Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 187: Ch185. The Professor

Chapter 187: Ch185. The Professor

The forge had settled into one of those rare, rare moments of stillness.

With Mara gone to meet the other guild leaders and the flames burning at a gentle whisper in the brazier, the building seemed to exhale slowly, languidly, peacefully.

Runes pulsed quietly in the floor and walls, a heartbeat in sync with the place’s soul, and that of the woman who had built it. Even without her present, Mara’s Forge felt watched over.

Protected.

Miles stood near the window, his fingers resting lightly against the glass, eyes watching the drifting fog outside. People moved in the streets beyond, players, crafters, couriers, wanderers, but they seemed dim, almost distant.

Like actors on a stage seen from the wings.

Behind him, Sarissa stirred. She hadn’t fallen asleep again, but she had drifted into that space where thought, memory and dream bled into one another. She’d been quiet for the past few minutes since agreeing to meet the Professor, but Miles could tell her mind hadn’t stopped racing.

"You okay?" He didn’t turn around.

Sarissa inhaled slowly.

"I will be." Her voice didn’t tremble like it had earlier. She sounded raw, still fragile, but something had anchored in her again.

Maybe it was her resolve, or not. Whatever it was, it was doing a good job.

Miles nodded, pushing away from the window and walking back toward her.

"You know," he said as he pulled over a chair and sat across from her, "when I first met the Professor, I thought he was a ghost."

"Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing either of us has run into." Sarissa smirked faintly.

"True." Miles laughed. "But he wasn’t. He was just... Timeless. Like someone who never belonged to any age, or maybe belonged to all of them at once. He spoke in questions and parables half the time, and the other half, he was surprisingly direct."

"What did he want from you?" Sarissa shifted, sitting a little straighter. She winced with because of the motion, but didn’t complain.

"Weirdly? Nothing." Miles looked away for a second, then back at her.

She raised a brow.

"At all?"

"He said I was a torn page still trying to write itself. He didn’t want to fix me, just offered to show me where the ink had dried and where it hadn’t. Said the hardest stories to finish are the ones we’re still too afraid to start."

"Sounds like someone who’s lived too long." Sarissa closed her eyes for a moment, letting that sink in.

"Yeah. But also like someone who remembers what it means to live, not just survive."

A thoughtful silence settled over them again. After a while, Sarissa spoke.

"When do we go?"

"You sure?" Miles looked at her with a touch of surprise.

"No. But if I keep sitting here, I’ll start thinking too much. And if I start thinking too much, I’ll start doubting. And I don’t have room for doubt anymore." She thought for a moment, and then added. "You know, when I felt like dying, right before being tossed into the gate, I..."

There was another pause. This one lingered longer and heavier than the others, but Sarissa broke it with even heavier words.

"... I thought about regressing. I thought that it’d be the best that could happen, since I could always rely on that if things got too tough. But then I thought that it wasn’t me, that it felt like running away, instead of staying and fighting and, for the first time... I was scared of regressing."

Miles stood, offering her a hand while looking straight into Sarissa’s eyes.

"You look strong." He smiled. "Not in the brute, Sarissa’s strength that I came to be so familiar with, but... Something subtler. More... You."

Her lips curled up ever so slightly.

"Let’s make a deal." He said. "I know you’re proud and all, but you walk as far as you can, and when you can’t anymore, I’ll carry you."

"... Deal." She gripped his hand.

It took her a few moments to rise. Her legs shook, and her face twisted with effort, but she stood. Miles kept one arm close in case she slipped, but she didn’t. And they walked down into the forge proper.

Mara had set a ward on the main door before she left, a shimmering rune that dissolved as soon as it recognized Miles. The moment it faded, the air shifted around them, and the street sounds filtered in with a sudden, crisp clarity.

Sarissa hesitated on the threshold, and Miles gave her a moment.

The city was alive with motion and purpose. Runners dashed between quest boards, vendors shouted their latest deals, and parties assembled on corners, checking their gear and heading for the dungeons or to home. The war drums hadn’t started yet, but the city was already moving to their rhythm, expecting the bustling noise of war that was yet to come.

"Still feels like another world." Sarissa murmured.

"That’s because it is." Miles said. "Everything’s changed."

They made their way through side streets, avoiding crowded plazas where recognition might slow them down. Word had surely spread that Sarissa had returned, and even though she looked nothing like the radiant paladin who had once commanded awe with her presence, players still knew her name.

After a few minutes, Sarissa tugged on his sleeve.

"Wait."

Miles stopped, glancing back. She was staring at a nearby alley, her eyes narrowed.

"What?" He stopped, searching what she was looking at.

"That building, it wasn’t here before."

Miles followed her gaze and frowned.

The structure she pointed at was odd, a crooked tower no more than three stories high, made of black brick and oak beams that looked centuries older than the buildings around it. A wooden sign hung above the door, depicting a quill pierced through a wheel of gears.

He didn’t recognize it either, but the symbol...

"Wait..." He stepped forward, pushing open the door.

Inside was quiet. Dust floated in beams of amber light that streamed through high windows. Shelves of books lined the walls, and strange mechanical contraptions ticked and clicked on every surface.

And there he was.

The Professor.

He looked exactly the same as Miles remembered. Tall, lean, dressed in a patched coat that looked equal parts academic and explorer, his face was lined but not old, and his hair was dark with streaks of gray.

His eyes were unreadable and distant, yet very much grounded.

"Ah..." He said, looking up from a journal with a smile. "You brought her."

Sarissa hesitated on the threshold, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"You knew we were coming."

"Of course I did!" He said, closing his journal and setting it aside. "Come in, come in. The wind has been restless, it said you’d be here."

"Still talking to the wind?" Miles chuckled softly.

"Only when it talks back."

Sarissa stepped inside, slow and careful. The air felt thick, but not oppressive.

Like stepping into a space where the rules bent without breaking.

The Professor gestured to a pair of chairs across from his desk.

"Sit, let’s talk about Stories."

And they did.