Annabelle’s Bastion

“Fucking shit, Wells.”

“Are you that surprised? This has always been the plan, even six months ago. We are simply correcting our mistake, and now is the best time.”

“Fuck.”

Greg had to pause to consider his options. He sat atop a nearby rock overlooking the vast ocean, watching the dark skies as he carefully weighed the decision that could literally change his life.

Despite Ashton’s words, the plan would not be so simple.

Last time, he lied to a bunch of people to get them to work for him. Some wanted the promise of a Sigil, others wanted to get in the comfortable shadow of a powerful mage. But this was different.

He recalled the last time, an ambush that so utterly failed.

Of course, he wanted revenge.

How could he let himself be treated like some plastic doll, tossed around like a toy? He vividly remembered hitting that tree—his barrier was the only reason he lived that day.

He was toyed with that entire fight.

Revenge?

Fucking absolutely. He would have done it the moment he got Firebolt if it weren’t for that stupid masked woman who flew down from the skies.

“What about that damn masked bitch?”

Ashton just looked at him darkly and shook his head. “I don’t like your crude language, Gregory.”

Greg nearly jumped off his rock to send this man to the floor, but his better judgment won, and he simply scowled. “Call me that again, and I’ll beat your fucking ass.”

Did this egotistical stick-looking man really think having the backing of a mage meant he could talk all this shit?

Well, yes. But Greg would still teach him a few things if he crossed the line.

Ashton dryly chuckled, an arrogant laugh that made Greg want to rip his tongue out. Finally, he nodded and turned his head toward the distant tower in the island’s center. “That masked woman is the headmaster of Bastion Academy, Greg. She is quite easily the most powerful person on this island—on this planet.”

“What?”

The headmaster was a woman? One who just wore a stupid hoody and normal pants? One who covered her face with a cringy mask? That was the most powerful, influential person on Earth?

No fucking way.

Ashton seemed amused at his shock. “Correct. I’m sure you recall the pressure you felt back then. That was just her presence. If we offended her, nobody would know how we died.”

He did remember that pressure.

It was like somebody forcefully tied titanic chains to his limbs and put him in the desert. Even when having a gun swung around his face, he didn’t feel something like that. He couldn’t confidently say he could look her in the eyes like he had every other threat to his life.

“So?” Greg asked, ignoring his fear. “If such a bi—” Seeing Ashton’s deepened glare, he corrected himself sarcastically, “woman. If someone like her is protecting Aria, how in the fuck do you expect me to do anything?”

For this man to act like a so-called gentleman when his plans were so vile was nothing short of laughable.

Greg would kill him, too.

“Alisha is not on the island at the moment—she had an important matter scheduled months ago. I’m not sure where she went, but it might be related to the Sorana teleportation gate. This is the only time we can absolutely confirm she is not on the island.”

“Sorana?”

“The planet we left Annabelle Frost on during the first expedition.”

“Who the fu— oh, right,” Greg recalled their conversation before the Aria ambush. “You said it’d be fine if we targeted her back then instead. Why’s she important?”

“She…” Ashton paused, turning toward the ocean. “She is unimportant. Regardless of what happened to her in Sorana, she is no longer a threat to me.”

Why’d he say that last part like it was some kind of stupid self-assurance?

“If she’s alive?”

“She most likely has an Apex Sigil now, but so will I… soon.”

“What?” Greg jumped off his rock and forcefully turned Ashton toward him. “You’re getting a fucking Apex Sigil out of this? And you’re trying to get me to work for fucking scraps?!”

“Remove your hands, Greg,” Ashton coldly said.

Greg didn’t respond, simply staring into his blue eyes.

“Damn you,” Greg spat, forcefully removing his hands.

He felt it—this man had more power than he let on. It wasn’t some kind of power Greg had; it was survival instincts. He was probably already getting some kind of support from whichever damn mage he was a pet to.

“If you follow my plan, Greg, you will face the smallest consequences. If I get caught, though…” He dryly chuckled. “I will die. So isn’t it natural that I receive the greatest benefit?”

“Whatever.”

The plan to provoke Aria into another fight. It seemed so elementary and stupid that Greg struggled to believe it would work.

“How strong is she now?”

“I was… assured she didn’t receive a Sigil from the expedition and that Alisha would not give her one.”

“Okay, but why the fuck did we not kill her months ago?”

Ashton looked at him like he was an idiot. “I did just say that Alisha was gone, yes? Such an occurrence is not common—especially not confirmable.”

God, he would make this fucker suffer.

But he bit his tongue.

“There’s more than that, right?”

He wasn’t as naïve as he was during the first ambush. Greg would not move again unless he could be absolutely sure of his victory.

“Aria cannot move so easily anymore. If she were to break a rule, then she’d be executed—Alisha can no longer protect her.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Her punishment for trespassing into the Sorana expedition was removed with that condition. Get it? She will no longer have Alisha to argue for her and protect her.”

Greg thought about it instead, lest he get another one of those annoying remarks.

Last time, he heard that her punishment was to not obtain a Sigil when everyone else got one from the school. So, that was Alisha’s doing. It might have been worse! When he heard, he was horrified at what his punishment might have been… but that never came.

Then, it clicked.

“You… you want one of us to die!”

“Correct.”

Of course! If the plan was executed properly, it would look to most that Aria simply got violent when she didn’t like their words. Even if they fought to kill her, her killing would be met with extreme punishment.

That was good.

It could work.

“How confident are you she can be provoked like this?”

“Near certain,” Ashton immediately replied. “Her isolated life on this island means she develops strong connections once they break through her shell. Her loyalty is fierce and wrath just as much.” He scoffed. “I confirmed this by smirking at her—I felt like she would have killed me if her teacher didn’t stop her.”

“Easily provoked, then,” Greg mused. He darkly chuckled. “I can easily get a few people to join me for this.” He extended his hand.

“Good,” Ashton reciprocated.

However, before he could grip it, Greg pulled back. “But! I want all their Sigils, too. All of it goes to me once the job is done.”

There wouldn’t be an issue if he just lied to his people. They just had to be there; he didn’t even need to tell them the plan. But he wanted the Sigils anyway.

Ashton paused, looking as though contemplating it. Eventually, he nodded. “Deal. I wasn’t given explicit instructions on how I distribute them.”

“Fucking peachy.”

They shook hands, and Ashton turned immediately after.

“Three days from now,” Ashton said as he left.

Greg waited a few minutes, then similarly turned toward the forest.

He had other plans for that arrogant bastard.

Absorbing an Apex Sigil was a dangerous thing, one that usually left the mage in the most vulnerable states of their lives. In fact, it could even go wrong. There was never a more perfect time to make Ashton Wells have an… unfortunate accident while trying to absorb a Sigil above his capabilities.

And so he returned to his dorm feeling lighter than when he left.

He wouldn’t actually attempt to fight Aria himself, even if he was the ring leader. There were plenty of people he could have as meat shields and cannon fodder. Even though he was confident he could win now, Aria had been isolated for these six months—she could still be stronger. Alisha may still have gotten her a Sigil, even.

Ashton’s confidence was not his own, and this time, the fight would be in a relatively public setting. He would gauge it first—make a show.

Joining in when his subordinates were so cruelly killed… wasn’t that a perfect image?

Once arriving at his dorm, he instinctively paused before remembering that the man wasn’t there today.

It was a good thing, too. Their dorm master was gone—the man was a stickler for the rules. Ashton knew that. They’d been waiting for this meeting until the man left.

He knew way too fucking much.

Greg stepped into the building and heard some voices coming from the kitchen.

“Fucking pigs,” he spat.

But today, he would ignore it.

Tomorrow was combat training, and those morons were going to feel the repercussions of their late-night snacking.

He arrived at his door quickly, turning the knob and pushing it open.

Once in, he quickly shut it.

“Now,” he said, pulling out his illegal phone and unlocking it.

There were only a few things on it, including his contact with Ashton and some trusted minions.

“You better be awake,” Greg muttered. There were only a few people in this, so getting to him was simple. With a push of a button, he dialed his most useful subordinate.

The phone rang for only a few seconds—good.

“Yeah, boss?” Freddy said. He had a somewhat nasally, quiet voice. He was one of those smart folks who needed someone like Greg to keep him safe.

“Gather a few people for me.”

“Is it—”

“Don’t ask fucking questions. Just get me a bunch of morons who’d do anything to get on my good side.” Greg walked over to his bed, one he moved to the center of the room when he got the other tossed out. This was his space. “Understood?”

“Y-yes, boss.”

Sitting on his comfortable bed had Greg feeling much happier. The plan would work; he’d get multiple Sigils, and he’d eventually kill the arrogant bastard.

Life was good.

“Make one or two a woman, too,” Greg added.

“You—”

“What?” Greg interrupted. His minion sounded a little upset, but he was one of the easier ones to control. A few threats in the right places, and he was as good as leashed. Could he be trusted with this mission?

No. He’d go along with it, but he would rat them out eventually out of some stupid guilt or some other bullshit.

It was settled—he’d be the one Aria killed.

They’d do it in a few days.

“S-sorry… yes, boss,” Freddy finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

God, that fear felt good.

“Get it done.”

Greg tossed the phone over to his nightstand.

With that done, he was ready for some quality sleep. Tomorrow was combat training—his debut with his new combat Sigil, and he was ready to see the shock and horror on those faces as he crushed all of them!

He jumped off the bed, heading to his bathroom for a quick midnight shower. Even his steps felt lighter, and he nearly hummed a song.

However, he suddenly froze right at the entrance as a harsh shiver shook his spine.

Something told him to turn around, an urgency from the depths of his body screaming at him.

But he couldn’t.

Call it a sense, one cultivated from being raised in the streets and subjected to violence every other day of his life. He knew when to avoid meeting the eyes of the overwhelming.

A cold feeling, the merciless gaze of death.

Was this the mysterious benefactor of Ashton Wells? Did he catch onto his plan to kill his minion? Greg couldn’t even muster the courage to turn around to meet that cold, murderous gaze.

“Who—”

“Gregory Martin,” came the emotionless, steely voice of a woman.

He recognized this voice… no way.

No fucking way.

“You bi—”

All he saw was a golden flash.

Before he could even turn, a devastatingly sharp pain in his head sent him to the ground.

“Annabelle may forgive—she may forget, but I will always remember. I remember what you nearly did to her that day, and I remember what your people did to her six months ago. For you to even think you can lay a hand on her…”

Annabelle? What day—that stupid ambush? Six months ago?

Greg could barely hear those words as his consciousness faded. All he could feel was the overwhelming fear of death, but he couldn’t open his mouth—couldn’t scream to beg for his life.

Why did he so foolishly keep his barrier off? Who cared for that extra mana?

He only heard one more sentence as he blacked out.

“Earthlings are fragile—don’t die too easily.”