Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Stories

### Chapter 1: Glossary Of Characters

On request, this was added in case any characters were forgotten. It's a work in progress and I'll be adding to it as we go along.

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Albert - Cal's former handler. Is an older man.

Millie/Prodigy/Third Seat - Member of the Constellation and responsible for much of the Federation's scientific advancement. Gave Cal a Star and her old school books before he left for Empire.

Olivia/Emily - Cal's current handler. Orderly and well put together, was slated for special operations before being pulled by Albert to fill in. Appearance was changed, currently freckles and frizzy hair.

Mask/Fifth Seat - Member of the Constellation and expert in espionage. Confirmed user of illegal mind magic and able to readily change their appearance. True appearance or gender unknown.

Alice - Heir to House Ardere and Cal's fake sister. Unruly red hair and eyes. Strong sense of duty to family. Seventh-ranked in Academy.

Lord Ardere - Cal's fake Father and acting Count. Blames himself for weakness.

Claire - Lady of House Ardere and Cal's fake stepmother. Comes from a family of growth mages. Brown hair.

Lily/Liliane Arcutien - Third daughter of Marquess. Strong friend to Alice. Short dirty blonde hair and purple eyes. Fifth-ranked in Academy.

Rolland/Crown Prince - First in line to inherit the throne of Emperor. Has a smile that reminds Cal of someone else. Silver hair. Strongest in Academy.

Benjamin/Benny - Retainer of Rolland and third strongest in Academy. Stern-looking with black hair. Member of cooking club. Commoner background.

Mia - Led Cal to the written portion of the assessment. Enjoys reading and usually speaks in single-word responses. Plain, normal-looking girl. Acts as teacher's assistant to Wyatt and president of the cooking club. Normal girl.

Wyatt - Slovenly and lethargic. Proctored Cal's written assessment and is the teacher in Magic Engineering. Has tangled green hair and his skin is an unhealthy pale.

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Ferguson/Ferg - Former Finger, known as 'the tremor'. Drunkard and teaches Advanced Magical Combat.

Sebastian/Third Prince - Challenged someone at the opening ceremony. Challenged Cal afterward. Looks like a mini crown prince.

Petro Lucerna - Tries to subvert Cal to work against House Ardere.

LB-120 /Lennard - Federation agent. Newbie on the team. Smart but tends to get nervous.

CS-003/Cassey - Federation agent. More senior members of the team. Attacks Cal when he appears in safe house along with Lennard.

Haslin - Federation agent. Short, mostly bald, and missing teeth. Runs a grocer in the city that is popular with customers. Passes on messages between Federation agents.

Captain/Captain Davis/BZ-171 - Captain of the Federation team in the city. Uses a long-barreled revolver. Able to crack bad jokes in stressful situations. Has past experience with Cal.

Miss Plussier - Tailor that Alice and Lily drag Cal to. Purple hair with grey streaks, older woman.

Marcus Procellae - heir to dukedom. Second strongest in Academy. Taking Advanced Magical Combat with Cal. Uses trident. Dark blue hair and manicured appearance.

Ryan - Invited himself and his friends to sit with Cal in the cafeteria. Nosey individual and member of the photography club. Family has a background in foreign intelligence, engaged to Jessica. Has sandy blond hair.

Jessica - Budding fashionista. More perceptive than Ryan. Enjoys gossiping with Anne. Blonde hair.

Anne Sauratus - Warned Cal about taking Magical Engineering as sister had Wyatt in the past. Newspaper club member. Has a habit of covering for others in the group. Short brown hair.

Gregor - Member of Ryan's group. Shaggy hair and 'bastard'. Stressed about grades.

Lucas - Younger brother of William Fulgur. Approached Lily on rooftop while Cal was present. Long brown hair.

William Fulgur - Current member of Fingers. Bethrothed to Lily. People pleaser.

Deputy Headmistress - Member of House Evergreen. Meets Cal on a rooftop when 'joust' is about to happen. Cal leaves before the event takes place at her strong suggestion.

Oracle/Second Seat - Member of Constellation. Has an annoying smile. Cal was in frequent conflict with him in the past. Dubbed Cal the 'strongest roach'.

Aegis/First Seat - Member of Constellation. Cal has a positive impression of him.

Fourth Seat - Member of Constellation. Has come into conflict with Cal in past.

Klechin - Brother to Duke Ferrum. Called a creep by Jessica and her friends.

Harold - one of Jessica's friends. Met during lunch.

Vincent Promitia - older Justiciar. Hair is cut short. Streaks of gray cut through its otherwise brown color.

Pantheon:

Amir - god of deceit

Inis - god of knowledge

Urel- god of marriage and matriarch of the pantheon

Nui - the youngest. god of ambition

Vinyir - god of passion

Xerxes - patriarch of the pantheon

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### Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Soft melodies drifted up from the field below, reaching the ears of a concealed figure. Lying on his back, the frigid steel beam beneath him bit into his spine. He shivered and rubbed his palms together, bringing them to his face. He breathed into them, trying to bring feeling back to his fingers.

It was rotten luck to be deployed in the middle of a cold front.

Not for the first time today, he was tempted to will the inconvenience away. It would take but a moment, and his control was fine enough for it to go unnoticed by those below. As a bonus, it would cost so little.

Cost it did though, and these days he needed every ounce of magical might he could muster.

He tried to distract himself. When was the last time he'd even been to a stadium? Was it college?

Maybe.

Like most things from his previous life, the details were hazy. They'd been eroded by what felt like—what may have been—an eternity drifting in a senseless void.

"You know, this suit could stand to be more insulated," he whispered his complaint.

His earpiece crackled to life, and a voice he had not quite yet become accustomed to sounded.

"That suit comes standard with a temperature regulator."

That it was his fault went unsaid.

He supposed that was true. After all, he'd ripped out all the electronics months ago.

It wasn't paranoia if they were actually out to get you. No, tried to get him already.

"Status update."

Mercifully, his handler's voice stopped him from going down that particular rabbit hole again.

"One sec," he responded casually, in stark contrast to his counterpart. He could feel the disapproval on the other end of the line despite hundreds of kilometers separating them.

He rolled onto his stomach and stretched his neck over the side, getting a view of what was below, where a sort of play was happening.

If a play were some form of demonic summoning.

Arrayed in a very familiar pentagram formation were about eighty to a hundred cultists ritualistically chanting in some forgotten tongue. Drawn in what he assumed was blood, because cultists, the pentagram spanned the field and was decorated with candles at regular intervals.

At the head of the formation stood a shrouded man on a pulpit—a shepherd leading his flock. The magic in the air pulsed with his every word, directing his followers in their hymns.

As a simple observer, the figure in the rafters would have appreciated knowing the mechanics of what the magic was doing. At least he'd seen this play out enough times to know what part of the show they were in.

"Looks like they're getting close to the sacrifice part," he reported while eyeing said sacrifices. Their identities were obvious both due to their position in the center of the pentagram and the fervor of their chanting.

Willing sacrifices tended to give the ritual more oomph. Or maybe it was just easier to hide if you didn't have to worry about kidnapping people? He never quite figured that out.

"I take it I still don't have a green light," he asked, a bit perplexed. Usually they liked him to nip these in the bud.

"That's a negative on green light. Stand by." Based on the tenseness in their voice, dear handler wasn't too pleased about the hold-up. Perhaps believing he'd be able to save some of them?

He scoffed.

That was the problem with working with rookies. They didn't understand that one way or another everyone down there was already dead.

As for him? Sure, if some innocents—well, whatever counted for that nowadays—were mixed up in it, he'd tell the orders to go fuck themselves. But going out of his way to save a cultist?

Pass.

As the chanting reached a crescendo, he bore witness as the magic and life itself were ripped from the sacrifices, their empty husks falling with dull thuds. What remained of them now swirled in the center of the formation, forming a sphere that grew darker with every passing moment.

Of course, with cultists being cultists, it didn't end there.

From his vantage point, he could spot when the song changed, when the shepherd turned on his flock.

Some of the figures began swaying unsteadily as the magic took hold. A few of the more gifted ones realized their grim reality, yet they lacked the power to do anything more than call out their anguish.

"What?!?"

"How dar-"

"Why?"

He tuned out the spurned choir.

Surprise, surprise, you're being betrayed! In fairness, who could have predicted your garden-variety cult leader would metaphorically stab you in the back?

Certainly not the figure in the rafters.

The magic swelled as bodies fell one after another.

"We're reading a large spike." His handler's words came out quicker than usual, and a hint of panic infected the usually professional transmission. "What is your status?"

He shook his head in condescension. His old handler would never be fazed by something like this.

"Just the normal stuff. I think something good is going to pop out soon."

Maybe his levity would relax them a tad? Not that he particularly cared.

His earpiece remained dormant for a few precious seconds.

"Green light," his handler finally reported with a breath of relief. "You are clear to engage."

Not acknowledging the transmission, he nonetheless shifted from his prone position to a crouched one.

The magic continued to fluctuate, the ritual nearing completion, yet he didn't move.

"I repeat, green light." His ear buzzed again. "You are clear to engage."

"Heard you the first time," he muttered back in the hopes of cutting off the annoying chatter.

It failed as the buzzing in his ears went up a pitch.

"Energy levels are rising. Green light. CX-150, engage!"

He hummed to himself. Contemplating the choice. On one hand, it might be more efficient to end this now, depending on what came out. On the other hand...

"Nah, dude must have worked pretty hard to get this far. The least I can do is let him finish."

If they were going to play games and delay the kill order, he'd play right back. His resentment towards that designation may have also tilted the scales.

"We're forecasting a Category 4 level demon. Please engage!"

That stupid ranking system reared its ugly head. It wasn't even that helpful. He suspected it got more people killed than not.

More orders, demands, and pleas ran through his ear, but 'CX-150', or Cal to his friends, filtered them out with a practiced ease, intently focused on the developments below.

As the last of the shepherd's sheep fell, the magic hit one last high note and then settled down. The candles were snuffed out in unison as a feeling of wrongness descended on the area. The sphere, now a tar-like color, rippled and fluctuated. Limbs sprouted from it like twisted flowers, grasping as a form slowly coalesced.

"Well, that's my cue," he said, to the palpable relief of his handler as he dropped down to join the party.

He subtly cushioned his landing with a brief manifestation of wind and managed to land without causing a fuss.

Which was fortunate because his favorite part was next.

"HAHAHAHHA, I've done it!" The figure on the pulpit raised his clenched fist. "All those years of studying, the scraping and groveling I did. It was all WORTH it! I'll return every slight ever given! They'll burn! First this city and then the whole of the FEDERATION! All will know and dread the name of Allister Silas Sterling!"

A snort interrupted Allister's celebration. A snort that did not go unnoticed as the man whirled about to face its source.

With the light of the candles gone, the man struggled to identify the interloper.

For the interloper's part, Cal saw fine. Some distance from him was a man dressed in a frankly comfortable-looking crimson robe. The man, Allister, was of average height; however, his hunched posture made him seem smaller than he was.

His sunken eyes darted around, trying to peer through the darkness. Fed up with his lack of progress, Allister extended his hand. A flame soon manifested and provided enough light to discern Cal's shadowed figure in the field.

"You—who are you? How dare—no, how did you get in here!?" the crazed man demanded.

Cal smiled, giving the man a friendly wave.

"Name's Callum. I'm a janitor, so I got a master key and all that jazz." His eardrum nearly ruptured with his handler's protest, "Ben needed to take the missus out for his 10th anniversary, and I got stuck with the night shift."

He shrugged his shoulders in a 'What are you going to do?' kind of way.

"Well, you know how it is. Are you and your friends going to be done soon? Come to think of it, I don't remember an event scheduled for tonight." He stroked his chin in mock thought. "Did you get this cleared by Sally? She might have just forgotten to mention it to me."

One Mississippi.