Doggone Academy

[I am Vivi Bailey Gainax. It is a pleasure to meet you.]

[It’s Silveryn.]

As Vivi passed through the corridor of black smoke, she suddenly heard voices.

Whipping her head toward the source of the sound revealed nothing but pitch darkness.

The voice was unmistakably her own. Then it had to be an auditory hallucination.

And again, a voice was heard.

[…That child, being half-alive and thus a disaster, it would be better for her to end her own life. Moreover, she’s a harmful presence for the duchy.]

[There must be a way.]

[If there had been one, I too would have…]

The voice belonged to Silveryn. Vivi remembered it vividly; these were the words exchanged between her father and Silveryn. Vivi had inadvertently overheard the conversation from behind a door.

In the midst of this, Damian spoke up.

“Whatever you heard, it wasn’t real.”

Vivi watched the back of Damian’s head as he led the way.

“…Did you also hear that woman’s voice?”

“I heard nothing.”

Vivi clutched the rope that tied their wrists together.

“Then, I’m relieved. I can’t tell if I’m going mad or if this place is strange.”

Damian cut her off.

“It’s the latter.”

Soon after, they emerged from the passage. A domed space revealed itself.

The walls, including the ceiling, were blocked by black smoke, making it feel like they were trapped in a giant sealed room. It was suffocating, as if closing your eyes and opening them would cause the black smoke to consume everything.

“This place…”

In the dome-shaped space, six gravestones were arranged in a circle, and in front of each, there was a jar placed.

Why would such a powerful barrier protect this place? How did Damian know to come here? There were more questions than answers.

Upon closer inspection of the jars, there were ancient runes inscribed on talismans plastered all over them.

Damian drew his sword silently and slowly approached one of the gravestones.

Vivi, following closely behind with a tense expression, swallowed hard.

A powerful magic could be felt emanating from each jar. It was so strong that ordinary mages would struggle to mimic it.

Damian asked.

“Can you make out these inscriptions?”

His gaze was fixed on the gravestones.

The stones were etched with characters commonly used in the region of Barvisia, looking almost like the scribbles of a child.

“It says here, ‘Caretaker of the Romeda Forest, Keton.'”

“Have you heard of it?”

Vivi shook her head.

“No, but this is bizarre. Far too bizarre.”

She scanned the names on each stone.

Candalusia of Brilliance.

The Stone Sage, Demervand.

Ally of Beasts, Acarox.

Her heart began pounding fiercely. These were names of mages once renowned across various lands. The connection between these gravestones and those mages was hard to fathom.

The Reviver, Gideon.

And among them, the name of the mage who had vanished along with the knights of the duchy.

Vivi immediately reported to Damian.

“They are all mages. And among them is the name of the mage I mentioned who disappeared. Gideon. I remember this man.”

“…”

Damian fell into contemplation, his face stern.

“They’re not dead yet. Magic still pulses here.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s common knowledge that dead people don’t emit magic. Yet, magic emanates from these. Which means they are still…”

“Trapped alive inside these jars?”

The jars were too small for even a six-year-old child, let alone a fully grown adult.

Suddenly, one of the jars shuddered on its own.

Both their gazes focused on that spot.

It was the jar in front of the gravestone of Keton, the caretaker of Romeda Forest.

“Did you hear it?”

“Are you asking if it’s an illusion? I heard it clearly.”

As Damian approached the jar, it shuddered again.

“Perhaps their bodies have been discarded, and they’re sealed in another form.”

“I’d rather that be true. Being trapped in there alive is a worse fate than living as a ghoul.”

Damian tapped the jar with his wooden sword. A clear, hollow sound echoed.

Then, something unusual happened.

A stronger magic burst forth from the jar. The magic swirled with a bluish hue.

The magical energy swept across the ground once and then began inscribing something on the dirt floor.

[Who has absorbed my magic?]

Vivi, hiding behind Damian’s back, murmured.

“Is it… alive?”

Damian tightened his grip on the wooden sword as if ready to shatter the jar.

“I did.”

The bluish magic wrote on the ground again.

[I’ve been dreaming all this while. I’ve suffered through the aeons in the memories of my recurring past. And for the first time, I dreamt of something I’ve never seen before. It was a blue stag. It leapt into my memories, and then I woke up. And there you stood before me.]

Vivi mumbled, puzzled.

“The blue…stag?”

“Who are you?”

Writing appeared again on the dirt floor.

[A long-time friend of Hanox and Fleurence. The caretaker of Romeda Forest. And now, just fragments of a soul trapped in a small urinal.]

“What is this place for? Are you a practitioner of dark magic?”

[We are sacrifices offered to this cursed land and the beast. Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to talk. My soul is nearly extinguished, weakened. The souls of my old companions have already been sacrificed to the curse, and my time is coming to an end.]

“Can you tell us how to get to the beast of this land?”

[No, you are already being called by the beast.]

“What will be your end if we leave you?”

[I will quietly become a part of the beast within this vessel, or I will escape and become a wraith.]

“Become a wraith?”

[A mage’s soul that wanders this realm will eventually turn into a wraith, nothing more.]

“…”

[Who are you, who awakened me from my dream? Since you arrived, the evil spirits trapped in the barrier quieted down. And, above all, I feel a strong presence from you. Even my soul instinctively fears you, yet I sense no divine power.]

“I am nothing more than a mere guard.”

[Your rank and status do not matter. I feel you through the eyes of the soul. You may be a mere guard, but you hold the power to extinguish my existence. You can end our torment. By erasing us, you can take away the power of the beast.]

Vivi murmured to herself, confused.

“How can it be ended…?”

Unlike her, Damian seemed to understand why he was there. He nodded as if aware of the method.

Then he untied the rope from his wrist and turned to Vivi.

“It’s dangerous, so please take about twenty steps back from me. And… could you close your eyes for just ten seconds?”

“What are you…?”

Vivi watched Damian before reluctantly nodding.

She counted her steps inwardly, retreating slowly backward, and with a skeptical mind, shielded her eyes.

Damian, seeing she was ready, addressed the jar.

“Are you not afraid of being extinguished?”

[Not at all.]

Damian extended his hand into the air, and a powerful magical pressure began to form around it.

“Any last words you wish to impart?”

Writing appeared clearly on the dirt floor.

[Tell the Archbishop of the Holy City ‘I came for the five rubies’. They are now yours.]

***

After counting to ten, Vivi slowly lowered her hands that shielded her eyes, her heart tense. It seemed nothing unusual had occurred.

Damian stood with empty hands, and all six jars were cleanly split in two as if cut by a blade. What could have happened?

Damian glanced at Vivi and nodded, indicating it was safe to approach.

She hurried over to Damian and grabbed his left wrist, quickly tying the rope again.

“I was terribly worried you might have been possessed.”

“Do I still appear as Damian to you?”

She grimaced.

“That’s not funny at all. Terrible sense of humor.”

While Vivi hastily tied the rope, Damian looked up at the sky. Through the gaps in the black smoke, daylight streamed down.

Vivi also stopped her handiwork to look up.

The black smoke was slowly dissipating, and the barrier was fading.

“…What exactly did you do?”

“I did what was asked of me.”

“…”

Suddenly, Damian pushed Vivi behind him.

“It seems we’re not done yet.”

His gaze focused beyond the slowly clearing barrier.

As the smoke vanished, the severed external space began to reconnect. Then, a wailing cry reached Vivi’s ears, the first sign of life they had encountered since their journey began.

The wail, like that at a funeral, filled the silence—a thin, long moan from an old woman.

As the barrier completely disappeared, the source of the wailing came into view.

About a hundred paces away sat an old woman, in front of a gravestone and jar identical to the ones used to seal the mages.

Such an unexpected appearance made one think it might be an illusion.

Damian held Vivi’s wrist firmly and walked slowly forward. As they drew nearer, Vivi felt a sense of déjà vu. The old woman’s figure sharpened and a foul stench pricked their noses. Though her flesh was rotting, she was alive and moving.

And then the writing on the gravestone caught their eyes.

“…!”

[Vivi Bailey Gainax]

Her own name was inscribed there. Vivi felt chills run down her spine as if doused with ice water.

Had Damian not held her tightly, she might have collapsed from her legs giving way.

As they approached, the old woman’s wailing ceased. She began to mutter softly.

“The prophecy has crumbled. The blood of the goddess… still, still breathes.”

“Someone who came out of nowhere ruined the prophecy. Order is twisted, balance broken.”

The old woman’s neck twisted grotesquely around to glare at them.

A familiar face. Indeed, as Vivi had intuited, it was the priest whose head Nielrin had severed.

And with eyes bulging from being chewed by worms, she screamed at Damian with fury.

“You are the culprit who ruined the festival!”

The old woman contorted her joints, forcing her decaying body upright.