with steady steps, stopping just before me. I kept my head down, not daring to move, allowing him to peer down at me. "I thought you'd already come to terms with your place."

"Master?" I tilted my head in confusion, hoping for further explanation. Field was usually direct, not one for cryptic riddles.

"Your place, and the reality that the higher you climb, the lonelier it gets," he said, tilting his head slightly, as if mildly surprised by my genuine confusion. "I assumed your childhood experiences would help you accept reality quickly."

"I... don't quite understand," I murmured softly, but when the Master raised his right brow, I understood. "The dream-walk license exam." I heard the frustration in my voice but at least managed to suppress a growl this time.

"If you truly can't figure this out, I'd question whether you're ready to shoulder this responsibility," the Master said distantly, opening his right hand. A silver frame-like device rested in his large palm.

"That's..." I brushed against it with my consciousness, confirming it was made of adamantine.

"The original plan was to test your compatibility with the 'Heart' once your Domination cores surpassed one million. However, your rapid progress has unsettled many. There's too much noise to calm," the Master spat, rolling his nictitating membrane in a dramatic eye-roll. "Once you mastered the perfect Domination of a billion independent adamantine structures, even the staunchest critics had to concede. You've become impossible to ignore." The dragon tilted his head, green eyes flashing.

I wondered if the pride in his tone was the kind one has when boasting about a prized collection. Even after almost three years of working closely with him, I barely understood this dragon, who many considered eccentric. Then again, it wasn't entirely my fault--our earlier interactions had been far from healthy. Perhaps it was just a cultural gap between dragons and gray wolves.

Or maybe the Master himself was just strange. I couldn't tell.

"What is the 'Heart'?" I asked cautiously, continuing to probe the silver device with my consciousness.

"Strictly speaking, this isn't the 'Heart,'" the Master answered quietly, shifting his gaze to his hand as his eyes narrowed. "It's incomplete."

Incomplete?

"Before we proceed, we need to connect." The dragon's green eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw hesitation--brief but unmistakable. "The ultimate goal is to forge the complete 'Heart,' but first, we need to reach an agreement on several matters."

The Master rarely showed such indecision, but his request for a connection troubled me more.

In earlier training sessions on psychic applications, I had practiced connecting with unfamiliar and even untrustworthy individuals. Yet linking with the Master felt like an entirely different matter.

I focused on the boundaries of our conscious domains, assessing the feasibility of a connection.

Various waves, each symbolizing different meanings, pulsed along the border. Countless signals and emotions intertwined, seeking understanding and to be understood...

Ah, isn't that the way? Everyone longs to be understood, to connect with others. Amid the overwhelming torrent of consciousness, that yearning felt achingly familiar and earnest--the boundary between us abruptly dissolved.

In the default setting of the virtual reality chamber, deep brown scales materialized around the Master's emerald-green eyes, forming the features of a dragon.

We tacitly avoided delving into each other's memories, silently waiting for the other's full form to manifest.

"As I said earlier, apart from forging the 'Heart,' I need you to understand the authenticity of the information I disclose," the Master said. His green eyes, along with their lids, blinked slowly, looking somewhat weary. "At the same time, I must confirm your true thoughts." The towering dragon paused, seemingly giving me time to process. "This is not merely about trust. The importance of this transcends us entirely. Only absolute honesty can bear such a burden. If you cannot accept this, we will stop here."

Amid the sincerity pulsing in the space, I could also sense the Master's well-concealed, century-long anxiety. I nodded, signaling my agreement. Whatever he intended to reveal, and whether he was ready or not, I couldn't turn away from those in need--those who needed my help.

Besides, how could I pass up the chance to finally get answers to my endless questions about the world?

"Curiosity, boldness, and ambition," Master Field remarked, eyes fixed on me. "If you were a bit more cautious, I'd feel more reassured. The compassion, though, I didn't foresee."

Even knowing our emotions were shared through the connection, having it stated so plainly felt strange. It made me reflexively try to hide my feelings and avoid his gaze in shame--this is why I hated linking with strangers!

"I'll get straight to the point," the dragon continued, perhaps to save me from dying of embarrassment. "I asked you before about your thoughts on the purpose of the imperial flagship. Any new insights?"

"I..." I lowered my gaze, ashamed of my negligence. I had been so puzzled by Master Field's initial reaction that I hadn't tried to understand or delve deeper into the question. "I still don't quite get it. Isn't that just the purpose for which warships are made?"

"Our perspectives are limited by our vantage points," the dragon murmured, his tone heavy enough to slow my breath. "But we," I felt a tap at my chest, though his image remained unmoving, "people like us cannot afford such limitations. Those at the world's apex must possess a corresponding vision."

A projection of the Sol materialized between us, the Master's narrowed eyes giving me the impression the massive fiery sphere was too bright.

"Why do you think the imperial flagship is a 'warship'?" the Master asked, watching the celestial bodies orbiting in their fixed paths.

"I..." Why, indeed? "Because I was taught that."

"Then, as I mentioned earlier," he gestured, and the Oort Cloud marking the system's edge shimmered. "A constrained perspective."

"Yes, Master." I lowered my gaze, adopting a compliant posture to convey my understanding.

"Listen by the Howls, observe with Eyes, follow the paths the Gates reveal. Blood ensures warmth, Claw and Fang protect and clear obstacles, and Wisdom orchestrates all. The Tail guards the rear, remembering the dreams and foresight of our ancestors, until the generational starship, once called Home, is ready to depart." Field recited the Dragon Song, and I seemed to see small points of light rising from Gaia.

"Exploration!" It dawned on me: the imperial flagship was designed for venturing into the vast cosmos and eventually initiating colonization. Each ship had a unique function, which was why these massive, specialized vessels were built instead of standardized, cost-efficient war tools. Wait, Howls, Eyes, Gates, Blood, Claw, Fang, Wisdom, Tail--weren't we missing something? "The Empire's Heart...?"

"The ancestors agreed unanimously that bringing conflict to a new world would be as unwise as sowing chaos upon pristine land," Field drew a deep breath, enlarging Gaia's projection to reveal a scarred surface riddled with fiery craters. Amidst the destruction, a colossal vessel rested quietly above the North Pole ice cap, standing out starkly against the harrowing backdrop. "The Heart... will unite everyone, end strife, and usher in reconciliation."

"With... a ship?" Tilting my head, I sought further explanation. I knew the adaptive armor of Empire's Heart was a marvel of material science, but in my mind, uniting everyone required a different kind of miracle.

"No. Tools are essential but remain mere tools," the dragon shook his head and continued singing, "The Heart's master shall unite everyone."

As the Master finished, the Empire's Heart unfolded all its armor, forming countless points of light that enveloped Gaia--like a Dyson Swarm tailored for the planet.

"Resonance through adamantine as a medium," the Dragon Song's rhythm reverberated in my chest. "Connecting everyone, fostering mutual understanding, and preparing for the final unknown as a mature collective to seek the ultimate answers."

Indeed, adamantine could amplify a psychic's abilities. Theoretically, sufficient adamantine and a powerful enough psychic could connect everyone.

But...

"Is that enough?" I asked softly, unable to ignore the disquiet whispering in my ear. "Connections can remove barriers to communication and reveal each other's true hearts, but they can't directly create understanding, can they?"

"No, it's not that simple. But this is the closest we can get," the Master sighed, dispelling the Sol's projection with a wave. "No one knows exactly how to do it, and different factions have wildly diverging views on the specifics. In short, everyone seems to believe they alone know how to achieve 'mutual understanding,' yet even reaching a consensus within the Council is a struggle." The Master's tone carried an unmistakable mockery, even without relying on the song's resonance. "This is why the current situation is so... interesting."

"Connecting... everyone." So this was the role Master Field had prepared for me? "Is it truly feasible?"

"Yes, we know it's feasible; the simulation data is crystal clear. The problem isn't in connecting everyone or even finding a way to achieve mutual understanding--we'll figure that out eventually." The Field's gaze flickered, and I could sense he was forcing himself to maintain eye contact. "The problem lies in... the cost."

This was it. The thing the Master had been skirting around, something so significant that we needed to be connected to ensure no secrets were withheld.

The cost--what was the cost?

"The simulation indicates that the 'Heart's' master must be at least Alpha-level and exceptionally skilled in Domination. Simultaneously, the results also show," the dragon hesitated briefly before finishing, "that the psychic acting as the bridge to connect everyone will inevitably die in the process."

"Huh?" The revelation blindsided me, my astonishment impossible to conceal.

A sacrificial offering--that's what this was.

"No mind can withstand that amount of information. The connecting bridge will inevitably burn out during the process," the Master stared straight at me as he explained. "No matter how powerful, it cannot be avoided. At most, it only extends the time limit of the connection, giving more leeway for the chosen methods to operate."

"Uh... no offense, Master," even in a linked state, I instinctively started with a polite preamble. "You've spent so much time training me, hoping I'd someday take on... um, let's call it this responsibility for now," I said, struggling to find a less awkward term. "But you've also made it clear I'd have to die for it. Isn't that... discouraging?"

Suddenly, a memory of something Qana once said to me echoed in my mind.

The price they demand...

"When Farsight displayed sufficient potential in Domination, I also brought the 'Heart's' prototype to him, just as I'm doing with you today," the Master sighed, lowering his gaze to the newly materialized silver frame. "I explained the 'Heart's' capabilities, the grand ideals it could achieve, and the expansive future it promised by uniting everyone. The fire in his eyes nearly burned me alive with excitement. But when we connected and began forging the complete 'Heart,' Farsight detected my 'subtle' omission of the inevitable ending, and he exploded in fury." The Master chuckled wryly, continuing, "It's been over a century now. It feels like it just happened yesterday." The space pulsed with complex emotions, regret overpowering all others. "It's been too long--I can't even be certain if I deliberately intended to conceal the truth back then. I mean, I shouldn't have been stupid enough to forget the effects of connecting or to think Farsight wouldn't notice, but I really can't be sure anymore because the original memories seem to have been tampered with..."

I sensed the Field rifling through his memories before landing on a murky, obscure fragment.

"But it's water under the bridge now. Dwelling on it changes nothing. Occasionally, though, moments like these make me reflect on the responsibility I bear for how Farsight ended up this way," the Master dispelled all remaining images with a wave. "So I resolved that if another suitable candidate appeared, I wouldn't repeat my mistakes."

"Oh... I see," I murmured. "So let me confirm: because Master Sunflare refused to become the Empire's Heart's master, you need me, correct?"

"Strictly speaking, Farsight didn't refuse," Field replied after a long pause. "He was furious, finished the forging, and left without speaking to me for six months. Since then, he hasn't mentioned the subject and has become exceedingly passive about lifting the galactic blockade. But he never explicitly stated he refused to take on the role--he still completed the forging. So to say 'need' isn't entirely accurate."

What? From my perspective, Master Sunflare's refusal seemed pretty clear-cut. Could it be a cultural difference among dragons?

"Due to heigh sensitivity to Domination, many psychic forget that the 'Unity Principle' also applies to adamantine," the Master shifted into lecture mode, suspending the silver frame between us. "Materials that can be seen as one will resonate more readily and more powerfully." A drone comprising the Empire's Heart's armor appeared beside the frame in a preset configuration. "The adamantine in the drone and the 'Heart' share the same origin."

"Same origin?" I tilted my head involuntarily, voicing my confusion. "What does that mean?"

"You've hoarded so much of it, I'm starting to suspect you're sleeping on adamantine, yet you don't know what that means?" Master Field chuckled, making it clear he'd cracked a joke only dragons would get.

"I haven't withdrawn any part of the trades; it's just an accounting transfer," I replied, scratching my ear.

"Then perhaps you should try sleeping on it," the Master suggested, tapping his chin with a claw. "Who knows? You might discover something. Anyway, back to the question at hand: I don't consider you the Heart's Master. I believe you have the potential." The silver frame floated over and stopped in front of me. "The Master must prove themselves to the Heart and gain its recognition. No one else can interfere with this process. However, synchronizing with the Heart increases your chances of being chosen in theory." The Master tapped the frame's surface with the tip of his claw. "Besides, fine-tuning takes time after synchronization, so the earlier we begin, the better."

I focused on the silver frame, seemingly catching a faint glimmer across its surface. Though intangible in our linked space, its presence felt vivid.

"Of course, that's only if you don't plan on refusing," he added.

"Uh... so, I'm like a candidate?" I tried piecing together the information. "Even if I forge the complete Heart, there's no guarantee I'll be chosen? This is more about running through the process... right?"

"You could see it that way. But the main purpose is to familiarize you with the operations, not as some kind of ceremony," the Master explained. "Controlling one billion Domination cores is a whole other level of difficulty compared to managing a billion variable-armor drones."

"Then... does the plan to connect everyone have a concrete timeline?" I recalled him mentioning earlier that many had differing views on how to achieve this, suggesting there must be a clear schedule.

"That's one area of consensus," the Master said. "It must be done within fifty years, with the most optimistic scenario aiming for thirty-five years from now."

"Oh," I scratched my ear again. "So there's still plenty of time."

I wasn't sure how long it would take to master the Empire's Heart's drones, but thirty-five years sounded generous.

"Yes, there's a long time yet," the Master agreed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the silver frame. "That's so you can carefully consider whether you're willing to bear this responsibility. Even if you ultimately refuse, I won't blame you. Because asking--"

"I accept," I interrupted, sensing a pang of guilt. "I don't see what there is to consider." I wasn't saying this to prove I was different from Master Sunflare; I just knew we were inherently different people, no matter his claims otherwise.

"Making such a weighty decision without fully understanding the situation isn't very wise," the Master said slowly, as if choosing his words with care.

"Someone has to do it, don't they? If not me, it'll be someone else," I shrugged.

"There's also the possibility that, for lack of a suitable candidate, the Heart cannot be activated at all. No one can guarantee we'll successfully lift the Sol's blockade," the Master looked me directly in the eye. "Before the Snow faction stabilized, there was a breeding direction that involved removing parts of the amygdala responsible for processing fear to create warriors who would never retreat under any circumstances."

"I assume they failed?" I tilted my head slightly, curious.

"Or succeeded too well," the Master replied with a wave of his hand. "Reckless to the extreme, incapable of assessing situations properly, and utterly unsuitable as soldiers. Later, when planning the warcraft-inheriting faction, that trait was no longer preserved during breeding. However, that doesn't mean another faction made the same decision."

"Gray..." I immediately grasped the Master's implication and gained a deeper understanding of what I had inherited. "But isn't this awfully convenient? Almost like some predestined arrangement," I said, not bothering to mask the sarcasm in my tone--resonance in this space made such efforts pointless. "Every tool has its purpose, after all."

"I believe you will know how to view yourself one day," the Master replied. "Time changes many things. As your burdens grow heavier, you might not think the same way."

"There's still plenty of time to consider, right?" The Master's unusually... understanding attitude felt strange to me. His past with Master Sunflare seemed far more intertwined than I knew, and the century-old conflict had left deeper scars than he cared to admit.

"Indeed. And I look forward to the day we can have a deeper conversation--you're still very young," he said. While I felt a twinge of defiance, I couldn't deny the objective truth of his statement. "Now, let's begin." He raised his hand, and I felt a surge of pressure sweeping through the conscious space. "You already know how to forge and shape it, so I'll begin by pouring in the consciousness. Watch closely!"

Commands engraved the surroundings with a brilliant green light. At the center of the dazzling scene, the silver frame began pulsing like a living heart.

The Master sang the soaring Dragon Song, accompanying it with intricate gestures. I felt his consciousness--or rather, something more profound, like his very soul--pouring into the Heart, imbued with all his hopes and possibilities. He was forging and shaping it, crafting something extraordinary.

Amidst the torrent of consciousness, I planted my feet firmly, forcing myself to focus. Yet the sheer magnificence of the scene made me wonder if I was glimpsing some ultimate truth. The Master's powerful, solemn voice seemed to grow distant, overtaken by the overwhelming spectacle.

"Now, shine!"

I felt a bit weak, as if something inside me was physically missing.

So this is what it means to have an incomplete soul?

But...

I gently clenched my fist, sensing the connection with the "Heart." Compared to the Gray Snow, this feeling was far more intense.

Maybe it was related to the "Awakening" process. According to Master Field, the "Heart" is in a default awakened state, but Gray Snow is not. Or perhaps being viewed as a weapon or tool subjects it to different rules?

I wasn't sure.

The exhaustion and fatigue following the forging process left me too preoccupied to consider asking. Besides, Master Field was clearly not in a state to deliver in-depth lessons.

I relaxed my paw, letting the steady rhythm of the pulse fade into the background noise, deciding to explore it later.

"Richter senpai, what a coincidence meeting you here!" The chocolate Labrador plopped down in the empty seat across from me.

"I imagine it's the irresistible will of biological needs that brings us to the cafeteria," I replied lazily, finding myself too lethargic to even satirize him. "Hunter."

"Since such coincidences have brought us together, might you be interested in hearing some insider information?" After I folded down my right ear, Hunter seemed to realize I was not following his intent, so he added, "A guaranteed, risk-free investment!"

"A guaranteed, risk-free investment?" Do people really fall for such things?

"Don't mind him." Tadao set his tray on the table beside me and sat down as well. "Someone just need a lesson."

I noticed the shield Tadao activated, resembling Hemp senpai's structure but lacking its refinement. It piqued my curiosity, though at the moment, I was more interested in learning what Hunter had done this time.

"What happened?" I glanced at the Labrador, who had both ears folded flat against his head in a pitiful display. Oddly, I felt an urge to console Hunter, which unsettled me--what was the source of this reaction?

"The beach party betting pool ended with both Kotetsu senpai and the newcomer Nyx passing out simultaneously, so the house took all the winnings."

Halfway through Tadao's explanation, I averted my gaze, staring at my plate in an attempt to erase the mental image.

"What's the issue?" I poked at my food, hoping to look less awkward. "Surely no one's upset and trying to back out of their bets?"

"No." Tadao sighed before continuing, "This idiot took all the points he earned and shorted mithril, thinking it was a 'risk-free investment' he heard about somewhere."

"Shorted?" I looked up at the Labrador's smug face.

"Essentially, betting the price of an asset will drop to profit from the price difference," Tadao explained the financial concept, leaving me even more confused. "Long story short, due to unpredictable public sentiment--or sheer bad luck--or maybe a butterfly in South America flapping its wings a bit too hard, mithril's price soared, and this guy lost everything." The red deer glared at Hunter, who shrugged nonchalantly. "So his solution is to convince others about his 'risk-free investment' idea and use their money to pay off his debts!"

"Hey, it's not my fault; capitalism made the rules!" Hunter raised his paws defensively.

"How much do you need?" Part of me was just curious, while another part wasn't.

"Richter!" Tadao exclaimed, looking utterly stunned.

"Three hundred thousand," Hunter replied without hesitation.

"Wait a second," Tadao interrupted as I placed my terminal on the table. "You told me two hundred thousand earlier."

"I need some startup capital for a comeback." Hunter flashed me a toothy grin.

"I don't even know what to say anymore," Tadao muttered, burying his face in his hands.

"Give me your creditors' names," I sighed. Hunter reluctantly listed three names unfamiliar to me. "It's done--all debts are settled." After securing my terminal back onto my arm, I looked Hunter in the eye and said sternly, "The Academy ensures effort matches rewards. Instead of chasing shortcuts, focus on honing your abilities."

"And how would you understand?" Hunter scoffed. "You, born into wealth and privilege, who've never known want and don't even have the concept of trading--how dare you lecture me?"

Caught off guard, I have no idea how to response. But in that moment, I recognized something--his cold, blade-sharp tone was likely the first time I encountered the real Hunter, the one usually hidden behind grins and flamboyant antics.

The Labrador quickly finished his meal and left without another word.

"Don't overthink it," Tadao said, raising his head. "He's a pedigree from an elite House; how bad could things really be?"

"I..." I'm not so sure about that. If I had to name the most profound lesson I'd learned in recent years, it was that the world often defies what we take for granted.

"Regardless, you just paid off Hunter's debt," Tadao continued, making a few hand gestures I didn't quite recognize. "Even as one of the Academy's top ten wealthiest, that's still quite extravagant."

"What was I supposed to do--just leave him be?" I checked the terminal to see a few polite messages from the creditors. "It only cost me ten percent of my credit flow; it's really not a big deal."

"You used ten percent of your savings to clean up after someone you don't even like?" I tried to deny my dislike for Hunter but quickly realized it was pointless, so I just shrugged. Tadao sighed, as though he had more to say, but instead scratched the skin between his antlers and returned to his meal.

The red deer's emotions were turbulent, but since he chose not to share, I didn't press. At that moment, I sensed Kotetsu's waveform approaching.

"'You're embarrassing me.'" the Altai wapiti said as he sat in Hunter's vacant seat.

"I wasn't thinking that!" Tadao's sudden, defensive reaction made me fold my right ear, glancing between the two.

"Oh, please," Kotetsu snorted, gesturing with a hand that unfolded from a fist. "Even with double vision and echoes ringing in my head, I can still read your emotional waveforms."

"Did I do something wrong?" My ears drooped involuntarily as I sought an explanation.

The red deer opened his mouth as if to speak, but seemed unsure where to begin, frozen in a peculiar tableau.

"Did you forget that Tadao is that chocolate dog's senior mentor?" Kotetsu remarked, rubbing his temple. "By stepping in, you undermined his authority and implied he couldn't handle something you resolved in three seconds."

I glanced at Tadao. The red deer had his head lowered, mechanically shoveling food into his mouth. The tips of his lowered ears were faintly flushed.

"Sorry, I didn't..." I murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

"Didn't think it through," Kotetsu said, twirling his chopsticks midair. "Yeah, we know."

"I'll be more mindful next time," I replied, my ears pressed flat, heat radiating from the blood rushing into them.

"It's no big deal; don't worry about it." Tadao waved dismissively. "Besides, I honestly didn't know how to handle Hunter. He's just... beyond reason."

"That's an apt description," Kotetsu chuckled.

"I think that's a bit much," I mumbled softly, trying not to sound impolite.

"Don't be so sensitive. That chocolate dog's brand of beyond reason is entirely different from yours," Kotetsu snorted before turning to Tadao. "If you need tips, when Richter doesn't behave, I ensure he gets properly disciplined. Clear rewards and punishments can--"

"I don't want to know!" Tadao groaned, burying his face in his hands.

For the remainder of the lunch, amid the Altai wapiti's laughter, I tried to finish my meal as quickly as possible, bypassing the chewing step altogether.

I seem to have some indigestion, a faint ache radiating from my stomach, reprimanding my earlier act of wolfing down food.

Fortunately, today's schedule is almost over. I shook my head vigorously, forcing myself to perk up as I stepped into one of the classrooms designated for safety lectures.

"Welcome, Richter!" Master Annihilation greeted me with a voice brimming with warmth. "Having a Snow as the assistant for this session couldn't be more fitting!"

"Master." I bowed respectfully to the dragon with black scales. "It's an honor to assist."

"Take a seat for now," Master gestured toward a row of seats against the wall. "We'll begin shortly."

I nodded and sat down, quietly observing as the Master lectured the new cadets.

Given Master Field's decision, I had rarely attended safety lectures as a cadet. But it didn't seem like much of a loss--after all, I'd already spent significant time mastering self-defense techniques. So, as fragments of memories from evening training sessions surfaced in my mind, Master Annihilation's lecture became little more than background noise.

"...The primary goal is to familiarize you with things once thought unimaginable and to redefine the concept of limits for psychics," the Master's voice gently tugged at the edges of my consciousness, signaling it was my turn to take the stage.

"...Starting with the defensive circle, you'll become familiar with the privileges psychics possess and gain a basic understanding of the hierarchy," Master continued.

I stepped into the center of the room, focusing my attention on the table-like structure that rose from the floor--a veritable arsenal of weapons, rather than the stares from the crowd, far more lethal in their intensity.

"Less than five percent of psychics will ever become high-level psychics, but understanding what they're capable of remains essential."

The Master explained that, depending on the user's knowledge, a defensive circle's rejection traits could block all threats. High-level psychics--those ranked Gamma or above--possess a passive defensive circle that remains active instinctively, protecting them even when their conscious mind is unaware.

I always suspected this part of the course was designed to show cadets how difficult it is to kill high-level psychics--perhaps to encourage harmony and dissuade conflict. Then again, it might unintentionally achieve the opposite effect.

"...Any volunteers?"

When I noticed the overly eager Chocolate Labrador stepping forward, a cold shiver ran down my spine, traveling from the tip of my tail up to the back of my neck.

Master Annihilation likely wanted the cadets to trust their defensive circles, demonstrating that although they have their limits, those limits are exceptionally expansive. But I worried that Hunter might not quite grasp this nuance.

The Chocolate Labrador picked up a large-caliber automatic rifle and, without hesitation, fired at me.

I had no interest in figuring out how this Labrador knew how to chamber a round and disengage the safety, or why his movements seemed too practiced. When Hunter emptied the magazine and stared wide-eyed at the flattened bullets on my defensive circle, his expression--a mix of excitement and envy--struck me as odd. It wasn't just the look of a pup discovering a new toy; it was the gaze of a bully wanting to snatch it away.

I hoped I was overthinking things, but if I excelled at anything, it was recognizing bullies.

"...This is dangerous and disregards the safety of others," I returned to reality as Master Annihilation appeared to be reprimanding Hunter.

"I'll be more careful next time, Master," the Chocolate Labrador replied with an overly obsequious tone, though his gaze likely conveyed something entirely different.

"...Because adamantine occupies the same space as the defensive circle, it bypasses its rejection traits. By applying sufficient kinetic energy to adamantine, it's possible to breach a defensive circle." Master stopped Hunter before he could raise the rifle to shoot me again. "However, adamantine is extremely sensitive to Domination. Any psychic capable of wielding Domination can easily intercept these bullets to protect themselves--this is one of the most critical lessons of this course."

Under the Master's supervision, Hunter conducted a series of shots with the automatic rifle. I casually intercepted the adamantine bullets, stopping them in mid-air at various positions.

Compared to Master Field's training, this exercise was pup's play. However, one of the reasons Master agreed to my participation today was to help me practice interpreting intent through the externalized mental waveforms of others--I needed more exposure to crowds. That, I assumed, was his reasoning.

While it was a bit difficult to focus on the Master's voice, my only task is standing still, I probably wouldn't result in missing anything critical. So, I concentrated on the deluge of information, attempting to listen and comprehend Hunter.

Pride, insecurity, longing, envy, and a buried fear he didn't want anyone to see.

Pride--knowing how to handle firearms and rebel against authority; the blend of masculinity and power worship would undoubtedly attract attention, making me the focus of admiration.

Insecurity--despite being granted immense strength and validation, I am still worlds apart from the aloof figure standing before me. He hasn't even spared me a glance, those detestable blue eyes as hollow as their owner's heart!

Longing--I want recognition. Even if my exaggerated actions earn an eye roll, I'll do whatever it takes to be noticed. After all, those who only deserve neglect are losers cry and whine.

Envy--that dazzling white fur seemed to radiate brilliance, proclaiming its owner as someone inherently superior. Why? It's just dumb luck. If I had that kind of chance--being born into a royal House--success and prestige would come effortlessly!

Fear--the exaggerated behavior and ever-present smile were masks for a deep fear, a terror that made me shiver. But of what, exactly?

The alien chill of it made me shudder involuntarily, snapping me out of my detached state.

Was this Hunter's bitter grievance against me? Or was it merely the unceasing echo of my own inner turmoil?

I glanced at the Chocolate Labrador, hoping to glean some readable sign or body language. Hunter, sensing my gaze, responded with a sinister grin.

"...You may one day encounter this weapon, commonly called 'Hunter.' It's designed specifically for psychics." Master Annihilation's carefully measured emotions drew my attention back to her. She was explaining the unique construction of the bullets, how their lower adamantine content allowed them to evade detection and bypass Domination.

I've always found those things... bothersome.

Weapons are made for killing, but why take such an extraordinary material and reduce it to mere projectiles? There are so many possibilities--why...

The high-frequency undulations were like tiny thorns buried within fur, slicing through flesh unprepared and delivering excruciating pain.

Hunter moved swiftly; if I hadn't sensed those ripples, I likely wouldn't have kept up with his actions.

Master Annihilation noticed something unusual when the Labrador reached out for "Hunter," but hadn't realized Hunter's true intentions.

I expanded my consciousness and, with a clattering sound, disassembled "Hunter" into its smallest components, scattering them across the table as they fell from the Labrador's paw.

I didn't attempt to analyze the complex emotional ripples erupting from Hunter. Instead, I was more intrigued by my own feelings--what was this? Why did this Chocolate Labrador make me feel so... indescribable?

Adopting a detached perspective to examine the ripples in the space allowed me to interpret them more clearly, as if transforming the abstract workings of the mind into a precise representation of lines composed of basic particles.

Yet, it was evident that events in the physical space required my attention, so I decided to delve deeper into this art-like, rather than scientific, skill at a later time and focused on the world around me.

"...This is a serious violation of the rules!" Master Annihilation crossed her arms and sang in a stern melody. If Hunter could understand the Draconic Song, he might have worried about his predicament instead of pretending to feel guilty by lowering his gaze--while keeping his tail raised high.

"My apologies, Master." I spoke after she concluded her lecture, lowering my ears and gaze in a submissive posture. "It was my lack of attention to Hunter's emotional state that led to this thoughtless action, which provoked him."

Master Annihilation whipped her head toward me sharply. I could even hear the sound of her scales scraping as she raised an eyebrow, accompanied by a vivid mental image conveyed through her consciousness--"provoked him?"--that question mark was enormous.

"In any case," I cleared my throat, sending out a pleading ripple, hoping to redirect the Master's attention to something more reasonable rather than my nonsense. "I believe there are other matters where you may need my assistance?"

"Yes," Master Annihilation replied in a disapproving tone, though she at least agreed to my unspoken request to let the matter drop. She continued as if nothing major had occurred. "We will soon begin the practical training session."

Hunter was sent back to his seat, rejoining the other cadets who seemed utterly baffled by what had transpired. Meanwhile, Master Annihilation began explaining how existence circles are defined and how they can be expanded to shield oneself from other psychics' influence.

As the lesson progressed, I tapped on the terminal panel, selecting suitable equipment for the cadets based on their physique and prior data. Sometimes, I even had to configure the printer to fabricate items on the spot. Perhaps due to differences in their perceived cool factor, weapons like staves were unpopular, while longswords remained the most favored choice.

Hunter opted for a rapier. Considering the agility the Labrador had displayed earlier, I thought it a fitting choice.

Then, a requisition form with detailed specifications for weight and length caught my attention. Cross-referencing the applicant's information, I realized it was from Yamato, who had once won the Federation Naval Academy's saber fencing championship.

Interesting.

I glanced up and spotted the impala among the group, intently watching Master Annihilation demonstrate how adamantine weapons could disrupt consciousness circles and penetrate defensive circles.

So far, no one in this cohort had managed to establish a defensive circle. Hence, the primary goal of the lecture was to teach survival in a world where the extraordinary existed--how to avoid freezing in the face of unnamable dangers, and to familiarize them with seemingly peculiar but vital concepts for psychics, like carrying a sword. More advanced self-defense skills would come later. Assessments suggested a few cadets had gamma-level potential, but overall, this batch's abilities leaned toward the ordinary.

With the lecture portion over, we moved on to practical drills. After distributing weapons, I observed the cadets eagerly playing with their newly assigned blades, their excitement visible in their emotional ripples. I wondered if, during my own initial evening training sessions, I had ever indulged in heroic fantasies starring myself. Likely not--at the time, I was too young to understand anything beyond vague concepts of "responsibility" and "duty."

As the drills began, I intended to retreat to the corner of the hall and step in only if assistance was required. However, I quickly noticed that when it came to pairing off for sparring, no one was willing to partner with Hunter.

I hesitated briefly before drawing Gray Snow and walking toward the Labrador.

"Ah, Richter senpai!" He raised the hilt of his blade before his snout, bowing respectfully--surprisingly formal for him.

I returned the gesture and refrained from saying much. Remarkably, the Labrador remained well-behaved for the rest of the class.

Various stances and movements were practiced--how to hold a blade properly and integrate it as an extension of oneself, an essential skill for psychics.

Perhaps because the session turned out duller than expected, many cadets lost interest before it ended. Their initial excitement dissipated, replaced by mechanical repetition of the exercises.

No matter--it wasn't uncommon for some to go their entire lives without forming a defensive circle. Expecting mastery of bladed weaponry from them was arguably unnecessary.

After concluding the session, Master Annihilation summarized the key points before leaving the wrap-up tasks to me.

Marking and storing the cadets' weapons didn't take long. Soon, only a handful of herbivores and canines remained, splitting into two small groups based on their dietary habits.

I approached the herbivores, mostly deer, who were gathered around Yamato. The impala appeared to be explaining something, occasionally demonstrating slashes and thrusts with his saber or helping others adjust their stances.

"Does it feel right?" I asked once their discussion seemed to reach a pause and Yamato noticed me. "If there are any issues, I can make adjustments."

"Oh, senpai, sorry to trouble you!" Yamato stood and tested the saber's balance with a few swings. "The craftsmanship is excellent, but I might have Kotetsu senpai send over the one I'm used to in the Naval Academy."

Federation herbivores exhibited nervous body language when I approached, fidgeting or averting their gazes, while those from Lunar didn't. I'd always found this a curious detail.

"That's a valid option--familiarity is indeed one of the key factors in whether the existence circle accepts a weapon," I replied, resting a hand on Gray Snow's hilt.

"Senpai..." Yamato hesitated, but I knew what he wanted to ask. His eager ripples were unmistakable, and I responded with an encouraging wave. Even if he didn't yet understand how to interpret it, the impala would sense the encouragement. "Master Annihilation mentioned earlier that the wolves from Snow faction are all sword masters?"

"'Many' wolves from Snow faction are sword masters. After all, we start learning how to wield a blade at six. But not everyone reaches the expected standards," I replied with a soft chuckle, drawing Gray Snow. "I take it you'd like to verify the claim?"

"It would be an honor if senpai could provide some guidance," Yamato responded, standing tall, his emotional waves rising in intensity.

"The entire existence circle is valid territory, that's mean including horns and tails. Strikes that activate a defensive circle count as hits. The boundary is one centimeter above the skin. Simultaneous hits result in a double elimination," I explained, motioning from head to toe to outline the target area. "I won't use mental ripples to predict your intent or adjust my movements with Domination." That seemed fair--or perhaps a slight handicap.

"Understood." Yamato nodded. "But I can't form a defensive circle." His tone carried a hint of hesitation, but he still raised the hilt of his sword in front of him as a gesture of respect toward me.

"Just not yet," I replied, adopting a formal stance, heels together, standing tall. "Don't worry, I'll hold back." A smile crept onto my face as I released an inviting wave. "But I hope you won't go easy on me."

"Then, I'll be in your care, senpai." Yamato adjusted his stance, extending his right arm with the saber pointed slightly downward toward me, his left hand raised for balance.

Responding with Frost's opening stance, I signaled my readiness.

I initially thought Yamato would be the cautious and probing type, but the impala struck immediately, stepping forward and slashing at my sword-wielding paw.

His movements were swift--likely unmatched by most in Snow in terms of reacting to such an attack.

But still, it remained within the bounds of my control.

I twisted my wrist, pulling back the hilt of my sword to deflect Yamato's strike. He promptly retreated, raising his blade tip into a defensive stance.

Intending to exploit the reach advantage of a hand-and-a-half sword, I aimed for Yamato's arm. He flicked his wrist, knocking the blade of his saber against Gray Snow, redirecting my attack.

I withdrew to reset my stance, but Yamato decided to capitalize on the opening my assault revealed, slashing once again toward my sword paw.

I've always disliked this "finger-chopping" strategy--it just feels... despicable?

Yet, his agility and technique were flawless. I twisted my wrist, using the guard of my sword to block the attack, and countered with a thrust.

Annoyingly, my strike landed on the circle handguard of his saber. Meanwhile, ripples in the defensive circle indicated I'd been hit--Yamato had struck Gray Snow's guard with his blade's flat rather than its edge. This unusual angle allowed him to graze my defensive circle successfully.

"Best of three?" the impala asked, lowering his weapon.

"Gladly." I raised Gray Snow parallel to my ear, adopting the Ice Storm first stance in response.

Whether it was confidence from scoring the first point or just Yamato's natural tendency to launch bold, rapid assaults, he again lunged at my sword hand with lightning speed.

But the Ice Storm stance was designed for such situations, and with my superior reach, I employed the same thrusting strategy, aiming for his forearm.

When Gray Snow brushed the fur at the edge of Yamato's arm, I stopped, using Domination to freeze him in place so he could see where his blade was positioned.

"Match point," I announced.

Yamato flexed his limbs and adjusted his clothing, perhaps unaccustomed to the all-encompassing immobilization. After some time, the impala nodded in agreement with my judgment.

We each took a step back and reset our stances.

This time, Yamato was much more cautious, testing the waters with feints and minor probing strikes. I maintained my distance, refusing to respond to any non-threatening moves.

Although I tried to avoid actively interpreting emotional waveforms, Yamato radiated a pulse of excitement that pierced through the calm facade he tried to present with his composed expression and measured breathing. It was hard not to notice.

Clearly, Yamato was thoroughly enjoying himself--a kind of joy born from encountering someone who could truly understand him.

A smile tugged at my lips. I decided to share some insights into the possibilities awaiting at higher levels.

Gripping Gray Snow with both paws, I extended the sword in a feint to lure Yamato into attacking. When he slashed toward me, I caught a fleeting hesitation in his brown eyes. He suspected a trap but couldn't resist the perfect opportunity, relying on his speed to prevail.

I chuckled inwardly, unbothered by being underestimated--I understood the allure of such confidence.

Come, surpass this level, and ascend to greater heights.

I released the sword, stepping forward to place myself between Gray Snow and Yamato's slashing trajectory. With my right palm, I braced the left side of the hilt while my left paw gripped the forward section of the hand-and-a-half blade.

A crisp metallic clang echoed as the tip of Yamato's saber struck Gray Snow's hilt. Realizing his mistake, he tried to withdraw his weapon to defend himself.

But I was faster. In Yamato's widened pupils, I saw the reflection of Gray Snow poised like a dagger, aimed at his chest.

When I felt the expected resistance, I immediately stopped--there was no way I wanted my kohai to experience the blinding headache of having his defensive circle shattered for the first time, especially at the hands of an overly reckless senpai.

"Point," I said with a smile, while Yamato, still processing what had happened, stared blankly. "And congratulations--you're a high-level psychic."

The defensive circle rippled with a density that bent light, making its boundaries visible to the naked eye. Around Gray Snow's tip, the field thinned noticeably due to interference from the adamantine material, marking a stark contrast to the rest.

"So this is... a defensive circle?" Yamato murmured, frozen mid-motion as if still trying to retract his weapon.

"This is a passive defensive circle," I explained, sheathing Gray Snow and patting Yamato on the arm. "Only gamma-level psychics and above have one."

"The so-called elite five percent?" Yamato asked, returning to an upright stance while his empty left hand fumbled in the air, as though trying to grasp the elusive barrier.

"If you ask me, it's more like a 'privileged group.'" I shrugged. "In any case, you're quite impressive!" I tapped the hilt of Gray Snow with my fingernail. "Have you been practicing for long?"

"Since pre-academy, so about ten years. But it's mostly been a sport--never thought it'd become a practical skill." Yamato's gaze dropped to the tip of his saber. "But if we're talking about impressive... I can feel a vast chasm between senpai and me, one so wide I can't even see the other side."

"As I said before, we've been learning swordsmanship since we were six, and our natural physique gives us an edge. Even so, I'm certain many Snow I know aren't as skilled as you." Tilting my head, I quickly reviewed my memories to confirm. "So accept the compliment graciously."

After I spoke, Yamato lowered his gaze further and tugged at his ears. It struck me that it's far easier to ask others to accept praise than to do so oneself.

"Yes, Richter senpai," the impala said quietly, his eyes wandering the ground. He seemed to have more to say, so I patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts. After a while, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. "But may I ask--why is it that you... seem to feel no passion at all?"

"Hmm?" I tilted my head, inviting clarification.

"Whenever I practiced or competed before, I could always sense my opponent's emotions and determination conveyed through the clash of blades. Of course, I later understood that it was part of what being a psychic allowed me to perceive." Yamato rubbed the tip of his saber with a finger. "Usually, the more passion, fighting spirit, or morale someone has, the more effort they seem to have put into honing their skills, and it correlates positively with their level. But I can't understand why, apart from some... anticipation, there's no passion coming from your sword at all."

"Ah, that." I'd never considered what my waveform might feel like to others. "I suppose I find it difficult to view swordsmanship as a... sport." Gray Snow emitted a steady resonance from its hilt. "So, lacking passion for killing fits my role as a blemish on the snow rather well, doesn't it?" I chuckled dryly, realizing I might have made Yamato more uncomfortable and deciding to cut to the point. "Of course, I can still appreciate the technical aspects or the elegance of the dance-like exchange. But as for passion, I'm afraid it's not my thing."

"Ah, my apologies, senpai--I didn't mean to offend." Yamato scratched his temple, looking regretful. "I just imagined wolves from Snow faction as... less hesitant about killing." He cleared his throat, evidently reconsidering his phrasing. "I also don't associate fencing with violence--it's a bit too old-fashioned. I never expected psychics to rely on melee weapons in combat."

"I optimistically believe it's just preparation for fighting Phantom." Raising my right paw, I held up a finger to test the air's humidity. "And if psychics do battle, it won't be with melee weapons alone."

A sharp clang interrupted us as Yamato's saber snapped in two at the middle, the tip clattering to the ground.

The impala froze, wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened.

Since he'd already mentioned asking Kotetsu to bring his preferred weapon, he probably wouldn't be too upset about the Academy-issued saber breaking.

"I thought this was impossible," Yamato said as he examined the broken saber between his thumb and forefinger. When his fingers touched the fractured edge, he recoiled as if burned, a mixture of awe and fear on his face. "Isn't a melee weapon considered an extension of one's body and protected by the existence circle?"

"I didn't break your weapon by altering its molecular structure from within," I explained, rotating my wrist. A small hexagonal ice crystal formed at my fingertips, growing large enough to be clearly visible. "Approximately ten thousand times, I scraped the blade with tiny crystals, eroding it until it snapped. Competition sabers are pretty thin, so it didn't take long."

"This... is incredible..." Yamato stared back and forth between the broken blade on the floor and the hilt in his hand, as if struggling to accept reality.

"Psychic combat involves battling on multiple fronts simultaneously," I said as the ice crystal sublimated into vapor and my consciousness field receded. "Once you become proficient, you'll learn how to use consciousness union to counter such attacks. Psychic combat techniques can vary greatly, including enhancing physical capabilities, interpreting opponents' intentions, and more. Actual battles between psychics are incredibly complex, where any feasible tactic might come into play."

Yamato nodded and stooped to pick up the fragments of his saber, placing them on the nearby table.

"What a spectacular demonstration, Richter senpai," said Labrador Hunter as he approached. I noticed the pack of dogs nearby shifting their emotional waves to anticipation and excitement.

"Is there something you need?" I adopted a formal demeanor, unsure of the best way to respond--especially considering the unsettling ideas Hunter had projected earlier.

"I've dabbled a bit in combat myself," he said, swinging a slim rapier in his hand. "But I'm particularly curious about the 'actual' combat methods psychics use against each other." He sidestepped, pointing the tip of his rapier at me. "Would Richter senpai do me the honor of a sparring match?"

I didn't see the point in correcting Hunter's stance or demonstrating the "actual" psychic combat style--he was far from the level where such lessons would be relevant. However, refusing might come across as dismissive, so I decided to humor him, planning to play along lightly, offer some vague praise, and end with a cryptic piece of advice.

"Of course. If it's 'actual' combat, that means no-holds-barred, right?"

"Naturally." Hunter's grin widened with my reply.

"Just remember to stop before causing injuries. This is still a practice match," I cautioned, not wanting him to hurt himself.

Without wasting a second, the Chocolate Labrador launched an attack aimed directly at my face.

His speed wasn't bad--but it was still far too slow.

I couldn't understand how he thought this approach would work, especially if he had observed my match with Yamato just moments earlier.

With minimal movement, I evaded his strike and lightly tapped the hilt of Gray Snow against his head, using the momentum to position myself behind him.

"The significance of mental waves in close combat is often underestimated," I said, watching as Hunter regained his footing. "Deciphering an opponent's intentions grants a considerable advantage."

The Labrador's eyes narrowed, his wrinkled nose forming an incongruous expression with his faint smile.

His intent was so transparent that I didn't even need to rely on waves to interpret it.

Sidestepping Hunter's thrust once more, I swept a kick at his ankle, disrupting his balance and sending him face-first to the ground.

"Balance is paramount. Always ensure your movements are secure before focusing on offense," I advised in a calm tone, refraining from looking down at him--Hunter likely wouldn't appreciate being seen in such a vulnerable position.

Still, he didn't get up for a while, which made me concerned. Recalling a sharp cracking sound when he fell, I wondered if something had broken.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking over to the Labrador sprawled on the floor.

He groaned softly, trying to push himself up but wincing in pain. When I noticed dark blood dripping from his nose, I realized I might have gone too far and crouched down to help him.

"You might need to visit the infirmary," I said, inspecting his nose to ensure there wasn't serious damage. "At first glance--"

Sudden, excruciating pain radiated from my groin, cutting my sentence short.

I collapsed to the ground, my legs curling up instinctively as unbearable agony coursed through me. I realized the pain was caused by Hunter, who had delivered a solid knee strike to my crotch.

Rationalism witness--it hurt like hell!

Tears blurred my vision, and a wave of nausea nearly forced me to empty my stomach right then and there.

Amidst the haze of pain, I faintly heard arguing voices.

"...we did say no-holds-barred!"

"...I was more worried about your safety..."

For a while, I couldn't think at all, the relentless pain obliterating every coherent thought.

When I finally regained focus, I used my waves to diagnose myself and was relieved to find no actual damage beyond the searing pain.

"I think... we both learned a valuable lesson," I said, forcing myself to stand and take deep breaths. I nodded at Hunter, feigning composure. "A capable psychic should never let their guard down at any circumstances."

"Lesson learned, Richter senpai," the Chocolate Labrador said, his tone serious yet brimming with unconcealed glee. "I'll remember this for sure!"

After mustering a strained smile in response, Hunter excused himself and left with a pack of dogs.

Only then did I notice that the room had cleared out, leaving just Yamato and me--evidently, the herbivores had all vanished earlier.

"Senpai, are you alright?" Yamato asked, clearing his throat cautiously and keeping a safe distance.

"I'll be fine after some rest. Nothing serious," I joked lightly.

"Ah, good to hear," the impala said, scratching the back of his head. "I was a bit worried for a moment..."

I didn't catch what Yamato was worried about, because the next thing I remember was emptying the contents of my stomach onto the floor.

Attempting to eat dinner as if everything were normal was a struggle when the intermittent throbbing pain from my crotch was impossible to ignore. I knew it was psychological because the frequency of the pain eerily synchronized with the boisterous laughter of Hunter and his new friends at their table.

The dogs formed a tight-knit group within the Academy. Out of respect for the Wolf House--or something similar--most members chose to ignore my existence, so I hadn't paid much attention to their diverse little circle until today. Hunter's lively storytelling clearly earned their approval.

"I was wondering why that noisy bunch managed to become even more obnoxious." Hemp's presence brought an immediate wave of relaxation from Yamato, who greeted him politely.

"I'm quite the entertaining topic, aren't I?" I replied dryly, carefully keeping my emotions in check to avoid radiating an overwhelming psychic pulse.

"Are you alright?" the border collie asked, his concern evident. "Even knowing your personality, I was a bit worried you might swat that chocolate dog like a bug."

"I'm fine," I sighed, too drained to offer a better response. "Where's Tadao? I haven't seen him today."

"Probably hiding." Hemp shrugged. "You can ask Yamato. In the Federation's view, situations like this are... well..." He scratched his chin. "...embarrassing."

Glancing at the impala, I saw his awkward cough and reddening ears affirm Hemp's point.

"I'm not blaming anyone. I let my guard down--it's my own fault." I set down my utensils, giving up the pretense of having an appetite unaffected by the pain.

"Careful now. Just from that statement, people might think you enjoy getting kicked in the balls," Kotetsu said, placing his tray across from me and sitting down, apparently unfazed by Hemp's exaggerated eye-roll.

"Oh, thank you," I shot back sarcastically. "That's exactly what I needed--a completely inappropriate joke."

The Altai wapiti shrugged but mercifully refrained from further commentary--at least for the moment.

"Can I go punch him?" Kotetsu asked earnestly, his gaze sincere. "I'll try my best not to kill him."

"Please don't." I pressed my temples firmly, fantasizing that it might somehow ease the pain.

"I figured you'd say that, but I had to ask." Kotetsu spread his hands, looking vaguely dissatisfied.

"Seriously, Richter," Hemp said. "Don't you think Hunter went too far?"

"It's not that bad..." I muttered. "He just wants attention." I glanced at the Chocolate Labrador's table, where another burst of laughter erupted. "I understand why he's doing it." The memory of Hunter's emotions earlier still left me unsettled.

"Even if you understand his motives, that doesn't justify his actions, does it?" Hemp pressed, his logical point forcing me to nod in agreement as I stared at my plate to avoid showing my discomfort.

"I know. You're trying to equate your situation with that chocolate dog's again," Kotetsu said, gesturing lazily toward Hunter's table with his chopsticks. "In case you don't see it, let me spell it out: you're not the same. He's malicious, and you're kind."

"Oh," I murmured, unsure how to react to such a blunt statement. "But I really don't want to be too hard on Hunter. It's not entirely his fault he acts this way."

"I don't know if it's his fault, but it's certainly not yours, is it?" Hemp's irrefutable logic left me lowering my gaze again, nodding slowly.

Still, if, as Hunter believes, we didn't occupy positions in the upper class, would there truly be more opportunities for others to live the lives they want?

If his life had been smooth and happy, would he still be like this?

So isn't it my fault?

Qana once told me it wasn't. But as a Senate Wolf, his perspective might be biased--just as mine is.

For a while, none of us spoke, focusing instead on eating. Occasionally, the clinking of utensils seemed to match the rhythm of the noisy dogs' laughter, forming a disjointed, comical symphony.

"I believe Richter senpai's response is inappropriate." After finishing his plate, Yamato set down his chopsticks and spoke deliberately. "Regardless of how much responsibility Hunter bears for his actions, those actions are fundamentally wrong. If he doesn't face consequences for his mistakes, then Richter senpai is enabling and condoning them. This won't just embolden Hunter but also make it less likely for him to correct his behavior. One day, he'll cross someone less forgiving than Richter senpai, and the consequences could be severe." The impala's eyes met mine, his striped face emphasizing his serious expression. "And that will be your responsibility."

"Oh... I hadn't thought of it that way," I replied softly, feeling my ears flatten.

"See? Yamato's much more mature than you are," Kotetsu teased, clicking his tongue and pointing his chopsticks at me. "Now, can I go punch the chocolate dog?"

"No." I answered with a roll of my eyes. "That's a completely separate issue."

For the rest of the meal, Kotetsu kept proposing various "educational" ways to deal with Hunter, persistently seeking Yamato's approval. The impala tried to decline politely without outright refusal, until Hemp finally intervened.

Amid the chaotic background noise, I mulled over Yamato's words, considering the relationship between my actions and my responsibilities.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?" When I arrived at the archive room, Aether was already standing by the door.

"Not at all; I just got here myself," he replied, glancing down both ends of the hallway. He strapped his terminal back onto his wristband and added, "You have a knack for discovering deserted spots."

"It seems to have become a habit," I replied with a smile. "With everything digitized now, even indexed data is just a click away--no need to come here physically." After logging in at the control panel by the entrance, the sliding door opened, allowing us to pass through. "I checked the records. No one else has used this room all year except me."

"Hmm," Aether murmured, stepping inside first.

What greeted us was a room with glass display cases standing on red carpeting, while rows of bookshelf-lined walls extended into an endless depth.

"I thought you might like this place," I said cautiously, watching Aether survey the setup. "The archive room is essentially a library."

"So, you think someone raised in a library, destined to spend their life working in one, would enjoy hanging out in yet another library during his free time?" Aether shot me a look with his yellow eyes.

"Uh... well, if you put it that way..." Rationalism above, what was I thinking?

"I'm teasing." Aether nudged my shoulder lightly. "I like it. Thanks."

"Oh," I muttered, my ears growing hot and reflexively folding back. I awkwardly brushed at them. "That's great to hear."

"Is that the Dead Sea Scrolls?" Aether's attention was drawn to a display case with scrolls, and he quickly moved toward it.

"Yeah," I replied, noting the black wolf's tail wagging rapidly. I gestured to two nearby exhibits. "There's also the Rosetta Stone and the Epic of Gilgamesh."

"By Rationalism, I could spend all day here!" Aether stopped before the Epic of Gilgamesh display, softly reciting: "'He who saw the Deep, the foundation of the land, who knew the proper ways, was wise in all things.'"

"You can read ancient texts?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise.

"Specialized training," Aether replied with a grin, his sharp white teeth stark against his black fur. "You can read Inuit syllabics, can't you?"

"Ancient scripts and archaic scripts are completely different things," I muttered, to which Aether responded with a mysterious smile.

"Oh, come see this!" As we entered the paleontology section, I tugged at Aether's sleeve.

The black wolf raised an eyebrow in question, and I pointed to an orca skeleton suspended from the ceiling. Then, opening my consciousness, I invited Aether into my mental domain, summoning echoes of ancient oceanic songs.

For a moment, we stood in silence, immersed in the resonant melody, our spirits swept along the tides, diving into the vast, deep abyss.

"It's like the Dragon Song, but not a language..." Aether murmured. "At least, not one we can understand."

"Perhaps 'hearing' and 'understanding' aren't quite the same thing," I whispered, diving deeper into my consciousness. Gradually, blurry images began to surface.

Light pierced the ocean from above, distorted by the rhythm of the waves. A shadow swept across, leaving streams of bubbles in its wake--no, not a shadow, they are...pod mate.

More shadows appeared, their streamlined forms dancing gracefully as they sang songs of homecoming, guiding all wayfarers back to their origins.

"Wow," I gasped, breaking free from the awe-inspiring vision. "I didn't expect such massive creatures to be social animals."

"Just like gray wolves," Aether said reverently, rubbing the fur on his arms.

"I wonder where they're headed," I mused, stretching my hand to its fullest and holding it near my snout, trying to recall the peculiar sensation of moving through the currents.

"I'm curious too," Aether replied, naturally taking hold of my outstretched paw. "How about we find out together?"

My ears shot upright, and I almost pulled my paw away reflexively, but Aether's gentle grip stopped me.

"Of... of course," I stammered, staring at our entwined paws. Realizing that staring wasn't helping my nerves, I tried to avert my gaze, but Aether's emanating wavelength held me still.

It was filled with a desire to understand and an empathy willing to listen.

Opening myself, our mental domains intertwined.

In this shared state, I cautiously created ripples for Aether to follow until we perfectly synchronized. Then, expanding our awareness to touch the dimension of time, I reached for the ancient past.

But nothing happened. Around us remained the towering white skeleton and rows of bookshelves.

"Sorry," I said, scratching my ears with my free paw to hide my embarrassment. "I guess I got nervous. It's been a while since I tried."

Aether chuckled, his soft laughter making my ears burn hotter.

"Don't worry; it happens to a lot of people," he teased, and my tail instinctively tucked between my legs.

"Maybe you've seen enough dead animals?" I suggested, straining to keep my tone steady and desperate to change the subject. "The next exhibit is interesting too."

"Lead the way," Aether said with a wider grin, his tail wagging twice in quick succession.

Notably, he didn't let go of my paw.

We wandered further, exploring frozen moments of the past.

In the religious artifacts section, Aether discovered a collection of relics claiming to be the genuine Spear of Longinus and eagerly studied them for a while. When I played The Rite of Spring on an old vinyl record, Aether gave an approving nod, acknowledging my taste with mock seriousness.

When we reached the innermost room, I introduced the highlight of our trip.

"Behold, the Academy's archive terminal!" I exclaimed theatrically, pointing to the desktop terminal on a raised platform in the circular room's center.

"Isn't that connected to the intranet?" Aether tilted his head, visibly puzzled.

"That's what I thought at first," I replied, climbing the steps to log in and start operating the terminal. "But I soon discovered that some Academy records are only accessible from this terminal."

"I see," Aether said, stepping closer. "What do you want to show me?"

"This is the database of every Senate Wolf who's ever studied at the Academy," I said, pulling up files that were projected above the terminal. "Among them are my... parents."

"Oh..." Aether murmured, inching slightly closer.

"Because the data has been anonymized, I can only identify a few likely candidates," I said, adding filters to the search. The terminal listed seven male Snows and nine female Grays. "It feels... strange." I scanned the tables for details like height, weight, course lists, tower rankings, and adamantine weapon designs--important and trivial records alike.

"Can't you distinguish them by their adamantine weapons?" Aether asked. "Everyone's should be unique."

"Normally, yes, but..." I overlaid the Snow records, allowing Aether to see for himself.

"Why do their adamantine weapons all look like Winter Chill?" He quickly spotted the key detail, pointing at the projection of the Scottish claymore with its distinctive hilt angling toward the blade.

"Not just similar--identical," I explained, highlighting the record of a candidate likely to be Qana, who had the highest Tower ascent ranking. "Qana broke records and crafted a complete adamantine weapon, sparking a trend and fanatic following. Back then, every wolf who could afford it styled their weapons after Winter Chill--even some from other species joined in."

"Mass psychology is always fascinating. I never expected Snow to be a trendsetter," Aether remarked with a chuckle before falling silent, meeting my gaze.

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, giving me space to prepare myself.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled up the files of those who might be my parents once more.

"When I first discovered the Academy kept these records, I instinctively ran away, curling up on my bed in the dorm room." I recalled those sleepless nights and forced myself to continue. "When I finally prepared myself and identified a few candidates who might be my parents, I broke down crying on the spot, even though I wasn't sure why." I gestured to the floor. "After many more days, I could finally look at these... data without becoming too emotional. It's not that it made me feel closer to some abstract concept, but..." I raised my hand and lightly touched the holographic projection above the terminal. "It's proof that they existed--that this happened and was remembered." I sighed and lowered my paw. "Even if that proof only exists in a terminal no one ever visits."

Honestly, I couldn't explain what I hoped to achieve with my actions. Dragging Aether along to "meet the parents" like this--what benefit could it bring to either of us? I had no idea.

But I knew I desperately wanted someone to hear me say these things, even though it wouldn't change anything. Perhaps it was simple selfishness.

Aether leaned closer, gently resting his chin on my shoulder. My tail wagged involuntarily, brushing against his fur and clothes, creating a soft rustling sound.

After some time, Aether seemed to notice something and stood up straight to examine one of the documents. He swiped a few times on the terminal.

"This... isn't what I think it is, right?" He pointed to a few pinned records, each marked with a gray icon in the corner.

"Oh, yeah," I replied softly. "That means they died or went missing while enrolled at the Academy."

"That's... quite a lot. The Academy is less concerned about cadet safety than I thought," Aether murmured. "And almost all of them are Snows..."

"Yeah, usually tower accidents," I said, scratching my ear. "Those incidents probably lower the average life expectancy of Snow."

"Exsanguination, head trauma, organ failure, bisection..." Aether shook his head. "Very masculine ways to die."

"Everyone has their stereotypes," I shrugged, pulling up other cases. "Female Flash, electrocuted due to equipment mishandling; male Ash, mysteriously lodged in a wall; female Gray, whole body inexplicably liquefied; male Gray, food synthesizer-related accident." I paused awkwardly as I realized that was it--Snows accounted for over 90 percent of the deaths or disappearances. "Who knew food synthesizers were so dangerous?"

"Right?" Aether gave me a teasing grin and didn't press further.

We messed around on the terminal, looking for anything interesting. Eventually, we unearthed a photo of Master Field and Master Sunflare together, confirming without surprise that Master Field looked exactly the same two centuries ago as he did now.

Just as I thought of a few jokes about dragons to show off my wit and charm, I noticed Aether standing with his arms crossed, watching me.

"Uh... what is it?" I asked nervously, unsure if I had done something wrong.

"I've been patiently waiting all night, and you've said nothing," Aether said slowly. The canine teeth peeking through his black fur suddenly seemed much more menacing.

"Uh..." Hadn't I been talking the whole time? And what was with this "last chance" atmosphere? Was I supposed to do something? No way--it couldn't be... but maybe? No, that's strange, but also logical. Rationalism witness, whatever! "Do you want to date me?"

I hadn't even finished speaking when Aether snorted, covering his face with his paws.

"Rationalism above, Richter!" He looked like he was trying to hold back, but two seconds later, he gave up and burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that leaves you gasping for air. "Are you in a rush or something?"

Overwhelmed with embarrassment, I stood frozen, unable to respond, and decided to shut down my brain entirely to avoid dying of shame.

After some time, Aether finally calmed down, wiping tears from his eyes. He removed his terminal, swiped a few times, and handed it to me.

"I just want to know why you had no intention of telling me this," Aether said seriously. I turned my attention to the screen, watching the video play.

It showed a Snow curled up on the ground, clutching his crotch in pain and writhing occasionally.

The white wolf's tail had a tuft of gray fur. No wonder he looked familiar.

"Well, uh..." I stammered through every meaningless syllable I could think of, but Aether patiently watched me with his yellow eyes. In the end, I had no choice but to explain what had happened.

After I finished, Aether didn't respond immediately. The brief silence made me uncomfortable, so I repeated what the others in the cafeteria had said about the "incident."

"And what do you think?" Aether finally asked.

"Huh?" I tilted my head, unsure of what he meant.

"What do you think of Hunter's actions? Why do you believe he shouldn't be blamed or punished?" Aether enunciated each word clearly, his yellow eyes focused on me.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. Aether exuded a wave of encouragement, patiently waiting for me to gather my thoughts.

"At the most basic level, I think Hunter's aggressive behavior has already ended, so there's no justification for 'teaching him a lesson,'" I said, Kotetsu's figure flashing through my mind before I shook my head to dispel it.

"But as others pointed out, if there's no punishment for inappropriate behavior, wouldn't that enable Hunter to keep treating people poorly?" Aether tilted his head.

"I find it hard to understand the justification for punishment..." I said softly, imagining the scene if I had beaten up the chocolate Labrador. "Without clear evidence that punishing Hunter would prevent future incidents, I don't see any logic in it."

"So, you think someone can behave badly without any consequences?" Aether asked.

"No... I think consequences are inevitable," I replied. Every action has consequences. "But when it comes to punishment, in Hunter's case, even if punishment were meant to 'correct' something, I don't think it should target Hunter himself." I scratched my chest, trying to shake off the sticky feeling of Hunter's thoughts from my memory. "If punishment is warranted, it should be for whatever made Hunter this way." Like... us.

"But aren't you saying Hunter has no agency? If everything is caused by environment, systems, or some upper-class oppression," Aether chuckled softly, "doesn't that imply individuals have no value or meaning, incapable of taking responsibility for their actions?"

"I... I don't know." I admitted I hadn't thought it through deeply. "I probably need more time to clarify my true thoughts." I tilted my head, Kotetsu's image flashing again. "Kotetsu said I equate my situation with Hunter's."

"And what does that mean?" Aether raised an eyebrow. I thought I saw his eye twitch but wasn't sure.

"I guess it means I hope that if I acted like Hunter, someone would forgive and understand me, realizing it's not entirely my fault?" I tried to articulate my feelings but found it difficult. Hopefully, Aether wouldn't wonder why I struggled to speak so disorganized and illogical.

"Do you think that's accurate?" Aether asked again.

"I... I don't know." I could only admit once more. "I wish there were simple ways to get clear answers for some things."

"I understand, but that would make life less interesting. Still, I think we've spent enough energy worrying about this tonight." Aether shrugged. "As for my answer, it's simple and clear--yes."

I froze, not immediately understanding what Aether meant.

Then, he leaned forward and gently licked my nose.

The sensation was electrifying, causing me to shudder violently--a reaction larger than anything I'd ever experienced. When Aether opened and enclosed my snout with his mouth, the light scrape of his fangs and the heat of his breath made me let out a low moan.

Encouraged, Aether placed his paws on my shoulders to steady me. I wanted to respond, but my clumsy attempts left me looking like I was having a spasm, arms awkwardly raised midair.

Abandoning any pretense, I instinctively extended my tongue, brushing against the inside of Aether's mouth.

He immediately pulled back, covering his snout.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked anxiously, worried I'd messed up again.

"No, just a regurgitation reflex--it'll pass in a moment." Aether rubbed his snout with both paws.

"Oh, sorry," I said, scratching my ear and feeling heat rush to my face. "I didn't think; I just followed..."

Aether clasped my snout, stopping me mid-sentence.

"Shh," he whispered, his yellow eyes full of amusement. "If I'm not mistaken, we still have some progress to make."

With that, the black wolf softly enclosed my snout with his mouth. This time, I didn't freeze but opened myself to him, letting him embrace me fully.

We explored the unknown together, curious about the possibilities on the other side.

In the starless, pitch-black night, faint gray snowflakes began to fall.