“If she can’t be reformed, Shannon’s eyes need to be destroyed.”
Told that, I’d been walking Aramsus with the memo in hand, mind unsettled.
Past noon — facing Shannon at the house felt awkward, so I was hunting down the private academy Clara had told me about.
“That’s overkill, isn’t it…”
What I couldn’t settle: does pranks justify destroying her eyes?
For Shannon, eyes that couldn’t see now picked up the surroundings through Skill.
Skill activated through the eyes; remove the sight… destroy them… and even with Skill, she wouldn’t be able to sense surroundings.
That was the Fifth and Sixth’s argument.
The Sixth.
“Still stuck on it? I get it. But for her too, that power may be too much. Mireia having a personality like Shannon’s sister was what let me and Pops feel safe even though she carried that ability.”
A kind person.
The dry Fifth, thinking the eyes unneeded yet not putting them down, signaled that Mireia had been a Miranda-style gentle-loses-out type.
The Fifth.
“Leave her, and pranks won’t be the worst of it. Crush future-monsters while you still can.”
I asked back, low.
The street was crowded; no one looked.
Signs for private academies hung along the main road.
Various slogans. Some shady, some attention-grabbing.
“A monster candidate? She doesn’t seem on Ceres’s level.”
The Fifth called me soft.
“She’ll detect Skill use and touch mana-flow. Now she’s playing pranks from a distance — but Mireia, if she’d wanted to, could control hearts. Mireia was kind; she used the ability on the heart-wounded to heal them. Got it? That power’s too much for that mischievous brat.”
The Sixth.
“The Sirclay head of that era met her as part of her treatment. Fell for her, and marriage was discussed. Pops and I wanted to keep her with us, but we sent her out, thinking of Mireia’s happiness.”
Recalling, the Sixth’s voice carried a touch of regret.
The Fifth, same as ever.
“Sending her into Sirclay — the famous civil-administration line — worked out for House Walt. Ties with Central court-nobles, large benefit.”
Same energy as always.
Characteristically Fifth—
The Sixth.
“If she goes full-bore, you can’t stop her. The Third’s Skill I taught you is for matching Shannon.”
Reforming her was supposedly my duty.
Eyes that didn’t see but she lived normally — Shannon pretending to be blind was eerie on its own.
Not wanting to be found out, maybe — but the pranks were escalating daily.
All three of us were out today, fine — but leaving someone alone with her could be genuinely dangerous.
(Touch the mind? — Or, through mana, touch… either way, I have to. Destroy the eyes…)
I didn’t want to — that was honest.
But the ancestors said do it.
Not destroy them. Reform if possible; if impossible, regrettable but…
That direction.
(Why am I dealing with this…)
How had it come to this?
If I left the house now, would Shannon’s attention drift off us? — And if so… would Miranda be safe?
The thought circled. I kept stewing.
(Honestly… can I picture her becoming like Ceres?)
The Ceres I knew was a real monster.
As the First had said — a Monster whose mere presence pulled everyone in its orbit. Step back and you saw the abnormality; in it, you didn’t think it strange.
Shannon didn’t look like that monster.
Dangerous, maybe — but I felt the wariness was disproportionate.
(The Fifth and Sixth might be seeing Mireia in her.)
For me, the one to truly fear was Mireia — who’d mastered the magic eye.
And who Shannon resembled was—
I was deep in thought. The Third’s voice.
“Lyle — that’s it, isn’t it?”
”…Looks like it.”
A big sign — a swordsmanship dojo.
The private academy run by the ex-adventurer Clara had pointed me to.
Voices inside.
“Step in further!”
“Yes!”
“You think you survive a dungeon like that?! Voice up!”
“YES!”
I peeked in.
A swordsman who’d been a front-liner had opened it.
The Second, in one line:
”…Eh — that’s the swordsman who reached floor 50? Looks weak.”
The Third agreed, with a tweak.
“He looks it, but maybe he’s hiding his real strength? As a swordsman, I’m curious. — But really, doesn’t look strong…”
The Fourth.
“Standard dojo-style. Not saying bad, but… five years ago, away from the live-fire — has his edge dulled?”
The Fifth.
“Lyle should just fight him.”
The Sixth.
“Indeed.”
The Seventh.
“A dojo challenge. Doing one in your youth might be good. Lyle, then—”
”…What do you mean then? Do you all have a grudge against dojos? Dojo challenge?”
I’d said it out loud. A student walking out caught it.
“D-DOJO CHALLENGE! Master!! He’s here! A challenger!”
I reached for the student’s back as he ran in, mouthed no it isn’t, knowing he couldn’t hear.
“N-no, that’s, no…”
The Third.
“No escape now, Lyle. Lock it in — show them what real-combat swordsmanship looks like! Don’t lose to dojo-style!”
(…I learned dojo-style up until I left, you know?)
The dojo erupted. I took off running.
I bolted.
The Sixth.
“Eh? Not doing it? — Boring. These are kind of fun, actually.”
Running, I shouted.
“Not fun at all! Why on earth do I do a dojo challenge?! I was going to learn something!”
The students poured out, chased me.
Faces flushed with blood, red.
Explaining wasn’t going to fly here.
I used the Fourth’s [Speed], outpaced them, and went to ground.
◇
Before heading home, I went to the other private academy on the memo.
A sorcerer who’d gained a Skill teaching the use of compounding.
Skills useful in compounding were common, and Aramsus had plenty — students were plenty too.
A bespectacled, robed man offered me tea.
“Herbal tea.”
“Thanks. — Anyway, I’d like to hear about the time you reached the dungeon’s deepest floor.”
I’d been told he’d talk if I waited out the class.
I sat in the classroom, listening, killing time.
“That kind of question comes up a lot. — But I doubt I’ll be useful. I went, sure, but I was support. Light and healing — that was my contribution.”
“No — I want to ask about atmosphere, things to watch out for… at the dojo, they took me for a challenger and I couldn’t talk.”
He chuckled.
I tilted my head; he explained.
“He was mostly pack-carrier back then. He fought too, so he’s not weak — but he wasn’t main-line.”
The main members had left for Beim.
The party had been close to fifty in total, but support was crucial in dungeons — only fifteen-ish had been front-line.
“He might be leading a mercenary band now. Pays better than adventuring, often. And small skirmishes everywhere lately.”
A sad smile.
“My compounds sell like hotcakes. Which is why students gather.”
A wry smile. I asked about dungeon caution.
“Dungeons differ by location. In Aramsus, every tenth floor a boss blocks you. Floor 10 and 20 bosses are usually downed; from 30 on, often left intact.”
“They respawn?”
“In a week to ten days. — What you have to watch is uncleared bosses. Over time they grow. Already powerful; accumulating power on top is a problem.”
He gave me adventurer advice.
“You’ll probably manifest a Skill in the dungeon. Or do you already have one? — Either way, be careful when Skill makes you strong. Many Skills feel like a strength bump — and lots of adventurers fail because of it. Skill, Growth — those two can drive an adventurer mad.”
A kind smile. “Take it as a senior’s warning.”
The Seventh.
“Good adventurer. — Probably he disagreed with the party direction and stayed in Aramsus. Clara had it second-hand and didn’t know the specifics.”
Not Clara’s fault, and the intel was valuable — I was grateful.
“Sorry, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
A final question.
I’d taken Damian’s request — wanted to confirm something.
“To take the floor-40 boss — what scale of party?”
He thought, smiled.
He’d noticed Seven Geniuses request.
“You’ve taken Damian Bale’s request? — In our case, near-fifty, and it was tight. Depends on your skill and your comrades’ quality, but with the standard six, past floor 10 gets rough. Even with talent, six maxes at floor 20. Not raw strength — sustained combat is the limit. Push it and yes, possible — but as an adventurer that’s a failing grade.”
Being strong wasn’t enough.
If you couldn’t earn, adventuring lost its point.
If you abandoned monster parts and stones, he’d said, you might reach the floor-30 boss.
I thanked him and left.
I bought one of his compounds. He emphasized: don’t push yourself.
◇
On the way back.
On an empty street, I tested the newly-acquired Fifth’s [Dimension] and Sixth’s [Spec].
A more three-dimensional map surfaced; reactions across the city resolved finely.
Past the next corner — two men.
Early teens. Playing.
I’d gained access to a much richer information stream; I checked use cases.
“Information’s exploding.”
Good in some ways. A flood of incoming data.
Acclimation required time.
The Sixth.
“Don’t keep the application-tier Skills running carelessly. A flat-map check is fine when sufficient. Mana cost isn’t trivial.”
I’d follow the advice.
Right now I was testing — I kept walking.
Around the corner, two boys playing.
(This Skill — is it actually outrageous? — The Sixth said don’t describe it in detail — I see why.)
The combined use was the Sixth’s idea.
And he understood how outrageous it was.
The Fifth was outrageous for spotting it too.
By sense alone, you miss things you only catch on the map.
Knowing the Fifth — he was efficiency-first; for governance and war alike, the Skill would be deadly.
The Second.
“Right, Lyle. Resolved on it? — First, you need proof Shannon can see.”
To lecture her, the mask had to come off.
To tell Miranda, the same.
(Picking a fight with the homeowner’s sister isn’t fun. Best not to involve… but Miranda’s been good to us.)
Novem and Aria basically handled the chores.
With the academy, Miranda was busy. She thanked them enormously.
For us, returning from work to a prepared meal mattered. Could rest right away. Big relief.
I owed Miranda plenty too.
If we left, Shannon would keep driving out the help and dragging Miranda down.
(…Have to reform her.)
I thought about how.