They couldn’t just stride out from the Sorceress’s manor, even if the building had been repurposed into the White Glove Academy—it would draw too much unwanted attention.

Fortunately, the company Saffra had ended up in thought nothing of burning high-tier resources for something as mundane as escaping onto the street unnoticed. Jasper had brought an invisibility potion. A short-acting one, which made it cheaper than a proper scroll like what Lady Vivi had given Saffra, but hardly cheap.

The shroud covering their entourage disappeared after two minutes, but that was enough time to separate themselves from the Academy. Miss Annabelle hadn’t joined them in her White Glove uniform. She wore a maid’s get-up, but the black and white outfit didn’t evoke that obvious impression of high-class wealth. She came off more as a working-class maid for the low nobility, or possibly a merchant family. The two silver bars were nowhere to be seen, either.

Two silver bars. A Second Class White Glove. Acting as Saffra’s personal bodyguard. Not to mention the Titled-rank summon she had been given, and the hoard of scrolls of unimaginable worth. Saffra was better defended than most kings.

As could only be expected, for the Sorceress’s apprentice.

Those surreal moments were becoming less common, but they still jolted into her at random times throughout the day. Thinking too hard about any of it brought on a diffuse queasiness, and not just because of her worry for Lady Vivi and Isabella. But simply from the sheer strangeness. Saffra thought she was pretty good at adapting to new and unexpected things, but everyone had their limits.

Jasper led them through the streets. The signs of destruction began cropping up well before they crossed into the worst-off sections of the city. Torn-up streets, crushed stalls, ripped-in-half buildings—the voidling invasion had shredded Meridian, even with a whole city’s Titled, and the Sorceress herself, rushing to contain the apocalypse nearly the moment it had begun.

The atmosphere of passersby was solemn, but not as grim as Saffra would have expected. She didn’t sense panic in the air, nor even much fear. A catastrophe of this scale—seeing multiple Cataclysm-rank monsters spew out of an otherworldly portal—should surely have been terrifying. It heralded a return to the Age of Chaos.

But she supposed those same threats had been crushed in a fantastic manner for all to see. And while there had been casualties, they numbered shockingly few. More damage had been done to property than people, and the worst had been restricted to the Adventurer’s District.

Another burst of surreality hit her. Saffra’s own teacher had done that. Had been what saved this city. Her teacher had strangled a newborn Cataclysm in the crib. Several of them.

Even when they made their way into the Adventurer’s District proper, to where buildings destroyed by a voidbeast weren’t a rarity but instead common, the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as black as she might have expected. But still grim—no doubt about that. The casualties hadn’t been light, and no matter how much the snuffing-out of a possible extinction event might inspire hope in the citizenry, losing a teammate or guildmate brought an expected cheerlessness to the district. Even if adventurers, more than anyone, understood the inherent risks of their profession—it didn’t matter how much worse things could have been, if the situation had nevertheless been bad.

The clean-up was well in progress. It seemed like every adventurer in Meridian had taken to the streets to carry away debris, move construction supplies, and generally aid in the repair of the district. Even with that combined strength, Saffra saw that it would take a while. A fifth of the district had been outright flattened, and much of the rest had taken grievous enough damage that tearing down and rebuilding was the more sensible course of action.

Mae was waiting for them when they arrived, at the edge of a crowd being organized by a helmet-wearing man holding a clipboard. She wore a vendor’s tray around her neck, displaying dozens of reddish-brown potions. Saffra doubted that Vanguard’s alchemist had come to hawk wares. Low-grade strength potions, if she had to guess, to aid with clearing the debris.

The elf spotted them coming, and on seeing her gaze turn their way, Jasper waved vigorously at her. Mae rolled her eyes. She returned the greeting after a moment—if with less enthusiasm than the ranger.

“I see you managed to convince some extra help to join us,” Mae said to him when they were within range. “How’d you manage that?” With a smile for Saffra, she added, “We’re glad to have you here.”

“I happen to be an excellent negotiator,” Jasper said smugly. “My success was never in question. After all, I’m nothing if not a people person.”

Both Saffra and Mae couldn’t help but stare at the man for that description, even if they knew that he was just baiting a reaction.

“He poured a bucket of water on me,” Saffra told Mae.

“There’s no shame in employing unconventional tactics,” he replied without missing a beat, spreading his arms and beaming, as if waiting for praise. “Results are all that matter.”

The poor alchemist had clearly been putting up with this man for too long, because the strange exchange didn’t make her bat an eye. “You poured water on her?” she asked, a dangerous edge creeping into her voice.

“It’s fine,” Saffra said. “It’s not a big deal.”

As much as she wouldn’t admit it, the ‘kick in the rear,’ as Jasper had phrased it, had done a surprisingly good job dragging her out of her gray mood. She was glad for it. The fresh air and prospect of working on something productive had done wonders already.

Mae eyed Jasper a moment longer. “If you want revenge,” she told Saffra without breaking her threatening eye contact, “I have all kinds of creative ideas. I’d appreciate the excuse, honestly.”

Saffra snorted. Seeing how Miraelle of Vanguard was one of the highest-ranking alchemists in the world, and had been focusing on poisons recently to complement her adventuring career, she likely did have some heinous methods of revenge tucked in that bandolier of hers. Jasper chuckling out a nervous, “Let’s not be hasty, now,” confirmed that suspicion.

Saffra shook her head, though. “Really, it’s fine.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.” Mae’s hand drifted away from her bandolier. “Oh! Your friends are here, by the way.”

Saffra looked at her blankly, then followed the woman’s finger. What she saw almost had her performing a double-take. Off to the side stood two adventurers that she hadn’t caught in the small crowd.

“Will?” she blurted out.

Hurrying over, she confirmed that it was who she thought it was. He had returned from his hunting trip. Missus Tilly had made it sound like it might be a long one, so she hadn’t expected to see him for a while.

She was so surprised that she forgot that she might not want to speak with Will and Rose, after having disappeared for nine months. Though she would’ve gotten over that nervousness, like she had with Missus Tilly.

The young man turned at his name being called out. He recognized her instantly and broke out into a huge smile. “Saffra! They said you might show up. I’m glad you did.”

She was somewhat ashamed that she’d had to debate it, now, however briefly. She really should have been out, helping with the aftermath, much sooner. Even if one teenage low-rank mage wasn’t going to meaningfully change anything, doing something was better than nothing.

“Of course I did,” she mumbled. “Hi, Rose,” she said, hurrying past that embarrassment.

“Hi, Red,” William’s sister returned. “Long time no see.”

“What are you two doing here?” Saffra glanced over at Jasper and Mae, who had stayed where they were. “You…know them?” she asked. “How?”

One of Rose’s eyebrows went up. “Through your teacher, in a roundabout way. Jasper Trevane came and introduced himself at the Bramble, earlier. Looking for us.”

“Oh.” That…made sense, she guessed? It wasn’t totally strange that Jasper would track down her…friends? Will and Rose weren’t really friends, but they weren’t family either, and not just associates. But seeing how Jasper, Mae, and the others were trying to look after Saffra—as much as she found that whole concept uncomfortable—it wasn’t totally unexpected for Jasper to have contacted them.

Still, something seemed a little weird about it. Will carried on with the conversation, not giving her time to put a thumb on why.

“Nysari Keresi,” he said, shaking his head. “Orichalcum-rank demonic nobility. That’s who you show up with as a teacher, after nearly a year of disappearing on us?” He gave her a bemused look. “How did that happen? And you owe me an explanation for the vanishing part too, by the way.”

“Um…right.” She was pretty sure his calling Lady Vivi Nysari meant he didn’t know who her mentor really was. She would have to be careful not to slip up. “It’s a long story,” she hedged. She grimaced at the prospect of telling it.

“I bet.” Will crossed his arms, but Saffra was relieved when he didn’t press. “So. You’re rubbing shoulders with not one, but three orichalcums. I was coming up on mithril, but that’s not gonna impress you now, is it?”

“Ha.” She couldn’t help the noise. Three orichalcums? If only he knew. “It’s definitely…something,” she struggled out. “What’s going on here, anyway?” She cleared her throat. “How’s this supposed to work?” She waved at the crowd.

Thankfully, Will and Rose only shared a look; they didn’t contest her obvious deflection. “Foreman’s organizing everyone,” Rose said with a shrug. “We’ll do whatever he says needs doing. Here, come introduce yourself. Let him know what spells you have, in case he can find uses for them.”

They accompanied her to the man. A brief exchange followed in which she detailed her general kit, the man scribbling on his notepad. But elemental magic designed for killing monsters tended to be…a bit too forceful, generally speaking. Controlled explosions might have some use breaking up big chunks of debris, and other demolition, but she wasn’t confident in how controlled she could actually make them, which severely limited their usefulness.

“[Telekinesis], or anything similar?” the foreman asked.

Saffra shook her head. Even if she did have that spell, lifting objects with magic would likely be as tiring as with her body, no matter that she was a mage. Though the maximum weight would, at least, be quite a lot higher.

The foreman didn’t appear disappointed, though it seemed like she didn’t have anything valuable. He nodded. “No worries. Many hands make light work. We appreciate the help, no matter the skills or class you bring.”

Ten minutes later, during which she chatted with Will and Rose—and Jasper and Mae came to join them—the foreman began handing out armbands and assigning jobs, showing groups and individuals where they were needed. Deep in the Adventurer’s District as they were, not far from the epicenter of the breach, most buildings had been essentially pulverized. She wondered how much had been the fault of the voidbeasts, and how much the fault of Meridian’s Titled. All-out fights between enormously powerful entities weren’t exactly containable, even in the best of cases. A person needed to outclass their opponent heavily to have the breathing room necessary to preserve the environment…and nearby people. Which was why it was doubly absurd that Lady Vivi had put down multiple Cataclysms without leaving a city-sized crater in her wake.

Mae handed out the strength potions to the various workers hauling debris to horse-drawn carts on the thoroughfare. Jasper went and found the biggest chunk of intact stone he could and hoisted it up with his bare hands, which made Saffra a little jealous—she loved magic, but physical classes had some serious advantages when it came to day-to-day life. Will and Rose joined Jasper’s group, since as high golds, they were suited to the more difficult jobs which normal people couldn’t handle.

Saffra joined the regular workers. Some were non-physical bronze or silver ranks like herself, but most were ordinary folk. She lost herself in the routine quickly, not upset that she wasn’t put in Will’s group. They were here to work, not chat all day.

It was difficult labor, as expected, and exactly what she’d been hoping for: an effective distraction. She could move much more weight than a regular thirteen-year-old girl, but that just meant she stood on roughly equal footing with an adult man. Though that was a nice benefit in itself, she supposed.

“What do you make of it, anyway?”

Struggling with an awkwardly shaped section of splintered lumber, Saffra didn’t immediately register the words that came from the nearby man.

“Make of what?” a second worker grunted back as he wiggled a portion of a brick wall, trying to dislodge it.

“What the Archbishop said.”

“The Archbishop said something?” After a beat, he continued, “Oh. You mean about the Sorceress?”

That had Saffra’s ears perking up, for obvious reasons. She shot a look over at the two men, brain belatedly replaying the sentences she’d almost tuned out.

“How it wasn’t the Sorceress,” the burlier of the two men corrected. “Divine intervention,” he quoted sarcastically.

Saffra picked her way across the rubble, subtly positioning herself to eavesdrop.

“Yeah, I heard,” his partner replied, sounding uninterested as he scratched his stubble. “I think Haley mentioned it earlier.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What do you make of it, you lug?”

The thinner man—who had hauled up a much larger piece of brick wall than the burlier one, without seeming half as strained—shrugged as they began waddling off toward the street together, weighed down by heavy pieces of debris. “If the Archbishop says that’s what happened, then that’s what happened, right?”

With his back to Saffra, she couldn’t see the eye roll, but she heard it in the man’s voice. “Yeah, sure. But what do you actually think?”

“I think,” his partner emphasized, “that somebody saved our ass. That’s all that really matters.”

“So you think the heavens themselves descended?” came the dubious response.

“Almost makes more sense, if you think about it.” Despite the words, he didn’t sound convinced. “You see any of it?”

“Did I—? Thought the damn world was ending when that first spell went off, whatever it was. Never felt anything like it. Everyone in the city saw some of it.”

“And could even the Sorceress have done that?”

“Who the hells else?”

“The heavens.”

“Piss off. I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

The burly man huffed. “Where were the heavens when the Cataclysms were trampling cities for thousands of years, then?”

The man gave him a reproachful look, probably for the implied disrespect. Saffra herself wasn’t particularly devout, but she wouldn’t go sarcastically asking why the gods hadn’t helped with the Cataclysms. It was hardly blasphemy—at least so far as the crown would prosecute—but it did get close to toeing the line, if just for the dismissiveness of his tone. The skinnier man didn’t comment, though; the disapproving look was all.

“I’m just saying,” the burly one said defensively. “What I saw was some mage throwing out spells that made my skull throb from a mile away. Definitely didn’t spot any gods and goddesses flying around.”

“So you’re saying the Archbishop is lying?”

“Hmph. Just making observations, is all.”

The skinny man sighed. “Sorceress or heavens, I don’t see how it matters. I’ll say my thanks to either or both.” Short trip completed, they arrived at the cart and offloaded their hauls with a heavy toss. Saffra had been keeping a safe distance behind, her smaller chunk carried in two hands. Neither man glanced over at her, despite her entering their line of sight. The skinny man’s voice turned grim as he spoke his next words. “You get a look at one of those things?”

“I didn’t.”

“Nasty-looking critters.”

A grunt.

“Seen plenty of monsters before,” he went on. “But never one like that.”

“Voidbeasts.”

“Fitting name.”

A long pause.

“You think the Eighth is here, then? That’s what they’re saying.”

“We can only pray it isn’t,” the man responded. “Or that it was dealt with, then and there. Gods help us all.”

The exchange ended on a solemn note. Most people had never seen the Cataclysms, but their shadows hung over the world nevertheless. Even the quippier of the two men’s expression had turned serious and considering. They pushed off the cart and returned to their work.

Saffra offloaded her own piece of rubble, brow furrowing as she considered what she’d heard.

Divine intervention?

The Archbishop was going around and saying that it hadn’t been the Sorceress who had defended Meridian? Naturally, Saffra was outraged at the lack of credit given. Obviously it was the Sorceress who had saved the day. Nobody in the world could have done what Lady Vivi had, not even, Saffra was starting to realize, the Dragon King himself. Lady Vivi’s one-hundred-year sabbatical had yielded an unfathomable amount of progress. Saffra didn’t want to imagine what level her teacher was. She might be closing in on the Ashen Hierophant’s own, that very pinnacle of the Grand System…if not already there. And was clearly strong even for her level, on top of that.

Thinking harder, though—hadn’t Lady Vivi wanted to avoid attention? Was this, bizarrely, a good thing?

Not that the Archbishop’s announcement was convincing the populace. Even the more devout of those two men hadn’t seemed sold on the idea of the heavens intervening; he’d simply looked like he hadn’t cared, and that either possibility might be true.

Saffra sympathized. That the heavens had descended to save Meridian in its time of need strained credulity. Then again, multiple Cataclysm-rank monsters being squashed so easily by a single mage—even if it was the Sorceress—did as well. Fantastic events made fantastic explanations seem reasonable.

And Saffra was also, as noted, less devout than most. She wasn’t even sure the gods were real, at least in the sense that they could take physical form. Plenty of people, on the other hand, would wholeheartedly believe that the gods had done just that. It was probably why the Archbishop had jumped to that explanation in the first place, him being who he was. Unless he had some other motivations for making the claim, and didn’t believe it himself? She had no idea what was going on there.

Heck, many people believed the Sorceress was divine, or half-divine. Maybe they would combine the Archbishop’s explanation with their initial assumptions. It was the Sorceress, sure—having thrown off her mortal shackles and claimed her true power as a being of the heavens.

That person was her mentor, Saffra realized with yet another wave of disorientation. The woman she was apprenticed to. Missing, having dived into some breach in the barrier between worlds to save Saffra’s friend.

Anxiety flooding her, she hurried back to her task. She managed to squash the bad feelings in record time, since straining her muscles and suffering under the pounding sun overhead did a good job of drowning out higher-order thoughts.

Only about half an hour of that grueling work passed when a twisting to her magical senses alerted her to a high-tier spell signature forming in her vicinity. One she’d grown familiar with in recent days. [Blink].

Heart already slamming in her throat, she spun to face the spell.

There, having manifested in the middle of the street, stood the Sorceress, accompanied by Isabella Caldimore.