Narberal Gamma was, like Pandora’s Actor, a doppelgänger - a natural shapeshifter.

Unlike changelings, which morphed their body by controlling the growth of their cells to a certain extent, and could hereby alter their physical appearance to mimic any other humanoid, so long as they didn’t grow extra appendages, doppelgängers only projected a magical hologram of the appearance they desired.

Because of this, they were unable to subtract mass from their body. They could only project over it, while changelings would, without problem, be able to mimic a skeleton.

So, how did Narberal look so thin and attractive? This was effortless for her species, as their natural form was bone-thin anorexic.

As such, her true form was a cadaver-pale, terrifying humanoid aberration. With empty eye sockets, the quickest words to describe this sight would be “slender man”.

A keen eye would be able to distinguish a doppelgänger from a regular humanoid through one of these traits:

Their ears were ever-so slightly extruding further from their head. This wouldn’t be enough to tell for sure, but it added to the suspicion, along with at least one other sign.

They only had four fingers on each hand. Because of this, while imitating any other humanoid, which would have five fingers, their middle and ring finger would never separate, as they were concealing a single finger behind the illusion.

Lastly, since their appearance was only a projection, it would not correlate with touch. If someone tried touching the skin of a doppelgänger, they would, most likely, flinch, not desiring to give you the chance of suspecting something.

This is why Narberal would commonly wear a long robe that would conceal most of her skin, and avoid shaking hands.

Doppelgängers were a short-lived species, with a lifespan of around 13 years.

Nabe was currently two. Well, two years, seven months, and seventeen days, as she was counting. For comparison, Pandora’s Actor was eight.

Despite this, she was the most brilliant wizard in Nazarick, with a sharp intellect, even capable to rival Demiurge’s.

Her appearance was that of a woman in her young 30s, minus any trace of age wrinkles.

Nevertheless, she was still a child.

She liked tea parties, pets and plushies. She fancied gazing at the stars and moon, being mesmerized of their magic, despite having good knowledge of astronomy.

She was easily scared by the dark and creepy monsters. She tried to hide it and maintain her composure, as she wanted to ‘act her age’ and seem as mature as the grown-ups she looked up to.

(…)

Narberal brought her chin out of her chest and raised her head straight.

Her purple eyes glistened from the blue flare. The twinkles of bright light looked like stars in a galaxy.

“‘A pair of black, evil wings’ - Pandora said those dropped as a prize for the players who defeated Amon.”

Lupusregina’s ears curled up, curious of where this would go.

“Uhm, yes, if I remember correctly… (she didn’t) What about them?”

“He said Perroroncino-sama wanted them. (…) Those are part of Shalltear’s Armor, aren’t they? - The evil vampire wings, and the pure white valkyrie wings - they were meant to amplify her [dual nature] skill.”

“Hmmm…. Are you sure you are not overthinking this-su?”

Narberal clenched her hand, just short of putting out the flame, after which she once again relaxed her tense fingers.

“I also received a gift from the gods…”

(…)

[~2 years ago; a lesser known magic academy in the Re-Estize Kingdom]

A young human girl was showing off her kunai skills in the courtyard, slashing frantically at the air, while, albeit, maintaining a balanced stance that reflected her perseverance and attention paid in class.

She had just turned 9 two weeks prior, and was now the oldest in her class. From the look, she inspired the attitude of a confident A grader, proud to be called a bookworm.

Some of the boys in her class were upset at the thought that they would have to call her “senpai”.

She wore a red robe, akin of a superhero, trying to impersonate the legendary heroes she heard of in fairy tales.

She wore a skin-fit long-robe of a sparkly white silky texture, with blue stripes on the sides. The cape was tailored to it with golden pins, bearing the emblem of the Slane Theocracy, and of the Sunlight Scripture, respectively.

“Hyah! Gyah! Whooooah! - Take that!”

A laugh followed from her left. It could have been misinterpreted as mocking, but it was joyful and well-meant.

It came from a boy, of similar, perhaps slightly younger age. He looked well built for a child, with slightly defined muscles seen beneath his chunky arms. His face was hilariously tainted with self-made army paint.

“You’re training hard again, Clara?”

“Of course! If I want to be a great adventurer like Evileye-senpai, and make my father proud, I must give it my best!”

“Here we go again with the Evileye obsession…”

Clara Ublereak was the daughter of a high ranking member of the Sunlight Scripture. She was a free spirit, used to not having her family around.

It’s been too long for her to remember since she’s last seen her mother, and, with her father constantly on duty, she was lucky to find a place at a friend’s, outside of the Theocracy.

She was also fortunate to have encountered the Orichalcum class adventurer, Evileye of the Blue Roses.

[Aduthor’s note: At the time, Evileye was not yet adamantite.]

“I was almost kidnapped, you know!”

“Yes, yes…”

The young boy was making a purposely poor impersonation of Clara’s voice, recalling her story word by word, with the boredom of someone who’s heard it a thousand times:

“It was on a scorching hoooot summer day… when a GOLIATH of a man grabbed you by your whole HEAD!”

Despite being rather accurate to Clara’s words, he was shouting out every exaggerated word she’d used before, to point out the ridiculousness of the story.

He was acting mean. Partly due to his jealousy on Clara performing better than him. Part of it was also due to the special treatment she was getting.

Normally, no one would have been allowed to practice with a real kunai unless supervised. However, they couldn’t have confiscated a gift from a high ranking noble.

At a certain point in the story, he began to improvise:

“And his ugly smut was so huge, it wouldn’t have fit through an open DOOR! With a club that was as long as several MEN stacked next to each other!”

“That is so so so not what I said!!! Mmmmmmpf!”

“Say, wouldn’t you need to cast spells to be like Evileye?”

“I can do [Minor Cure Wounds]!”

[Minor Cure Wounds] - a tier one spell that would heal minor wounds. Its effect was even lower than [Lesser Heal]

“You’re going to need more than that if (…) err…”

The boy’s smug was visibly wiped off. As his eyes opened wide and the corners of his lips dropped with his mouth opening, it almost looked like his expression was literally smeared down.

“[LIGHTNING BOLT!]”

The turbulent crackle of an old log sounded the courtyard as it crashed to the ground.

A 6-year-old looking girl with straight bangs and pigtails of an unbelievable glossy black was taking a victory stance next to the scorched remnants of what used to be a training log.

The two had stopped their banter and were now fixing their eyes on the annoying prodigy child.

Despite her front being turned away, Narberal somehow sensed their gaze, rotated her head just enough to make contact with one eye and present her opponents with a boastful, humiliating stare.

“Did you see that? This is how you’re supposed to use magic!”

Then, with a wide smile:

“You seem far behind, but don’t be mad about it! It’s only normal for lesser humans. Hmmph! In fact, I could teach you if you wanted! I am only so benevolent, after all…!

“NARBERAL!”

A teacher in a light plate armor and a short haircut - clear to anyone, an experienced warrior - came rushing to the scene while grinding her clenched teeth.

“That was a tier 3 spell! Do you know what would have happened if you’d hit someone?”

The tone of the teacher was abruptly shifting between an angry shout to a hesitating stutter.

She was trying to set her mind on being serious and demanding of respect, while, behind her words, she was being hindered by a mixture of pride for her student, yet, simultaneously, fear.

She was not able to cast tier 3 magic herself. She knew few people who could.

*She’s too good of a fit with her element…*

Some of her other classmates started laughing as Narberal was being scolded.

This was a normal behaviour for children, but there was more to it. Not a single child in the school was fond of her.

In return, Narberal bit her lips, peeking at them through her teary eyes with a menacing look.

In her eyes, the other children were not her classmates, but her enemies.

At 4 months old, Narberal Gamma had already read every book in the academy, and was outperforming all of her teachers in both skill and knowledge.

She was taken into the academy by Clara, who recommended her after learning she didn’t have any acquaintances. She was quite familiar with the feeling.

She met Nabe by what could only be described as a magical experience. Nobody would have believed her if she told the truth.

Doppelgängers were creatures of the night, that spawned in at random, with low probability.

They were classified as aberrations - creatures with seemingly no origin that would come into existence in blood-curdling areas, shrouded in mystery, like a dark cave where the lurking of scorpions and spiders chill your bones, or a haunted forest, or misty cemetery.

It was a common belief that aberrations appeared after a tragic event, such as a disease with hundreds of casualties.

As such, nobody would believe it if, on an usual morning, behind the academy, peeking at the training court, a girl who looked like she got lost from her daycare was point-on mimicking the fighting movements of the upper grade students.

Despite not having any skill that would allow her to read one’s MP level, Clara felt a different air standing by Narberal at that time.

Only for a split-second, she was able to see the faint shimmer of a blue aura.

Narberal came into being in the middle of a nearby plains, where a mysterious assassin was reported to have hunted a pack of trolls, accompanied by a decorated birdman.

The only reason she looked like a human at the time was due to her innate curiosity to study this new species she laid eyes upon.

Born of chaos, the meaning of compassion, selflessness, teamwork,(…) did not yet exist in Narberal’s behaviour.

She was a being of naturally evil alignment, raised and cared for by humans, whom she resented.

In only a few days after being welcomed to the academy, Narberal was set on her way to become the greatest air elementalist. Humans, the lesser species which she thought nothing more of than rats in the sewers they called cities, were only footsteps she had to walk upon.

Next to her disgust, Narberal still functioned on reason, and by a code of morals. She respected Clara and her teachers who took her in.

There were four core elements of nature that an elementalist wizard could conjure.

In order to do so, the caster would need to align their energy, that is, their thoughts and emotions, with those of the element they were attempting to bring forth.

For fire, this was anger, excitement, lack of second rationale. For earth, it was stillness of mind, confidence, and the will to protect. Water - ambition, care for detail, desire for improvement.

Training for years, an experienced user would unavoidably have their default personality affected by that of their preferred element.

This was an obvious detriment, that any practitioner of elemental magic was aware of when starting their training.

Fire masters, for example, tended to be brash, loud, with little temper and waiting to pick a fight.

(…)

Air - grace, egoism, the conviction that you are superior(…)

(…)

[hallway, somewhere in Nazarick]

Halfway though her story, Narberal cut her speech, lowering her head back while stomping louder on the marble tiles.

Lupusregina, who had earlier attempted to get Nabe to relax, was now the relaxed one herself.

Her ears were laying softly, showing comfort, but she was still rearranging them upwards every now and then to keep them wide open.

It was rare for Lupi to pay attention to a story.

Eager for the story to resume, she asked in a slightly higher tune questioning voice:

“So, what happened then?”

Narberal’s voice picked up volume. It was more pressed and articulated. She felt angry.

“I messed up…”

Beta replied in a breathy, quiet voice, so as to not disturb Narberal’s thoughts in any way:

“Huh?”

[a peat bog, nearby the Great Tomb of Nazarick]

Sinking in the mud, with barely any skin still visible on the surface, Clara’s body was resting motionless with pale white open eyes and a sickening grey skin tone.

The slashing wound on the body’s side was splitting her hip from one end to another.

The rainstorm splashed heavily on her forehead, diluting any trace of blood in the rising dirty puddle that covered the nearest 30 feet of ground.

At only few meters apart, more corpses were tainting the fluid mud, which had gained a dark crimson tint.

Above her, dirtying her navy blue robe, Narberal’s light body was pressing on her chest, barely moving it a centimeter down.

From about 50 feet ahead, large reptile hisses were drawing nearer to their prey.

“I thought I could win…”

Narberal was trying her best to get Clara to stand up. Her tiny hand movements shook Clara’s body without any effect. She knew it wouldn’t help. She was acting sheerly out of impulse.

“Hey… Come on! Get up!… Get up I said!”

Her muffed frightened crying was completely inaudible compared to the sound of the storm.

There was one thing Narberal hated more than humans: not having anyone to hear her gloating.

With a last effort, she slammed both her fists into Clara’s chest, finally giving up.

A steady growl could be heard from the short, tangled cattail nearby.

Giant Basilisks were capable of holding their breath for 30 minutes, just long enough for a group to argue about which way to go. For most adventurers, facing even one of the large beasts could be too many.

As the growls strafed closer, one of them threatened with a sudden roar.

A pair of terrifying, unnatural full black eyes and fangs which radiated thirst for massacre scared the beast into backing up a step.

“GO AWAY! [CALL LIGHTNING]!”

The stormy conditions were favorable for this spell precisely. [Call Lightning] would normally form a small rain cloud closely above the target, from which a bolt of lightning would strike down, however, the use of naturally occurring rain clouds doubled the damage of the spell.

As soon as Narberal’s hand reached out to cast, a faint shimmer came out, along with a few sparks.

The spell failed completely.

The emotions ruling over Narberal were, at this moment, anger - respective to the fire attribute, and fear, the near opposite of the overwhelming sense of superiority an elementalist needed to conjure lightning.

Narberal stood still, unable to think of a solution.

Her mind was vacant. She could only think of clenching her teeth to stop them from trembling in the cold.

Shouting for help crossed her mind, but her proud nature was still keeping her from speaking such words out loud.

However, for someone able to sense others’ aura, just a thought was more than enough…

The angered basilisk threw itself at Narberal with its mouth wide-open, with angler-fish like monstrous teeth which could tear through iron full-plate, and a disgusting gelatinous tongue flailing to the side.

For a second, her eyes closed impulsively. When they opened, a tall figure was blocking the faint shimmer of the Sun at eventide.

Before her, a paladin in full silver plate, which shined even in the darkness of the thunderstorm, held a bloodied greatsword with a single hand, the head of the basilisk laying to his side.

Just as another lunged to bite, the paladin’s empty hand reached to block it. As it bit into his forearm, a fountain of blood spurted out.

Nabe’s eyes widened as her pupils shrank. But before she could scream, the second basilisk dropped onto its side, shrieking in pain.

Blood spurted out from its mouth, of which all its teeth were shattered, and its jaw unhinged.

Around the bloody smears on the paladin’s forearm, there wasn’t a single scratch on the armor.

The paladin laughed, holding a basilisk in each hand, while allowing several others to bite on his shoulders and ankles.

His velvet red cape, as that of a hero from a fairy tale, fluttered in the wind, unaffected by the raindrops.

Without any care for sounding silly, or as a shut-in weeb who had already lost any last trace of self esteem, the paladin took a deep breath and exclaimed his catchphrase from the bottom of his lungs.

More than likely, an epic battle symphony was playing in his head:

“Saving someone who is in trouble… is common sense!”

[end of chapter 4]