Chapter 13 | Reincarnated as the Hero’s Childhood Friend, Then Saving the World

That afternoon, Margarita arrived at Clara’s office right on time. The door was open, and Clara was sitting behind her desk, flipping through a thick ledger.

“You’re here? Let’s begin, then.” Seeing her arrival, Clara retrieved a fist-sized, transparent crystal ball from a cabinet beside the bookshelf and placed it on the desk. “For the perception and guidance practice, we’ll use this.”

“What is this?” Margarita looked at the small object, feeling it was somewhat similar to the small sphere that had tested her mana earlier.

“A Soul Perception Amplifier. You’ll understand how to use it once you try.” Clara gestured for Margarita to place her hand on the crystal ball.

Margarita followed the instruction. The moment her palm touched it, a cluster of soft white light lit up inside the crystal ball. The light flowed beneath her palm, slowly condensing into a very thin pink line that extended outward from the center of the sphere.

“These are your mana circuits.” Clara pointed at the thin line. “Do you see them?”

Margarita stared at the thin line and nodded. At the other end of the line, a faint pink halo at the edge of the crystal ball was quite large, taking up nearly half the sphere.

Narrow circuits, large capacity. Margarita understood now.

Clara’s finger tapped the halo. “You can’t release a large amount of mana through your circuits quickly, but soul magic is different from elemental mana. You can learn to ‘seep.’ Just like water seeping out of a sponge, let your soul magic seep out from your soul. Take it slow; there’s no need to go through the circuits.”

She picked up another small crystal ball, injected a wisp of mana into it, and placed it on the desk. “Try to wrap this ball with your mana. Use that layer of mist on the surface of your soul.”

Margarita took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes and sank back into that sensation... the feeling of moisture on the surface of her soul, the mana seeping out like mist.

The mana slowly enveloped the crystal ball and then seeped inside, surrounding the mana already within. She could feel that wisp of mana rotating inside the crystal ball, like a small fish held in the palm of her hand.

“Well done.” Clara’s voice came from the side. “Now, draw them out.”

Margarita opened her eyes. The mana in the crystal ball was gone, and the pink halo in her palm was slightly denser than before.

“You learn quickly.” Clara took the crystal ball back, her pale gold eyes watching her with a satisfied smile. “Faster than I expected.”

“Instructor.” Margarita hesitated for a moment. “I want to ask a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can my mana output... become stronger? I mean, can the total amount of mana released in a single instance be increased?”

Clara watched her for a moment, then shook her head. She placed the crystal ball back on the desk, her finger pointing at the thin pink line.

“Your mana circuits are already set. They are very narrow; that’s determined by your physical structure. There are only two things you can do.” She held up one finger. “First, increase the precision of the release. For the same amount of mana, others might use full strength to throw a punch, but you can use full strength to drive ten needles into ten different spots. Precision is your advantage.”

She held up a second finger.

“Second, increase the stability of the release. Your current ‘seeping’ method is very crude. When the mana seeps out from the soul’s surface, more than half of it is lost. You might only be utilizing twenty or thirty percent of it. If you can increase this efficiency, your effective mana output will improve.”

Margarita nodded. Precision and efficiency.

“Then, if...” she weighed her words carefully. “If I wanted to release a large amount of mana in a short time? For example, a beam of light as thick as a gatepost... can that level of output be achieved through precision and efficiency?”

Clara was silent for a while.

“No,” she said. “There is an upper limit to the rate at which mana can seep from the surface of your soul. No matter how much you improve precision and efficiency, your maximum output is only so much. That narrow circuit determines your ‘burst power’ ceiling.”

She glanced at the pistol at Margarita’s waist.

“Though I don’t know the specifics, I know you have a way to force a passage open. There is a sealed direct path in your body from your soul to your physical surface. The width of that path is dozens of times that of your own mana circuits.”

Margarita subconsciously touched the grip of the gun at her waist, remembering the sensation from that night in Percy Village. The sharp pain of her soul being split open, followed by a sense of clarity she had never felt before, with mana pouring out like a flood through a broken dam, unstoppable.

“But the price is high,” Clara continued. “Your method is essentially forcing the soul channel to widen. You’ll feel sharp pain, followed by exhaustion, mental fog, and similar symptoms. These are signs of soul damage. Using it once or twice is fine; the soul will repair itself. But if used frequently, or for too long...”

She didn’t finish, but Margarita understood.

“So... there are limits,” Margarita said.

“Very heavy limits.” Clara nodded. “Your current soul endurance can probably only support that passage staying open for a few minutes. After a few minutes, the passage closes, the mana recedes, and you will fall into deep exhaustion or even a coma. If you force it to stay open longer, it could cause irreversible damage to your soul.”

She picked up the crystal ball and put it back in the cabinet.

“So, my suggestion is: in daily combat, training, and missions, focus on improving the precision and efficiency of your mana control. That is enough to handle most situations. Do not use that other method unless absolutely necessary; it is a double-edged sword.”

Margarita remembered how she had slept for an entire day after that night in Percy Village. Her temples had been throbbing even after she woke up, and that had only been a few minutes of activation. Even the few dozen seconds of activation during their journey had hurt enough that she nearly fainted.

“I understand,” she said.

Then, there was a knock on the office door.

“Come in,” Clara said.

The door was pushed open to reveal a short boy wearing glasses. Margarita was stunned for a moment; she recognized him—the boy who followed Constance.

“Is something the matter, student?” Clara leaned her chin on her crossed hands, watching the boy with a smile.

“Um... well...” The boy stuttered slightly. He glanced at Margarita and then lowered his head. “The... the President asked me to... give this to student Percy...”

He pulled out a letter with a wax seal on the envelope.

It was the Windermere family crest.

“The letter is delivered... I... I’ll be going now...” The boy ran off without looking back.

“It seems our Margarita is quite popular with the boys.” Clara looked at Margarita with a grin. “To be honest, I’ve always thought you had the potential to be a campus belle.”

Margarita, her face dark with embarrassment, borrowed a letter opener and sliced open the envelope.

“Tomorrow afternoon, library third floor,” Margarita read the contents aloud. “Constance von Windermere.”

Clara leaned against the edge of the desk, observing Margarita’s expression. “When did you manage to provoke the Student Council President?”

Margarita shook her head, folding the letter and tucking it into her sleeve. “It’s not me, it’s Joshua... the boy who came here with me.”

“The third floor is usually empty,” Clara said as she sat back down. “She likely wants to speak with you privately. Hmm... you’d better weigh your options carefully.”

Margarita weighed them all night.

The next day, on the third floor of the library, Constance was already seated when Margarita arrived. Her long golden hair was draped over her shoulders, her academy uniform was still meticulous, and a book was spread out before her, though she clearly wasn’t reading it. There were two cups of tea on the table, one of which was still steaming.

Margarita walked over and sat down across from her.

“Freshly brewed.” Constance closed the book and pushed a cup toward her. “Black tea from the Magic Department lounge.”

Margarita picked up the tea and took a sip. It was good tea, far better than the tea-leaf scrap water served after meals at the inn.

“Why did the President want to see me?”

“First, I must apologize to you,” Constance said, getting straight to the point.

Margarita was stunned.

“Regarding Renard Percy,” Constance said, picking up her own tea. “He did not disappear after saving the villagers. He still maintains some contact with our family. On the day after Percy Village was attacked, the family sent personnel to provide support.”

Her gaze toward Margarita changed, becoming more focused.

“The support team brought back a report on the operation. Demons attacked a border village, causing heavy casualties, but your village had more survivors than expected.”

She paused.

“This was thanks to the traps and mechanisms set up around the village in advance. While Renard Percy is an excellent hunter, those things were clearly not his handiwork.”

Margarita’s smile didn’t falter. “The hunter team did it together.”

“The hunter team worked for three months, following your advice.” Constance picked up her teacup, her gaze fixed over the rim. “Construction of the three-month project was finished just before the attack. Margarita Percy, what did you know in advance?”

Margarita’s heart skipped a beat.

She looked into Constance’s emerald-green eyes and suddenly realized.

This woman wasn’t here to talk about Joshua. Or rather, not just about Joshua. The one she was truly interested in was Margarita.

“The President is joking.” Margarita picked up her cup, masking her reaction by taking a sip. “I’m just more afraid of death than most.”

“Someone afraid of death would not climb the church tower alone when demons were besieging the village, using themselves as a lure to draw the demons away.” Constance set her teacup down. “The report clearly states: ‘Margarita Percy took the initiative to lure the demons toward the church area, buying time for the villagers to evacuate.’ But Renard did not say how you survived.”

Margarita’s fingers tightened slightly.

“The church tower is the highest point in the village. Standing there is equivalent to exposing yourself to all the demons.” Constance’s gaze was like a blade, slowly cutting through Margarita’s disguise. “And yet you survived, unscathed. The village legend is that a passing mage stepped in to help.”

“I didn’t climb any church tower. I was hiding in the church at the time,” Margarita sighed. “And then...”

“I am not interested in what happened that day,” Constance interrupted her directly. “What interests me is you. A girl from a border village with no mana and no swordsmanship talent, who spent three months convincing a hunter team to set up defensive fortifications, who acted as a lure during a demon attack, and who not only survived unscathed but also made everyone keep quiet about the truth afterward. Do you think I wouldn’t be interested?”

Margarita fell silent.

“The application for the Special Action Group.” Constance tapped the tabletop lightly with her finger. “Whether Joshua submits it or not, I don’t actually care. He is strong, but there are many strong people in the academy. The one I truly want to recruit...”

She looked at Margarita.

“Is you.”

Margarita looked up, her smile finally fading. “I don’t know how to fight.”

“The Special Action Group needs more than just fighters,” Constance said. “Defensive fortifications completed in three months, precise guidance routes, and predictions of demon behavior—these are far more useful than swinging a sword or casting a spell. When did you know the demons would attack Percy Village?”

I didn’t know. Margarita wanted to say that, but Constance was one step ahead.

“You knew,” Constance’s voice was devoid of inflection. “And you knew more than you think. You started preparing a year in advance, burying traps throughout the village, training Joshua’s intuition, and you even found something.”

Margarita’s hand holding the teacup trembled. That old hunter really did tell her everything.

“You...” Margarita’s voice was a bit dry. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

Constance stood up and walked to the window. The afternoon sun slanted in, gilding her long golden hair with a warm light. Her back was to Margarita as she looked out at the academy square.

“The Windermere family archives contain many things. Three hundred years of records from the Northern Frontier Defense Line, every battle fought against the demons, and...” she paused. “Some records regarding the world itself. Some things cannot be written on paper and can only be passed down through word of mouth. For instance, the cycle that occurs once every sixty years.”

“Ah...” Margarita held her breath.

“The royal family knows of this.” Constance turned around and leaned against the windowsill. “But knowing is not the same as being able to act. A cycle once every sixty years: the Hero slays the Demon King, the Demon King is resurrected, and a new Hero slays him again. It’s a recurring cycle. The royal family has tried many times to break it, but every time they failed. Until...”

Her gaze fell on Margarita.

“Until I saw Joshua Percy on the training field. His swordsmanship and intuition remind me of the traits of a ‘Hero’ described in the archives. And by his side stands someone who knew a year in advance that the village would be attacked and prepared for it, someone with no mana who survived a demon siege, someone carrying something specific.”

Margarita’s palms began to sweat.

“I didn’t come to recruit Joshua.” Constance walked back to the table and sat down, meeting Margarita’s eyes. “I came to recruit you. The Special Action Group needs your judgment and foresight. It needs your knowledge of demons. It needs...”

“I’m just an ordinary person.” Margarita lowered her head, her hair obscuring her face and hiding her expression. “I just want to live.”

“Live,” Constance repeated the word. “But you aren’t just living. You are racing against time.”

Margarita froze.

“You spent three months setting up defenses in Percy Village, and then the demons came. You spent four months looking for something, and then you found it before the demons did. Now you’re in the academy, training your mana control every day while simultaneously rejecting opportunities for Joshua that you consider ‘too early.’”

She paused.

“What are you afraid of?”

Margarita opened her mouth to say, “I’m not afraid of anything,” but the words caught in her throat.

I’m afraid of the things that haven’t come yet.

Constance didn’t push her. She picked up her cup and took a sip of the now cold tea.

“Margarita Percy, you are afraid of the things that haven’t come yet,” Constance said. “And you are afraid they will come too quickly—too quickly for your preparations to keep up. So you are accelerating everything, and every decision is jumping the gun. But you also know...”

“Stop talking.” Margarita’s voice rang out, but it felt different from when the conversation had started.

Constance stopped. The mask had finally slipped, she thought.

“You’re right.” Margarita looked up. The gentle smile had completely vanished, replaced by an almost invisible fatigue beneath her calm expression. “I am racing against time, but please forgive me; I cannot tell you the reason.”

“I don’t need you to tell me now.” Constance stood up and pushed her chair back under the table. “I need you to consider joining the Special Action Group. Not for Joshua’s sake, but for your own. Racing against time alone is too slow. You need people at your disposal.”

She picked up her book and tucked it under her arm.

“Besides, you’ve never lived just for yourself. Think about it, Margarita.”

The sound of her footsteps descended the stairs until it finally vanished into the silence of the library.

Margarita sat where she was, unmoving for a long time. The tea in her cup had gone cold, leaving a faint ring on the inside of the porcelain. She extended a finger and slowly traced the rim of the cup.

She was indeed racing against time.

The demons had attacked a year early, Lovell had appeared early, Constance had shown up early... the timeline was already unrecognizable. She wanted to pull the reins on a carriage with broken brakes, but it was accelerating with every passing moment.

She wasn’t Spider-Man; she couldn’t hold it back alone.

She stood up and pushed her chair under the table. She paused by the window and looked down. Constance had already reached the center of the academy square, her long golden hair standing out in the crowd. She walked with composure, as if she always knew exactly where she was going.

Margarita withdrew her gaze and went downstairs.

On the first floor, she bumped into Joshua, who had just finished training. He was covered in sweat, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the blue stone pendant hung just below his collarbone. Seeing Margarita coming out of the library, he was taken aback.

“You went to the library?”

“Just checking a few things.” Margarita’s smile naturally returned to her face. “How was training today?”

“It was okay. The professor said my combat drills were good today.” Joshua looked at her, a hint of hesitation in his blue eyes. “You... your complexion doesn’t look great.”

“I just didn’t sleep well last night,” Margarita said. “Let’s go. Let’s get some food.”

She started walking toward the cafeteria, and Joshua followed, walking on her left. He was used to walking on that side, a habit probably formed back in Percy Village.