Rubbing his eyes, Caelan went over the maps again. Wanting to etch them into his brain. The rest of the team had already left, wanting a few hours of respite before the operation the next day.

His fingers had brushed the gun’s grip when Matt’s voice cut through the air. "Save your bullets for the freaks tomorrow, Instructor." Matt raised his hands and grinned. His presence defused the tension before it ignited.

He sighed, body relaxing as he returned to the plans. “Boot camp ended years ago. Could you please drop that stupid nickname?”

“As long as good old Sarge is kicking, no one ever will.” Matt peeked at the notes his squad mate kept making. “Just go get some sleep. The plan is solid enough, Caelan.”

“Say that when it’s you who writes to the families.” He marked an entry point they hadn’t considered as an emergency exit.

Matt took the notebook without warning. Caelan's jaw tensing up, he tried to pry it back from his brother-in-arms. In turn, he avoided all attempts aimed at the object (and his throat). He reminded him that plans never survived actual encounters. Worrying over details would cost him sleep and compromise the mission.

Caelan at last got hold of his binder, eyes glued to the ground. “I hate it when you are right.”

“Always am.”

Matt's grin faltered. He saw the strain in Caelan's posture, clutching the binder like a lifeline. “I can’t stop seeing their faces. Every failed plan, every wrong call—someone pays for it. It’s… too much, this burden.”

Matt placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder, making his body relax. “Trust in your preparations and we’ll be fine.”

“And if they fail?”

“If the plan goes sideways, we improvise. Make the freaks regret showing up at all.”

-----

“I hate hospitals!” grumbled the disembodied spirit of Leopold, floating besides Caelan.

As they walked back to their room, Caelan remarked how no one liked them. His throat rasped as he breathed. He had insisted on using the stairs instead of a wheelchair. The obese body made him regret that decision, fast. The bickering from his spiritual associate didn’t help with that.

“Why are you complaining? You can just float everywhere.”

“We share a body, genius. I feel everything too.”

 That affirmation, and a flaming pain to his sides, had him stop dead on his tracks. “Really?”

“Only the physical bits.” Leopold’s voice dripped with disdain. “So yeah, every needle, every pain, everything. So next time, use the fucking stairs!”

A light chuckle escaped Caelan’s mouth. “Try not to scream too loud when I stub a toe.”

Ignoring the insults, Caelan meditated on the last few days. All spent going through all manner of medical exams. Some of them were recognizable, but many felt alien to the young man. Not to mention, Aethertec constructs were everywhere. Assisting the doctors and nurses with various tasks. On his old world, there were some robots used for public services before he left, sure. But in The Ascendant's Path, they seemed to be everywhere.

“I sure am not in Kansas anymore,” Caelan muttered under his breath.

“The waste is Kansas?” Leopold groaned, floating behind him with a lazy demeanor. When Caelan didn’t answer, he sighed like the drama queen he was, flopping onto his back mid-air. “You’re surprisingly calm for someone tossed into another world without warning.”

“Says the guy who found out he’s from a video game.”

Leopold blinked, followed by a sharp chuckle. “Ha! Touché.”

Back inside their room, Maia had been humming while folding a few clothes. Seeing her in the flesh after spending so long looking at her 2D image or sprite felt surreal to Caelan. After hesitating for a second, he stepped forward. “What are you doing here, Maia?”

“Oh, Lord Leopold!” The girl got to her feet, greeting him by bowing down while raising a bit of her skirt. He couldn’t help but also notice how she tried to make herself as small as possible in his presence. That realization made his stomach churn. “I heard you might get discharged soon, so I’m preparing for it.”

Sitting down, he noticed how troublesome his belly had become. He couldn't help but feel a sting of irritation spreading across his new body. That, combined with the girl behaving as if a bomb were in the room all the time, did not improve his mood. He reminded her, in a firm but neutral voice, that he no longer had a title of nobility. And how she should return to the house of Sturmfeld as soon as possible.

She somehow looked even lower, her face at a ninety-degree angle. “The duke hasn’t called me back yet. And it wouldn’t sit right to abandon you, master. Not after everything you’ve been through."

“What a pushover.” The master in question sneered at the little woman. “No wonder everyone takes advantage of her.”

His words flushed heat through their shared body, sharp as the memory it carried. A girl's trembling hand reached for the mangled face, once human, her gut pierced by hulking claws. 'I’m sorry… for never being enough… Master.’

This made Leopold turn to Caelan. He questioned where his anger had come from and mocked him for being emotional. From the looks of it, he didn’t seem to notice what had happened.

Eyes blinking, Caelan tightened his jaw. “Nothing.”

“At least stop calling me master,” Caelan said, his tone firm but calm.

Maia’s mouth opened, a protest forming, but he raised a hand to stop her. “Or my lord.” He added, voice softening. “Just… call me Leo, alright?”

Leopold gave a loud growl at that, demanding he never talk like that again. It would make them sound pathetic and weak to others. Caelan, still watching Maia, reminded him how they already were at the bottom of the well.

In return, he got another set of profanities.

Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, mas… Leopold.” These came out as little more than whispers.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair. Her ingrained deference weighing on him. “Close enough.”

The man who stepped inside wore sharp, immaculate clothing. On top of that, his movements were rigid and deliberate, as though he had been cast from iron. Caelan adjusted his position on the bed, knowing the man would expect nothing less.

“Professor Dorne.”

Dorne’s gaze swept the room like frost, pausing on Maia, who shrank under its weight. “Leave. Your presence is not required for my affairs with Sturmfeld.”

Maia stammered a response but thought better of it. She hurried out the door with haste, stumbling over her own feet. Dorne didn’t so much as glance at her retreat, his cold eyes fixed on Caelan until they were alone.

“How can I help you, sir?”

The master of the Weaving Course took out a paper from his pristine briefcase. Even his movements lacked fluidity, almost mechanical in nature. “Your disciplinary hearing has been scheduled for tomorrow, three past noon. Tardiness will not be tolerated. Arrive late, and you will cement an already poor impression.”

Caelan put on his best worried expression. He reminded the stern teacher of his missing memories. Then, he questioned how he could give a proper accounting.

Dorne’s lips thinned. “Circumstances are irrelevant. To allow exceptions is to invite chaos.” Once more, he adjusted his glasses to emphasize his point. “Consider yourself fortunate to have any chance to defend your actions.”

With a nod, Caelan hid his intentions with a poker face. He couldn’t let the older man know the pair had counted on his “sanctity of laws” mentality to give them an edge.

Then a long explanation of how the proceedings would happen the next day followed. What he would need to bring and even a few instructions on ways he could present his case. Caelan listened with unwavering focus, cataloging every word. Information is the sharpest blade against a superior foe.

“How does he even walk with that massive log up his ass?” He floated above Caelan, producing an obscene gesture toward the door. “Guess tomorrow’s the big day.”

Caelan leaned his body against the pillows, fatigue pulling at him like lead. “Then we see if we can tell ‘honest lies’ under the radar.”

-----

“Why is it so bloody important to remain at the Academy?” Leopold floated nearby, his spectral arms crossed. He scowled as Caelan pushed aside his hospital breakfast.

Caelan sighed, turning to his translucent companion. He reminded him about how strength came from preparation. And an institution founded to teach people how to handle Hollowborne seemed ideal. At least for the time being

Leopold’s scowl deepened. “Fine, but what if Sofia dies while we're playing around?”

Caelan pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. Then he explained how it would take at least five years before the civil unrest could claim her life. More than enough time to graduate.

“But first, we must convince the teachers at the hearing that we should get a second chance.” Leopold gave a smug smile. They had no need to worry, as he had always been very good at concealing evidence of his activities. “And yet, you still got expelled.”

“Fuck you.”

Caelan ignored him, leaning forward. “Listen, what I need is solid intel.” He pointed to the floating spirit. “Starting with how these hearings work. I bet you looked into it, considering how you ran the risk of getting one.”

Leopold pondered it. His smugness shifted to reluctant cooperation. He then confirmed he had researched the subject. He then shared all he knew about how they worked. In short, the headmistress would direct them as a judge while five faculty members served as the jury.

The Academy could pick anyone among the many instructors as well. But there would always be at least one of the Heads of the four courses present. Regardless, if they could get the majority of them to rule in their favor, they could avoid expulsion.

“Then, we focus on winning them over.” Caelan stretched, shoulders stiff.

Leopold gave a smile that had Caelan wishing he could hit him right in the nose. “Don’t you know all this already, oh wise man?”

“I know who they were as characters, not people.” Caelan picked up a pen and paper Maia had left for him. “I don’t know who they are. They were secondary or tertiary figures, at best. You, however, knew them in person. That gives us an edge—if you’re willing to share.”

The small ghost crossed his arms, looking away so he could hide his reaction. Then he agreed to give an overview of every teacher.