Arcane Exfil

Two weeks passed like a breeze in the trance of newfound freedom. Their magical studies deepened under Lady Verna, who made regular trips from the castle to OTAC. Individual talents began to show – and so did the hard limits of projection magic. A spell that could melt steel at point-blank range diffused to barely singe wood at fifty meters. No wonder people resorted to throwing fireballs instead of spawning them next to their targets.

Their work with barriers proved more promising. Simple shields evolved into persistent constructs that held without constant attention, though the initial mana cost made them think twice about duration. The possibilities were obvious: temporary platforms, personal shields, instant fortifications. Not ideal for sustained operations, of course. Earth magic could accomplish the same feats at a fraction of the mana cost. But when the situation called for subtlety over efficiency, barriers had their place.

Their enhancement magic had moved past brute-force applications as they learned to target muscle groups rather than relying on wholesale reinforcement. They all moved like anime characters now, but Miles had taken to it with particular enthusiasm. Honestly, he probably just wanted to throw hands with demons. Not the optimal approach, but after that ambush on day one… Cole could see the appeal.

As for Mack, he’d made a full recovery. Better than full, actually. His mana rating had stabilized at Level 18 after last week’s test – a solid six levels above Cole's capacity. Moving into the house seemed to have done him good as well. No lingering effects from the coma, no complications from his physical rehab, which turned out just as he’d expected.

Just the same old Mack, now with an apparently permanent boost to his magical potential. Whether the gap represented his natural ceiling or if it was just some quirk of recovery... well. Cole was happy for him nonetheless.

It seemed like Mack would be one-upping them on everything for the foreseeable future, until Ethan found his niche in glyph design. Most students could pick up the individual runes easily, but not the architecture. For Cole, arranging runes inside a glyph was like writing code. But Ethan?

He must’ve seen them differently, given how naturally he took to chaining the runes together. Within days he was laying out sequences that made Lady Verna question his sanity. Then again, most sane people wouldn’t choose to deal with bombs for a living.

Then came the classroom content. OTAC's classification system divided demons into two broad categories: humanoids and monsters. Humanoids posed the greatest strategic threat – from the lowly imps all the way up to the dreaded Archfiends. Each type had its own Level rating, though Cole had noticed the instructors seemed hesitant to discuss the upper bounds. Goblins averaged around Level 5, while standard orcs operated at Level 10. The Mimic that had infiltrated OTAC as a Slayer Captain had tested at Level 13 before being discovered.

Monster-types like the Nevskors followed similar conventions, though their Level 10 rating meant something different than an orc’s. They traded versatility for raw physical power – a Nevskor could shrug off hits that would flatten an orc, but they were predictable, bound by instinct. A higher level humanoid typically meant more adaptability. A higher level monster, on the other hand, would just be a stronger version of its base nature.

Like any classification system, this one showed its cracks. Levels were rough approximations at best, measuring everything from raw power to tactical ability. Their instructors hammered this point home: a well-prepared Level 3 Army artilleryman with the right tools could absolutely take down a Level 12 threat. But the real danger came at the higher tiers, where no amount of preparation could bridge the gap. Historical records painted a clear picture: only summoned heroes had ever stood against Demon Lords.

The more mundane – yet equally important – lessons filled the gaps between theory and practice. Weapon maintenance, equipment checks, proper crystal cycling procedures, operating a revolver, wielding a cutlass, horse riding. All drilled into them until finally, they’d gathered for their first training mission – and an introduction to their newest member.

When OTAC had requested Elina Gracer for their unit, Cole figured they just wanted their best healer watching over their new heroes. Then he’d seen the look Warren gave her – not the polite deference he’d probably use with a family doctor, but the subtle nod shared between veterans. Their sweet elven doctor turned out to be a Slayer Elite with a Level 16 mana rating – one of the youngest in Celdorne’s history.

Not that Cole would have ever guessed that. The signs did eventually show themselves, though – namely how she held a rifle like it was normal.

Still, Ethan had doubts about a new member. Fresh dynamics, unknown variable. Fair enough, but Mack’s talents didn’t include healing magic yet, and Cole had seen enough to know that magic changed the old rules. Besides, Cole had seen enough anime to know the score – not as much as Mack, of course, but enough nonetheless. Every solid party needed a good healer.

Standing at a train station now, watching the cargo being loaded, Cole realized having Elina would be good for another reason: they didn't know shit about Celdorne beyond Alexandria’s walls.

The train horn billowed.

“Two day trip just to get there, huh?” Miles asked, following Warren past the line of passengers waiting by the platform’s nullification checkpoints.

Cole shouldered his pack and grabbed his luggage. Their electronics still worked fine thanks to their solar chargers and spare batteries, but their options were limited. Having radios for themselves wouldn’t be very useful if they needed to call in artillery support or request reinforcements.

The goth elf researcher had picked up on that gap right away. Lady Kathyra had been diplomatic about it, floating the idea of studying their gear after this first mission. No pressure, just an open invitation to share what they thought might help.

Hell, Celdorne wasn't far off from figuring out radio tech on their own, though the Scrying Panes probably pushed back any real need for it. Their electrical theory was solid. Within a year they could probably be fielding radios for all of OTAC and Army support units. Tantalizing, but there were also other insights they could give Kathyra.

Better bullets and new bullet types, for one. FMJ, hollow point, tracers, maybe even armor piercing and frangible sometime down the line. Their metallurgy and industrial capacity was already there, based on what he’d seen in Alexandria and in OTAC’s arsenal. They just needed the right designs.

Grenades were trickier. Enhanced fireballs already packed more punch than any conventional frag, and his and Mack’s modernized version had only widened that gap. But there was potential there; he’d seen how they worked runes into equipment. Just how far could they upgrade frags and flashbangs and other types of gear with runes?

Of course, some advances would take longer than others, but they weren’t starting from scratch here. Between the four of them, they knew their gear inside and out – maintenance, manufacturing tolerances, material specs, everything down to the fundamental scientific principles. That’d cut years off their research time. No stabbing in the dark when they’ve got the finished product and the expertise to explain why each design choice matters. Hell, they could hand Kathyra’s team decades of ballistics research and metallurgy on a silver platter, complete with the physics behind why it all works.

Two days on a train. A full week for their mission in total. Plenty of time to figure out where to start.

“We’re not riding coach?” Cole asked.

“Hardly. Our station affords us better than that.” Warren led them toward a set of cars at the far end of the train.

A second set of nullification arches waited there. Cole stepped through, that uncomfortable compression washing over him. No matter how many times he went through these things, he’d never get used to it. But after that ambush at the castle, he wasn’t complaining.

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The steward checked their tickets and directed them to their assigned compartment. The private car was exactly what Cole would expect for nobility – plush armchairs, some window-facing seats, a small couch near the sleeping berth entrance, and a central table with booth seating for dining. Warren stowed his bag and excused himself to check on something with the conductor, leaving them to settle in.

Miles immediately sprawled into one of the plush armchairs. “Damn. Straight outta Orient Express.”

“Minus the murder mystery, hopefully,” Mack said, settling by the window.

“That’s what the nullification fields are for,” Cole said. He chose a spot on the small couch near the sleeping berth entrance. After stowing her equipment, Elina joined him.

“Comfort suits you well. It is a pity our destination cannot promise such ease,” she remarked, tucking a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear.

“All the more reason to appreciate it now,” he said, offering her a smile. “No light without darkness, right?”

Elina chuckled softly. “True enough – if we’re to treasure the light, we might as well wring every ounce of comfort from it while we may.” She glanced toward the miniature bedrooms, then back at Cole. “Perhaps this train was meant as a farewell gift from civility itself.”

Cole recognized the sentiment all too well. It was steak and lobster all over again.“Sounds like you’ve done this before. Saying goodbye to civility, I mean.”

“Once.” The way her voice shifted into pure melodrama almost made him grin. “And let me tell you, it is no small cruelty to be pampered so thoroughly, only to have it all snatched away. Betrayal, truly. Had they any mercy at all, they might have sent us straight into the dust and heat. But no, let us first be spoiled and then cast to the wolves. Why, I’ve not seen even the demons stoop this low.”

He couldn't help but enjoy her commitment to the bit. “So, betrayal by upholstery, is it? I’d hate to see how you describe the real enemy out there.”

“Oh, the demons will have to work very hard to surpass this treachery.”

Cole chuckled. “C’mon, the adjustment’s not that bad.”

“Oh my, to say such a thing before a lady.” Elina met him with a raised brow and the faintest smirk. “I might think you’ve forgotten yourself entirely.”

Shit – a faux pas. He may as well have asked her to pay on the first date. Cole raised his hands, feigning innocence. “My apologies, Doctor. But to be fair, you are a Slayer Elite.”

“Which is to say, I possessed the wit to avoid such assignments hitherto.” She sighed, “Though, as you see, fortune has conspired otherwise.”

“Yeah, some conspiracy of fortune indeed,” Cole smirked. “Truly crazy how they’re putting their best healer exactly where they need her.”

She gave a light laugh. “Oh, very good. Yes, I suppose they wouldn’t dare let their precious heroes stumble so soon. One must ensure the tales match the… substance. And… you’ve certainly provided that.”

Elina hesitated at the end there, holding his gaze a moment longer before looking away. For someone who’d been assigned to babysit them, she seemed awfully eager about the whole thing. Then again, everyone had their reasons for fighting – doubly so when demons were involved. Could be revenge, could be glory, could be duty. Hell, maybe she just thought it was cool to work with a party of heroes; Tenria had tons of those stored away in various libraries and children’s books. Or maybe her interest was more specific than that, given how she’d emphasized ‘substance.’ But until he could get to know her better, there was simply no way of knowing yet.

The train lurched forward, and Alexandria began to fade behind them. It rolled through familiar territory at first: past their neighborhood, past OTAC, past the military installations they’d gotten used to seeing on their daily commute. As they approached the Final Line, those massive towers finally came into proper perspective. Cole had seen them plenty of times from OTAC, but up close? The gun emplacements were enormous; each one looked like it belonged on an Iowa-class battleship.

Warren came back with their timeline mapped out as they emerged on the other side of the Final Line. Apparently, they’d arrive at Nolaren by sunset the day after tomorrow, weather permitting. The route followed the coast for most of the run, which meant predictable conditions unless a storm rolled in off the sea.

They passed by more farmland before a steward arrived to take lunch orders, and Cole let the others go first while he studied the menu. Elina had gone off about their pheasant – a dish seldom served without descending into something resembling a tanner’s craft, as she put it. Yet somehow, the chefs here always pulled through, as expected for a railroad company that was apparently famous among the nobility. Naturally, they had to give it a try.

The food arrived around an hour later, and just like with the Michelin Star-quality dishes from the castle, the stuff here would probably be enough to make Gordon Ramsay cry tears of joy.

The meal passed with idle chatter focusing on Mack’s recovery, and Cole found himself drawn to the window more and more as they rolled deeper into Celdorne proper. The landscape wasn’t all that different from what he’d expect back home – clusters of cities surrounded by sprawling villages and towns, connected by highways and rail lines. Just trade the fast food restaurants and Walmarts for that Victorian architecture they seemed to love so much.

Most of the journey was dedicated to studying, and he ended up sharing a booth with Elina during their reading sessions.

The historical records were the real eye-opener. Comparing texts from the 4th and 6th incursions showed the first documented cases of demon evolution – Nevskors trading their simple scales for that compound lamellar armor they used now. And that was just the physical adaptation. Their tactics evolved exponentially faster. Most incursions featured straight-up charges until the 6th incursion just a century ago. Now, apparently, they were infiltrating humanity’s civilizations.

Warren mostly kept to himself during these sessions, occasionally offering context but generally absorbed in his own documents. Elina proved more engaging company, especially when the conversation turned to experimental magic. She’d graduated top of her class at Celdor University with a thesis on regeneration magic.

Apparently, aggressive regeneration – particularly from amateur healers – often led to tumors. The best healers could regenerate entire limbs without complications, but nobody really understood why less skilled attempts went wrong. Until Elina started experimenting on captured lesser fiends, deliberately manipulating healing magic in different ways to see what caused the mutations.

Her story sounded about as fucked up as Cole could imagine. It was pure Unit 731 type shit; research gained only through abominable trial and error, pushing magic in ways it was never meant to go. It was hard to feel bad about it when demons were involved, but still – there was something unsettling about how cheerfully she discussed weaponizing cancer research. Then again, he couldn’t really argue with the results. And neither could Mack, who’d been patched up with that same expertise when they first arrived. Good thing she’d worked out the kinks on demons first.

Between Elina’s casual discussion of demon vivisection and Mack’s disturbingly practical questions about using regeneration for growing new limbs, Cole was starting to wonder if this world was getting to all of them. At least they’d get to test these theories soon enough; the train was already slowing for their approach to Veloren, the last major city before the First Line.

They’d figured Veloren would be more military-focused than Alexandria, but damn. The whole city was basically one giant supply depot with a town attached. It was just warehouses, factories, and enough railway infrastructure to make Norfolk Southern jealous.

The OTAC shuttle waiting for them at the station looked exactly like the ones back home – well, back in Alexandria, anyway. The route to the First Line painted a clearer picture of what they were up against. Demon corpses littered the plain grassy fields: mostly low-level imps and goblins nobody bothered to clear or harvest, rotting where they fell. Celdornian cavalry ran regular patrols between a network of trenches and earthwork fortifications. He’d have thought this would be more like the Korean DMZ, but no – this was more like No Man’s Land.

Nolaren turned out to be just another cog in the machine, one of dozens of forward posts maintaining the perimeter. It adopted a star-shaped design, with outer walls at least 50 feet high and a water-filled moat sourced from a nearby river. It seemed like overkill, until Cole remembered the possibility of tunneling demons. The whole structure was carved with glyphs, some of them blaring red.

The gate guard snapped to attention as they pulled up and exited the shuttle. “Sir! Your arrival is most welcome. Your presence is required urgently.”

Warren glanced at the stamped metal badge on the man’s chest. “What’s the situation, corporal?”

“One of our patrols is overdue, sir. No flare,” he said, shaking his head. “Captain Lorresh requests you at operations immediately.”

Warren frowned, but gave a nod. “Lead us to him.” He turned to Cole and the others. “It seems our purpose here has changed. This is no longer a mere training mission. Prepare yourselves.”