“Ow,” Det grumbled as consciousness—and pain—returned to him.

  Shortest tournament arc ever…

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” a familiar voice said, though Det let his eyes take things in before he rolled in the direction the words had come from.

  The ceiling above him was a sterile white, though what looked like rolling curtains separated his section of the room. He lay in a reasonably comfortable bed, his uniform still on—even his boots—and he didn’t have any monitors or anything connected to him. There weren’t even any in the room, but, that made sense. He wasn’t on earth.

  “Waking up in one of our hospitals the first time is always a little disorienting,” Jeckles said from where he sat with one leg over the other in a chair beside the bed. In one hand, he held a novel of some kind, and had reading glasses perched on his nose. “People always half expect this all to have been a dream.”

  “No offense,” Det said. “Waking up to you beside me says pretty clearly this isn’t a dream.”

  “None taken,” Jeckles said. “My wife says the same thing just about every morning.”

  “You’re married?” Det said, cracking his jaw side-to-side as he spoke. Considering how bad it had felt, there was more an echo of pain than any real pain.

  “Happily married,” Jeckles said. “Coming on thirty-five years now. Met my lovely wife in the academy, though we waited until a few years after we finished to tie the knot. Figured if we’re going to live here for a few centuries, might as well do it beside somebody who makes us smile.”

  The words brought Yumi’s face to the forefront of Det’s mind, and he closed his eyes to savor how clear it was this time. Over the twenty years since he’d seen his wife, he’d had trouble picturing her face sometimes. Whenever he tried, it slipped away like sand through his fingers. Only times like this, when it came to him unbidden, did he feel like he could really see her.

  The utter black of her straight hair, parted in the middle. The red lipstick she wore for special occasions only—because it was too bright for daily use—the pink blush she’d splurged on that one time, and of course, that twinkle in her eye when she found something funny. Usually something Det had done to embarrass himself, but that didn’t matter. That look, it meant she loved him, even as she laughed.

  Gods, he missed her.

  Even as he held the image behind closed eyes, it began to blur. The nose wasn’t right. Her ears weren’t that small. Cheeks should’ve been higher. Was her hair ever that short?

  Cursing to himself, Det let the image go. The last time he’d forced himself to hold the picture in his mind, it’d warped his memory of Yumi for years. He’d had to force himself not to think about her to let his mind naturally put things back the way they were supposed to be. He wouldn’t do that again. Instead, he’d just have to savor the few, brief seconds he got to remember her.

  When he finally opened his eyes again, he found Jeckles leaning over him, a look of concern on the man’s face.

  “Some kind of injury get missed?” the Medic asked. “Sometimes things linger after unconsciousness like that in the arena.”

  “Nothing you can heal with your magic,” Det said. “Unless you can send me back to my wife?”

  “Ah,” Jeckles said, nodding and slowing sitting himself back down. “You were married before?”

  “Yeah,” Det said. “Had a wife and daughter.”

  “And you miss them,” Jeckles said. It wasn’t a question.

  “More than anything,” Det said, pushing himself up to sitting on the bed and facing Jeckles as he spoke. “I’ll find a way back to them.”

  The Medic facing him didn’t respond immediately, like he was weighing the choice of whether to speak or not.

  “Just spit it out,” Det said. “Neither of us are kids who need our feelings coddled.”

  “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say,” Jeckles warned him.

  “Nothing new since I got dragged to Elestar,” Det said.

  “You should forget your wife and daughter,” Jeckles said. “There’s no going back.” After the words left his mouth, the Medic braced in preparation for Det’s anger.

  None came.

  Jeckles wasn’t the first—and certainly wouldn’t be the last—to tell Det to give up on getting home. To accept he was a ReSouled now, and to make the most of his second chance. Except, Det didn’t consider it a second chance. Sure, being ReSouled had some advantages, but Elestar would always be a kind of prison to him. One he would continue looking for a way to escape.

  “If you’re waiting for me to get mad at you for saying that,” Det said. “Remember, I basically grew up with Calisco in this world, and had a daughter just about to become a teenager. I’ve got a pretty high patience threshold.”

  “I’m serious about this, Det,” Jeckles said. “I’ve seen people like you who didn’t want to be here. They drove themselves mad or got themselves killed trying to find a way back. I don’t want to see either of those things happen to you.”

  “Are there records of these people anywhere?” Det said.

  “Service records,” Jeckles said. “Seeing those won’t help keep you sane.”

  “We’ve been reborn on another world with magic powers,” Det said. “Who says any of us are actually sane? That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what?”

  “If they tried something before and it didn’t work, I can rule that method out—at least for now—so I can focus first on other ideas.”

  “That’s not the moral of the story, Det,” Jeckles said, taking a breath to volley another reason why Det should give up on his goal.

  “It is for me,” Det interrupted. “Look, Jeckles, I appreciate you thinking you’re looking out for me. Like I said before, though, we’re not kids. I’m too old and stubborn to change my ways when I’ve set my mind to something. I am getting back to Earth, so you can either sit there and argue—wasting both our time—or accept it’s going to happen, and maybe even help me when I ask you.”

  “That is a far too responsible a comment for somebody who doesn’t look old enough to drink in some states,” Jeckles said.

  “Earth states or Elestar states?” Det said.

  “Earth,” Jeckles said. “Elestar doesn’t have states as far as I know.”

  “What, the Corelands don’t have state borders and local governments?” Det joked, seeing Jeckles had moved past the ‘argument’. “Maybe different tax rates, and a few tollbooths for good measure.”

  “Definitely not,” Jeckles said. “However,” he tilted his head back in thought. “There is that rumor of another nation beyond the Corelands. Don’t know much about it, other than they have magic kind of like us ReSouled, only it’s powered by chaos. Where’s there’s chaos, there’s definitely toll booths. And roundabouts. I hate those damn things.””

  “What does that mean?” Det said.

  “Roundabouts? They’re…”

  “Not those,” Det interrupted. “I know what they are—hate them too, by the way—but it’s not what I was asking about. The chaos part.”

  “Oh. No idea,” Jeckles admitted. “That’s just what the report I saw said. I don’t even know how much of it is true, since some of the other details in there were pretty questionable. Pink butterflies? Ancient war machines? It’s all a little too fantastic.”

  “Could they be…?” Det said, then purposely looked at the Wordless pistol on Jeckles’ hip.

  The Medic shook his head. “No, something else. Something on the far side of an even bigger threat, so we haven’t spent much in the way of resources on learning more.”

  “Is this all really something you should be telling me?” Det joked, not really unhappy about the loose lips. Compared to every novel he’d read or movie he’d watched, the people of the Mistguard seemed more than willing to share information that could help others.

  Well, information other than about the existence of the Wordless.

  “Bah,” Jeckles said. “You’re part of the accelerated class. You’ll hear all about it soon enough. Speaking of which, the tournament is over. You should probably get back to your dorm room to meet the rest of your roommates.

  “I think they’re giving you the rest of the day off to get to know your new party. Classes start in earnest tomorrow.”

  Det groaned. “The stupid tournament,” he said. “I’d forgotten about it despite it being the reason I’m in this room now. Did that other ReSouled, the one who sucker-speared me, get disqualified or anything?”

  “Disqualified?” Jeckles said. “From a tournament that was specifically stated to only be one fight?”

  “Okay, that was kind of a dumb question,” Det said. “How about any repercussions?”

  “She got asked not to do it again,” Jeckles said. “Sternly.”

  “That’s it?”

  “A stern talking to from the headmaster isn’t…” Jeckles shivered. “Pleasant. You all—as cadets—get a certain amount of leeway in the beginning. You’ve joined a military academy, but you’re not military. Not yet. Not really. You also come to Elestar, realize you have superhuman bodies, full of piss and vinegar, and have an ego big enough to fill the arena. You know the type?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Grew up with Calisco, remember?” Det said.

  “Yeah, like her,” Jeckles said. “It’s the same reason the general didn’t… come down harder on her before.”

  “Ah,” Det said, thinking back to Calisco blatantly ignoring the general’s orders. He had been oddly patient about that.

  “If she were to pull that again in a year?” Jeckles said. “The general wouldn’t even bother throwing her off a pillar. He’d crush her himself. Literally. In the first year here, you’re expected to learn to follow orders. For you guys, with your accelerated class, expect it to be sooner than that.”

  “Would it be terrible if I forgot to mention that to Calisco?” Det asked, and Jeckles only gave him a look. “Fine, fine. I’ll remind her. Maybe. Anyway, the tournament? What happened after the stern talking to?”

  “The rest of the cadets were reminded to behave better,” Jeckles said. “They did.”

  “Good for them,” Det said.

  “What about you?” Jeckles said. “You don’t seem particularly upset about losing?”

  “Losing the duel that didn’t mean anything?” Det said.

  “The headmaster said there were rewards for the winners,” Jeckles said.

  “Doubt they were anything special,” Det said. “Nothing that would’ve gotten me home. End of the day, I don’t care about losing as long as I’m alive after to keep going. That duel wasn’t going to get me any closer to my goal, I don’t think, so it’s not a big loss. The help I need is going to be bigger than that. The actual dueling circuit, as much as I hate to say it, might be one place I need to apply myself. And it won’t go the same way as this match did.

  “Besides, I’m more annoyed with myself for something else. Anyway, what was up with the stupid rule? No equipment? Did they change it?”

  “Nope,” Jeckles said.

  “Why not?” Det pressed. “It was a stupid rule.”

  “Was it?” Jeckles pushed right back, and the choice of words—and the look on the man’s face—made Det pause.

  “Bloody hell,” Det said. “It wasn’t just a stupid rule, was it? This was some kind of test,” Det said.

  Jeckles nodded. “You aren’t the only one who relies on some kind of gear. For these matches, the instructors wanted to see how cadets would handle it. How do you think you handled it?”

  “Poorly,” Det said. “This is what I was just saying I was annoyed with myself about. I figured it out too late in the ready room. Hell, the name of the room should’ve been a clue. I should’ve spent the time getting ready instead of complaining about not being able to bring my gear in.

  “It was stupid, but it won’t happen again.”

  Jeckles tapped the side of his head and pointed at Det. “You’re catching on.”

  “Little late,” Det grumbled.

  “It’s to be expected, and better late than never,” Jeckles said. “It’s not your fault, either. Not the first time. What did you use your magic for back on Radiant?”

  “Trying to get home,” Det said. “And, getting people into their homes when they locked themselves out. The occasional animal for hunting bears that made their way onto the pillar.”

  “Exactly,” Jeckles said. “Some ReSouled come to Mount Avalon with no experience fighting on Elestar. They’ve been using their magic for something entirely different for twenty years. Here, you’ve got to start looking at things differently. Yourself, and your magic both.

  “You’ve fought before, but you’re not a fighter. Not yet, at least. You have to change that.”

  “I’m seeing that now,” Det said. “I don’t know, it was… different on…” he didn’t want to say Ironsalt out loud. “Last time I used my magic in a dangerous situation.”

  “Something else you’ll learn about being ReSouled,” Jeckles said. “Our bodies react better—faster—when we’re in actual danger. The extra stuff that doesn’t matter gets pushed out of our heads, and survival is all we need to focus on. The trick is getting into that mindset at any time. You’ll get some help with that here on Avalon.

  “And, if you realize what you did wrong—really realize it, not just by having somebody else tell you—you’ve made it that much more unlikely it will happen again.”

  “Was that supposed to be a pep talk?”

  “No, you screwed up,” Jeckles said. “But it didn’t kill you, and you learned something. Tell me, would you yield again next time?”

  “Same situation?” Det asked. “Yes. Fighting wouldn’t gain me anything. Except, I won’t let that same situation happen again. If she—whatever her name is—wants a rematch, it’ll got a lot differently.”

  “No more spears to the face?”

  “Preferably not,” Det said. “What about the others? Was I the only one who screwed up, or did other people yield as well?”

  “Others yielded,” Jeckles said. “You weren’t the only one who needed—or thought they needed—their equipment. Duelists, especially, rely on their weapons. Most still tried to find a way. Again, this was more about how you handled the situation than the result of the fight.”

  “Bloody hell,” Det grumbled. “I definitely deserved to lose then. Maybe not the sucker-spear, but…” Det reached up to scratch the back of his neck before he turned his head side-to-side and worked his jaw a little. “Speaking of which, you did a great job. Jaw is back in place—and one piece—and it doesn’t feel like I’m missing any teeth.”

  Jeckles looked off to the side, then down to the book in his hands. A small cough, and he answered. “Yes, well, teeth are a pain in the ass to regrow,” Jeckles said. “Try not to lose any more of them.”

  “My general game plan going forward will be to not take another spear in the face,” Det said.

  “Usually sound thinking,” Jeckles said. “Oh, before I forget, your stuff. It’s on way. That gatekeeper is a stickler for rules, and he was being adamant about returning it to anybody other than you. Something about the sanctity of his job, so somebody with more authority was sent to fetch it.”

  “Nah, that’s just that guy being a general asshole,” Det said. “I hope somebody got to rip it out of his cold, dead fingers.”

  Jeckles raised a judging eyebrow.

  “Fine, his still-warm—very much alive—but-in-a-lot-of-discomfort fingers. Like, if he’d hit both of his funny bones at the same time, or something.”

  “More likely he’ll just be ordered to hand them over by somebody equally…” Jeckles said.

  “I…” Captain Simmons said at the same time he thrust the curtain behind Jeckles aside in a dramatic entrance. “Rescued your gear for you. Praise me.”

  “… annoying,” Jeckles mumbled out the end of his sentence.

  “Thank you, Captain Simmons, you’re the best captain ever,” Det said in the flattest voice he could manage.

  “Your appreciation needs work, but the bones are there,” Simmons said, then thumbed over his shoulder so Det could see the pile of his belongings. The Wordless glove and eyepatch sat on top of his coat, scroll holsters, and the rigging for his brushes and ink. Since he’d left the sword—the katana—back on the mistship, that was everything that wasn’t in his room.

  “Seriously, though, thanks,” Det said. “I wouldn’t want to talk to that guy again any time soon.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him,” Simmons said, grabbing another chair, spinning it around, then sitting with his arms crossed on the chair’s back in front of him. “He’s just doing his job. He could use some better bedside manner, but, couldn’t most?” The directed look at Jeckles just made the Medic roll his eyes.

  “Were you here for something other than bothering us?” Jeckles said.

  “I just explained it,” Simmons said. “Dropping off Det’s stuff.”

  “It takes a captain to do that?” Jeckles questioned.

  “Nah, but one had the free time,” Simmons said. “Besides, by this point, the rest of Det’s roomies should be back at the dorm, or at least on their way. Figured we should get him there so he has a chance to meet everybody. Starting tomorrow, things get a little harder.”

  “Seemed pretty hard already,” Det said, reflexively rubbing his jaw.

  “Just the spear you tried to block with your face,” Simmons laughed.

  “Har har,” Det said. “How will we know where to go tomorrow?”

  “Beauty or Beast will tell you,” Simmons said. “They’re the two instructors assigned to your particular group.”

  “Can they actually teach us anything?” Det said.

  “A lot,” Simmons said. “Don’t let their… unique personalities fool you. They’ve both been ReSouled for as long as General Vans—arrived the same cycle—and they’re both B-Rank. Lot you can learn from them.”

  “Are they really both Arsenals?” Det said.

  “Yup, Arsenals, like you,” Simmons said. “Both of them. As for why they got classified that way, let them explain it during their lessons.”

  “We’ve got two Arsenals as our instructors?” Det said. “Does that make sense. Shouldn’t we have at least one different class?”

  “Oh, when did you become the instructional expert?” Simmons said, leaning forward even more on his chair, the back two legs coming off the floor.

  “Doesn’t it just make sense?” Det said. “We aren’t all Arsenals in the accelerated class.”

  “No, but half of you are,” Simmons said. “That’s right, there are three of you. I’ll admit, that’s a bit odd for party balance, but that’s just how it worked out this year. And, even if there was only you, I’ll say it again, don’t let Beauty and Beast fool you. They know their stuff. Besides, there will also be separate class lessons where people like Calisco—Artillery—will get to train with a class instructor. Weren’t you paying attention during the opening ceremony?”

  “I plead a concussion,” Det said.

  Simmons looked at Jeckles, who just shrugged without comment.

  “Ah, whatever, grab your stuff, and let’s go,” Simmons said. “I even snagged some ink for you on the way over, so you’d have something for your lessons tomorrow. It’s in your man-purse.”

  “It’s not a man-purse,” Det started. “It’s a conveniently designed…”

  “Fanny pack,” Jeckles said. “It’s a fanny pack.”

  “I hate you both,” Det said.

  “Awww, don’t say that,” Simmons said. “You know it’s not true.”

  Det blew his breath out. “The worst part is you’re right. Thanks for the ink.”

  “You’re welcome,” Simmons said, standing back up. “Now, come on. We’ve still got to walk back to your dorm.”

  “Fiiiiine,” Det said, pushing himself to his feet. Despite the joke of the concussion, he didn’t have any dizziness, or wobble when he took his first step. “Jeckles, thanks again for putting me back together.”

  “Just stop falling apart in the first place, and we’ll both be happy,” Jeckles said.

  “I’ll consider it,” Det said, going over to the other bed in the room where his stuff was piled. It only took him a minute to get everything back in place, and he confirmed Simmons had gotten him a whole four bottles of ink. Practically a rainfall. An inkfall? Whatever it was, it was great.

  At that point, Simmons already had the door to the hospital room open, and then they were underway. All in all, the building wasn’t that different from a hospital from Earth, minus all the usual technology used to monitor hearts or do other things he’d only seen in TV shows. Instead, there was just a lot more magic.

  What really stood out was the number of non-ReSouled also present. At least, by their ages, it was likely they were normal people. And they were seeing Medics just like the ReSouled were. Jeckles even left Det’s room and immediately went into the one next to it.

  “This isn’t even the main hospital,” Simmons said, catching Det staring. “The biggest one on Avalon is watched over by Restoration. She’s a ReSouled like us, but her magic is kind of like a domain. It’s not focused like our magics are, but instead generally around her. Makes everybody heal significantly faster. Even cures diseases and regrows limbs, with a bit of time. She can’t cast a focused heal like Jeckles can, but she can simultaneously heal as many people as she can fit in her bubble of influence.”

  “That sounds powerful,” Det said.

  “It is… for a peaceful place like Avalon,” Simmons said. “She doesn’t leave much, though, because her magic works too slowly for a lot of combat situations. For the record, she’s been around even longer than the general, and she’s A-Rank. Don’t think she’s left Avalon since I’ve been here. Not once. Pretty sure she sleeps at the hospital as well, so her aura is always available.”

  “Wow,” Det said, the pair of them leaving the small hospital. After that, he and Simmons made small talk while they walked back to the dorm. A few people waved and greeted Simmons as they went, and one or two even seemed to recognize Det.

  At least he only got the advice not to use his face in place of a shield one time. He made sure to thank the helpful man with his favorite finger, which got him a good-natured laugh in return.

  Fifteen minutes after leaving the hospital, Det stood in front of the outer door to his communal dorm, Simmons with him.

  “Did you… uh… want to come in, or something?” Det asked the captain who hadn’t left as soon as they’d arrived. “I don’t know if we have anything to eat or drink…”

  “I’d love to,” Simmons said. “I’m parched. All that walking and talking, you know?”

  “Not really,” Det said, opening the door and walking in. As soon as he entered the hall that led to the large living room, he could hear voices talking. More than just Calisco and Sage.

  Was he finally going to meet his other roommates?

  Oddly looking forward to it—Sage seemed like a good guy, after all—Det made sure the door didn’t hit Simmons in the face, then walked down the hallway to where the others were.

  “Hey, I…” he started, only to freeze in his tracks. At the kitchen island, Calisco and Sage sat in the chairs with a pair of drinks in front of them. On the opposite side of the island, the cadet who’d asked the question during the entrance ceremony—Weiss, that was his name—stood washing dishes. At the stove nearby, another woman was cooking something on the stove.

  But, it wasn’t any of them Det stared at. No, it was the fifth and final person standing the room, who likewise had her eyes absolutely locked on Det.

  The woman who’d speared him in the face during their duel.

  “Oooooh, awkward,” Captain Simmons said, his voice just oozing with the fact this was exactly why he’d followed Det home.

  shocked she is a roommate. Never saw it coming, right?