Chapter 87: Investment 87: The Whole Team
By the time Elliot arrived at the training field the next morning, it was already clear Jin’s request had been taken considerably more seriously than a simple suggestion.
The entire group had assembled—Deria, Futaba, Edith, Taumus, August, Rose, and Leonard, along with a visibly nervous Jin standing at the field’s center, clearly having underestimated exactly how enthusiastically his friends would embrace the opportunity to test their combined capabilities against a primordial fragment’s untested limits.
"You said bring the team," Deria said, cracking her knuckles with obvious anticipation. "We brought the team."
"I meant maybe three or four people," Jin said, eyeing the assembled group with something between amusement and genuine alarm. "Not the entire student council and Four Seasons simultaneously."
"Too late now," Futaba said cheerfully. "We’re here, we’re ready, and frankly I’ve been dying to see what this fragment actually does in a real group scenario since you first mentioned it yesterday."
Elliot exchanged a glance with Seria, who shrugged, equally unable to argue against the group’s collective enthusiasm.
"Alright," Jin said finally, resigning himself to the situation with visible reluctance. "New plan. We’re going to simulate a coordinated attack scenario—multiple simultaneous threats, some real, some illusory, spread across the entire group. Elliot, your job is simply to react naturally. Don’t force the ward, don’t try to consciously direct it toward specific people. Let’s see what it does when left entirely to its own instincts."
"That’s a lot of trust to place in something I still barely understand," Elliot said.
"Welcome to primordial power," Jin said. "Trust is basically the entire curriculum."
"Comforting," Leonard muttered, though he took up a defensive position without further complaint, golden lightning already crackling faintly along his blade in preparation.
The exercise began cautiously, Jin orchestrating a series of controlled, escalating threats across the group—illusory strikes toward Deria and Futaba first, testing the ward’s baseline response toward allies Elliot considered close but not romantically bonded.
The shield flared, but noticeably slower and less complete than it had for Seria the day before—present, but clearly weighted differently.
"Interesting," Rose observed, watching with clinical focus even as she dodged an illusory strike of her own. "It seems the fragment’s priorities align closely with the depth of your personal bond, not simply proximity or friendship in general."
"Which raises the question," Edith added, "whether that bond can deepen over time for the rest of us, or whether it’s permanently weighted toward whoever it already recognizes as significant."
"Only one way to find out," Taumus said, grinning despite the illusory blade currently arcing toward his ribs. "Keep fighting alongside him. See if the ward eventually catches up."
The session continued for well over two hours, the group cycling through increasingly complex scenarios—simultaneous threats from multiple directions, feints designed to test whether the ward could be tricked into misdirecting its priority, coordinated illusions meant to simulate the exact kind of overwhelming, multi-front assault the Reingard estate had actually suffered days earlier.
By the end, exhausted but energized, the group settled into a loose circle on the grass, comparing notes and theories with the same easy camaraderie that had carried them through the dungeon expedition weeks before.
"You know," August said, stretching out on his back, "for something built around protecting the people Elliot cares about, this fragment’s basically just measuring how much of a soft touch he actually is."
"I resent that characterization," Elliot said, though he was smiling.
"You crushed two vitality potions with your teeth for Seria," Futaba pointed out. "You bonded your soul to an ancient primordial fragment in about four seconds flat to protect your family. I don’t think ’soft touch’ is an insult at this point, Elliot. It’s basically your entire personality."
"She’s not wrong," Seria said, resting her head against his shoulder with quiet, satisfied affection.
"I feel personally attacked by consensus," Elliot said, though the warmth in his voice made clear he didn’t mind it at all.
As the group’s laughter settled into comfortable quiet, Jin studied them all with an expression that had grown steadily more thoughtful over the course of the session.
"For what it’s worth," he said eventually, "I think this—" he gestured broadly at the assembled group, "—might end up being your greatest advantage against whatever the Architect throws at you next. Not just the fragment. All of you, together."
"We already knew that," Rose said simply. "We’ve simply been waiting for the rest of the world to catch up."
Overhead, the afternoon sun continued its steady arc, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, Elliot allowed himself to simply enjoy the moment—surrounded by friends who had already proven, time and again, that they would stand beside him no matter what came next.
As the group finally began packing up, exhaustion catching up with all of them at once, Seria lingered behind with Elliot while the others drifted back toward the dormitories in loose, chattering clusters.
"You seem lighter," she observed, studying him carefully.
"I feel lighter," he admitted. "First time since the siege I haven’t been bracing for something to go wrong."
"Don’t get too comfortable," she said, though without any real edge to the warning. "The Architect hasn’t gone anywhere. Neither has whatever he’s planning next."
"I know." He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together as they made their way off the field. "But I think, for today at least, I’m allowed one afternoon of just being grateful for what I’ve got instead of afraid of what I might lose."
Seria considered that for a moment, then squeezed his hand in quiet agreement.
"Fair enough," she said. "One afternoon."
Behind them, the training field lay quiet once more, scorched and trampled from hours of illusion and effort, a small testament to the strange, hopeful shape their lives had begun taking since that first fateful dungeon expedition.
Tomorrow would bring new questions, new dangers, and undoubtedly new revelations about the fragment and the enemy still hunting it. But tonight, at least, belonged entirely to the quiet, ordinary comfort of walking home hand in hand with someone who refused to let him face any of it alone.