Chapter 198: Tangled Threads
Evan suddenly remembered something Xiaoshuang had said during her last projected trip to the Black Forest — he'd told her to keep the divine power for herself. Had that offhand remark actually taken hold exactly as spoken?
Confusion swirled through him. Then a flicker of green light surfaced in his mind, a fragment of information rising to the surface — something he'd nearly forgotten, a remnant of the memory the goddess of life had left within him, a small piece of it finally unlocking. It concerned the transfer and granting of divine art. Understanding settled over him: his own careless remark had, in fact, taken hold exactly as spoken. Xiaoshuang had become the true vessel of that divine power, with Evan reduced to a mere conduit. Looking closer at her, he saw her body was already converting the flow of faith into genuine divine power — no core had formed yet, but its shadow was already visible.
Some part of Evan felt a flicker of regret at this — though on reflection, whatever Xiaoshuang could do was, in effect, still his to draw on if needed. Until he understood divine power properly, he preferred to stay cautious regardless — no telling what side effects might follow. He still remembered how expelling divine power from his own body had felt the last time, how poorly it seemed to sit with his own nature. Even carrying that other trace of energy within him, forcing himself to absorb divine power directly might well shatter his own body entirely.
He gave a small smile and, without a word, passed everything he'd just learned along to Xiaoshuang. She stared, dumbstruck. "How did this happen? I've become the main beneficiary of the divine power?"
"Not so strange, really. I'm a lich — divine power and I were never going to agree with each other. Your own nature, though, clearly harmonizes with it beautifully. Seems right that most of it should go to you, my little angel Xiaoshuang," Evan said.
"Do you regret it?" Xiaoshuang asked.
"What is there to regret? I chose my path the moment I became a lich. Honestly, I'd rather avoid the trouble anyway. Now that you've taken on divine power, you carry a responsibility with it too," Evan said.
"That's right — I have divine power now! I've never liked Nobi much. I should go dethrone him, put a new goblin king in charge," Xiaoshuang said, bouncing up with excitement.
"Xiaoshuang, didn't Avna tell you gods shouldn't act on whim? A god is better off not interfering in mortal affairs directly. You can grant divine art, but you shouldn't meddle in the goblins' own lives. Interfere, and the consequences could run severe," Evan said, serious now. In truth, he didn't fully understand the workings of divinity himself, but he remembered the Creator — who had never once interfered in human affairs directly.
Xiaoshuang deflated. "No fun at all!"
"Being a god is a duty, not a game, Xiaoshuang. Since you're missing the Black Forest, go pay it a visit. Grant the priest a healing art and a protective one — nothing else for now," Evan said, sinking into the flow of divine power, which quickly resolved into five distinct colors. A projection of Xiaoshuang split off, and with a ripple of space, she vanished from sight.
As for what Xiaoshuang's projection actually got up to once there, Evan found he had little curiosity to spare following it closely. He'd grown fairly busy lately. Though still teaching Black Magic and Defense, he found himself preparing lessons again from scratch — his own grasp of magic had climbed another rung since last year, and magic itself never stood still. He put real effort into his lesson planning, though he simply kept adding to his existing notebook rather than starting a fresh one.
Xiaoshuang's true body had already gone back to her little house to sleep. Once his lesson plans were finished, Evan rose and ran through his swordwork again, savoring every motion carefully. He also taught the swordsmanship elective as part of the physical education program, though he never bothered preparing lessons for that one — the students practiced purely for exercise, rarely facing real close combat themselves. Anyone who joined the military would have knights to protect them, and anyone entering another field would never need to fight hand to hand at all, mostly performing technical work instead. Swordsmanship, for them, hardly mattered in any practical sense.
The days rolled on, and a week passed. Evan crossed paths with Boniface twice during that stretch, both times simply passing each other as though strangers — impossible to come to blows on school grounds, after all. Evan, to his credit, at least offered Boniface a smile each time; Boniface returned nothing but a frozen, stony expression.
Privately, though, a rivalry had sprung up between them. Evan's own class drew genuine enthusiasm from students, and though Boniface never said a word about it aloud, he'd clearly put real effort into his own teaching in response. His lectures turned out genuinely engaging, and his subject, Demonology, drew real student interest of its own. Evan heard about it and simply smiled.
Evan also noticed Reinhardt beginning to stand out among the students. A member of Zebishini College, his reputation had already spread well beyond it — a full mage among classmates who were mostly still apprentices, he'd steadily grown into something of a natural leader. He'd taken a position in the student council, and Evan noted he seemed to be quietly building his own following as well. Something like admiration mixed with concern rose in Evan at that — the man carried leadership in his very bones.
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Jenny, by comparison, lagged far behind — still a first-tier apprentice even now, though she'd thrown herself diligently into her studies while helping with the gas experiments alongside Jessica and Evan.
Evan first got a real sense of Reinhardt's ambition during one of the physical education swordsmanship classes. The students showed plenty of enthusiasm, but given their talent, none had managed to break through to knight rank — the best among them, in Evan's judgment, had reached only low-tier knight strength.
Reinhardt was different — already a knight, and a mage besides, something Evan had known for some time, though he hadn't expected the man to join the swordsmanship club at all, given how modest its overall skill level was. Within the club, he'd clashed with the sitting club president, and the two had settled the matter through a proper duel — the previous president standing no real chance against him, and going down hard.
Reinhardt had gathered a considerable following within the club since. While Evan was coaching them, during a break, the students began egging him on, calling for a sparring match between Evan and Reinhardt. Reinhardt looked eager enough, though careful to maintain the appearance of a modest, deferential student before his teacher, playing at reluctance.
Evan smiled. "You all still don't understand a mage's true nature. Fight with your mind, not brute strength. Knightly combat isn't your specialty — and it isn't really mine either."
"Teacher, just show us a little! We've heard your swordsmanship is remarkable. Let Reinhardt spar with you," one student said.
The students kept up the pressure, and Evan's protests got him nowhere. "Fine," he finally said. "A mage relies, to a real degree, on ranged attacks, while a knight fights close in — which is exactly why a mage must never let a knight close the distance. Keep your range."
Reinhardt gripped his greatsword, settling into a low stance neither too wide nor too narrow, blade held low in a plowing position. Evan took no particular stance at all — his swordsmanship had long since moved past formal technique — simply standing wherever he happened to stand, drawing the blade from his cane, tip resting on the ground.
Confusion flickered across Reinhardt's face. Evan smiled. "Well done — a low plowing stance, good for both advance and retreat. A fine posture. Go ahead, attack first."
"After you, Teacher!" Reinhardt said — not merely out of modesty. He'd seen Evan's swordwork before, but had no real confidence in his own footing yet, and preferred to observe first.
"Once I move, you'll have no chance left at all. Better you go first," Evan said with a smile.
Reinhardt bristled inwardly, though nothing showed on the surface. "Very well, Teacher. I won't hold back. Please, be careful!"
With that, his left foot stepped forward, and with a roar, his blade swept upward from below like a plow turning earth, flaring with sword-light as he closed the distance — body like a dragon, footwork like a galloping horse, clearly the product of considerable hard work.
Evan simply smiled, unmoving at first, then advanced instead of retreating, driving straight through the blade-light itself. His own blade moved with his body, without any flare of light at all, a single thrust aimed straight at Reinhardt's throat, stopping precisely an inch short of it — while Reinhardt's greatsword swept harmlessly past Evan's side, rising high overhead, missing entirely.
Reinhardt said, bitter. "I've lost." He hadn't expected to fail to land a single exchange against Evan at all — and Evan hadn't even drawn on sword-force to do it. In the blink of an eye, the blade's tip had already found his throat.
Evan withdrew his sword. The students stared, jaws hanging open. "In swordsmanship as in magic, you fight with your mind," Evan said. "Your swordwork is genuinely good, though a little too bound by convention. You're still young."
"I'm grateful for the lesson," Reinhardt said, offering a proper bow, courteous as ever — though a sharp flicker crossed his eyes. He had no intention of staying beneath anyone for long. Just as Evan said, he was young — plenty of time to catch up, perhaps even reach legendary rank himself someday. Ambition burned quietly in his chest.
Evan gave it little further thought. He knew the man carried ambition, certainly, but had no real window into his heart. Ambition wasn't inherently a bad thing — pursued along the right path, it could be called genuine drive; only pursued down a darker road did it become true ambition in the harmful sense.
By mid-September, the floating city was finally complete. Before that, a test flight had already proven successful, everything meeting expectations — all conducted in secret, of course. Emma's lifeboats underwent their own test flights as well. Once Ortlando learned of it, he arranged a private discussion with Emma, followed by a quiet meeting with Evan himself. What exactly was said between them, no one else knew — but Evan emerged from it with a satisfied smile, and it was clear enough his own goal had been achieved.
The lifeboats were renamed airships and taken over entirely by the school, which began secretly producing a considerable fleet of them within the half-plane. Emma transferred there to oversee it, and her old villa now belonged exclusively to Jessica. Evan didn't concern himself further with the details.
The mood across the school grew tense as October 1st approached — the day the floating city would finally rise into the sky. Invitations had already gone out, and this time the guest list ran deep: representatives from Solomon Academy, the Druids, elves from the forest realms, dark elves, even vampires, though none of this was said openly. Church officials and dignitaries from various nations arrived steadily as well, many of them carrying old rivalries with each other, giving Hollingburton no shortage of headaches to manage.
Classes were suspended entirely for the occasion, everyone pressed into hosting duties, each faction assigned its own handlers. Evan found himself among them — Ortlando, well aware of exactly what Evan was, assigned him to host the dark elf and vampire delegations.