"Spatial magic?" the old wizard repeated.
"At least in his last days before disappearing. Master researched travelling between worlds and planes," Zoltan tried to explain. "But he refused to share his findings."
He was a mere pupil after all; one who kept failing in everything but basic light magic.
"Then how would you—"
A raspy cough cut the sorcerer off.
He doubled over, bracing against his poplar staff, and Zoltan had to wonder how he was still alive. But guessing what he wanted to ask was easy. He'd only have to wait until he recovered.
"When the Green Mage disappeared, I gathered all the grimoires he'd left behind," he said.
Though he didn't understand any of them. Not at the time.
Not to mention, the codices were in an even worse state than this weak old man now.
Before his fated encounter with Konrad, he had little time for restoration, either. But he made huge progress in the last month, after that annoying, stuck-up noble had left.
"So that's how the Mad Caster sealed us," the mage summarised. "The question is—why?"
Zoltan was more interested in figuring out how or where, but yeah.
He might as well have asked why, too.
Seeing his teacher standing in his doorway, then finding himself in a grey void?
What was the Green Mage planning? Where has he been all this time?
And how did Zoltan end up together with his old-time rival, the Silver Mage?
"I bet it's all Konrad's fault somehow," he groaned.
"Konrad?" That gave the elderly wizard a pause. "You mean the Halstadt child? Erwin's bastard, they call the Prodigy of—what was that little village again?"
"Haiten," Zoltan spat, crossing his arms.
Was this old man trying to rub salt into his wounds?
"We were on our way to him when the Green Mage attacked," the wizard said, gnarled fingers combing his beard. "To a tournament. Could they be somehow connected?"
"Um, they never met," the illusionist noted. "He wishes they did, though."
That was why fate crossed their paths, too, after all.
The little country bumpkin was looking for Zoltan's master back then. He stole a magic stone from him to help keep his heavy secret, but if he knew what he knew now—
"Damn it, I restored all those books for him, and I got whisked away before he'd pay for them."
Seeing the Silver Mage's confused expression, he must've talked out loud again.
Was it something to do with this strange place?
Either way, the cat was out of the bag.
"Konrad wanted my help with a tournament as well," Zoltan explained. "But I refused, and met my old master moments later. Only to end up here. It makes no sense, but that's all I know."
The wizard didn't say anything for a while, combing his long, grey beard instead.
"Spatial magic, huh?" he muttered, as if the rest of the discussion never happened. "Well, if the Mad Caster transported us somewhere, there must be a way out, too."
Zoltan only thought about how he got here and why.
Yes. He should've focused on a way to escape this grey hell, too. If there was one—
"I'll do anything to help," he offered, his voice confident and eager.
But when the mage's gaze stumbled on him, he looked like he was only realising he was there.
"Who're you again?" he asked between coughs wracking his fragile body. "You know a way out?"
"Huh? No, but—"
That's when Zoltan realised it, too.
They were fu—
***
"—ed," Welf's swearing almost shattered his eardrums, but he still missed the first half.
That week—a month? An eternity?—Konrad spent in Gabby's temporal bubble turned him into a vegetable. How did she expect him to fight in that state?
Let alone win a tournament?
"Our strategist is gone, along with the vanguard," the blacksmith yelled into his face. "I know we said you can leave everything to us, but we could use one of your smart ideas right about now."
"What?" Konrad tried to focus on the present, but it was hard to shake off his stupor.
Were they losing?
Why? He was becoming confident in his men, and now—
'Well, every duke brought the best of the best, and they all came to win,' too, Lily offered an answer, one he didn't like. And wasn't telepathy cheating? 'Oh, no worries, I'm not helping.'
Great.
"How did this happen?" he muttered, his voice almost lost in the clash of swords and shields.
Welf shot him a glare, then, as if someone bonked him on the head, his expression softened.
"You know where you are?" he asked first, holding a heavy wooden shield over his head.
"On my tournament," Konrad snapped, though he had to realise how little else he knew. "The location with the abandoned fort? Weren't we the ones defending it?"
"Sorell thought it'd be a good idea to sally out and surprise the enemy," the redhead groaned.
"Who?" The name sounded foreign.
"Sorell? The knight you made your commander?!" Bonk or not, Welf was losing his patience.
"So that was his name?!" Konrad didn't care. He was happy he could finally learn it.
Now he didn't have to embarrass himself and ask the man himself.
Except—
"How did he lose?" No, wrong question. It was already too late for that. "How much did we lose?"
"Only twenty-five men," Welf said, stabbing out with his sword at someone Konrad couldn't even see. "But that means, now they outnumber us two to one, and somehow got behind—"
He couldn't finish, forced back into a breach in the wall while fighting for his life.
Although—sweaty as he looked, he still didn't have a single scratch on his massive body.
'Wakey-wakey, sweetheart,' Lily's impatient voice echoed in his mind again. 'This is a tournament. The rules say if he's injured, he's out. And look at you. If he is, you are, too.'
Right. The tournament. This was his bout. He had to win it.
'What do I do?' he asked the voice inside his head, recognising the weight of the situation.
'No-uh, not helping,' the demoness refused. 'That'd be cheating. Mommy didn't raise a cheater.'
Ugh, also right. But it was hard to think, when—
'How long was I out?' Konrad tried to get a hold on the present at least.
'Hmm, five or ten minutes, since the battle had started?'
And they were already losing this hard?!
Welf's shield faltered, splinters flying everywhere.
A blunt sword almost reached his arm—but then it didn't.
A man, even taller than the blacksmith, knocked him off to the side and took his place.
Kade Enpe. They hadn't lost yet.
His chosen commander might've failed—hold on, what was his name again?
He couldn't forget it this fast, right?
'Sorell,' Lily offered, and he could almost hear her rolling those big, hazel eyes. 'Sweety, get your shit together. This isn't the time for that. Make meow proud.'
"I'm trying," he groaned, forced to raise his shield.
The enemy was pushing through.
"It's not the motivation I'm lacking, it's the knowledge."
It would've been so easy with an illusion map or a glance at the broadcast—
'Yeah, yeah,' the ginger scoffed. 'But no cheating.'
Not that he wanted to. He only wanted an anchor.
Recover the time he lost as a vegetable.
From spending all that time learning unrelated things.
'Well, you're pretty screwed,' Lily agreed. 'But it'll be even sexier to win from here.'