As Percy and his companions approached the Spire, the groups of Blues barring his path grew more and more frequent. Clearly, his pursuers had already started converging toward the region, having probably been informed by their superiors about Percy’s movements. Percy was torn between rushing ahead at full speed or varying his familiar’s flight slightly to throw his enemies off.

In the end, he chose the former option, thinking it would be safer.

At least, the bounty hunters gave him and Micky plenty of opportunities to test out his rapidly improving Secret Art. Under the clone’s careful guidance, they took down one group of Blues after the other, never wasting more than a minute or two.

Initially, their teamwork was more than a little clunky. They both understood the theory behind the new spell, thanks to the clone’s memories and constant handholding, but putting everything into practice during a heated battle still wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. The situation slowly improved, however, as they gained experience.

Despite their growing strength, Percy and Micky were forced to steer clear of any groups with more than five members, knowing that they wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Leaving so many of their pursuers alive to chase after them wasn’t ideal, but there was nothing they could do about it.

When it came to groups with exactly five Blues, the situation was a little different. As Percy and Micky continued improving, the thought of facing such teams had started sounding more and more sensible. In fact, Percy was confident he could already win if he resorted to his trollsfury tattoo.

After carefully discussing it with his companions, he decided to delay such a gamble for as long as possible, however. Even if he emerged victorious, it wouldn’t be quick, and he didn’t have time to waste. Besides, he’d rather not use the tattoos before he absolutely had to. In the end, he and Micky opted to only challenge groups with four members – the poor fools who had yet to realize the danger they were in.

Before long, Percy found himself flying over a region he recognized. It was his first time in the area, but he’d heard of the large, ring-shaped lake located a few days east of the Fungal Spire, indicating – to his great joy – that he was nearing his destination.

He and Micky had already killed over twenty Blues on the way, and that was without counting the assassin’s group or the ones they’d slaughtered the previous year. Naturally, they’d also looted plenty of elixirs in the process, growing their stash. Percy hadn’t bothered to count his gains, but the added resources were bound to last him for several more years – especially once he raised his brewing yield and mastered the Cascading Cracks technique.

‘Assuming we survive that long,’ he thought, reminding himself that his situation was still rather precarious.

Sadly, most of the remaining groups behind and in front of him were too strong for him and Micky to face. It had been a while since they last saw one with four members, and Percy doubted they’d ever encounter another – news of the eliminated mages had probably reached everyone’s ears by now.

This was why Percy had finally decided to take a risk and engage the next group of five they met – a team that possessed strength on par with a Violet. It wouldn’t be an easy fight, but Percy wanted to seize the opportunity to see where he and Micky stood. Furthermore, he felt that the clone was close to a breakthrough with the new spell, so a tough battle was exactly the kind of thing he needed. Either way, he was confident that he and his familiar were ready for the task at last, even without revealing his trump card.

Reality proved a little harsher than expected.

Five domains were clearly too many to endure at once, even when their owners weren’t the most skilled at wielding them. Micky struggled to shake the pressure off, and Percy had a lot of trouble finding an opening to slip through his opponents’ defences. It appeared that they were going to spend longer here than Percy would have liked.

Even so, he didn’t give up.

While he vowed not to challenge another group this powerful anytime soon, he still welcomed the opportunity to test his and his companions’ growing might. The clone was improving the fastest among them, having added more features to his mental composition over the past few days, steadily expanding the scope of the spell. As for Percy and Micky – they merely had to learn how to follow their conductor’s instructions.

The melody shifted mid-battle, the cheerful tune dipping into a darker, resonant note that thrummed through Percy’s chest. Without thinking, he used his Fourth Parade, the dancing duets of the cloaked phantoms defending his familiar from a barrage of stone shards. The projectiles stabbed into the reinforced fabric but never managed to pierce through it completely.

The song took on a lighter tone the next instant, prompting Percy to go on the offensive. Aiming his Soul-crushing Needle at the nearest opponent, he fired the spell, hoping it would land.

He wanted to press on, to try and circle around another enemy with his First Parade, but the clone stopped him. Micky’s part of the melody grew louder, prompting the crow to fly in front of Percy, shielding him from a large fireball that he hadn’t noticed. The blast exploded against the tornado of mist, singeing some of the bird’s feathers, but didn’t do much more than that.

Micky’s body was almost entirely made of ice by now, with only his most important organs still intact. Curiously, the transformation had only seemed to make him stronger, though Percy still had no intention of investigating whether his friend could regenerate a damaged brain.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Micky continued towards an isolated water mage, as the tempo of both tunes sped up, signalling Percy to join the offensive. He used his Winding Corridor to pressure his previous target – who had apparently dodged the deadly Needle by the skin of his teeth.

Like that, the battle raged on for several more minutes, as both sides fought for every advantage they could get their hands on. At the same time, a song that only Percy and his familiar could hear echoed in their minds, guiding their every move.

Percy fought like a grim reaper shrouded in grey flames, dancing around the battlefield to pressure whomever his clone deemed necessary. He was nimbler than the crow, and had a wide assortment of offensive techniques to choose from – from the insidious Needle that he couldn’t fire as often as he would have liked but which was guaranteed to kill whomever it so much as touched, to the First Parade that had the least penetrating force of all his spells but was the hardest to shake off. From the Second Parade that required some time to execute but could break through almost any barrier, to the Fifth Parade that was extremely lethal but harder to use in the presence of so many opponents that would surely help their teammate peel off the suffocating strips of fabric.

Meanwhile, Micky’s movements were more straightforward, though his contribution wasn’t any less important. He spun through the air like a frigid comet, supporting his friend. Through his tough and easily repairable body, he could soak a lot of damage, break through a barricade with brute force, shred the Blues’ domains using the violent winds spiralling around him, or simply pick off any opponent that strayed from the group.

It took a while, but the first of the enemy mages fell soon enough, the others quickly following.

An interesting fact about the clone’s melody was that it wasn’t static like the original. It was ever-changing, with each battle requiring its own variation to overcome. It made the song sound fresh and unique on every occasion, reminding Percy a little of Rei’s treatment on Melodia. At the end of the day, weren’t people the same? Each had their own personal song, serving as the key to their mind.

In fact, the numerous versions of the melody that he and Micky had listened to over the past few days had actually awakened a few more of the crow’s forgotten memories. Most of them had been short-lived – momentary flashes – and today’s was no exception…

***

Micky’s mother was dragging him and his sister through the blizzard, frozen tears chilling his cheeks. The children both resisted the woman’s efforts, trying to rush back to their father, though her grip only tightened around their wrists as she struggled to keep them by her side, failing to suppress her own sobs.

The man’s figure grew more distant by the second as the howling winds blocked Micky’s vision, though he could still faintly see the cyan ribbons fluttering around his father’s body – and around the three men besieging him.

‘Micky’s still as young as he was when he got his tattoos, give or take a few weeks…’ Percy noted.

The memory he and his familiar had watched yesterday must’ve been rather recent too. In that one, the boy’s father had promised to teach him the Dance once he was a little older, and to tell him the story of the Second Hero as soon as he mastered the spell – the story of the god who had died defending Huehue from Rhaziel’s underlings before he got the chance to perfect the boosting art he had invented. Sadly, Percy knew that neither of the man’s promises had ever come to pass.

***

The memory ended, Percy finding himself kneeling on the crow’s back. The flash had lasted a few seconds, but he hadn’t been worried about plummeting to his doom. He’d already instructed the clone to take over the bird’s body and keep them both safe whenever they tapped into a new memory.

Right as Percy was about to ask Micky how he was feeling, he saw the notification flashing before the clone’s borrowed eyes.

[Congratulations! Your spell has evolved: Secret Art: Soul Harmony – Refined - Secret Art: Soul Symphony – Masterful!]

Weirdly enough, while Phoebe’s Decree had started letting Percy know whenever his familiar registered a new spell after absorbing Obatala’s Approval, the convenient feature didn’t extend to his clones. Even so, he could read the messages while sharing their senses, and he knew the upgrade would get listed in his own Status the next time the clone returned to his body.

The grade of the spell didn’t surprise him much either. The concept behind Soul Symphony wasn’t very complicated, but it did require not only his bloodline, but three minds and several months of planning to work. Besides, Percy’s Secret Art had already evolved once while retaining its Refined classification, so it must’ve been close to the next tier to start with.

‘Well, whatever. No time to worry about it…’

Percy shifted his attention to Micky, though the crow beat him to the punch.

‘It doesn’t look like I ever saw him die,’ the bird said, some hope seeping into his voice. ‘I know it’s unlikely that he’s still alive after all this time but… maybe there’s a chance?’

Percy sighed, not sure what to tell his friend. In the end, he opted for honesty. ‘It’s possible. If they captured him instead of killing him, they might have taken him to a coliseum like the one I found you in, forcing him to fight for entertainment like you. But… Micky… that was decades ago. And it might be several more decades before we’re in any position to look for him…’

Feeling his familiar’s optimism evaporating, Percy hated himself for saying those words, though he didn’t regret them. It wasn’t healthy for Micky to delude himself with false hope – it would only make the eventual truth sting that much more. It was better to ground himself in reality.

‘It doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to look for him,’ Percy added. ‘No matter what, we’ll do everything in our power to find out what happened to your father, Micky. That much, I promise you.’

The crow nodded, though Percy could tell that his friend was still clinging to the unlikely possibility that his father was alive somewhere.

Technically, there was a chance that the original Micky had already learned what had happened to his father during his imprisonment on Huehue, but it didn’t look like they would be restoring any more of the crow’s forgotten memories with their current means.

Even after strengthening their connection and playing dozens – if not hundreds – of variations of Micky’s melody, digging out the memories had only grown harder. Percy knew they were still buried in there somewhere, but he would probably have to bring the crow to Melodia and request help from one of their soul healers before his familiar could recall the rest of his severed past.

Shaking his head, Percy shifted his attention to the tall structure in front of him. It was a nostalgic mountain covered in enormous mushrooms, their glowing caps shrouded in mist that was no less colourful than the fungi themselves.

At last, they had reached their destination. As much as Percy wanted to help Micky, there was another soon-to-be familiar that required his support far more urgently than the crow…