The Apprentice of Ouroboros [Monster Evo LitRPG Adventure]

The next day, Neska ventured out alone to class; she wished Juni were able to attend, but her presence in a witch-exclusive classroom likely wouldn’t serve much purpose. She instead had elected to take the time to go to the library and meet up with Syra to make her ‘book smart’.

Syra preferred her lessons from a practical standpoint, given what she’d said before about skipping class a time or two. Meanwhile, Neska traveled to the large cathedral building on the north end of the campus. A few human students were hurrying past her and gave her odd looks as she passed by. She didn’t know why she earned that wary glance; maybe Awakened didn’t have lessons up on this side of the grounds?

She examined the note that Corvin had given her to meet with Professor Kalloway. Her first thought upon looking at the building was that it had all the trappings of an ancient church of mismatched brickwork, but sturdily constructed. The observation tower rose high above the grounds, with a bell barely visible at the top.

She wondered what the view must be like from up there; most of the campus had a barrier wall that cut off the valley vista unless one specifically travelled up to the observation posts. Most of the time, students were studying at the vantage points, or Valos military guards stood at attention, monitoring the valley with large glass scopes.

Hadn’t they ever heard of divination techniques? They certainly had a massive aerie of winged beasts that looked like griffins on the top of the large military-style compound, plus a large stable on the ground level that might be prudent to utilize. She doubted dragons would be willing to offer their services, and were more in the business of stealing gold and burning things for fun.

Well, so she heard, at any rate. If the Varadur have dragons, why do they not use them much? Maybe it was better not to tempt fate by asking such a loaded question.

She slid through a large double-door entryway without any effort. The main hall matched what she imagined a church should look like, with a large vaulted ceiling and massive wooden beams and metal brackets fixing them to the corners of the room. A decorative chandelier housed small, arcane wisps, ever-burning, and provided a soft white light to the room and the rows of squat desks and chairs within.

Only a few people were present; she saw a pair of students with their noses in books and talking quietly at their desks. Neska’s gaze fell upon the podium, flanked by two decorative pillars at the other end of the room, the podium on a raised platform to overlook the rows of students who would be in attendance. Stained glass windows depicting a–

Her arms went slack to her side. Depicted on the stained glass was a mosaic of three divine beasts. One of which she should know by heart as the world serpent, Ouroboros, depicted in venom green and blue scales…except this depiction had arms.

Huh?

She’d never seen a picture of Ouroboros with arms before, or at the same scale as other beasts. Neither had she seen the Divine Beast of knowledge, Kimisura, a nine-tailed foxlike being wearing scholarly robes and depicted with orange and gold fur. In his hands, he held a large tome of knowledge, along with Ouroboros holding one of his hands to the tome, seemingly turning a page.

The third Divine Beast was Gaia, depicted as a large silver dragon. Gaia was known for her domain of bravery, strength, and nobility. For all the grievances she’d heard people had with dragons, this was one Divine Beast that seemed to go against the grain, coming off as a protective figure, calm and reserved.

Whispers echoed at the extremes of her hearing. Not from people present. These voices were distinct. She knew them

This was something from the past. From the girl who came before.

“Neska, tell me, if you can. What do these divines have in common?”

“They’re divine beasts of lore. Ouroboros has watched the world end and begin times beyond counting. Kimisura has chronicled the world and its knowledge, each permutation. Gaia…Gaia stands eternal, protecting her children's worlds.”

She blinked and felt the memory seep through her mind, overlaying the past over this same spot. Risha stood by the podium, waving to the stained glass as if she were a curator at a museum.

And, without that grim look marring her face, speaking contentedly. “This mosaic is as old as the church, built when the Arivolian empire was but a few scattered settlements trying to unite under a common defense strategy. They survived raiders, monster attacks, terrible storms, and became a nation of industry. Magical tech. Now it’s a graveyard and a lair for demons and horrors of the world.”

The younger Risha smiled faintly. “Will this place become a ruin? Or will it become a beacon of hope that shall shine brightly for centuries?”

She blinked, and there was no Risha. No younger girl watching on with keen interest, in a building steeped in history.

All that stood there now was a lamia, trying to figure out her place in the world, with an impossible task to finish.

“I won’t let this place become a ruin,” she whispered.

“Oh, good, I’m fond of the place, too.”

Neska coiled and jumped backward five feet, startled by the person who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to her right. She landed like a spring, her pulse spiking and wondering who would have the courage to...

He put his hands defensively. "Didn't mean to startle you, sorry, miss. I was expecting someone." The new arrival was an elder man who was wearing...was that a witch hat, just like hers?

"Professor Kalloway, I presume?” she asked calmly despite the surprise, noting the male professor with the witch hat not dissimilar to her own. “S-sorry, I was taking in the sights. It's my first time here. I’m not late, am I?”

He glanced down at a pocket watch hanging from a chain and shook his head, looking positive. “You’re actually five minutes early, and punctual. Cassia, correct?”

“Yes.” Now that she was closer, she saw that he was average height, average build, and had light grey eyes. His hat was dark brown with a black buckle, and somewhat plain compared to hers. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, giving his eyes an almost magnified look. His hair was wiry and streaked with grey, a stoop of his spine suggesting middle-age, with calloused hands and skin blemishes.

He continued. “But it’s not your real name. And I believe I understand why.”

“No. It's...an identity I have to wear.” She frowned. How had he figured that out? She thought Harvine and company would have been as subtle as possible. “Were you briefed on the circumstances?”

His gaze was directed slightly upward, and his expression brightening a little, “I didn’t need to be. That’s Risha Aksen’s hat. I haven't seen it in years, yet I see you wearing it…” he let out a soft sigh. “I know that Risha’s dead. That’s all I was told, one of a handful of people, and told to keep it on a need-to-know basis. And you were there with her at the end.”

“I…I was.” It took all her focus to avoid thinking of that horrific night. “But how?”

“Her hat. Your lamia form. Risha had a thing for snakes, long before Arivol became a cautionary tale, so I didn’t have to do any substantial guesswork.” He examined her up and down, and pointed to her hat. "You know something, it does suit you. I had heard you had witch powers. But how deeply does it go?"

“The hat recognizes my class, odd as that sounds," she answered. "Can we...maybe discuss this in someplace a bit more...enclosed?" The cavernous room almost felt too large for her liking now.

“Oh, certainly, that was part of my plan already. My office is up in the observation tower…oh.” Neska gave him a skeptical look and pointed to her serpentine lower half. “It’s not a steep set of stairs.”

That was a blatant lie. She had to climb three flights of stairs leading up to the top of the tower, and small windows gave hints of their ascent. The wooden stairwell was reinforced with brickwork walls, faded and ancient. It wasn’t an easy climb for her either; her serpentine body had to undulate forward while she gripped the rails. This might be the one case where having legs isn’t such a bad thing.

She wondered if her [Sudden Molt] would allow her to travel vertically. The only problem with using it was that her clothes would remain on her molt double.

If any ability needed an upgrade for a profound limiting factor, this was the one. Maybe she should test it out later–preferably with no one around.

When they got to the top, Kalloway pushed open a wooden door with iron bands reinforcing the wood across the middle. A small runic symbol was etched on the wood, and a nameplate was screwed in for Professor Rubin Kalloway. “I do like the view, but the steps are a bit of a pain. This building is ancient and all glued together like a vanity project on and off for a hundred years."

He wasn’t wrong. The brickwork was mismatched in a few places, as if two different styles had been used. Then again, with magic in the mix, should that really have been a problem?

Neska slid into the wide room and examined the large office. There was an antique, cherry-colored desk in one corner of the room, surrounded on three sides by windows, and a brick backing on the fourth. A small alchemist station was tucked away in a small closet area, and most of the floor was spacious, with a few sets of bookcases practically overflowing with books and parchment collections.

The floor in the center was stone, carved incredibly flat, with a smooth, nearly polished look. She saw an etch for where runes could be traced in, and a large, circular metal stairwell led to the top floor. It felt a touch cooler here than outside; aside from the single fireplace set in the back wall, she wondered how it fared during winter.

“Like what you see? Most people prefer the convenience of the ground floor for classes. The room you came in from was originally an old church dedicated to the Divines.”

“Divines, plural?” she asked. “You know, that has bothered me since I got here…and this probably death-induced memory lapses talking, but…I must know. If people associate the Divines with the monsters, why are they still worshipped or given prayer to?”

“Hmm…good question. The truth is, no one’s proven a direct connection between the Divines and the Varadur. Not with concrete evidence. The damning proof lies in all this being Lachmir the Damned’s doing. Before the fall of Arivol, the Divines were a signature part of many communities, urban and rural. The mural on the ground floor shows only three, but there are, of course, many more.”

Kalloway waved her to the desk, and the seat reshaped itself to form a little padded bowl shape for her to rest in. “I want to make one of these for my dorm room. They’re cozy,” she said as she settled in.

“Oh, honestly speaking, you could probably just request one without issue. The students of this academy can and do risk their lives for everyone on the continent.” He lifted his hat off his head and set it on the desk in one corner. His wiry hair was no less grey underneath, and it was slightly matted. “As I was saying, the only theory we have is that Lachmir, in his insanity, created a god, or a divine beast. And then everything went to hell.”

“So, no one knows for sure? No one’s asked the monsters for their opinion?” I cannot be the only person on this planet who has had mostly rational dialogue with the Varadur. I just can’t be.

His eyes narrowed. “If the Varadur made themselves easy to capture, we’d have done that. But no, many of them are feral and follow basic commands, or guard specific areas within a biome niche that suits them. The intelligent ones are dangerous for their own reasons, and what few we’ve captured alive weren’t much use, or didn’t live long enough. Twenty years in, we know staggering little about their social structure or even their intentions, other than ravaging any humanoid settlements, and are driven by an unknown force. We’ve theorized they have a controller or commander of sorts, but proof is hard to come across.”

“I see.” She glanced around the room, noting the books piled up, notes scribbled on a pad of paper on his desk, and how he’d been eating meals here, based on a small pile of dishes tucked away in one corner of the room.

“I can’t help but notice that I am not in a classroom. Why?”

“Because I was concerned about how much attention that would draw. Your unique Lamia abilities to mimic the witch class might work for alchemy and rituals. But I think it would be too hard a sell for the witch class I teach, which currently has a dozen students. Witch classes are relatively uncommon."

She raised a brow at this. “Settle a bet with me. It’s not a gender restricted class, is it?”

He grunted audibly. “Not the first time someone said that. The answer's no. I presume you ask for curiosity and not for amusement?”

“I think anyone should have the chance to do something they enjoy. I doubt you would have picked up the witch class if it didn’t call to you on a fundamental level.”

He smiled faintly. “Quite right. Here in my office, I can do most anything, minus rituals that require multiple individuals to cast. Something about this tower radiates power; it’s steeped in mana, forged by the flow of history. You can find lots of old settlements where ritual effects are somewhat stronger, more concentrated.”

“Ambient mana, right?”

“Right. People forget that mana isn’t just in our bodies; it’s in the earth, the plants, the fungi. Anywhere you look, you can find at least traces of it. It’s integral to our world. And the Varadur, strangely, though I wonder if it’s something they acquired after their arrival here on Galwein.”

He took a second to clear his throat. “Miss Cassia, I must ask. Are you prepared for the burden of work and a difficult path ahead? Because I can promise you, fully utilizing your abilities will not be easy, on top of your other classes.”

“Do you know why I’m here?” she asked.

“Because that damned crazy witch had a plan to save the world, and you’re probably our best bet, if you’re here and she’s not.” All the energy left his posture as he said that, a sound of resignation, likely a long time in the making.

“You sound frustrated.”

“Her loss…is incalculable. I knew her for years...and yet, after her death, how much did I really know about her?" he asked aloud. "Toward the end, before she left? She acted as if she didn’t trust her peers. And I know I am not the only one who thinks that, though we haven’t said out loud to each other.” She wondered whether he was referring to Harvine or Serkin. Or maybe more people, even.

“She didn’t have a plan that she telegraphed to you? Wrote letters, or maybe communicated with you by an arcane relay device?” she pressed. He shook his head gently. “Did she leave anything to indicate what the plan was? All I know is that it has something to do with the interface. That’s what my gut instinct tells me. It’s tied to that.”

“To do what, though?” he asked. “We’ve been trying to find a creative solution since the damn monsters popped out of the earth from the rifts. No one’s cracked where this fervor comes from, or who directs them. And the Interface simply…is. It's fundamental to the world.”

“But who made it? It acts like a–a construct, almost!” She was almost tempted to mention Vivi, but she would probably be dismissed as being too attached to her Interface and its adjustment to the individual user.

“Yours, specifically?”

“Professor, the Varadur act very strangely when I’ve encountered them. There is something that shakes loose in them when they’re close to death that makes me think there’s a thinking creature in there, just as intelligent as us. Trapped.”

He raised his brow. “Explain.”

“Human-like emotions. Sadness, loss, resignation. A feeling of being insignificant, that they’re no more than meat for a meat grinder,” she stated with focus.

Zhuren and Tanileth had displayed higher-functioning thoughts before succumbing to their wounds. They spilled information that they should not have…possibly to help her? It was all theory at this point, and two points of reference weren’t solid enough–

No. Three. Felix had run. The Varadur, and by extension, any Corrupted Awakened, fought to the last. They rarely fled despite suffering casualties, which would render other forces' combat ineffective. Three points suggested a pattern. One that needed to be examined in due time, either during the upcoming field training, or in this class, to dive deeper into the Interface, or research.

“Something directs them. But I also wonder if something forces them, compels them to act. The dying words of a lowly hawk were that they only name the things they don’t want to lose. They, being the entity that directs them."

He raised a brow at this. "They conversed with you? That's a rarity. Even odder to hear them say something like that...you're not paraphrasing, are you? That's a direct quote."

She raised herself slightly higher. “Correct. By themselves, they seem...odd. But taken in multiple instances, it must mean something.

"Professor, I need to train up my witch skills to uncover secrets that the Varadur and those who lead them are hiding. I think there is a vulnerability that could be exploited. I’ll need to unlock my full power suite to do that. But where do I start?"

“Well, you’ve got the hexes and blessings down, according to Harvine. You’re also taking alchemy and ritual work–I’m going to have to talk to Thistle and Sakiri about accelerating the pace to get students' practical working knowledge faster for you.” He leaned back in the chair, rocking it gently. “Question is, are you prepared to learn all the nuances of being a witch? Our power is not just that, but uncovering secrets of the old magic, the undercurrent of the world. Like druids, we are quite proficient at tuning in and listening to it, feeling its flow.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start.” She hesitated for a second before continuing. “Can we begin today?”

“I thought you’d never ask. I do have a curriculum prepared, but since it’s a class of one and we’re being discreet…if you have a direction you want to drive your learning toward, I’ll give some latitude.”

She did, indeed, have a direction to drive this class. A burning question she'd been formulating, ever since meeting her first Varadur. “I have one inquiry. Well, two, but they might be related.” She took a slow breath. “How much do you know about corruption? Also, how much do you know about Soul Resistance?”