The sounds of an alarm sprung everyone's pulse to the roof.

"Did we get caught?" Martin and Aston hugged each other in terror.

"What are we going to do now?" Hortensia asked Emil.

Emil could not answer, but grit his teeth together.

"Let's not get carried away," Diarmuid said.

"What do you mean?" Emil snapped from his worries.

"It said an intruder, didn't it?"

"Now that you say remind me."

"So it wasn't us," Orel realized in relief.

"We can use this opportunity to hide in the crowd."

The pale halls were full of stumped people. They did not take long to continue their business, leaving the group in the open. The hallways felt empty, white voids with the slightest hint of color on them, whether intentional or not.

"Now what?" Ándras asked.

Diarmuid looked at the signs hanging from the high ceiling all around. "The exit is that way." He pointed in the direction.

"You're good with taking the lead," Emil laughed nervously.

"Goes with the job."

"You're more of a planner," Hortensia tapped his shoulder.

"Is Mr. Catori going to be okay?" Orel asked.

"I'm more worried about us," Emil said. "How can we get out of here if the place is under lockdown?"

Diarmuid looked around. "We just need to find an exit to sneak out of. They can't protect all of them."

"Why don't we just make a new one?" Ándras asked.

"Inconspicuously, Ándras. We need to do this silently."

"We just fought someone."

"Well, silently as possible." Diarmuid coughed. "Let's get going."

The group shuffled along the halls with their heads up following the signs. Orel and Diarmuid tried their hardest to push Ándras away from the cafeteria the same as Emil and Hortensia had to drag Aston away from the library and Martin from the geology wing. The exit was not far, but something else was nearer. A large man made the rounds with his long legs shifting back and forth like walking on stilts. He looked down from the shade of his large white stetson hat.

"That can't be good," Diarmuid said.

"You there," The man stopped with his body almost falling over.

Emil froze in the shade of his tallness. "Yes?"

"I haven't seen you around here. Are you visitors or something?"

Diarmuid stepped in. "I apologize. I'm escorting these people."

The man leaned forth, squinting his blue eyes. "Who are you, who do you work for?"

"Finn McCool. ADF." Diarmuid lied as easily as he breathed.

"ADF? You're from Albion?"

"...Yes." Diarmuid freshened out his old stern look. "And who you might be?"

"Thomas Bostic, head of security."

Everyone, even Diarmuid gulped. The worst man they could have met stood against their chance to escape.

"Excuse me, Mr. McCool, but I don't remember us having any visitors for today. For what business are you here?"

Diarmuid knew that any lie he would make could be checked and thus foil their plan.

"Oh, but could you be looking for Sir Norman?"

Diarmuid glanced at Emil, who glanced at Orel in complete dismay. "Yes?" He turned with his stone face cracked.

"I thought that he was over this stuff already, but who am I to know." Thomas laughed and slapped Diarmuid on the shoulder. "He should be in the teacher's room. Turn two hallways to the right from here and you should get there in no time." He pointed the way with his freakishly long arms.

"Um, thank you, Mr. Bostic." A nervous smile cracked on Diarmuid's face.

"No problem!" Thomas smiled back. "But I'm in a hurry, so I must go now. I need to keep sure that the invader doesn't just barge into the academy."

"Attention, Atlas Academy!" Another announcement rang out next to them. "The intruder has invaded the academy and is currently ascending to Paradis. Faculty and students should seek shelter in available classrooms. The man is armed and dangerous. I repeat. Armed and dangerous. The MIB are on their way!"

"Son of a-" Thomas fumbled in his steps. "I'll get you this time!" He ran toward the grand staircase.

The group was left utterly out of words to describe what happened while anyone in the hallways fled off.

"So," Emil made a face. "What do we do now?"

"If Norman's here, then I'm going to look for him," Orel said.

"We still need to get to Gaius Norman's mansion," Aston reminded.

"Then this is it," Emil turned to Orel. "Good luck out there, son."

"Let's meet up later," Orel gave a quick hug.

"Sure," Emil tried to grip him at least half as tight as Tuja.

"Be careful out there," Hortensia waved him off.

"Take care," Diarmuid nodded.

The groups split with Orel heading to the teacher's office and Emil running to the exit. No one else was around, yet their pace still amounted to a fast jog since they didn't want to seem too suspicious. Still, Orel ran, ran as fast as his legs could bounce. He could not wait. Norman was just around the corner, the closest he had been since the night he left. His legs would not give out, nor his spirit. His eyes lit up, burning bright like the morning sun.

Thomas reached the top great spiral staircase leading to the base layer. He was just in time, as a hurried figure soon stopped as they noticed him.

"stop right there!" Thomas pointed his finger. "I won't let you get away this time!"

A classy, yet rugged pinstripe suit flashed from under a bloodied hood. There was no use for a mask, though the hood covered much of the face.

"...Do I know you?" Ocham asked.

"Wait, you're not the beast man." Thomas noticed in confusion. "But you're the intruder, that's for sure."

Ocham conjured himself a stiletto to his pocket that he took out. "So, you're not going to let me pass?"

"It's my job to protect this place. I can't just let someone break in, can I?"

Ocham took a deep breath. "Then, die." He threw the dagger.

Thomas used his palm to stop the knife, which did not stop it from piercing through.

"Ten feet, two seconds," Ocham chanted under his breath.

A knife stabbed Thomas in the back. Tumbling in his steps, his concentration was broken. Ocham took the moment to finish him off silently with a slash to the neck. He leaped, however, that was when he understood his mistake. Thomas' hand reached for him, stretching itself as if it had no bones. Ocham acted fast and summoned another stiletto in his hand and pointed it to his chest.

"Feet, one second."

Apart from distance and time, Seeker Edge requires a target to be activated. That can be anything, including the user.

With the sudden thrust upward, he managed to narrowly evade Thomas' grasp. He created another, pointing it at himself, but also toward the second-floor hallway, and chanted again.

"What the?!" Thomas saw the miracle of flight and pulled out the knife in his hand and back.

Ocham observed his opponent and noticed something peculiar. Though he pierced both his glove and back, there was not a drop of blood on his pure, white clothes. He dropped into the hall, where Thomas waited for him.

"These knives, I swear I've seen these before," Thomas observed the stilettos before they dissipated.

"That's none of your business."

"I see, guess I need to step up my game," Thomas said as he grabbed his other arm by the hand.

Ocham had no idea what the man meant, but his actions spoke more than any explanation could do. Thomas ripped his arm off, where a stream of blue goo wriggled like a ball of worms from the wound. Hand in hand, the rest burst out of the ripped sleeve, forming a large blue cleaver knife. Though the spectacle was shocking, Ocham analyzed it for all its worth, calm and collected. While the blade drew most of the attention, he did not miss the sight of a hand sticking out from the wound in the torso before it grew a replacement arm of the same blue material.

"So he is a human, after all. A conjurer?" He thought. "That muck or whatever is going to be a hassle. Going for the head seems like the only way."

It was not only Ocham that had a keen eye on his opponent. Though seemingly aloof, Thomas was not a man without a plan.

"You summon those knives? Then all I need is a bigger knife!" He thought aloud. "Tact Blu: Armed Combat!"

For whatever reason, his plans, if you can call them that, seemed to always work out in his favor in the end.

Thomas barged toward Ocham with large leaps. He swung his blade wide with no more skill than waving around a stick. Ocham blocked it with his blade and created another in his other hand. Parrying the blade, he went in for the throat. Yet, something was off. His other arm yanked him back. He turned to look and the knife had sunk into the blade, keeping it firmly in place. There was no escaping his other arm at that distance. Instead of evading, Ocham let it grasp him. The hand enlargened and stretched around his hand in the sticky substance. Thomas smiled, but Ocham did not frown any more than before. Instead, he calmly glared back at him.

"Five feet, five seconds." He chanted.

Thomas felt a chill behind him. With split-second thinking, he covered his head with the blue goop. Just in time too, as a knife pierced the back of his head, only missing by a length of a hair. Try as it might, the blade could not win against the tough material. He laughed inside the dome, though the words he said were muffled inaudible for Ocham.

Before too long, Thomas made a hole in the dome, taking in a deep breath.

"That was one risky move! Too bad you already did that trick!" He looked at his hand. "Huh?"

Meanwhile, Ocham had created a dozen knives, all pointing at Thomas. He had made sure to conserve his mana, using his spell only in small bursts, but his last attempt was a test. It proved that the knives would not consider their mission complete without reaching Thomas' real body. This gave him an idea.

"Twenty feet, thirty seconds." He chanted, activating them all at once.

They sunk into Thomas' chest, and with their collective effort, pushed him back. However, only eight stilettos were aimed at him. The rest were for Ocham. They might have hit him, but thanks to the goop that encased him, they did not pierce him with deep wounds. With the two opposite forces acting together, Ocham ripped himself from Thomas as he flew in the other direction.

Thomas spread his legs and melt them to add traction. Even with the help, the knives still dragged him away from Ocham, who was already fleeing from the scene. He grew his arm back but with a different use. Instead of an arm, it was the barrel of a gun. The bicep grew like a balloon until it was larger than his abdomen.

He pointed it at Ocham with his smile long gone. "Tact Blu: Finger gun!"

The arm collapsed in a flash as the barrel shot something out. Ocham heard the shot but had no time to dodge. What he saw in the glimpse it took for him to look back was a blue finger that hit his leg. Though it wasn't sharp, the shock was like being hit with a rubber bullet. It made Ocham fall as his leg muscle got torn. For how much he tried, Ocham could not recover fast enough. By the time he got on his feet, the spell had already ended, and Thomas was fast on his tail.

"As I said," Thomas huffed. "I'm not letting you go." He approached with steady steps.

Swords clashed in the observatory tower with the flashing storm alarm lights in the background.

"Would you give up already?" Antoni asked. "This is becoming tiresome."

"I will not," Catori coughed blood. "-surrender."

"You would rather die in honor than live in shame? Rather valiant, for you," Antoni sheathed his blade, again. "Then again, you made a foolish mistake coming here. A thief is a thief, after all."

"What does a foreigner have anything to say about that?" Catori braced for the strike.

"Foolish wolf. I have been living here for over ten years now." Antoni went in for a stab.

Catori did his best to parry the blade, yet it still sliced his side.

"You are the foreigners here. People like you are the reason why this country is such a mess."

"You are the problem here, lazing around doing drugs. What would you be without us, feral animals?"

"I knew you wouldn't understand. There is no hope for people like you."

"The one with no hope is you," Antoni sheathed the blade. "Without magic, there is no chance of victory."

"For a swordsman, you do not seem to hold faith in the art."

"Are you blind? Can you not see the difference it makes? There is only so much you can do without magic."

"I will carve it into your body so that even a meathead such as you can understand it. Do not underestimate the sword," Catori changed his stance.

Antoni was familiar with most sword fighting styles, but that was limited only to the human styles. Going low on three legs like an animal, Catori kept his sword even lower, almost dropping it to the ground. His mind did not pay too much mind to it, as he was sure to dodge whatever strike that came to him.

Catori lunged with a quick sprint and swung his blade upward underneath his left arm. Still, it was not fast enough. Antoni pulled out his sword and parried the strike away. He had no time to strike back, but just enough to sheath the blade. However, as soon as he did, he noticed the next attack. It was not the sword but sharp claws. Antoni drew his sword before they reached his face, yet did not manage to cut more than a finger. He readied himself for the sword, yet a moment too late. Catori used the momentum of his previous swing to spin his body, where his hind leg kicked Antoni's hand away from the sheath. For the first time, Antoni had to dodge away.

"Wipe off that smirk on your face!" Antoni irked with disgust.

"Where is your magic now?" Catori licked his wounds.

"Fine, I will show you. Be honored, beast. Witness the peak of my ability! Castless style hidden technique: Stage set!"

A field around Antoni lit up as if he was the center of the spotlight.

"Come at me if you dare, beastman!" Antoni glared.

"Now that is a face of a swordsman," Catori readied himself. "too bad it belongs to a man like you."

Catori swung his sword along the floor with the galloping steps of his three legs under him. Antoni stood ready, waiting for him to step inside his range. Instead of a swing, however, Catori spat some blood he sucked from his wounds at his face. Antoni stayed calm, closed his eyes, and drew breath. He did not need to see or think. All he needed was to let his hands flow with unfathomable speed once his autonomous bound field activated. With this technique, he had not lost a single duel. Surely enough, something stepped inside his range, and thus Antoni's lips moved.

"Castless style: Epilogue." He chanted.

Antoni heard the sound of metal clanking together, yet something was off. He could not feel the sensation of his sword piercing Catori's flesh. Tingling with curiosity, he opened his eyes. They immediately panned to the sight of Catori's curved sword flying in the air. However, as Catori lowered his sight to the ground, Catori was not there. Before his eyes could seek him, Antoni's body caught up to his brain, but a moment too late. before any pain could reach his head, it dropped from his shoulders. Catori stood behind him, with Fiore II stabbed through his palm. He pulled it out and left it next to its owner, but before leaving, arranged the body into a more respectful position. With the head in its gentle grasp and the sword in the sheath, it was the least amount of respect Catori felt giving to him as a swordsman.

"I used too much time on this. I need to catch up," He said going down the stairs.