Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 27. Chapter 6 - Air Conditioning and Barbarians 6.4

"...Two thousand years have passed, and yet the off-target effects of gene editing tools remain unresolved. The most advanced technology we have today is the Federation's nanodrone system, but even that requires an original template to function," Master Faurik paced slowly back and forth on the podium, his tail swaying with each step. "This is yet another piece of evidence that reveals to us just how profound and unfathomable the mysteries of Rationalism truly are, far beyond the scope of our understanding!"

Today, there were more students asleep than awake, and those who were awake looked as though they might doze off at any moment. Like in past "recovery periods" between the preliminaries and the finals, everyone was still caught up in the excitement of the previous events, while eagerly anticipating next month's finals. There was no energy left to spare for mundane matters--like attending class.

The masters had mostly adopted a hands-off approach, even Qana. Occasionally, some master would complain directly to the sleepy young wolves, wondering aloud why the break couldn't be extended to three months. But most of the time, the masters chose to gloss over less important or particularly disliked subjects during this period. I was probably the only one who noticed that Master Faurik had rolled his eyes at his own words for the third time today.

So when the master dismissed the class and exited the lecture hall, hardly any of the wolves reacted.

"Master!" I quickly gathered my things and hurried into the hallway, calling after him.

"Ah, Richter." The master turned around, his expression weary. "Is there something you need?"

"I have some questions..." I noticed the impatience in the frequency of his tail's movements, so I decided to get straight to the point. "About your colleague at Oceanus Procellarum University. What if there was another 'intern,' a Nyx with perfect memory..."

"Has Qana come up with a new idea?" Master Faurik raised an eyebrow at me.

"Qana?" I tilted my head, confused.

"Well, it was his suggestion in the first place," the Master said with a shrug. "But I suppose this might not involve him. Qana should be well aware that even if he pressured Nyx, convincing the Library of Alexandria to give up a perfect memory- member is practically impossible." He narrowed his eyes at me, as if a multitude of thoughts were flashing through his mind.

I stood there with my mouth slightly open, unable to deliver the speech I had prepared. Although I had suspected this outcome, my ears and tail still drooped uncontrollably.

Still, learning that Qana had been involved in this matter was a bit surprising.

"Oceanus Procellarum University would certainly be interested in a Nyx with perfect memory, but the key is Nyx's own intentions," Master Faurik emphasized again. "If you really want to make something happen here, Qana's influence far outweighs mine. You should talk to him." The Master waved me off, signaling that he was too tired to deal with anything further, and then he left.

Well, it was clear that Master Faurik had his own concerns, so it seemed I would have to talk to Qana after all. Though I wasn't entirely sure how to go about "pressure," it sounded like something the sword master would excel at.

Qana had mentioned that he would be very busy during this time, so perhaps it would be better to wait until after the Selection process was fully over to bring this up? I had hoped to have some kind of answer to share with Aether and the others next time we met, but it looks like that will have to be postponed.

Now that I have to talk to Qana, does that make things easier?

I replayed Qana's interactions with Momus in my mind, pondering whether this would make things simpler or more complicated.

"Hey, hey, hey, that's not good enough!" Piqsirpoq kicked the sole of my shoe, grinning as he spoke.

I was too exhausted to respond, lying flat on my back with my arms and legs splayed out. My tongue hung out as I panted, occasionally catching a snowflake as I inhaled.

"Fifteen kilometers, and it's just the standard route," Piqsirpoq continued, still stretching and cooling down as he made his snide comments.

I wanted to point out his advantage of having a highly efficient aerobic metabolism, but my lungs felt like they were about to burst, my throat was parched, and my legs were on the verge of cramping. It wasn't exactly the best time for self-pity, so while I couldn't sit up, I kept working on regulating my breathing.

What did have half-Gray lineage give me? I opened my palms and held them up in front of my eyes, disappointed once again to confirm that I hadn't inherited those solid yet nimble hands that Grays were supposed to have.

We were on an outcropping below the training grounds, a platform rarely used except occasionally as an alternative route for the cross-country run. So I figured we didn't have to worry about being disturbed.

After a long while, I finally managed to control my limbs again. I sat up, using my teeth to open the hidden pocket on my left sleeve, pulling out the straw to rehydrate and soothe my parched, sore throat. Since the water bladder was strapped to my back, the liquid was warm, matching my core body temperature as it went down.

After drinking enough, I tucked the straw back in and fastened the pocket. Tilting my head back, I propped myself up on my hands and took a deep breath.

The snow was thick, so the texture was... interesting. I clenched my fist, feeling the crystals crunch in my hand.

At that moment, the snowfall seemed to pick up a bit. I squinted slightly, imagining that I could focus on the distant gray clouds and observe the process of the water vapor crystallizing.

They say you can't find two identical snowflakes. Has anyone ever really tried? I shifted my focus to the transparent crystals drifting down, pondering this question.

Countless... tiny snowflakes...

A cold sensation exploded on the side of my face, wet and chilly liquid soaking into my fur. For a moment, I was too stunned to react, staring in shock at Piqsirpoq.

"Aren't psychics supposed to be more sensitive?" he laughed heartily, tossing another snowball at me while conjuring three more in the air.

"Qana said..." I raised my arm to block the snowball, which splattered across my face. "Stop it!" Piqsirpoq ignored my plea. "Qana..."

"Isn't here!" he challenged, raised his tail, hurling several more snowballs my way. I could only manage to get a mouthful of snow.

In the chaos, I burst out laughing.

You brought this on yourself.

I expanded my consciousness, gathering the snow to form a massive snowball, a cubic meter in size.

"W-Wait a minute!" Piqsirpoq's mouth dropped open, ears flattened, and his tail tucked between his legs.

As he turned to flee, I swung my right hand, launching the enormous snowball at him. I felt a sense of triumph as I heard Piqsirpoq let out a yelp before disappearing into the snowdrift.

But suddenly, a faint sound caught my attention, like a sharp prick to my senses. I immediately turned toward the source, ears pricking up as I slowly rotated, listening carefully in all directions.

"What's wrong?" Piqsirpoq crawled out of the snowbank, noticing my sudden alertness. He moved more cautiously, lowering his voice as he approached me.

"I'm not sure..." There were just a few Yushan junipers*, covered in snow, growing low and sprawling over the ground at this altitude, like waves flowing over the earth. "It might be my imagination."

I scanned the surroundings, confirming that aside from the snow, there were only scattered rocks and enormous trees. In such an open area, it would be nearly impossible for someone to hide.

"Probably just too tired," I said, turning to Piqsirpoq and scratching my ears, trying to relax.

"Some say 'practice is always the only path to perfection,' you know," he responded with a grin, shrugging. I noticed his mouth continued to move, but I couldn't hear a sound.

What?

There was no time to think; the world plunged into darkness.