[CLAUDE POV]
"Shoot your fireball!"
The command echoed across the courtyard with practiced authority. The drake's response was immediate—mana condensed around its gaping maw before erupting into a sphere of concentrated flame.
The fireball roared toward us, five meters of superheated death that distorted the very air around it with waves of blistering heat.
This isn't random, I realized with growing clarity. This is coordinated. Practiced.
My mind raced through potential water spells that might counter such an attack, but the scale was beyond my current capabilities.
The amount of mana required to generate enough water—and shape it properly—would drain me completely, assuming I could even manage the complexity.
Before I could voice my concerns, Teacher Reida moved.
She didn't run toward the attack—she flowed. Her body became liquid motion as she launched herself into the air, intercepting the massive fireball mid-flight.
Using Flow, she didn't try to stop the attack but instead redirected its momentum, sending five meters of concentrated flame spiraling back toward its source.
The drake's shriek of pain and surprise echoed off the courtyard walls as its own attack struck home. Even wounded, the creature positioned itself protectively between the flames and its rider—a telling detail that confirmed my suspicions.
"Teacher! Stop your counterattack!" I shouted, already moving toward the drake and its tamer.
Reida landed gracefully, her stance still combat-ready but her next strike held in check. Her questioning gaze found mine as I approached the wounded pair.
"He's with us," I called back, then directed my attention to the figure crouched beside the groaning drake. "What the hell are you trying to do, Ash?"
"Shut it, Claude!" The response came with characteristic irritation and complete lack of apology. "Instead of questioning me, help me heal Charizard!"
I sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of years of similar exchanges—and knelt beside the injured beast to begin casting healing magic.
Ash of Quellec Village. The name alone brought back a flood of memories, starting from our first bizarre encounter years ago.
I'd been maybe six when I found him—a scrawny kid clutching an oversized egg, attempting to steal fire from my father's smithy. At first glance, he'd seemed like any other village child, but his desperation had been different. More focused. More... obsessive.
The egg, he'd claimed, was a dragon egg. To hatch successfully, it required the specific heat generated by a forge fed with metallic ore—something his village lacked entirely.
When Father had refused his request for access to our hearth, the boy had decided to take what he needed.
I could have raised an alarm. Should have, by most reasonable standards. Instead, I'd given him what he wanted—a handful of glowing coals wrapped in metal tongs, hot enough to serve his purpose.
His joy had been infectious, even if his gratitude was brief. He'd vanished without so much as a goodbye, leaving me wondering if I'd imagined the entire encounter.
A year later, after Alex's memories had begun integrating with mine, we'd met again under equally dramatic circumstances.
I'd been testing my growing abilities against local monsters when I'd encountered Ash fleeing from a wild boar, his newly hatched companion—barely larger than a house cat—trying valiantly to defend him.
The little creature's fire breath had been pathetically weak, managing only to singe itself in the attempt.
Seeing them both about to become boar food, I'd intervened.
"What the hell are you doing out here alone?" I'd demanded after dispatching the threat.
"Oh! If it isn't the kid from Buena's smithy!" His response had held no gratitude, just casual recognition as he'd fussed over his charred companion. "Still alive, are you, Charizard?"
Even then, I'd been struck by the name choice—darkly appropriate for a creature that seemed to burn itself as often as its enemies.
The years that followed had established a pattern. Ash would appear at irregular intervals, usually in some form of trouble, always accompanied by his steadily growing drake.
I'd help when needed, offer training when he'd accept it, and gradually draw him into the expanding network that would become Arbalest.
Quellec Village itself remained something of a mystery to most. Hidden in the forests between settlements, it housed perhaps a dozen individuals dedicated to the study and taming of magical beasts. Father knew of them—they commissioned specialized tools and containers for their work—but even Paul remained unaware of their existence.
In hindsight, their presence explained much about Buena Village's relative safety. Most of the "stray" monsters that occasionally threatened our borders were actually failed experiments—beasts that had rejected their tamers and fled into the wild. The Quellec residents served as an unofficial first line of defense, dealing with threats before they could reach populated areas.
The cost of their research was measured in lives. Ash's parents had been among those lost to a taming attempt gone wrong, yet he'd remained determined to master the dangerous art.
Perhaps that shared experience of loss—his parents, my fragmentary memories of countless failures—had been what drew us together. We both understood the weight of continuing despite tragedy.
Charizard's growth had been remarkable once properly guided. The drake's natural magical abilities, combined with systematic training, had produced a creature capable of aerial reconnaissance across vast distances.
When Mike had first learned of Ash's companion, his merchant's mind had immediately grasped the strategic value—a flying scout could locate missing persons faster than any ground-based search team.
The collaboration had been natural, even inevitable. Ash provided aerial intelligence, I provided training structure and resources, and together we'd built something larger than either could have achieved alone.
But that raised the question of why he was here now, attacking Arbalest headquarters with what appeared to be genuine hostility.
As my healing magic knitted the worst of Charizard's burns, I studied Ash's expression. Beneath his usual abrasive exterior, I caught glimpses of something else—frustration, perhaps, or urgency.
"Alright," I said as the drake's breathing steadied. "Want to explain why you just attacked our headquarters? And don't tell me this was some kind of test."
Ash's jaw tightened, his hand moving protectively to Charizard's neck. "We found something. Or rather, Charizard found something." His voice carried an edge I'd rarely heard before—something approaching fear. "There's been... activity. Large-scale movement in the northern territories. Not slavers, not bandits. Something organized. Military."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Military movement? This wasn't in any of my memory fragments—another gap in my knowledge that could prove catastrophic.
"How large?" I asked, my mind already racing through implications.
"Large enough that Charizard refused to get close. And you know how territorial he usually is."
I did know. Charizard's typical response to perceived threats was immediate aggression, not strategic withdrawal. If something had made the drake cautious enough to retreat...
"Why attack the headquarters instead of just reporting this?"
Ash's expression shifted, embarrassment mixing with his earlier frustration. "I... may have been testing the defensive readiness of our people. If there's a military force moving in our area, I wanted to know how quickly our guards would respond to an aerial threat."
Classic Ash—good intentions wrapped in questionable execution.
"And the verdict?"
"Your Teacher's response time was excellent. The others..." He gestured toward where several Arbalest members were only now reaching the courtyard, weapons drawn but clearly having missed most of the action. "Could use improvement."
Teacher Reida approached, her earlier combat stance relaxed but her expression thoughtful. "I take it this was some form of... examination?"
"An unauthorized one," I replied, shooting Ash a look that promised future consequences. "But the information he's brought may be worth the irregular delivery method."
Military movement in the north. Another variable I hadn't planned for, another potential threat to people already displaced by the Metastasis event. The fragments had shown me many possible futures, but this...this was uncharted territory.
"We need to call a meeting," I said, standing as Charizard began to show signs of full recovery. "All division heads, within the hour. If there's organized military activity in our operational area, we need to know everything—numbers, equipment, apparent objectives."
Ash nodded, his earlier bravado replaced by the focused intensity that made him valuable despite his eccentricities. "Charizard can guide a reconnaissance team back to the area. But we'll need proper aerial support—maybe three or four fliers to get accurate intelligence."
Three or four fliers we didn't have. Another capability gap to address, another resource to acquire. The web of needs and dependencies seemed to grow more complex with each passing day.
"Make it happen," I said. "And next time you want to test our readiness, perhaps give advance warning to prevent friendly fire incidents."
"Where's the fun in that?" Ash replied, but his grin held an edge of tension that hadn't been there before.
As we moved toward the headquarters building, I found myself analyzing this new development from every angle my fragmented memories could provide.
Military forces moving during the chaos following Metastasis could mean several things—none of them good for the displaced populations we were trying to protect.
Another crisis. Another challenge. Another opportunity to fail in ways I hadn't foreseen.
But for now, we had information, resources, and people willing to act on both. Whatever was coming, we'd face it with our eyes open.
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