Alicarde woke up feeling groggy, his head throbbing as though it had been struck by a mountain. He vaguely remembered disembarking the helicopter upon reaching the mansion's helipad, but the rest was a blur. The adverse effects of forming a pact with Wrath had left him with a severe feeling of vertigo.
He checked his phone and saw that it was already 5:30 in the evening.
"Did I sleep through the whole day?" he muttered, scrolling through his phone.
Several unread messages from Anne, his friend, caught his eye. Among them was an image of a poster. Glancing at the date, he realized that two days had passed.
"Huh, what... I slept for two days? I was out cold for two days," he grumbled, holding his head.
He clicked on the poster Anne had sent him. It was about the university convocation. He vaguely recalled reading about it—the convocation ceremony was a formal event held by Evergreen University to welcome its freshman students.
Alicarde wondered why they didn't hold it before classes started. After the formal events, freshmen and returning students would party and get to know each other.
What made it more exciting was that they did so at the administration's expense. They apparently spent thousands of dinars on the event, which lasted all night. Although Alicarde wasn't one for parties and loud places, attendance was compulsory, at least for the first part.
"Seriously, shouldn't they have done that before we became disillusioned by the harsh realities of college life?" he muttered, getting out of bed.
Then again, he wasn't one to talk; he had already missed a few classes and had slept through two whole days of his student life.
"Does supernatural drama count as an excuse to miss classes?" Alicarde wondered aloud.
His professors in the Department of Psychology would likely promote him from scholar to a patient in need of help, if he used that as an excuse. While there were myths about demons, djinns, and angels, they didn't belong in academic circles. In a modern world, no one took such things seriously, they were considered superstition and folklore.
"They would have an easier time believing me if I said I was attacked by espers," Alicarde remembered. Urban legends about espers had at least some public recognition.
Despite the existence of such innate abilities among humans, they remained urban legends to the general public.
Alicarde noticed a truly worrying message about his group assignment with the unbelievably beautiful Professor Malefica Farmazoană. He remembered her for two reasons, her striking beauty, which could rival Carrisa's, and her cold, strict demeanor.
"And there was also her ample chest, but who's looking, not me," Alicarde smiled to himself.
If Alicarde could make a wish and get away with it, it would be to tease the beautiful professor just to see her strict exterior crumble. However, he had a feeling that if he tried, she might just get him expelled.
He sighed, lamenting how he couldn't get his wish.
Tomorrow was the submission date, and he had no idea what the topic was. He considered calling Anne and asking her, but he felt guilty. While he was asleep, it must have felt like he was ghosting her, and he had indeed ghosted her when he was depressed.
She was the only person he talked to in his whole department, or any department for that matter. To him, the rest might as well be NPCs; he didn't even remember their names or faces.
"I'll just leave tomorrow's troubles to tomorrow's Alicarde," he mused dejectedly.
He felt like he had been through quite a lot in the past few days. He had a death race with Argint, experienced depression after she attacked him and cried about her brother's death, went on a healing trip that was anything but healing, and ended up fighting in a duel for Carrisa's life.
Carrisa had been "kidnapped," only for it to turn out that she had gone willingly. The arsonist princess had set her own retreat ablaze. Alicarde wondered how much it would cost.
"Oh God, how many millions of dinars must that have cost? If I owned that, I would rather burn it than see even a scratch on it."
He walked out of his room, still thinking about the incident.
"The owner didn't seem to care much. Damn the bourgeoisie and their luxurious lifestyles." Alicarde knew Carrisa wasn't bothered by the loss.
Alicarde recalled the highlight of the battle, he had finally gained a fear ability and grasped the basics of body enhancement magic. And he would never forget the wretched, godforsaken horse—rather, bicorn—he had named Wrath.
He looked at his shadow, cast on the ground. He could feel its loathsome gaze on him. The creature was a real monster, but it was trapped in his shadow unless he was mad enough to let it out. It would stay there.
"Good morning, Wrath. How was your night? Did you sleep well?" he greeted the bicorn with a hint of sarcasm.
His snarky remarks seemed lost on the bicorn, which swam in his shadow, its gaze appearing in a nearby shadow cast by the evening sun outside. That simple act nearly gave Alicarde a heart attack, but realizing it didn't attack him, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled smugly.
"Phew, don't scare me like that. For a second, I thought you escaped," Alicarde breathed a sigh of relief.
His doors flung open as he headed toward the luxurious bath, pushing them open without hesitation. He occasionally noticed Wrath's presence in his shadow or that of objects around him. The horned horror didn't seem able to move into a shadow too far from him.
"What a relief, that thing is terrifying. I almost pissed myself earlier," Alicarde muttered as he walked into the bath.
As he walked deeper into the bath, he reached the moisture-filled room. It was warm and filled with fog.
There, before him, was a lady in the bath. Her dark, wet hair clung to her body like that of a beautiful mermaid as she turned to Alicarde. Her violet eyes were aloof and cold, her bare body pristine. Alicarde's eyes unconsciously traveled to her chest, trying to maintain his composure.
This was the part where she was supposed to scream.
"Ahh, pervert!" she would have shouted, blasting him with whatever attack she could muster.
But nothing of the sort happened. She merely looked at him with her violet eyes, and he at her, trying hard not to look at her half-revealed body. With a forced indifferent expression, he turned around, attempting to ignore her piercing gaze. He felt extremely awkward, more so than if she had been in a bathrobe or towel.
From start to finish, Carrisa hadn't said a single word nor changed her expression, she merely looked at him while he felt his heart pound in his chest.
"Damn it!" He cursed his luck and returned to his room.
Upon entering, he grabbed his head in embarrassment, wishing for a hole to bury himself in. He needed to forget this incident before his subconscious mind turned it into strange dreams.
He went back to bed, hoping to distract himself from thoughts of her alluring physique.
With nothing better to do, he picked up his phone and started perusing what was trending on the internet.
After a few seconds, he saw a video featuring a familiar car—a super sports car racing across the city, being chased by a powerful bike. The highlight was the rider's superhuman strength as she ripped out a road sign and threw it like a javelin.
That wasn't all, someone had edited the video to showcase spectacular feats of strength, including slapping a supercar into a full 180-degree turn.
He dreaded looking at the comments section but did so anyway, knowing it wouldn't change anything.
@RealJames5: "lol guys, cool edit."
@MiracleGrotto: "This was totally real. I was there in District 17 when it happened."
@FascistScum: "Wake up and remove your delusional glasses. Ain't no way that's real, fr fr."
@MiracleGrotto: "I think I finally get your username. No point in arguing with a fascist scum."
@Ansuper: "Guys, espers are so real, and this is one of the proofs. This comment section has a limited character count, check out my page for more details. [LINK]"
Alicarde was shocked, to say the least. He held off on checking the link and rushed to more formal media platforms. Luckily, there was nothing there, so he relaxed a bit. He returned to the link and tapped it.
The site was typical for fringe beliefs—one where people discussed Bigfoot and other unproven phenomena. It focused mainly on the unproven belief in espers and other supernatural elements like vampires, witches, and werewolves.
He found a post about the incident, which claimed that the whole death race with Argint was an esper battle.
They weren't exactly wrong, esper powers were real. Carrisa referred to them as innate abilities, and all creatures had the potential to awaken them. Though she did say he wasn't ready for it yet, he might eventually get them if he was lucky.
"The 'lucky' part was not helpful at all, Carrisa," Alicarde whispered desperately, trying to keep his thoughts off her.
He bookmarked the page, thinking that social media trends would likely die down soon. He read the comments a bit more before growing bored of the ongoing arguments about espers.
He decided to leave his room. By now, Carrisa should have finished her bath. He took his own bath and made his way down to the fourth floor. As the elevator doors slid open, he encountered Argint, who seemed to have been waiting for him.
"You're up. Good, now it's time for some intense training," she said, her smile carrying a sinister edge. Her amber eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. "Don't worry, I'll try not to kill you."