The lecture continues on for another half an hour.
By the end of it all, I’m physically doing extrely well, and ntally so gosh darned fatigued that I just want to congeal in a chair and cuddle with Chloe for comfort for the next three hours.
Unfortunately, though, I’m tasked with the punishnt of being a productive and responsible mber of society, and that ans yet more ti talking with students, coordinating with Amalia and my other assistants, and otherwise.
Probably until close to lunchti at this rate.
And while many students are in a hurry to get on to their 9:30 classes or back to sleep, there are still plenty who are idling about the auditorium.
So seem like they’re mostly interested in one another, forming study groups and the like.
At least one guy is trying to lay the moves on one of his female classmates.
Entertainingly, it seems like the girl might just be interested.
My watchful gaze over the concert-turned-lecture hall is cut short by a very energetic young woman approaching .
She looks a little like Chloe, at least superficially; the sa height, a similar build, the sa light-brown hair down to the middle of her back.
But Chloe’s eyes are rich like caral, inviting and compassionate despite all the hardship and ordeals she’s already overco.
This woman, on the other hand, looks distant.
Her smile doesn’t quite reach those dark brown eyes, and her face as a whole is a little more hardened.
A little more somber.
“Miss Mortensen?” she says.
I nod.
“And you are?”
“Clara Bennett,” she says.
“I’d like to talk with you.
Alone.”
“Can it wait until after I speak with others?”
“That is acceptable.
I will take a seat until you are ready.
I trust you will not renege on this agreent?”
Sothing about her seems a little off.
The way she spoke just now was too formal, too distant.
I don’t believe she was exactly angry or hostile, but I’m not convinced her motives are as benign as just a student asking for help about her classes or Skills.
“I won’t.”
Clara takes a seat and watches
with unblinking eyes.
Mine et hers for a full second— a veritable eternity, considering how much faster my mind can process information compared with before the System’s arrival.
Ultimately, I’m drawn away by another student, but I continue to employ [Valkyrion’s Perception], just in case she tries sothing malicious.
A shaky young man without much confidence is the next to approach.
He’s fidgety, nervous, looking down on the ground, and has a cold sweat, and I’m genuinely concerned that he’s about to pass out from sheer nerves.
After a couple more seconds, he starts to speak, though it’s mumbled and barely audible.
“M– Miss Seraphina, Ma’am,” he starts.
“Um…
I– Is it true that we’re stuck with our classes all the way until Level 32?
Is there really no way to change them?
I– If we chose a class we d– don’t want anymore?”
I think I understand what’s going on.
He chose a class that he either really can’t stand, or has realized is socially unacceptable.
[Thief] or [Assassin] or [Criminal] or sothing along those lines.
If he’s a first-year student, and about my age, I could see one of his friends egging him on to so class or another, or perhaps he did it for social dia clout.
So I decide to take a asured approach.
“Truth is, we can’t know that for sure,” I say.
“Just because it’s not a common thing doesn’t an there’s not so potion or complex spell that allows soone to reclass, or back out of their current class.
However, even so, rember that classes only influence our mindset and what Skills we’ll be offered.
They don’t dictate our future, nor can they override our free will.
They can be changed, and as people’s and monsters’ average levels start to rise, it’ll beco easier and easier to hit Level 32 and 64.”
“But it’ll be harder for
to get Experience if I don’t–”
He trails off, clearly still not comfortable with my knowing exactly what his class is.
I don’t press the issue, instead nodding noncommittally.
“It will all work out in ti.
For right now, though, I want you to focus on what you want to do instead, and start getting involved in activities to that end.
It won’t do you any good to get to Level 32 if you only get offered the sa options the second ti around.”
“T–
Thank you.”
He nods and departs.
As he walks away, I see him reach toward an open pouch in a backpack nestled up against the aisle.
He stops just before reaching in, then turns to , then shakes his head and gives his left hand a small smack with his right, mumbling sothing under his breath.
Despite it all, I pride myself on hopefully encouraging him to turn away from a [Thief] class evolution in the future.
Only ti will tell, though.
There are a few more conversations that follow.
So students who just want to introduce themselves, a few asking general questions.
One student thanks
for my service, having seen
in my battle against the City Slayer a month and a half ago.
I demur a bit, pointing out that I’m no hero and that we only survived thanks to the efforts and sacrifices of so many soldiers and volunteers who’ve been going out day in and day out to protect all of us.
The back and forth continues a good while longer.
By the ti we end up finally finishing, it’s nearly 10:00 AM— forty minutes after the end of the lecture.
I’m tired, I’m behind on schedule, and I just want to go back to my office and ditate or sleep or just ntally check myself out until 12:30 when my Intro to Combat Training class starts.
But I can’t, all because of this Clara Bennett woman who continues to watch .
Her eyes never look away from , even for a mont.
Even as a couple of students make a loud sound in the back of the auditorium as so sort of prank, her eyes are laser focused, her fingers twitchy.
Despite her lack of hostility, it’s as though she’s preparing to fight
at a mont’s notice.
The last dozen or students exit the auditorium, leaving just
and her alone in a theater auditorium designed for an audience of thousands.
Clara walks up with unnatural grace, her movents poised, not a single muscle twitch out of place.
It’s not just that she’s powerful— whether or not she could defeat , I honestly don’t know.
Our levels and stats are about equal, judging by the amount of [Ether] my [Valkyrion’s Perception] detects.
No, the more pressing matter is how she’s in absolute control of her body.
It’s…
It’s like my mories of my past self, when I was a complete cyborg down to the microscopic level, rather than having a body which is mostly human, with a few cybernetic prosthetics.
Definitely so sort of Skill at play.
Probably more than one.
A single, fluid motion, and Clara has frontflipped onto the stage.
She invites
to join her.
I oblige, sprouting my wings and levitating with the sa casual ease she just displayed.
She leads
into center stage, where the lights from my lecture still shine down upon us, the heat of the powerful stage lamps blaring down upon .
A veil like a cosmic aurora materializes around us.
I draw Filia instinctively, cycling through my options.
Fight?
I could…
But not here if I can help it.
Flee?
The barrier isn’t particularly powerful, and [Defiant Spirit] is already bursting forth from the depths of my [Ether] core, ready to help
overco.
I could definitely break out of it if I wanted to.
However, she hasn’t yet openly threatened , and I know I’ll get a lot of hell from a lot of people if I lash out at her.
Chloe would be near the top of the list of people who’d give
crap.
So instead, I step back, leaning against the hemispherical barrier and feeling a slight give.
I’ll wait for her to dictate in which direction this confrontation will go.
Clara raises a hand.
“Please, lower your weapon.
I have not co to fight you.
Only to ask you so questions.”
I leave my weapon pointed firmly toward her.
“What assurances do I have that you an what you say?
I don’t know you, and your mannerisms are suspicious as hell.
You say you want to talk, and the first thing you do is throw up so sort of Barrier Skill, as though you an to trap
in here.”
I sense sothing slimy trying to worm its way into my mind.
It’s not imdiately dangerous, but I don’t like it, and I’m not going to tolerate it.
[Defiant Spirit] again bursts forth, and this ti, I let it flood my entire being.
[[Defiant Spirit] activates.
You have resisted the [Mind-Altering] effect [Peer into the Absolute Truth].]
The burrowing sensation stops, and for the first ti, Clara’s unflappability wavers.
Her eyes cross, and a single drop of blood oozes down from her nose.
She steps back with a horrified look on her face, before quickly replacing it with a smooth and undisturbed countenance.
“What exactly are you?” she asks.
“Soone who isn’t going to stand by while so stranger decides that she has the right to worm her way into my mind.
[Peer into the Absolute Truth]?
That’s what I think your Skill is called?
So sort of mind reading or truth detection Skill, I’m guessing from the na?”
Clara remains straight-faced, not giving
an answer to my half-question.
Damn if I’m not getting pissed.
I’m really starting to think ‘governnt agent’ from the vibes she’s giving.
And I don’t care if she’s U.S. or Arican Legion.
I’m not going to be manipulated or used by either, especially in such dirty, underhanded ways.
“Now, I want to reiterate.
I don’t want this altercation to turn physical, and I don’t think you do either.
So rather than trapping
in a barrier and then forcing
to deal with this mind reading bullshit, how about we have a discussion like civilized adults.
You can start by telling
who you actually are, and why you’ve co here.”
“Before I do, Miss Mortensen, I need to ask you one question.
Have you, at any point in the past week, been in or around the Chicago tropolitan area?”
“How would I get there?
I’ve been too busy getting ready for classes to pack up and take a flight halfway across the country.”
“Then please, Miss Mortensen,” Clara says, pulling a stack of photos out of her [Inventory].
“Explain these pictures.”
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