Chapter 22 – The Seeds of War
The wind carried the scent of rain and freshly disturbed earth.
Jessica adjusted the weight of her pack, the mana crystals inside shifting slightly with the movement. Around her, soldiers stood at attention—knights in polished armor, mages wrapped in thick travel cloaks, strategists muttering over maps.
They were preparing for war.
A knight beside her muttered, voice thick with disdain.
"Filthy creatures. The moment this activates, their mages will be useless. We'll crush them before they even realize what's happened."
Jessica nodded absently, though her focus remained ahead—on the engineers etching intricate runes into the valley floor.
The process was methodical. Precise. This wasn't some reckless assault.
This was strategy.
A war to end a war.
"Once it's buried, we fall back.""And if it doesn't trigger?""It won't matter. We'll take the city before they realize what we've done."
Their voices faded into the background as Jessica exhaled slowly, gaze lingering on the device. A modified mana surge bomb—designed not to destroy, but to disrupt.
A flood of raw energy would overload circuits, destabilize spells, cripple their mages before the battle even began.
Just a little longer. Then it's over.
The final engravings were completed. The ground sealed itself, the runes fading into nothing.
A strategist stepped beside her, clapping a hand on her shoulder.
"Good work. With this, we'll finally be rid of them."
Jessica turned toward him—toward the knights standing by the trench, the scholars monitoring the magical frequencies.
___
And for a moment, everything felt too still.
The valley stretched before them, bathed in pale moonlight.
Jessica inhaled deeply, letting the cool air settle her thoughts. Victory was inevitable.
She shifted slightly, her gaze catching on something glinting among the scattered equipment—a discarded sword, its polished surface reflecting the dim light.
Her breath caught.
For a single second, something about the image felt wrong.
Her features—too sharp in the dim glow. Her skin—too smooth, too pale. Her eyes—too deep, too empty.
She exhaled sharply, stomach twisting. Something in her recoiled.
Her hand flinched before she realized she had even moved. A twitch, a reflex, as if she wanted to push the mirror away—to reject whatever she was seeing.
And then—
The reflection disappeared.
Not shifted. Not distorted. Simply... gone.
The polished metal reflected only the valley behind her.
Jessica blinked.
Her pulse wasn't fast, but it felt heavy.
Was that...?No. No, I'm just tired.
She exhaled, forcing herself to turn away. Didn't look back.
And then—
"Commander! Urgent request from the eastern flank!"
A scout ran toward them, armor dusted with ash, breathing heavily.
"His Highness requires reinforcements. They're under siege!"
Jessica tensed, thoughts of the bomb evaporating.
"Where?""The forest beyond the ridge. They're holding, but not for long."
Her feet were already moving before she processed it. She left the site, left the valley, left the device buried beneath the earth—never realizing she would never return to detonate it.
The war doesn't end with one battle. There's always another.I'll come back for it later.
She never did.
___
Jessica woke up gasping.
Her chest heaved, fingers digging into the thin sheets of the infirmary bed. No sword. No armor. No battlefield. Just fabric, sweat, and the steady pulse of her own erratic heartbeat.
The ceiling above was wooden. Familiar. Solid. She was at Arcadia. Not a valley filled with knights. Not running toward a battle she had never finished.
Here. Now. Alive.
Jessica exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. The dream was still too fresh.
It wasn't real. It was nothing. Just a hallucination.
A dream is just a dream.
Even if it feels real. Even if it makes you wonder...
A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"You're awake."
A healer entered, arms crossed. She looked unimpressed.
"Honestly, Moran. You might have survived, but your body is a disaster."
Jessica barely blinked as the woman approached, inspecting her injuries with an annoyed sigh. Bruises ran from her wrists to her shoulders—deep, ugly marks that hadn't fully faded even with healing magic.
The dull, aching pulse of her ribs and abdomen reminded her that she had barely escaped being crushed more than once.
And when she shifted, pain shot through both knees and her ankles, stiff and swollen.
Right. Those took too much impact.
She winced. The healer noticed.
"Severe joint strain. Internal bruising. Your body isn't keeping up with how you fight."
"I'll be fine." "You'll be permanently damaged if you keep this up."
Jessica didn't argue. She barely reacted. The dream still clung to her, its edges blurring into the waking world.
The healer clicked her tongue, reaching for something in her kit.
"You need to see for yourself. Here—"
She lifted a small, polished hand mirror.
Jessica's breath hitched.
"Take a look."
Jessica reached for it without thinking. • Her fingers brushed against the cool metal. • The glass tilted toward her. • And for the first time in her waking memory—
She saw herself.
And her stomach twisted.
For a brief moment, something flickered— Her skin too smooth. Her eyes too deep, too empty. And then—
Jessica's hand moved before she could stop herself.
She slapped the mirror away.
Glass shattered instantly.
Pain shot through her palm—sharp, sudden.
The room fell silent.
Jessica exhaled sharply, pulse roaring in her ears. Too fast. Too loud.
Shards of the mirror lay scattered across the floor, reflecting broken pieces of her expression. A few drops of red splattered against the fragments—her blood, pooling unnaturally, slow and thick against the smooth surface.
Her mind stalled.
That should be bleeding faster.
The healer let out an irritated noise, kneeling to retrieve the remains of the mirror.
"Moran! Was that necessary?"
Jessica pulled her hand back instinctively, fingers flexing.
Then—before the conversation could continue, the words left her mouth without thinking.
"Did you find it?"
The healer blinked.
"...Find what?"
Jessica forced a breath, clenching her bleeding hand.
"The runes. The bomb. The mana surge.""...What?"
Jessica's pulse pounded in her ears.
It's fine. Just rationalizing it. The dream was too real, that's all.
It didn't really happen. Did it?
Across the room, Lucien and Tobias were watching her too closely.
Jessica exhaled slowly.
"Never mind."
___
Jessica rose to her feet, keeping most of her weight off her right ankle as she steadied herself.
Pain flared down her legs, but she forced herself to ignore it, limping toward the door.
I just need to move. Sitting still makes it worse.
She didn't glance at the others.
The moment she was gone, Tobias exhaled sharply.
"Tell me I'm not the only one who thought that was weird."
The healer muttered under her breath, sweeping up the remaining glass.
Lucien was still silent.
Tobias turned toward him with a scowl.
"You're staring too hard, Hohenfeld. What are you thinking?"
Lucien leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers against the table.
"...She noticed something."
Tobias raised an eyebrow.
"She's recovering from battle. Maybe her head's just—""No." Lucien's voice was smooth, even. "She noticed something before the mana surge hit. She reacted before the recoil took effect."
Tobias frowned.
Lucien finally looked away from the door, gaze settling on the fractured mirror shards on the floor.
"I want to see the site."
Tobias's shoulders tensed slightly.
"That place is swarming with clean-up teams. You'd be dragging someone else into another pointless mystery."
Lucien shrugged.
"I'm bringing Hannelore."
Tobias scoffed.
"Why her?"
Lucien smirked slightly.
"Because she's not dramatic."
Tobias rolled his eyes.
"That's your reasoning?"
Lucien tilted his head slightly, gaze turning sharper.
"She's sharp, calm, and doesn't waste time on gossip. The others wouldn't go near that site again, and I don't want to deal with the Royals taking this too seriously."
Tobias frowned at that.
"Too seriously?"
Lucien exhaled through his nose, glancing at the closed infirmary door again.
"You know how they are. If they think there's even the slightest connection to something bigger, it becomes a political issue. I don't have the patience for that."
Tobias considered that, then nodded.
"Fair."
Lucien smirked faintly.
"As for Magnus... He's competent, but his background makes him a poor fit for this. He thinks too much like a fighter. Not an investigator."
Tobias huffed.
"And you're what? A detective now?"
Lucien chuckled, standing.
"No. I'm just curious."
Then, without another word, he was gone.
___
Jessica limped through the academy corridors, her uniform still stiff with dried blood and grime. The bruises beneath her sleeves throbbed with every movement, her joints stiff and aching from the sheer abuse her body had suffered.
She ignored the pain.
She ignored the whispers.
She ignored the way students looked at her now—eyes flicking toward her bruised limbs, then quickly away, as if uncertain what expression they should wear.
Because no one had expected her to return alive.
Jessica adjusted her path toward the dormitories, her body craving rest, but the moment she turned the corner—
She felt it.
A shift in the air.
Jessica's breath hitched.
The flow of mana around her had changed—no, not just changed. It was surging.
The ground pulsed faintly beneath her steps, a sensation most mages wouldn't even notice, but to her, it felt like a tangible weight pressing down on the academy.
Her gaze flicked toward the open courtyard.
The training grounds.
Despite the exhaustion screaming through her bones, Jessica adjusted her course, each limping step carrying her toward the source of the disturbance.
As she stepped onto the stone walkway overlooking the training field, the sight that greeted her was chaotic.
The entire elite class was there.
Flames roared, lightning crackled, torrents of water crashed against solid rock formations—students were throwing everything they had into their magic, the sheer concentration of power making the very air thrum with unstable energy.
It wasn't controlled. It wasn't refined.
It was desperate.
Jessica narrowed her eyes.
It wasn't just magic.
Some students were training in fundamental swordwork—not because they had relied on it before, but because they had been caught unprepared.
Their spells had failed them in the mana surge.
Now, half of them were doubling down on magic—because the idea of another surge happening was absurd, a once-in-a-lifetime event, and their answer was simply to be stronger next time.
The other half, though, had lost trust in their magic entirely.
Now they were here, grinding away at basic fundamentals—combat stances, dodging drills, footwork—not because they wanted to use swords, but because they never wanted to feel that helpless again.
It wasn't a question of which was right.
It was a compensation mechanism.
Jessica's fingers twitched at her side.
None of them were thinking clearly.
Magic had always been absolute. The idea that it could fail had never once crossed their minds.
Now?
They didn't know how to cope.
Jessica tilted her head, watching them impassively.
This wasn't discipline.
This was fear.
And fear made people reckless.
She exhaled slowly through her nose.
This had nothing to do with her.
She turned to leave—
"Tch. Hannelore."
Tobias's voice cut through the background noise, sharp with irritation.
Jessica glanced sideways.
Lucien and Tobias had caught up, but they weren't here for her.
They had their eyes on Hannelore Eisendreich—the infamous Ice Queen—who was currently locked in a sparring match, her rapier flashing as she dueled one of the other elite students.
Jessica recognized the noble she was fighting.
One of the ones who had mocked the Moran family.
Jessica exhaled.
Tobias scoffed. "Then I'll train too."
He turned his gaze to the student, his emerald eyes narrowing slightly.
"Fight me instead."
The noble hesitated.
Tobias rolled his shoulders. "You talk a lot about swords, but I don't think you actually know how to use one."
Jessica's lips twitched slightly.
She didn't need to watch the outcome.
Tobias was already walking forward, loosening his arms, completely relaxed.
But the moment the noble met his eyes—something in his posture shifted.
The quiet, unspoken dare.
Tobias wasn't just challenging him to a duel.
He was forcing him to acknowledge the very thing their family had always been mocked for.
The weight of the Moran blade.
Jessica let her weight rest against the stone railing, her aching body making it impossible to stand straight for much longer.
She wasn't thinking about proving anything.
She didn't need to.
They all knew it.
That was why they wouldn't look at her.
Not directly.
Not yet.
Because whether they admitted it or not, every single person in that training field was still haunted by the same realization.
If they had been more like her—if they had trained for a battlefield without magic—
Would they have survived?
Jessica exhaled.
She wasn't interested in their answers.
She turned away, stepping off the walkway.
She was too damn tired for this.