“Not really what I wanted to hear,” Det deadpanned. “Yay, I’m average?”

  “Look, Det,” Simmons said. “Would you rather I talked you up, only for you to get disappointed down the road?”

  “No,” Det said, more dissatisfied by the assessment than he’d like to admit. Simmons had whooped him in the spar, but the other man was A-Rank.

  “On the physical side of things,” Simmons said, either ignoring or not seeing Det’s frustration. “You’ll be a little above average. You’re fast, strong, and you’ve got some fighting skill. It needs a lot of polishing, but us ReSouled learn quick. You’re starting ahead of the pack, there.

  “Your magic, though, it’s going to be useful from the sounds of things, in the long run. Thing is, first year of being in the Mistguard is—frankly speaking—a dick-swinging contest. Our job is to fight. It’s our whole purpose for being on this world, and the better your magic is for that role, the more attention you’ll get at the start.

  “Once you start getting more classes in—once you work on refining your magic and expanding the repertoire of what you can do with it—that’s when your ink-magic is going to start showing its worth.”

  Det couldn’t stop himself from groaning. “In other words, Calisco is going to be popular right off the get-go? I’m never going to hear the end of that.”

  “Is her magic really explosions?”

  “Literally,” Det said. “She can create explosions out of nothing. Bigger and further away from her takes longer, I think, and she can’t make actual objects or people explode. Just create explosions near them. I think it has something to do with friction and air molecules, though my old thermodynamics prof would have my head for suggesting that without more evidence. Then he’d say the equations don’t line up and smack somebody with a yardstick.”

  “How powerful?”

  “The yardstick? It stung, but…”

  “The explosions,” Simmons said flatly.

  “Ah, that makes more sense. Let’s just say it’s good you stopped her from showing off. She may wear red and yell explosion when she uses her magic, but she’s not quite as unbalanced as a certain anime girl with a black cat.”

  Simmons whistled. “Yeah, she’s going to be very popular as a first year. We can always use more Artillery, and since they tend to be flashy, they get a following.”

  “Captain,” Det said. “Can we learn other magic? I mean, could I learn explosions like Calisco has?”

  “Nope,” Simmons said. “ReSouled don’t get a second type of magic. All we can do is improve our power and versatility with what we were reborn with. Don’t worry, though, second and third year are all about getting the most out of what we can do.”

  Det’s hand clenched at his side. “That’s what I need,” he said. “Now. Does it have to wait until second year?”

  “It doesn’t wait,” Simmons clarified. “You work on it in the first year, too, it’s just not quite as much a focus. First year is about growing your stats, including your magic stats, and getting the basics down. Have to get rid of some of those bad habits I talked about too. After that, you’ll get to…”

  Simmons trailed off as the entire mistship tilted, like it was making a sharp turn. Something about the ship kept Det from losing his balance, but he could clearly feel the change in direction. Looking over the railing on the right, the horizon tilted as the mist filled more of his vision before things leveled off again.

  “That’s not normal,” Simmons said, and he wasn’t the only one thinking it by the actions of the crew within view.

  As if that were a cue, the door to the front half of the ship slid to the side, and a woman in a crisp uniform stepped out. The moment her eyes found Simmons, she jogged over and gave a tight salute.

  “Captain,” she said. “We’ve received an SOS from a nearby pillar and are moving to investigate. General Vans requires you, as well as the two new ReSouled, prepared for immediate disembarkation upon arrival.”

  Captain Simmons returned the salute. “How long do we have?”

  “At current speed, fifteen minutes,” the woman said.

  “Do you have any more information as to what we’re getting into?”

  “None, Sir,” the woman said, still at attention. “Just that we received an SOS from Ironsalt. Wide broadcast, set on repeat. No response when we tried to communicate.”

  “Shit, that’s never good. Okay, please tell the General I’ll meet him at the lift with the new ReSouled.”

  The woman saluted again, then ran off.

  “Det,” Simmons said, his normal, casual grin gone from his face. “We’re going to the stock room and the weapon’s locker. How fast can you paint something you can use in a fight?”

  ***

  Just shy of fifteen minutes later, Det finished the last stroke with his brush on the sword Simmons had procured for him from the weapon’s locker. Seeing a katana with a blade made of metal that almost looked like a rainbow when the light hit it just right had raised both of Det’s eyebrows. Simmons’ only answer had been that Det wasn’t the only one with an anime fetish among the ReSouled, and the style of weapon had a firm fanbase. And, since Det had studied kendo, it was a good first choice.

  He'd also given Det a stack of paper from the stock room, and told him to do what he could with it. It wasn’t nearly as convenient as using scrolls—simply because he could create bigger images—but it would have to do. He’d gotten four done, and they were finishing drying beside him, as it took his last few minutes to add a little something to the blade of the sword.

  Since he’d never had a real sword on Radiant, there were a few questions as to whether or not it would even work. Then again, according to Simmons, the blade had been forged for ReSouled by a ReSouled. The smith’s magic was forging, and it showed, Det’s ink drying almost immediately.

  With a click, the sword returned to its sheath, and Det strapped it to his waist. The belt was far more modern than the traditional obi, closer to something Det had carried a sabre in for an old war reenactment. It was also more of the red-and-black material that matched his uniform.

  “I look good in this,” Calisco said beside him, still looking down at herself in a similar outfit. As much as it annoyed Det to admit it, the woman wasn’t wrong. The same way the red lines accentuated his natural musculature as a ReSouled, it did the same thing for her figure. She wasn’t built like a busty bombshell or anything like that, but she was fit.

  “It will also keep you safe,” Simmons said, coming over to join the pair with Jeckles at his side. “Unfortunately, this ship isn’t equipped more than a very basic armory. None of the armor you would find on other ships.”

  The captain, despite his words, had donned the armor he’d arrived in Radiant with, and once again had multiple swords strapped across his body. Jeckles, nearby, was dressed similarly to Calisco and Det, though he had a half-cape hanging from his left shoulder, and a single white gauntlet on his left hand. On his hip, he had what looked like a white… pistol.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Hey, how come you have a gun?” Calisco said, spotting the same thing Det had. She even pointed at it.

  “Not many to go around,” Jeckles said. “Got to earn them.”

  “Can you even use it?”

  “I’m a decent shot,” Jeckles grumbled, entirely unconvincingly.

  “As a Medic,” Simmons said. “His main role is keeping everybody else on their feet. If it gets to the point he needs to use that, things have really hit the fan.

  “Det, how about you? Have enough time to prepare?”

  “As best I can with what I had,” Det said at the same time he double checked the ink. It was dry… ish. It’d have to be enough, and he tried not to wince as he folded each piece and tucked them away. Another reason scrolls were so much better was because they didn’t need to be folded. The wrinkles could cause all sorts of havoc, but it was less than if the paper got crushed or torn.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Calisco said. “I’ll be awesome enough for both of us.” Then she looked at the captain. “You might just be lucky enough to not have to wait until the academy to see my stuff.”

  “For all our sakes—and Ironsalt’s—I hope I’m not lucky at all,” Simmons said.

  “Your luck is never something I would bet on,” General Vans said, stepping into the large room with the lift that had originally brought them onto the mistship. “We still haven’t received a response to our hail attempts with Ironsalt. Either their communication array has been damaged—unlikely since we’re still receiving the automated SOS—or there is nobody there to respond.”

  “Pirates?” Simmons asked.

  “There are pirates?” Calisco said before the general could respond, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

  “Of course there are pirates,” General Vans said. “But they aren’t something to be eager for. Nor are they very active in this region. They are not likely the cause.” At the statement, Vans gave Simmons and Jeckles each a look, and the two men stiffened at whatever that could mean.

  “We should leave the kids on the ship,” Jeckles said after a few seconds.

  “Not kids,” Calisco said.

  “Hate to,” Det said. “But I agree with Calisco on this one. We’re not kids, and if we can help, we will.”

  “They’re not trained,” Jeckles said. “Or sworn in.” For some reason, the Medic emphasized those last words more than the lack of training.

  “No, they aren’t,” General Vans said. “But Ironsalt is a community of nearly a thousand souls, and if there’s a chance we can save them, we have to do everything within our power.”

  “Respectfully, sir,” Jeckles pressed. “If you’re with us, we don’t need any more power.”

  “It’s not about power,” Vans said. “It’s about coverage. I can only be in one place at a time. And, this isn’t up for discussion.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Jeckles said, giving a salute to show his end to the argument.

  “Now, for your two,” Vans said, turning his attention back on the pair of new ReSouled. Like Simmons, he was back in his full armor, with the heavy shield on his left arm. “I want you to be part of this—the people of Ironsalt need you to be—but I must get your oaths now. There are things you may see down there that you cannot speak about to anybody without full Mistguard status. That includes the crew on this ship outside of the three of us.”

  “What are we going to see?” Calisco said.

  “Hopefully nothing,” General Vans said. “Possibly… more than nothing. Like any organization, the Mistguard has secrets we need to keep. Once you reach Mount Avalon, you’ll be formally sworn in, and those secrets would normally be revealed to you over the coming years. This particular situation, with no other Mistguard within range to respond, changes things.

  “If you truly wish to join us, I will have your promises not to share what you see without express permission from myself or Captain Simmons. And I’ll have them now.”

  “I promise,” Det said without hesitation. He needed to get stronger, and having already powerful allies like the general and the captain on his side in the future would help that. The people of Ironsalt, he didn’t particularly care about them. He didn’t know them, and he definitely wasn’t the altruistic type. Then again, he also wasn’t a complete ass. If he could help them at the same time, why not?

  “Just like that?” Calisco said to Det.

  He didn’t bother commenting.

  “Fine,” she said with a roll of her eyes and overly dramatic shrug of her shoulders. Then she held up three fingers pressed together. “I promise too.”

  “I will remind you, just this once, this is serious,” General Vans said.

  Calisco, for her part, got the hint, and dropped her hand. “I promise.”

  “Good,” General Vans said. “We should be arriving within the next thirty seconds. Everybody on the lift.” As the group moved, the general continued to speak. “Ironsalt gets its name from its main commodity of note. Iron salt. It possesses all the same properties as the metal when its melted down, but occurs naturally in a salt-like form. Don’t ask me the details on how that works.

  “This means there is a major mine of note below the surface of the pillar. The mistship will drop us off in a clearing about a mile from the main entrance, and most of us will make our way there. Captain, as soon as we’re clear from the mistship, I want you to head to the town itself. If you find survivors, report back. If you don’t, join us at the mine.”

  “Understood, Sir,” Captain Simmons said with a salute, then drew a wide-bladed sword from one of the sheaths across his back.

  “Jeckles,” General Vans said. “You know your role. Nothing changes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Jeckles said with a salute of his own.

  “From my understanding of you two,” the general said, looking at Calisco and Det. “You would fall into the categories of Artillery,” he nodded at Calisco, “and Arsenal.” His second nod took in Det. “Calisco, how good are you at aiming?”

  “Put an apple on your head at a hundred paces and I could make applesauce without even disturbing the part in your hair,” she said.

  “Good. Hold your magic unless I give you a target, then don’t hold back. Understood?”

  “You’re the trigger and I’m the gun,” Calisco said with a salute.

  “My magic is far more limited,” Det said as the general turned to him. “And the ones I prepared are more designed for scouting than combat, since you and the captain will be with us.”

  “Scouting, huh?” General Vans said, rubbing his chin. “Good to know. You can use that sword?”

  “I can,” Det said, though his eyes shifted to Captain Simmons.

  “He can probably handle anything in the E-Ranks, and even some low D’s,” Simmons told the general.

  “Let’s pray that’s the worst of it,” General Vans said. “Det, if it comes to a fight, you’ll be up with me.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Det said, saluting.

  “General Vans, Sir,” a member of the mistship crew said as they jogged over. “We’ve arrived. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes,” General Vans said. “Follow standard procedures after we’re off the lift.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the man said with a salute. “After you disembark, we will recall the lift, and fall back one mile from the pillar. If we don’t hear from you or a member of your team, we will cordon off the area and wait for further Mistguard support.”

  “Good man,” the general said. “Send us down.”

  One more salute, and the man pulled a lever on a nearby console, causing a ker-chunk above Det, before the lift they stood on began to lower.

  “If you can’t handle whatever is on the pillar,” Jeckles said. “It doesn’t matter how much support they bring in.”

  “Then let us all hope it doesn’t come to that,” General Vans said, his big shield dropping to the lift in front of him as he stood straight, feet shoulder-width apart.

  As soon as the afternoon light filtered in through the crack, Captain Simmons placed his wide-bladed sword on the ground, then… stood on it? The behaviour was so odd, Det completely ignored the world opening around him as the lift lowered to the pillar below.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Captain Simmons said, the sword beneath his feet lifting into the air. Then, riding it like a flying surfboard, he opened the gate of the lift, and took off into the sky.

  “He has a flying sword?” Calisco said, taking a step after him like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “And all I’ve got is this stick?” The woman held up what looked like a quarterstaff of some kind, though she didn’t hold any love for it.

  “He makes the sword fly,” Jeckles corrected. “Part of his magic.”

  “Can I make this stick fly?”

  “Do you have stick magic?” Jeckles said, voice flat. When she didn’t have a snappy comeback to that, he continued. “For somebody without any real training with weapons, the staff is an excellent choice. With a ReSouled’s strength, it can inflict fatal wounds from a safe distance.”

  “I’d rather make things explode than bonk them.”

  “Looking at how you’re holding the thing,” Det said, pointing at where her hands gripped the staff side-by-side right in the middle of it. “You’re definitely better off exploding things.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Stick-Expert. You going to show me how it’s done?”

  “Training on Mount Avalon will open you up to ideas for your magic you have never considered,” General Vans said, interrupting before the argument could devolve any further. The man pointed at Captain Simmons growing smaller in the distance. Then he pointed straight down below them. “It will only take us a moment to get to the pillar. Make sure you’re prepared. I’ll go first. Don’t fall behind.”

  Det gave the obligatory “Yes, Sir” along with the others, but he was hardly paying attention to the general. Simmons said he had sword magic, and if the man could use that to allow himself to fly, could Det do something similar eventually? He’d… tried to create things he could ride, but none of them had been strong enough to support him. According to General Vans, though, training could get him there. The full minute of the descent was spent imagining being able to fly on one of his creations.

  Just how wild would that be?