Chương 32: Moving Pieces

How come every time I do something cool, I end up back here? Jonny was in the infirmary. Again. Helen said this was the worst shape he had ever been in. That little quiver of his heart he felt when trying to break through was apparently not very good. That was the moment he was closest to death. And the worst part was that after he stopped laughing, when he became fully conscious of the pain he was in, there was nothing Helen could do.

She could heal just about anything, as long as her target's body wasn't fully saturated with mana, but Jonny's injuries had come from oversaturation. All she could do was knock him unconscious so he wouldn't feel it before his body recovered enough for healing magic. One thing he had learned in the past few months was that he had weird dreams when he was unconscious. When he passed out after fighting the primaboar, his dream had been trippy and disjointed, but this time, it was mostly coherent.

The first part was, at least. He was back on Earth, in his old middle school. His hands were wrapped up for a fight, though it was his first time, so the wrap was poor. It was the middle of 3 rd period, and he was supposed to be in class, and while he was usually a good student—though not necessarily a smart one—he had decided to ditch this time, and for what he thought was a very good reason. Just a few days before, his best friend was bullied out of school.

He and his parents couldn't take it anymore, and decided to move. There was nothing Jonny could do to stop them, but he was angry, and didn't want to just leave it be. He instead decided to do the only thing he could think of, and went to where the bullies usually hung out instead of going to class. In real life, this had been the only fight he ever lost. The bullies were two years older, and in middle school, two years meant eight inches and fifty pounds.

Jonny's bedroom Bruce Lee training wasn't going to be able to make up that difference. It was so bad he ended up in the hospital, and it was after that that his grandma decided he needed to learn how to defend himself. In the dream, though, instead of the bullies, it was the other kids from the orphanage. Tommy was his opponent, and Anna and the others were watching from the side. And instead of getting beat up, Jonny just got humiliated. No matter what he did, Tommy just waved his hand blew him away.

The dream slowly morphed as the "fight" went on, with the bathroom turning into an octagon, and the other kids joining the audience. He kept trying and trying to reach Tommy, but no matter what he did, the wind spell blew him back, and after a little while, Jonny collapsed to the ground, Tommy was presented with the belt. He was self-aware enough to know that dream probably said something about his current psyche, but stubborn enough to brush it aside. So what if he was having weird dreams?

So what if Tommy could use magic and he couldn't? He had just done the impossible and made something even better than a core, despite having Null Syndrome. It was supposed to be impossible, but he did it anyway. Igrette even said it was, like, super impossible. After he woke up, he had talked with Helen and Igrette about what happened, and he explained what he did, and Igrette then told him about her researcher friend's notes.

Any weird mood remaining from his dream immediately vanished when he learned exactly how impossible his feat was supposed to be. They said a Null couldn't get strong, he said. Well, they also said I couldn't stay undefeated at the highest level. They said I couldn't hold three belts. Well, look who's laughing now, idiots! They had also briefly mentioned his past life, but mostly just to tell him not to tell anyone else about it under any circumstances.

That was fine by him, since he didn't plan to, but their tone made it clear that it wasn't a casual request. He asked why it was so important, but they were evasive about it, and at the time, he was in too much pain to think clearly enough to press any further. They also said they'd be making some adjustments, but that they would have to wait until he was recovered. It had been a week since then, and Jonny was getting sick of the infirmary.

He was mostly recovered, but Helen demanded that he stay until he was all better, and he was absolutely forbidden from trying any internal mana techniques until she gave him the all clear. It was annoying, but it unfortunately made sense when she explained it. He had done something unprecedented, and his manabiology was completely unique at the moment. His mana was denser and more potent, and using it to enhance himself right now had a chance of going very poorly.

He was relegated to nothing but breathing techniques, which weren't totally boring, at least. The new state of his mana was unfamiliar, and it made it feel like he had to learn everything all over again. It barely flowed on its own, and even when he pushed it to move faster with his breathing techniques, it barely sped up. He could already tell that it was going to be a long journey to the next level. But there was a next level. Any doubt in his mind about that was put to rest by his success here. He did it once.

He could do it again. He could get stronger. He wasn't completely crippled. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. That fact still only made the boredom marginally more bearable. Especially when he likely still had a week in the infirmary, based on the way Helen was treating him right now. He flopped back on his pillow with a sigh. Usually he at least had someone in there to distract him.

But with Tommy gone, there was no one to barge in when he least expected, and since today was adoption day, the rest of the kids and nuns were downstairs with the hopeful parents, leaving Jonny alone with his thoughts. A flash of motion in his periphery caught his attention, and his head snapped toward the window. There was a raven sitting on the tree branch just outside. Jonny had seen ravens out before, so it wasn't unusual, but for some reason, it looked like this one was looking at him.

He stared back at it, and its gaze was unwavering. He stuck his tongue out at it, then flipped it off, and a second later, it flew away. Stupid bird. He sighed again, and looked back up at the ceiling. I can't wait to get out of here… When Frederick returned to Feria, he went straight for Ivan's church-provided apartment. He had seen many things on his latest round, and he needed someone to talk to, and Ivan was the only one he could think of.

There were other inquisitors that he knew, but none as well as Ivan, and while his sister would gladly listen, he didn't want to burden her with the things he'd seen. But Ivan was like a father to him, and had likely seen worse. He would know what to say. He always did. But when he knocked on the door, there was no response. He knocked a second time, but still, there was nothing.

It was typically considered rude to use your mana sense to peek inside someone's private quarters, but worried something had happened, Frederick did anyways. Ivan wasn't home. Is he out on a mission? Frederick wondered, turning to walk away. He returned to his own apartment, flopping onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. He had checked most of Ivan's usual haunts on his way in.

If he wasn't in his room, he was usually either at the training grounds, the orphanage, or sitting by the fountain and listening to the street musicians play, but he was not in any of those places. Maybe we just missed each other… he thought as exhaustion took him and he drifted off to sleep. He awoke past sunset after a long and restless nap. He was disoriented at first, and it took him a few moments to gather his bearings and remember where he was. When he got up, his first thought was that he was hungry.

The second was that he wondered if maybe Ivan was back yet. Frederick returned to Ivan's room, but once again, the High Inquisitor was not home. He checked Ivan's usual spots again, but still had no luck. Disappointed and dreary, he trudged his way to the inquisitor dining hall for a bland meal of overcooked chicken and undercooked vegetables. Once, he had complained about the quality of the food, but those days were long in the past. He didn't have it in him to care about such things anymore.

After eating, he walked around in a haze, not entirely sure what to do. He knew he should have been productive and trained, but he just wasn't in the mood at the moment. He wasn't really in the mood for anything. He had been hoping a talk with Ivan would clear his head, but with Ivan gone, his mind was even foggier than before. He wandered the inquisitor's building, barely aware of what he was doing until he found himself outside the Grand Inquisitor's office.

The Grand Inquisitor was not usually someone he would bother, but he remembered meeting the man in the past, and being told that he could come knocking at any time. He was still nervous about doing it, but in the end, he raised his hand and knocked anyway. I'm stupid, he thought as soon as he did. It's late. He's probably–"Come in." Frederick blinked in surprise, then hesitantly pushed the door open. The Grand Inquisitor was exactly as he remembered.

Younger than Ivan by about twenty years, with hair that had not yet turned from gray to white. He was much less physically imposing than Ivan was, but he had a certain presence about him that made him feel many times more dangerous. Sitting across from him in one of the chairs in front of his desk was a woman that Frederick didn't recognize. She looked to be the same age as the Grand Inquisitor, and her face was nondescript, but her clothing was highly unusual.

She was dressed in all black, from her scarf to her boots, and her hat had black feathers sticking out the top. There was not a single ounce of color anywhere on her outfit, nor in her gray hair or pale skin, and if not for her startlingly blue eyes, Frederick might have thought she was a black and white portrait drawn from a low quality memory crystal.

"Oh, sorry," he said.

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's no problem at all," said the Grand Inquisitor.

"Agnes is an old friend. We're just having a chat. If you have anything to say, feel free. I can ask Agnes to step out if it's sensitive information." Agnes? thought Frederick. Is she…?

"I was just–" he hesitated a moment, then decided to go for it.

"I was just wondering if High Inquisitor Ivan was out on a mission right now."

"Ah, yes, yes he is. A mission straight from the pope, no less. Why, were you hoping to talk to him?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, he should be back within the week, if all goes well. And if not… Would you like to be added to the mission reserves? If something happens, you'll be the first to know, and you'll be sent to assist. That way, even if he gets delayed, you'll still be able to speak with him." Frederick thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes, please."

"Of course," said the Grand Inquisitor.

"I'm sure Siegfried will be pleased. Why don't you let him know on your way out? I believe he's in the training hall right now."

"I'll do that. Thank you Grand Inquisitor."

"You're welcome."

"I'll be going now. Enjoy your conversation." He nodded to the woman in black—Agnes—and she nodded back, then closed the door and headed for the training hall, frowning. That had to be her, right? he thought. The Raven Witch.