Chapter 490: Branch-Severing Spell Formula

The first was a young man in military uniform, missing everything below his right shoulder.

The second was much shorter, reaching only about halfway up the window frame. From the silhouette, it was a woman.

The third stood on the outer edge, leaning against the window frame. It was impossible to tell its age.

These spirits neither knocked on the window nor spoke.

Richard sat motionless on his bed. He wasn't sure why spirits would find their way here, especially ones he didn't recognize.

All three things were looking into the room, but they weren't looking at him at all.

...Wait.

Richard cast Still Water over them and realized they were looking at the shadow behind the veil. The shadow was wearing the Mask of Hermes, still practicing Spell Formulas.

He remembered now. Even after acquiring the name Mercury, the crack on the Mask of Hermes remained.

Richard threw off his blanket, got out of bed, and walked over to the window.

All three spirits turned their heads simultaneously. They were waiting for a door to open.

Richard suddenly understood.

In their eyes, this dorm room was a ferry crossing.

The windowsill was a set of steps. That cracked mask was a door, and behind that door lay the place they were supposed to go.

They had queued up, waiting quietly on the steps for the ferryman to emerge.

Sweat slowly beaded on Richard's back.

The three prices of Hermes: the surrounding veil becoming transparent, the attraction of the dead, and the restlessness of travelers.

For the past half-year, the shadow had worn it behind the veil while his main body barely touched it. Whenever he wore it, he always activated [Silencer]. Not once in six months had anything gone wrong.

Now, the door wasn't closing tightly.

True, the crack didn't leak much—only three had come, rather than thirty or three hundred, and it hadn't drawn any threatening evil spirits.

But the fact they could find this place meant the door was shining brightly on the other side of the veil.

A lit door would always draw someone to knock. The next uninvited guest might not be a harmless spirit.

Richard figured he should Ferry them first. He could figure out how to fix the problem of attracting the dead later.

He took the Sacred Ibis Bronze Paperweight out of his canvas bag and angled its long beak toward them.

The sacred ibis lowered its head and began to record.

The first spirit: a string of numbers representing a regimental designation. The year was this year.

The second spirit: a woman's name. The year was the year before last.

The third took the longest to record. It was yet another nameless deceased.

Richard waited until it finished.

He lifted the paperweight and tilted it toward the three spirits.

"Your names are in the registry."

"But this isn't the door."

"After dawn, head east."

He pointed a finger toward the nearest church.

"Someone over there will recite them for you."

A breeze blew in from the west, and the spirits departed.

Richard stood at the window, expanding a wide-area sweep downstairs and over the main road of the Academy District.

Only after confirming there was no fourth spirit did he retract it.

Richard brought over the Small Bronze Balance and began to weigh the ratio of the two names within the mask.

The two pans of the balance began to shift.

The left pan slowly sank, while the right one rose slightly. The ratio was about seven to three.

Seven parts Hermes, three parts Mercury.

However, the right pan was still sinking, though the movement was almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

Mercury's three-part share was steadily growing.

Richard recalled the man's warning before passing the name Mercury to him: carrying too many divine names was not a good thing.

"...Sir, you certainly dumped it off and breathed easy."

He gave a bitter smile, flipped the mask back over, and stared at the crack with a touch of dismay.

He placed the Sacred Ibis Bronze Paperweight on the windowsill as a marker that this place was not a ferry crossing.

It would work for tonight, but he needed to keep observing.

Ferrying with the Caduceus was passively triggered; if spirits came on their own, it would cross them over.

If too many came, could he successfully Ferry them all? Furthermore, with the door open on both sides, what came through might not be ordinary spirits.

There was only one way to fix the root of the problem: completely merge the portion of Mercury he had been given.

...

On the morning of June 20th, the Imperial Capital saw its first true rain of the summer.

Raindrops pounded against the tin eaves, rattling the entire corridor.

However, the semester was over and the vast majority of the students had already gone home, so the heavy rain didn't really affect anyone.

MacFie called Richard over, saying he had a surprise for him.

When Richard pushed the door open, the white-haired giant had already slung his old leather bag over his shoulder.

"Professor, are you heading out again?"

"To Lewis Island." MacFie stuffed a book into his bag.

"The reinforcement work on that circle of standing stones in Callanish wasn't finished last winter."

"The Admiralty heard I was heading north, so they conveniently tossed the Orkney section onto my plate as well. They're short on manpower too."

Richard immediately thought of the several dives his senior sister had taken to the bottom of Scapa Flow.

"Professor, are you going alone?"

"I'm bringing two graduate students." MacFie buckled his leather bag.

"Though if anything actually happens, those two will run faster than anyone else. At most, they can lend a hand with the daily chores."

The rain outside grew heavier. The white-haired giant pushed the window shut and turned around to size Richard up.

"Are you hurt?"

"No injuries."

"And your ether?"

"I slept for two days after I got back. It's fully restored."

MacFie nodded and didn't press any further.

"Alright, let's get down to business." He reached out and pulled a notebook from the corner of the desk.

"On the platform at the end of May, I told you I had a surprise waiting for you."

"Did you figure out what it was?"

"No." Richard shook his head honestly.

"I spent almost half a month guessing. I thought about seal patterns, or maybe a supplementary manuscript for your *Structure and Rheology*, but I figured the most likely answer was that you were going to buy me a meal."

"You guessed a meal?" MacFie roared with laughter. "You know me well."

"Did I guess right?"

"You guessed wrong."

MacFie moved his large hand away from the notebook.

"This is the surprise. Open it and take a look."

Richard opened the booklet. The pages were filled with the Ogham script he had only recently learned, making him feel as if the professor had set this up long ago.

The effects of the Spell Formula recorded in this booklet... Richard's breathing quickened.

Back in February, MacFie had single-handedly taken down a whole table of Northern European experts. When Richard heard Hecate recount the story, he had actually been incredibly envious.

"...Professor, is this your Spell Formula for deleting others?"

MacFie crossed his arms over his chest. "That's right. My Spell Formula is called Branch-Severing."

He extended a finger and sliced it horizontally through the air.

"Every character position in Ogham is a branch, carved onto the edge of a stone. Branch-Severing wipes that stroke right off the edge."

"If you want to stop a target from running, you slice away 'run.' If you want to stop an evil creature from biting, you slice away 'bite.'"

It sounded almost like a conceptual weapon. Richard eagerly waited for more details.

"But I don't have time to teach you right now... I have to catch a train this afternoon."

MacFie picked up his leather bag.

"Besides, I'm too impatient when I teach. Sometimes, if a student doesn't get it after half a day, I might just slap them into a wall."

"I've arranged for Catherine to teach you."

The sound of the rain poured in. Richard was somewhat stunned.

MacFie spoke quickly; he had clearly thought this through beforehand.

"The girl has been learning it for over half a year. Her foundation is quite solid."

"Having her explain it to you might just help her gain some experience too."

"Professor..."

"Don't thank me." MacFie waved a hand.

He pushed the door open and walked out. Only when he reached the end of the corridor did he remember something and shout back.

"Oh, right, that girl's vocal cords are still healing. Don't go teasing her into talking."

"...Then how am I supposed to take the class?"

"She can write in her notebook. Haven't you two been used to that for a while now?"

The white-haired giant's back vanished into the rain.

In truth, MacFie had been plotting this for a long time.

Yesterday afternoon, he had been sitting in Mortimer's office, stealing his old friend's tea and complaining about it after finishing.

"Your tea is still just as awful to drink."

"If it wasn't awful, you would've robbed me blind."

Mortimer pushed his reading glasses up his nose.

"Out with it. How are you going to arrange things for Richard?"

"That Catherine girl has Nemesis attached to her," MacFie began laying out his plan.

"The scales need to be balanced. If they aren't, she'll be the first to suffer."

"She owes the boy a lot from this past year. Having her teach him my trump-card Spell Formula will more or less balance the scales."

Mortimer hummed in acknowledgment and continued clipping for his 'joke collection.'

"Old Mac."

"What?"

"Since when did a Major Adept of the Moon-Hunting line switch careers to play Cupid?"

MacFie froze completely.

"When did I ever..."

"You've practically slung the bow over your shoulder," Mortimer said leisurely.

"Shooting arrows blindly at the two of them."

"It's instruction!"

The elderly professor teased, "Instruction means locking a teenage boy and girl in a training room in the middle of summer until they're dripping with sweat?"

MacFie sat there, completely unable to muster a reply.

"You're really hoping something actually happens between them, aren't you?" Mortimer laid out MacFie's true calculation.

"The boy is a pretty good kid."

"Good is one thing."

"His mother's lineage is still Ashford. His genetics should be good..."

Mortimer readjusted his reading glasses.

"That boy has a strong mind of his own. He doesn't need you pushing from behind to decide who he wants to be with."

"If he doesn't want it, emptying your quiver of Cupid's arrows won't do a thing."

...

By the time Richard went down to the training room, Catherine was already inside.

She had draped her jacket over the equipment rack in the corner and was bending over to tie her shoelaces.

Her red hair was tied back with an old ribbon, though not very securely; a loose strand clung to the side of her neck.

Today, she was again wearing her athletic skirt outfit meant for sparring.

When the girl bent over, several knife scars were visible on her waist and abdomen. There was no telling what kind of training she had endured in the past.

Hearing his footsteps, she straightened up, untied the ribbon, and secured it again.

"Morning." Richard set his canvas bag down at the base of the wall.

Catherine pulled her notebook out of her pocket.

"Did the professor leave?"

"He's taking the afternoon train. He came by this morning to say goodbye."

She turned the page of her notebook.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said the surprise was having you teach me this Spell Formula." Richard slapped the booklet recording the Spell Formula down in front of the girl.

Catherine glanced at the booklet and began to write.

"I said back then that if you guessed what the surprise was, I'd treat you to a meal."

"Too bad. You lost."

Richard burst out laughing.

"I concede. I really didn't guess it."

"What did you guess?"

"I guessed the professor was going to treat both of us to a meal."

Catherine's shoulders shook as she pursed her lips. She never made a sound when she laughed.

After laughing, the girl's small face tightened up, reverting to a pre-combat readiness posture.

She set her box of Silver Needles aside and showed Richard her empty hands, signaling that she wouldn't be using Moon Nails this time.

Richard began to circulate the Condensed Mirror Method, and the information of the entire training room came flooding in.

He had swept his perception over her dozens of times in the past half-year. He could recognize her intentions with his eyes closed.

Catherine made the first move. Her starting posture was incredibly low, sinking into a lunge stance.

The intent behind her straight punch rippled onto Richard's water surface before the fist even arrived.

Her right shoulder sank, her elbow drawing inward, aiming straight for his left ribs.

He shifted a half-step to the right, the punch brushing past his shirt.

The second strike was a redirected hook. The water surface caught the reflection, and he leaned back slightly.

The third strike, the fourth... By the fifth strike, Richard already had a solid read on her.

Catherine's skills had improved, but so had his.

"Catherine, if this is all you're going to use..."

The red-haired girl paused, reached into the side of her skirt, and pulled out an antler-handled chisel.

Richard recognized it. During the loot distribution after the battle in Covered Fire Village at the end of May, he had been the one to push that chisel over to her.

He braced himself as if facing a mortal enemy, knowing the Branch-Severing Spell Formula was coming.