The memories ended gradually, as if Dallion was looking like a fading picture. At first, he didn’t know how to react. The only time anything of the sort had happened was back in the awakening room of Dherma's former village chief. There, a metal echo of sorts had shown it as a form of punishment. To have it happen in the real world, though…

Insight, Nil said, his voice trembling with excitement. I’ve only read about this. It wasn’t clear what trait it was linked to, but now it makes sense.

I can read minds?

No, dear boy. You can empathize with a person, learning exactly what made them become what they are.

Dallion shook his head. The experience was overwhelming, far more so than entering the awakened realm. His head wasn’t pounding, nor was his body sore, but he felt a deep sadness, as if all his emotions had been drained.

“You wanted to go back ever since you were a child,” Dallion said. “Ever since you awakened.”

Jiroh froze for a moment. By the look in her eyes, Dallion could tell he’d hit a nerve.

“That was the last thought when you left the citadel,” he went on. “That was what the hearts of the citadel told you. They’ve been waiting for you all along.”

There was a moment of tension in the air. Dallion could feel it better than anyone. Even Euryale took a step back, knowing what Jiroh was capable of.

“Empathy really is a powerful trait,” the thunder fury said. “Yes, that’s what they told me. All I had to do was get stronger, and they’d help me return to my world. In exchange—"

“They’d be free,” Dallion finished the sentence. “That’s why you became a hunter. It wasn’t by choice. You needed to be a hunter so you could find the citadel.”

“It’s just as I told you.”

That was true. Jiroh had never lied. She had very specifically told Dallion that she wanted him to help her find the citadel she was born in. At the time, Dallion thought that she was searching for it in the hopes of finding clues as to the location of her family. He couldn’t have been further from the truth. Even her sister was a surprise discovery that had nothing to do with her real goal. Did that make her evil, though? Most probably not, but it had also made her harden her heart out of fear that attachments might make her change her mind.

“You think of it as an obsession,” Jiroh said. “It isn’t. You’ve gone through enough awakening trials to know that wouldn’t stand. It wasn’t a trial that made me stop leveling up, it was my own decision, and yes, I’m at a point at which I can make the difference. I’ve had a lot of memorable experiences in this world, more good than bad. I’ve made good friends, achieved things I never thought I could. However, this is all a dream, and all dreams must come to an end.”

“But must it end now?” Dallion asked.

“Yes.” Jiroh knelt down and tapped the floor. “They don’t have much longer. They’re so weak that I don’t even hear them anymore. Why do you think the citadel hit the ground? The hearts that beat within it are too weak to keep it in the air. In a few more years the city would sink completely beneath the sea. A few more years after that it’ll dissolve like sugar in a drink.”

Dallion clenched his fists. Everything she said was correct, yet he still felt conflicted. He wanted to see her go even if he knew he’d miss her. At the same time, he didn’t want any creature to sacrifice itself in order to make that happen. As tempting as it was to use pure logic to defend the action, Dallion felt that there had to be a better way.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Jiroh said. “There’s nothing any of us could do. It was cruel for the creatures to have been captured in the first place. Back in my world, things weren’t like that. We used magic crystals to keep the clouds stable, not living creatures.”

That was good, though little relief.

Is there a way to fix this, Nil? Dallion asked.

I wouldn’t know more than a fury, dear boy, the echo replied. Maybe if you talk to the creatures… you have all the skills needed for that.

That wasn’t necessarily true. While he indeed had a skill combo that would allow him to understand any animal. He had never spoken to cloud creatures, or furies for that matter. If he knew a bit of Jiroh’s language, there was a chance that the clouds would understand him and vice versa. Alas, the seriousness of the situation had kept him from openly asking to practice with her on their way from Nerosal here. Looking back, he regretted not doing so.

Can anyone hear me? he asked, hoping his empathy skill would manage to get him out of the situation. Dozens of voices replied in response. Unfortunately, all of them were items the trio had brought with them. The citadel itself didn’t have a guardian—it was a living creature sculpted into a city.

“What about your sister?” Dallion asked. “Or the rest of your family? They might be alive somewhere.”

“And I hope they are,” Jiroh replied. “Though my relations with them were complicated. I was treated well, some I found even close, but I still don’t know whether the king saw me as anything but the means to lead the citadel forward. Apparently, the defeat changed his views on life. The irony was that the only person who was so eager to enter the war was the one to least suffer its consequences, while those who were dragged into it all without a choice…”

Jiroh didn’t finish. Even so, Dallion knew exactly what she meant. The fury war wasn’t discussed much in Nerosal—mostly because Wetie province wasn’t involved—but between the occasional remarks at the Icepicker guild, and Hannah’s reluctant recollections, Dallion had gotten to know a bit. From what he had pieced together, the fury kingdoms that hadn’t taken a direct part had retreated, becoming mercenary kingdoms backed by other great powers. Those who had were scattered about, working into human cities as guards or servants. Often Moon vows were used, ensuring that they wouldn’t attempt to go against their new employers. That explained why the general had so many protecting him. It was entirely possible that someone else in his family had the same knack for business, and lack of scruples, taking in a lot of furies from other provinces. The sad thing was that with anger running high among the affected part of the empire, that was probably the best deal they’d get. Jiroh herself had been treated as a war orphan. Geroh’s plan had worked, but only to a certain degree. From what he had glimpsed in her memories, Dallion could assume she had successfully been taken off the citadel, though not to safety. Somehow, she must have been attacked in the attempt. The mercenaries had been killed, allowing the child to escape. Or alternatively, the fright might have triggered a self-preservation response, releasing a wave of lightning around her. Whatever the case, Jiroh had managed to make it all the way into the province and all the way to Nerosal. There she had been taken in by Hannah and become the person Dallion knew today.

However, the story of her father didn’t end there. Somehow ,the king and his citadel must have managed to escape. Fearing reprisals, they had probably kept hidden somewhere, and eventually continued with life. Based on the timeline, Dallion couldn’t be certain whether Di had been born then, or she had been a baby during the fateful attack. Either way, she had been raised as a normal child until it became obvious that the citadel wasn’t in condition to remain flying for much longer. Then she had left the cloud, like everyone else, and joined the many furies living on the ground.

“My life isn’t here, Dal,” Jiroh said. “It never was.”

“That’s why you’ve cut all ties to this place.” Dallion looked at the ground. “How do you plan on getting to the hearts? They didn’t let you last time.”

“Back then, I was weak. I’ve improved a lot since then.” The fury knelt down. Her hand moved slowly through the surface, as if it were jelly. “You asked me my level once. Now there’s no point in keeping the secret. I’m Fifty-seven.” Her hand kept sinking in. “However, all my skills are at a hundred. And as you know, that gives me certain—“

“Run!” Eury shouted.

Instantly, the gorgon and Dallion burst into instances, running in all directions. Jiroh didn’t have to. At a speed faster than the human eye, she flew out of the room just as a ray of light pierced through the building and the cloud surface below it.

What the heck?! Dallion stared, unable to believe what had happened. The only time he’d seen anything of the sort was moments ago in Jiroh’s memory. However, there was one major difference. In her memory, the mages were shooting from below. This time, the attack had come from above.

“Gleam!” Dallion ordered, constantly splitting into instances.

The whip blade flew out of its scabbard, extending to the point that its segments slashed through entire buildings in an attempt to slice through the attacker. Before reaching its target, however, it bounced off a solid wall of air that glowed in green symbols.

“Crap,” Dallion whispered as he looked at a figure in blue robes floating a hundred feet in the air. Circular patterns of symbols made it clear that it was a mage, but that wasn’t the shocking part. The most unnerving of all was the thin layer of shimmering light around it. This wasn’t just a mage, it was a mage that at some point had come from Earth.

“Isn’t this a nice reunion?” the figure asked in a female voice.

The whip blade made several more attempts to attack her from a different side, but to little success. It was as if the mage had surrounded herself by an invisible cocoon of air. In response, the mage drew a pattern of symbols in the air in front of her, causing a ray of light to emerge, aimed right at the weapon. The entire citadel was punctured once more to the point that fresh steam shot up from the hole, caused by the scorched area of the sea below. The strength of the attack was powerful enough to melt anything in its path, anything except something indestructible.

That was nasty, Gleam said, not overly concerned about what could have happened to her. Instead, she attacked just like the vicious creature she was. This time she managed to halve the distance before another air barrier emerged, shielding the mage once more.

“I guess you’re a slow learner,” the mage said.

At first Dallion thought that she was addressing Gleam, but the wave of annoyance and anger that followed was too intense for something as trivial as a simple counter attack. It seemed that for some reason, the mage was targeting her wrath at Dallion himself.

“You were warned not to meddle in things that didn’t concern you, and yet you still did.”

A new pattern was drawn in the air, at which point over a dozen swords emerged around the mage, then thrust in all directions. Dallion split into instances once more. However, to his surprise, so did the blades targeting him. That changed things considerably. Resorting to his guard and acrobatic skills, Dallion managed to twist just in time to avoid one of the blades, while deflecting the second with his armadil shield.

What did you get yourself involved in? Nil asked, his voice almost trembling.

How should I know?!

That’s not some random mage going on a treasure hunt. That’s a full-fledged member of the Academy. She has the authority of a countess! People like her don’t go about in the open unless there’s a very good reason, so what did you do?

You’ve been with me pretty much ever since I got to Nerosal. Why do you think I—Dillon paused. There were a few particular cases in which had dealings which were against common sense. One, in particular, might very well have been the cause of this.