“...It hasn’t been a day and I’ve already been replaced,” Kotone said as she stared at the [Psionic Field] surrounding my body. “I never felt more betrayed in my life.”

  My newest [Memento], [Chord/Discord], cemented by new specialty as the team’s esper; however, unlike the original inspiration, I couldn’t tap into electrical devices or control [Psionic Pylons]. My psionic abilities amounted to a glorified force-field around my body that I could shape at will, which also extended to any active [Mementos].

  As for its strength, Leo decided to test [Chord/Discord] for herself by hovering [Father] over my left forearm. Terrifying. I felt the [Field] bend and warp according to the shape of the blade, and there was a subtle repulsion force keeping it at bay. It wasn’t strong enough to act as a literal barrier, though.

  “As I thought.” Leo pulled [Father] back and I was no longer scared about living with one arm. “[Chord/Discord] isn’t like [Yuzhou]. It makes landing effective melee attacks a little bit harder.”

  I patted my arm to reassure myself it was still there. “Seems useful enough.”

  “Not entirely.” With her free-hand, she thumped a closed fist against my chest. Probably put less than one-percent of her strength and it got through the [Field]. “Thrusting motions like this will get through regardless. However…”

  Then, her fist opened into a palm and she made a slashing motion. Her nails, which would’ve nicked my shirt, were pushed away. “The repulsion effect is more effective on slashing motions like these, so theoretically, cutting your handsome face becomes a little harder.”

  Ignoring her half-flirt half-threat, I suspected as much. Due to [Chord/Discord]’s influence, any light scratches would convert into complete misses, and for annoying swordmasters like Leo, maintaining proper edge alignment would be a bigger pain-in-the-ass. However, with enough power and decent enough accuracy, I imagine the [Field] would lose complete effectiveness.

  Defensively, there was no reason to use this [Memento] over [Yuzhou].

  Offensively… I wasn’t sure yet. I needed to do further experimentation, but currently, I couldn’t imagine any combat scenario where [Chord/Discord] was necessary.

  “Kotone!” I asked suddenly, seeing our “replaced esper” isolate herself from us. If I had to accurately describe her, she looked like a dog who’d been told that she was going to the park, but it was actually the vet instead. “Do you, uh, have any ideas about what I can do with a [Psi-Field]—”

  “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask your esper friends?” Kotone said, huffing and puffing and crossing her arms and all that stuff. Yup, a dog scorned. No one knew betrayal more than her.

  I gently said, “But you are my ‘esper friend.’ Literally the only esper I know.”

  “That’s rich coming from an esper! I bet you signed up for an esper newsletter or got invited onto an esper podcast!”

  “That… Those exist?”

  Leo shrugged, humming vaguely. “There’s a podcast for everything nowadays. For Slayers? Absolutely, you can find your specialty somewhere. For an ex-corpo like you, I imagine there’s a wide selection of stock or item brokers chatting a storm about their knowledge—”

  “I don’t listen to that crap. The hosts are almost always either washed-up, complete morons, or got hit with a felony fraud charge.”

  “Wow, harsh words coming from a corpo who didn’t last an entire year after graduating.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Can stock traders tell me how I can use my [Psi-Field] to deflect bullets?”

  “They’ll tell you how to deflect lawsuits.”

  Kotone commented, glaring at me, “I’m listening to a true crime podcast. This week’s episode is about a Japanese girl who murdered one of her best friends.”

  “Send me the link.” I squinted at the princess. “I’m about to be an episode myself.”

  ***

  After the excitement with Kotone, I returned to focusing on what really mattered: myself. Jokes aside, my toolkit was expanded by one whole [Memento]. I was balancing two major projects: honing my skills with [Memento Recollection] and researching Eastern arts to eventually develop [Dual Dragoneyes]. The former required hours in training grounds while the latter required days in the library.

  Angels Guild HQ had an on-site library containing systemic knowledge on almost every field imaginable. While it wasn’t as impressive as Wisdom’s catalog or specialized like Martial’s, they still had a section on the Jianghu. So, I’d been checking out books and manuals to accomplish two things: increase my understanding of cultivation and maybe develop an acquisition plan with Sophos’s advice in mind.

  It wasn’t going that well.

  Trying to understand cultivation was trying to understand the World itself.

  I’d approached Chunhua with a few questions, but because I was unable to reveal my true intentions, the conversation didn’t really go anywhere. According to her, the Maolin Sect had invented an artificial environment chock-full of “nature qi” so disciples could learn [Leaves of Maolin].

  There was also the option of asking Cheonma for help, but we had to ask Cheonma for help. She was made aware of Mom’s connection to Zhenlong; however, she was purposefully in the dark about the manual. If we revealed its existence, then she would be very interested in a copy. Either way, Uncle Ali had the final decision on that avenue. It wasn’t on me to decide.

  The only other people fully in the know were Kosmos, Seraph, and Rector. Kosmos obviously couldn’t help, and Seraph and Rector wouldn’t assist unless we had a proper gameplan. And we didn't.

  I just hope we figure out a solution sooner rather than later.

  “Good afternoon, Alexander, and welcome to our weekly book club,” Morgan greeted me in one of the private study rooms in the library.

  We ran into each other about a month ago, and since then, we built a habit out of studying together. We would book this exact room, carry our haul inside, and spend our hours nose-deep in black ink. I wasn’t sure what he was researching. One week, he had Christian theology. Next, some obscure African systems. Today, he had demonology. Surprised Angels Guild had a section on that.

  “I still haven’t cracked the code,” I said as I sat down, breaking open the first book of the stack: a memoir written by a British magician. He visited the Jianghu to learn about cultivation first-hand.

  Morgan peeked at the cover. “Perhaps you should visit Jin Tianyou regarding your cultivation problem. He does owe us a favor after Rei bested him.”

  “I think the favor is in Rector’s hands, not ours.” Besides, if I ask Jin Tianyou for help, that might lead to a very messy rabbit-hole regarding our non-relationship. “A part of me wishes that the Jianghu wasn’t so secretive all the time.”

  “You don’t enjoy the constant mystique? A part of the Jianghu’s charm is its many mysteries and esotericism,” said Morgan as he read about Beezlebub or something.

  I skimmed through the first few pages, and they didn’t contain any relevant information. “It makes learning a [Skill] related to the Jianghu twice as hard. Anecdotes can only give you so much, and ninety-nine percent of its literature is trapped within its borders. Hell, being in the possession of a secret manual will leave you marked for your entire life.”

  Morgan clicked his tongue. “Then, I doubt you can find exactly what you’re looking for, but you can always brute-force success through alternative means.”

  “Sophos said roughly the same thing, but I have to invent a brand new acquisition method. That’s like taking a recipe, using a different cooking method, and praying the taste and texture are the same afterwards.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Let’s pretend I understand your analogy. You’re directly employed by some of the most powerful and well-connected people on the planet. All you have to do is present your case and everything else comes after. If it involves anything with rituals or magic circles, I’ll even spend my valuable time assisting you.”

  “Really?” I looked up from my reading to show a smile. “You’re willing to dip your toes in cultivation?”

  Morgan showed a juvenile grin. “Well, seeing as no one else enjoys the art of research as much as I do, I suppose this is payment for your company. And repaying your sister too considering recent events at Baekyong.”

  “Mhm, you have to tell me more stories about your time with Master Alzahrani—”

  “Later, later. Our booking lasts for so long.” Morgan physically waved the conversation to an end, and instantly he invested himself in literature.

  Unlike the bookworm, it took a few minutes for me to be absorbed by the memoir, my keen eyes marking every relevant detail that might crack the case open. Thus, for most of our allotted time in the study room, you could only hear our quiet breaths and pens and pencils scratching notes in our respective notebooks.

  When our time expired, I marked which literature I hadn’t gotten to yet and packed everything up. Morgan and I carried our books—well, for him, he levitated his—to the front counter where the library assistants would put them away. That had been the original plan if we didn’t hear a party going on as we descended the stairs.

  On the ground floor, there was a lounge area right next to the main entrance. It was taken over by three swords who’d mistaken the lounge as their clubhouse. Openly, they sported [Loadouts]. Signatures laid next to them on the couch or on the table or even on the ground, and the assholes guffawed at every crude joke or inside reference. Scars layered their arms, and one sword had a nasty one over his left cheek. Veterans.

  “Wonderful, more ignorant fools who think a library is a bar,” Morgan commented as we dropped our books off.

  The librarian at the counter—lovely lady by the way—was too distracted by our guests. She was broken free from her trance when a hooded, levitating child-sized Slayer came into view. “Oh! I-I apologize, thank you for dropping your books off. I, erm…”

  I thumbed toward the nuisance. “Trouble?”

  The librarian tiredly sighed. “Yes… They’re recent recruits from Second Wave.”

  That explains it. A few months ago, we had First Wave: a recruiting period for young and inexperienced Slayers; so, Second Wave was for swords with a few years under their belts. Due to the Summer Scare, the Ordoian government ordered a delay because they were afraid of another city-wide crisis. As a result, Second Wave was conducted almost a month ago; guild try-outs were wrapped up two weeks ago, and now Angels Guild had its next generation of wings.

  These weathered swords only had their feathers for half-a-month.

  “I don’t know what’s more annoying,” I whispered to Morgan and the librarian. “Recruits my age thinking they’re hot stuff, or recruits their age and still thinking they’re hot—”

  “What was that?” Speak of the devil and he shall arrive. The bald guy with a stub for a right thumb, he was accosting me. “You have something to say, boy?”

  Morgan amusedly whispered, “You are a master at provocation.”

  “Shut up, Morgan.” I tapped the main counter and backed off, not wanting to drag the librarian into this. I faced my “seniors” with as much respect as a brat like me could have. “Nothing, sir. We were talking about Second Wave—”

  “No, no, what did you say, boy?” Baldie pushed a hand on the couch and hoisted himself up, his fancy chainmail armor clattering like a bad wind-chime, and the rest of his friends followed suit. “Don’t lie to me, now. What did you say?”

  “I—seriously, I don’t have time for this,” I muttered and turned to Morgan, and this little shit wasn’t interested in de-escalating the situation—

  “Oi! Look at me when you’re talking!” Baldie exclaimed and snapped his fingers. “Kids like you don’t know respect these days. Who do you belong to? Hmm? What Wing?”

  “This is a library,” I calmly said, eyeing him and his two friends. “You and your buddies are disturbing the peace—“

  “Who says we’re disturbing the peace? Huh? No one said nothing. What about, uh, what about her? Hey, lady!” Baldie motioned at the librarian. “Am I too loud?” (“Uhm—“) “See? Nothing. We were enjoying ourselves until you decided to have issues, boy.”

  I bit my lip to hide my growing annoyance. “Look—“

  “Who the hell d’you belong to? I wanna know who’s letting a kid like you run around—“

  “Uhm, hey!” the librarian entered the conversation as nearby bystanders were beginning to stare. Not because she wanted to, but because we were in her jurisdiction. “Confrontations are not allowed in the library, so can you please—?“

  Baldie pointed and snarled, “Don’t tell me what to do, broad—!”

  I tried grabbing his extended wrist but the old man was fast on the uptake. He pushed me back, and all hell broke loose after that. Baldie screamed profanities and wanted to knock my teeth loose, prevented only by his friends holding him back. Compared to me, I was half as angry but twice as annoyed, and Morgan finally decided to join the fray. We yelled at them to fuck off, they told us to fuck off first, and Baldie had nothing but sheer hatred for a kid like me.

  A resolution came when someone strolled through the clear double-doors, standing higher than everyone in the room. A seven-foot tall giant, head shaved and left behind a wrinkled, peppered surface. Had the look of war in his dark eyes, living in the same world as Mongrel but on the opposite end of wildness. Order, discipline, and respect, written in the pages of his face. Amongst the Archangels, there was no one better in physical combat than him: a swordmaster that was more like a mythological hero, wielding a giant hunk of steel called [Giantkiller].

  The 3rd Wing Commander and Team Leader of Wing Team “Determination,” Colossus.

  His presence had stolen our voices within moments, and we forgot why we were fighting in the first place.

  The old swords untangled themselves and stood at order—were they 3rds?

  Regardless, he set his eyes upon them for a few seconds, then flickered toward me and Morgan. “Should I expect a good explanation from you, Conqueror?”

  Despite our expedition spree a while ago, this was my first time personally meeting him—I’d seen him around HQ several times before, very hard to miss him—so this was a pretty poor introduction. Then again, I rarely had a good introduction with influential Slayers.

  I said, “These swords recently rang your bell?”

  Colossus nodded. “They’re in the middle of placement, so what did you do to provoke them?”

  His swords could run a comedy show from their reactions: horror, confusion, relief, and this was only the start. They didn’t dare speak, though.

  Morgan included himself, “Isn’t it presumptuous to assume we’re at fault?”

  “To the team who’s effectively immune from consequence?” Colossus narrowed his intense eyes onto us, and my heart was rattled as though hit by a tuning fork. “It’s presumptuous that you exist in the first place. I’ve no doubt that you irritated my recent recruits, especially given your…firestarter personality, Conqueror.”

  “What if your men were at fault?” I asked.

  “Then, I would punish them. But if you’re at fault, you’ll never know punishment. Seraph and Rector won’t allow their carefully hand-picked agents to be affected by our code of conduct.” (Cue shock and confusion from the swords.) “Even if they earn the scorn of the Board of Operations and the rest of the guild.”

  He wasn’t totally incorrect, but going through his logic would take a long lecture in guild-corporate structures and power dynamics and we didn’t have the time for that. Colossus was just a man concerned about the guild’s health and thus had a bone to pick with the Special Task Force like any reasonable but ignorant person.

  “Whatever you think or say, Colossus, air your grievances to our Guild Masters and Overseer.” (“Your uncle.”) “That’s the one. But if your men go out-of-line, then as an Angel, I refuse to leave them be.”

  “That’s where we differ.” Colossus turned his back on me. “I don’t see you or your team as Angels to begin with. Our conversation ends here.”

  His swords followed behind him out of obligation, the contempt they had for me being dispelled into general confusion and whiplash. Baldie wasn’t even looking at me anymore. I suppose this was a pyrrhic victory.

  Before Colossus left, though, he said one more thing, “Determination is hosting a competition for an open position in a few days. I expect the Special Task Force to be there.”

  Morgan chirped, “I have plans—“

  I flicked the back of his head. “We’ll see, Colossus. Hope you find the perfect person for your Wing Team.”

  He didn’t reciprocate the kind words.

  ***

  “Apparently, you had an encounter with Colossus,” Rector said in his office; it hadn’t been two hours and he already caught wind of our encounter.

  Him and Uncle Ali.

  “Yup, I’m not surprised he has his qualms against me and the Special Task Force, but it’s no skin off my back,” I said. “But judging as you called me here, there’s something else going on.”

  “Well…” Rector and my uncle shared a look that worried me. “You're aware that he’s recruiting for a new member of Determination, right? In a few days?”

  “He wants the STF to be part of the audience. I doubt most of us are interested in intra-guild competitions.”

  According to the numerous [Channels] in the guild, the individual Wing Commanders had nearly full autonomy over how they recruit for their respective WTs, determining when, what, and how. They of course needed approval from the GMs and all the other bureaucratic red tape, but that was the general gist.

  For this recruiting period, Colossus was searching for another expert fighter and that naturally brought a shitton of competition. I could only imagine something like a knockout tournament or fighting members of Determination themselves.

  Rector and Uncle Ali looked at each other again. This was really starting to worry me.

  I asked straight up, “What did Colossus do?”

  Uncle Ali rubbed his eyebrows, pensive. “To ‘kick off’ the competition, he wants to host an exhibition match between Determination and the Special Task Force; specifically, a match between Stainless and Conqueror.”