I'd like to say the next two days were a peaceful respite from the chaos of the tournament. I'd really, really like to say that.
But lying has never been my strong suit.
Instead, I got to experience something potentially worse than fighting Valentina: becoming an Academy-wide celebrity... for all the wrong reasons.
Professor Zephyr had given us these three days to recover, probably assuming we'd use that time to rest, study, or strategize. In reality, those hours became an endless parade of me trying—and failing—to escape my newfound fame.
The lectures themselves were blessedly normal. Most professors had switched to review mode, covering concepts we'd already learned earlier in the term. Even Professor Gravitas, who normally delighted in pushing us to the edge of mental collapse, had scaled back to merely challenging rather than soul-crushing lessons. I actually understood his lecture on convergent ley line configurations without feeling like my brain was leaking out my ears.
No, the lectures weren't the problem.
The problem was everywhere else.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're even cuter when you're horrified?" Finn asked, waving his "Chaos-Mother" plushie in my face at breakfast. He squeezed it, and the doll emitted my Mei voice: "Takashi-kun, don't leave me alone with these cursed spirits, desu~!"
I buried my face in my hands. "I never said any of these things."
Gavril, who had been quietly eating his temporal-shifted berries, looked up with that analytical expression he got when examining magical theory. "I heard they installed an enchantment that adds Japanese honorifics. It's quite sophisticated spellwork for a novelty item."
"Wonderful," I groaned. "They're putting more effort into humiliating me than most students put into their final projects."
"Think of it as a compliment," Finn offered, squeezing the plushie again.
"Kyaaa! The probability matrix is destabilizing! Hold me, Takashi-senpai!"
"Good morning, gentlemen." The smooth, cultured voice of Elias Aurellian cut through our conversation as he slid gracefully onto the bench beside me. As always, he looked like he'd stepped out of a fashion magazine for aristocratic mages, not a wrinkle or hair out of place despite the early hour.
"The plushie market is fascinating, isn't it?" He continued, sipping from a porcelain teacup that definitely wasn't standard Academy dining hall issue. "I've acquired additional seven different variants for my collection."
"Collection?" I echoed weakly.
Elias nodded, eyes twinkling with that infuriating amusement he always seemed to have around me. "'Mei's Wedding Day' is particularly valuable. They only made fifty before someone pointed out the potential legal implications of merchandising a student in wedding attire."
"Kill me," I muttered to the ceiling.
"That would invalidate my investment," Elias replied smoothly. "I should warn you that Valentina bought a dozen of the standard models. Rumor has it she's using them for target practice."
Surprisingly, that actually made me feel better. At least someone was treating this situation with the appropriate level of violence.
****
By the next day, I'd spotted plushies everywhere. Students carried them to lectures, professors had them perched on desks (Professor Zephyr had five arranged in different poses), and I even caught Lady Althea in the infirmary using one to demonstrate proper bandaging technique.
The absolute worst part, however, was what happened whenever I was near Elias. Every plushie in his vicinity would track my movement with their little black button eyes, their soft synthetic faces somehow managing to convey expressions of pure, murderous intent. My guess was correct, these plushies hate the guts of me. I tried to convey my fears to Gavril and Finn, but they both had other thoughts in mind.
"That's not the point Asher! You need to understand the cultural impact you're having," Gavril explained as we walked between classes. "Merchandising aside, you've become a symbol."
"Of what? Catastrophic magical failures?"
"Of perseverance. Of someone who keeps getting knocked down, literally, often by your own magical backfires, and getting back up."
I snorted. "That's a very generous interpretation."
"It's true," Finn chimed in. "I overheard some students talking. Whenever they mess up, they say they're 'pulling an Ardent' and laugh it off instead of getting discouraged."
"Great. I'm a cautionary tale and an inspirational figure. The universe's sense of humor gets more sophisticated every day."
We rounded a corner and nearly collided with a cluster of students huddled around what looked like a street vendor's cart, except we were indoors, and the Academy definitely didn't allow commerce on campus.
"Step right up!" A familiar voice boomed. "Get your limited edition! The one and only BLOOMBASTIC BUDDY! Comes with authentic gurgling sounds and random botanical facts!"
I froze in horror. Bloombastic, was energetically hawking miniature versions of himself.
"Bloombastic," I hissed, pushing through the crowd. "What are you doing?"
His bulbous head swiveled toward me, petals perking up. "CHAOS-FATHER! You're just in time! Want to sign some autographs? Increases the value by at least 40%!"
The crowd turned as one, a sea of eager faces and dozens of murderous plushies clutched in their hands.
"I—what—how are you even doing this?" I spluttered. "You can't just set up shop in the hallway!"
"Professor Zephyr gave me a vendor's permit!" Bloombastic announced proudly, one tendril whipping out a very official-looking document stamped with what appeared to be Zephyr's coffee mug ring. "Said it was 'entrepreneurial spirit' and 'excellent cross-species cultural exchange'!"
Of course he did.
"And look!" One of Bloombastic's vines lovingly stroked a larger, more elaborate plushie that was... oh no.
It was a Chaos-Mother plushie wearing a miniature wedding dress, complete with a tiny veil.
"This is Bloomy-bloom's special lady friend!" He announced proudly. "We're very happy together!"
The crowd cooed appreciatively while I contemplated whether jumping out a window would result in certain death or merely severe injury. With my luck, I'd probably land on something soft and be forced to return to this nightmare.
Finn was doubled over laughing, utterly useless as a friend in this moment of crisis. Gavril at least had the decency to look sympathetic while struggling to keep a straight face.
"Bloombastic," I said with forced calm. "We need to talk about appropriate boundaries and…"
"OH! Almost forgot to tell everyone!" Bloombastic's head changed colors rapidly in excitement. "The special edition 'Mei's Wedding Day' plushies come with a FREE mini-Takashi! When placed together, they ACTUALLY BLUSH!" His vines demonstrated, pushing the two dolls together until the cheeks of both plushies turned pink.
The crowd erupted in delighted gasps and began frantically digging for coin purses.
I backed away slowly, deciding this battle was lost before it began. When will I ever escape this hell?
****
The fourth day arrived with blessed finality. The tournament's Level 2 was about to begin, which meant people might finally focus on something other than merchandising my humiliation.
"Ready for this?" Finn asked as we joined the crowd of students gathering in the Nexus. "I heard Level 2 is where things get weird."
"Weirder than turning into an anime girl engaged to Elias? Hard to imagine," I replied.
"Speaking of which..." Gavril nodded toward where Elias stood across the chamber, surrounded by his usual entourage of admirers. When he caught my eye, he raised an elegant eyebrow and smirked. I deliberately looked away.
The massive crystalline heart at the center of the Nexus pulsed with golden light, and Professor Zephyr's amplified voice rang out.
"Welcome back, illustrious competitors and esteemed spectators!" he called, spreading his arms wide. He wore what appeared to be a bureaucrat's outfit, but with sleeves that changed color every few seconds.
Beside him, Bloombastic's bulbous head bobbed excitedly, a tiny announcer's bowtie somehow affixed to his stem.
"WHAT A SPECTACULAR GATHERING!" Bloombastic boomed. "The statistical probability of such talented competitors all surviving Level 1 is APPROXIMATELY THE SAME AS MY COUSIN BERTIE GROWING FIVE HEADS! Which he did, actually, after a particularly nasty fertilizer incident in '19!"
Professor Zephyr cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you for that... illuminating comparison, Bloombastic. Now, competitors, prepare yourselves for 'The Department of Magical Bureaucracy'!"
The crystal heart projected enormous images into the air, endless rows of filing cabinets, desks floating in impossible arrangements, and paper airplanes zooming through a labyrinthine office space.
"Your task is simple," Zephyr continued with a suspiciously cheerful smile. "Navigate the bureaucratic maze, obtain the necessary signatures on Form 88B, and reach the exit. Easy!"
From the projected images, this looked about as "easy" as fighting a dragon with nothing but sarcasm and a pointy stick.
"Additionally," Zephyr added, "this challenge will require you to face personalized obstacles designed to test your individual weaknesses and strengths. Good luck! You'll need it!"
He winked directly at me when he said that last part. Great.
Finn suddenly stiffened beside me. "Wait, I just remembered somethi…"
But whatever he was about to say was cut off as the floor beneath us transformed into a series of metallic tubes. With a startled yelp, I felt myself being sucked downward into darkness.
"AND SO IT BEGINS!" Bloombastic's ecstatic voice echoed around us. "MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR, WAIT, WRONG FRANCHISE! MAY PROBABILITY BEND IN INTERESTING WAYS!"
I was falling, tumbling through a bewildering series of twists and turns, my stomach lurching with each directional change. Just when I thought I might be trapped in this metal intestine forever, I was unceremoniously spat out onto a cold marble floor.
I lay there for a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning. When I finally looked up, I found myself in the most aggressively normal-looking office space imaginable, if normal offices ignored basic physics and spatial geometry.
Desks floated at various heights and angles, some upside-down with their occupants seemingly unaffected by gravity. Filing cabinets stretched endlessly in all directions, occasionally shuffling themselves like deck of cards. Paper airplanes zoomed overhead, some bursting into tiny fireworks when they collided. The lighting flickered between painfully bright and eerily dim in no discernible pattern.
A desk directly in front of me had a nameplate reading "NEW ARRIVAL PROCESSING" and was staffed by a bored-looking goblin in a three-piece suit.
"Name?" the goblin demanded without looking up from his paperwork.
"Asher Ardent."
The goblin's ears twitched. He slowly raised his head, eyes narrowing as he studied me. Then he reached under his desk and pulled out what appeared to be a full-body umbrella, which he promptly opened and huddled under.
"OF COURSE it would be you," he muttered. "The Chaos-Father. The statistical anomaly. The absurdity magnet."
"I see my reputation precedes me," I sighed.
"We've had a betting pool going on when you'd arrive," the goblin informed me, still cowering under his umbrella. "Congratulations, you've just made Jenkins from Accounting very rich."
From somewhere in the distance, I heard a jubilant "YES!" followed by what sounded like a champagne cork popping.
The goblin reluctantly emerged from his shelter and thrust a thick packet at me. "Here's your Welcome Packet. Don't say we didn't warn you."
I accepted the packet, which contained:
A map that was currently folding itself into an origami swanA ticket with numbers that kept changing before my eyesA quill that whispered riddles when I touched itAnd an intimidatingly thick form labeled "Form 1A: Tournament Participant Registration" with what appeared to be 742 fields to complete
"So I just fill this out and…"
"No, no, NO!" The goblin looked horrified. "Form 1A is merely your application to receive Form 29-B, which you must complete to request Form 62-R, which grants you permission to apply for Form 88B. Did you not read the orientation materials?"
"I... don't think I received any orientation materials."
The goblin's expression softened slightly into something almost like pity. "Of course you didn't. That would make this too easy." He sighed deeply. "Your goal is to obtain Form 88B with three required signatures, then reach the exit door."
He pointed to a door visible in the distance that seemed to be... moving? Yes, it was definitely drifting further away even as I watched.
"And the three signatures?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"One from Professor Parallax, one from your greatest enemy, and one from the Ethical Dilemma Storage Cabinet." The goblin's thin lips stretched into what might generously be called a smile. "Simple!"
"Any advice?" I asked hopefully.
The goblin glanced around furtively, then leaned forward. "Between you and me, kid? Your probability field might actually be an advantage in here. This department runs on illogic and impossibility. Normal thinking will get you nowhere."
That was... actually somewhat encouraging.
"Oh, and one more thing," the goblin added as I turned to leave. "Watch out for Cabinet #4721. Gertie's in a mood today. Didn't get her morning tea."
With that cryptic warning, he stamped a paper with "PROCESSED" and dropped it into a slot in his desk, where it disappeared with a sound like a flushing toilet.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the bureaucratic nightmare, clutching my welcome packet and wondering what fresh chaos awaited me.
At least it couldn't be worse than the plushies.
...Could it?