“So, uh, Laplace(?)...”
“Are you seriously still questioning—ouch!”
“Sorry! Anyway, I do want to apologize for casting a full-power Explosion on you. That wasn’t cool of me.”
“Oh, it most certainly wasn’t! That spell’s used to wipe out entire cities, you know!”
“Considering I passed out from mana deficiency right afterwards, I’d say we’re even... but I did technically win, though, right?”
“You won without a shadow of a doubt. And a Sorceress never goes back on her word.”
Laplace sighed dramatically. Sure, she was fresh out of a 300-year magic seal, but even then, she never expected that this girl would get the best of her.
Truly there was no fate more lonely than hers had been. Trapped in that giant stone prison, all of her mana had been sapped away. Time itself had stopped. Passing adventurers, tribes exiled from their homes, sometimes even little birds came and went, but none ever stayed.
As time went on, those passersby grew steadily more and more sparse, and the fearsome sorcery of the prosperous Pajan Empire began to decline... until only the most basic, watered-down “magic” remained.
But Tanya? Somehow she possessed what the rest of her generation lacked: power, precision, and most of all, the reckless courage necessary to turn an Arcane spell on another person without even flinching. She was crazy enough to go out into the middle of nowhere and start firing off Explosions at nothing—and it was that particular brand of crazy that had set Laplace free.
She was grateful to the little Mage, obviously, but more than that, she had taken a liking to her.
“Okay, well, before I state my demands... I’d like to see proof that you really are Laplace the Great Sorceress.”
“Oh, right. Proof, hmm? I suppose that’s only fair... After all, I imagine the average person would find it hard to believe that some random drop-dead knockout was in fact the very Sorceress that was sealed away for the past 300 years...”
“...Did you just call yourself a drop-dead knockout?”
“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” Laplace remarked, idly floating into the air.
“Gah! You’re flying again!” Tanya tensed up. Truth be told, the mere fact that this woman could levitate was proof enough of her exceptional magical prowess—a level of skill befitting the title of Sorceress.
“The look on your face says you don’t believe me... Well, alright. How about this?”
Laplace snapped her fingers. All at once, a blanket of dark clouds spread across the formerly clear blue sky, and a sheet of heavy rain poured down upon them. In seconds, Tanya’s clothes were soaked through. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Tanya was speechless.
“Whoops! Didn’t mean to get you wet!”
With another snap, the rain promptly let up. In its place a fierce wind blew, drying the meager fabric of Tanya’s outfit.
“Gah!” The gale sent her pale pink strands flying in every direction.
“Okay, back we go...” And with a final snap, the sunny skies returned at last.
“...What just happened?!” Tanya shrieked as her mind reeled.
“Huh? Oh, I was just messing around with the weather, that’s all.”
“Wh... Messing around?! With the weather?! You can’t do that! That’s, like, extremely forbidden sorcery!”
“Yes, well, I’m a Sorceress, remember? Comes with the territory, does it not?” Laplace did another somersault.
With this, Tanya was convinced. Levitation magic, a personal portable force field, and now weather manipulation? She had to be the real deal. Surely only the mythical Sorceress herself was capable of these things.
That just left one question...
“Were you going easy on me?”
“Hmm?”
“You know, during the ‘game’ or whatever. I mean, yeah, I hit you with an Explosion, but still! There’s no way I actually defeated the Great Sorceress, right? So you must’ve let me win on purpose!”
“What? No, I didn’t let you. That was all you, 120%,” Laplace replied in mid-air. “Granted, I couldn’t attack you back with the rule I put in place, but even then I wasn’t expecting much of you, to be quite frank. As far as I knew, you modern Mages all paled in comparison to the spellcasters of my day. But you? Your technique is something to be reckoned with. Even if I hadn’t underestimated you, I’m sure your Explosion would have defeated me regardless.”
I mean, yeah... Explosion kiiiinda probably shouldn’t be cast on other people in the first place...
“You’re a formidable fighter,” Laplace continued, gazing into Tanya’s eyes as she bobbed up and down. “While you clearly have some level of innate talent, you also have knowledge and experience in spades. I can only imagine how much hard work you put in to get this far... I must say, I’m sincerely impressed. Not even my generation 300 years ago had many casters as incredible as you.”
A moment later—
“Hnnnn...”
“...Huh?”
“Nnn... hhh... waaaahaaahhhh!”
All at once, Tanya began to sob like she was twenty years younger.
“Uh... wh... You alright there...?”
“Weeehhhhaaaahhh... weh... gggpphhhnnn!”
“Those are some rather peculiar crying sounds, you realize?!”
“I can’d... guhhuuhhh... I can’d helb it!” Tanya wailed.
Those words of praise had opened the floodgates. There was no holding back now. She had worked so hard—proved herself—she was the best in her field—and yet—
You’re off the team. You’re a woman, Tanya, Ryan’s voice echoed in her mind. You’re a woman. You’re a woman. You’re a woman.
She resented the fact that they had dismissed her based on something that was outside of her control. She was so, so angry.
“Um... I’b sowwy... I’ss nuffing... I jus’ need to cry for a while an’ den I’ll ged ober it... Wehhh...!”
Tanya always hated the association between crying and femininity—that women were expected to be overly emotional—and so she had always kept her sadness safely behind closed doors.
But here she was. And the tears wouldn’t stop.
“W-Well, um... There, there! I can tell something painful must’ve happened, or else you wouldn’t have come out here to throw Explosions around, right? So go on and cry it out! We’re both girls here, you know? And sometimes a girl’s just gotta cry.”
Tanya was too choked up to respond, but there was one thing she understood intrinsically: this floating Sorceress was trustworthy—at least 99%. How could she tell, you ask? Because Laplace was fighting her own trepidation in order to rub Tanya’s back while she was crying.
And Tanya could feel a gentle warmth in those fingers.