Mika scanned the crowd, about a hundred people, n and won alike, their faces pale from cold but their eyes burning with hope.
He crossed his arms and said, "First of all, I’ll say that I want to make this as quick and efficient as possible."
The murmurs died down instantly and everyone listened.
"I already checked a mont ago..." He continued. "...and luckily, not even a single person under the snow has died."
The words hit like thunder.
"W-What?! Really"
"Thank goodness!"
"My baby! She’s alive!"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. So people froze in disbelief; others broke into cries of joy, clutching one another.
Mothers wept, fathers shouted in relief, and a few even dropped to their knees, thanking the heavens.
But among them were others—Adrian, Cecilia, and several of the Blessed, who stared at Mika in confusion.
"How...How do you know that?" Cecilia asked softly, her brow furrowing.
Mika didn’t answer her directly; he just continued.
"That said..." He added gravely. "...it won’t stay that way for long. Every second counts. Soone could die this very mont from internal injuries or suffocation. So we move fast. We move right."
His voice was sharp, commanding, but calm.
"That’s why I want only proper volunteers working on this." He said. "If you know you can’t move fast, or if you’re too young or too old, or if you’re hurt—step aside. This isn’t because I don’t value you—it’s because we can’t afford to slow down."
He swept his gaze over them.
"Children, elderly, injured—please move to the side."
There was a mont of hesitation. Then, one by one, elderly n and won began to move back.
Grandparents guiding their grandchildren by the hand, young mothers with sprained ankles, and a few injured skiers helped each other out of the main group.
"Thank you." Mika nodded once in approval.
Now, what remained were the strong and able, adults and younger adults alike, their faces hardened with determination.
"Alright." Mika said, rolling up his sleeves. "Now that we’ve got our volunteers, here’s how we’ll start."
He gestured to the ground.
"Everyone, step back. Give so space."
They obeyed without question, moving back until a wide, clear patch of snow opened around him. Only Fauna and Cecilia stayed close.
Mika then lifted his hand and to everyone’s shock, the snow-covered ground rippled.
Thick, sturdy ropes began to pour out of thin air, coiling and piling up endlessly.
It wasn’t a few coils or a handful—no, it was mountains of rope, so much that the half of the open space was soon covered in bundles upon bundles of thick, braided strands.
The crowd gawked in disbelief. Even Adrian, who had seen many storage artifacts in his life, was dumbstruck.
"What in the world? How...How much storage does he even have?" He muttered.
Mika didn’t stop there. After covering one half of the area in rope, he turned to the other half.
This ti, dozens of massive spears materialized from the air and drove themselves into the snow with heavy thunks.
Each one was tall and thick, engraved with old runes and tribal markings. Their shafts looked aged yet unbreakable, clearly forged for war.
Whispers spread among the crowd.
"Are those...ancient weapons?"
"Where did he even get those?"
"Just what kind of storage space is that!?"
Mika ignored their murmurs. He wasn’t done yet. He flicked his wrist once more, and a handful of machetes clattered into the snow.
"Alright, everyone." He called. "Listen carefully. Split into two groups."
He pointed to one side.
"You’ll be in charge of cutting the ropes. I want every rope here cut into roughly two-hundred-ter strips. They don’t need to be perfect—just close enough. We’ll need at least eighty strips."
He pointed to the other side.
"You lot—tie those ropes to the spears. There’s a groove near the base of each one—make it tight. Anyone here good at knot-tying?"
Several hands shot up instantly.
"Good." Mika said. "You’ll lead the others. Show them how to tie strong holds. No loose ends."
"Yes, sir!" Ca the quick chorus of responses.
"Alright." Mika continued. "Team one—cut. Team two—tie. Keep everything organized. No tangling, no ss. And Adrian, help oversee that everything stays in order."
"Yes, sir!" Adrian barked automatically before realizing he had addressed Mika as if he were a commander and judging by the way Fauna looked on proudly, perhaps that wasn’t wrong.
Within seconds, the operation began.
One side of the volunteers grabbed the machetes, asuring the rope as best they could before chopping it cleanly and stacking it in bundles.
The other side carried those strips, tying them firmly to the spears as instructed.
Adrian moved between them, ensuring the ropes didn’t tangle and the piles stayed neat.
The sounds of chopping and knotting filled the air, punctuated by the heavy gasps of labour and the hiss of cold wind.
anwhile, Cecilia couldn’t hold her curiosity anymore. She stepped up beside Fauna and Mika, her brow furrowed.
"Where...Where exactly did you get all of this?" She asked. "All these ropes, all these spears—there’s no way you had this much stored. Even a large artifact couldn’t hold half of this."
Before Mika could reply, Fauna smiled proudly, puffing out her chest.
"That’s because Mika’s storage space isn’t a regular one." She said, almost sing-song in tone. "It’s not a limited pocket—it’s a storage void. I’ve seen it once."
"A void?" Cecilia blinked, stunned. "Like...another dinsion?"
"Exactly!" Fauna nodded enthusiastically. "It’s huge—so massive you can’t even see the end. Don’t compare it to the usual little storage crystals. His is practically a world of its own."
Cecilia turned slowly to Mika, her jaw slack.
"That’s...incredible."
Mika shrugged, unfazed.
"As for the rope." He said casually. "I always keep a lot of it around. You never know when you’ll need it. Sa for wood, rations, survival kits—anything useful in an ergency. Blessings can be nullified, but good rope never fails."
"You...carry miles of ters of rope everywhere?" Cecilia blinked.
"Better safe than sorry." Mika replied dryly. "And these spears?"
He tapped one with his boot.
"Those are souvenirs. Picked them up from a demon tribe I hunted in the Oputilus Realm. Nasty bunch—barbarians who practiced cannibalism and tornted the demi-human clans. I decided to...thin the population a bit. Took these as trophies."
"Wait—what!? Cecilia gasped at the absurd statent that ca out of nowhere. "You hunted demons for fun!?"
Before Mika could answer, Fauna giggled proudly.
"Of course he did! Mika’s hobbies are all over the place. One week he’s hunting monsters, the next he’s diving into deep-sea ruins, or digging through mineral veins in other realms. He never sits still!"
Cecilia stared at her like she was mad.
Fauna spoke as though Mika were a child collecting stamps, not an otherworldly adventurer exterminating demon tribes.
"And he’s also a hoarder." Fauna added cheerfully. "He keeps everything—old weapons, tools, artifacts—anything he finds interesting. I bet half his storage void is filled with useless junk."
Mika raised an eyebrow.
"Useless junk? Really? You call these useless when they’re about to save hundreds of people?"
Fauna only grinned and stuck out her tongue. "You know what I an."
Cecilia, still reeling, suddenly frowned. "Hold on—wait a second."
Both of them looked at her.
"Lady Fauna told that Mika is a support class." She said slowly. "At Solaria Academy as well, you’re listed as a support, soone who assists other Blessed. So how in the world are you doing all this if you’re just a support?"
Hearing Cecilia’s question, Fauna’s cheerful expression faltered.
For a mont, her eyes darted toward Mika, a flicker of unease crossing her face. She knew he wasn’t fond of others prying into his true capabilities.
He preferred to keep it all a secret, to play the harmless support while quietly doing things no other Blessed could even dream of.
But to her surprise, Mika didn’t seem bothered. He simply smiled, brushing the snow off his gloves.
"Well." He said. "I am a support class. That’s not wrong."
He paused, glancing up with a faint glimr in his eyes.
"But let’s just say...I’m a bit of a special case. You won’t find another like ."
Cecilia blinked, confused by his calm confidence.
She sensed there was far more beneath the surface. But one look at Fauna, whose expression clearly said ’don’t ask more’ was enough.
Cecilia was wise enough to stop there. Whatever Mika was hiding, it wasn’t her place to pry.
So instead, she changed the subject.
"Then how did you know that no one’s dead under there?" She asked softly. "You sounded certain."
Mika chuckled quietly and reached into his coat pocket. "Because of this."
He pulled out sothing small. An eerie, bone-white whistle etched with strange skull engravings and ancient runic inscriptions. Its surface glimred faintly under the sun.
"This..." He said. "...is a Fallacian Death Whistle."
"What...does it do?" Cecilia frowned.
"In ancient wars in the Other World..." Mika explained, holding it up so the light caught the carvings. "...armies didn’t have ti to count their dead. So they used this artifact."
"When you blow it, it doesn’t make a sound. But after a few seconds, it responds with a tone depending on how many have died nearby. Ten deaths sound one way. A hundred another. A thousand...well, you don’t want to hear that one."
He gave the whistle a spin between his fingers.
"I used it earlier. No sound ca out—which ans no one has died yet. Everyone’s still alive down there."
A wave of relief washed over Cecilia’s face.
"That’s...amazing."
Mika grinned and looked toward Fauna.
"And this..." He added smugly. "...is one of the many things I ’hoard’ in my so-called junk collection. What do you say about that, Fauna?"
Fauna puffed her cheeks and grumbled, playfully bumping her forehead against his chest.
"You’re so cheeky Mika."
anwhile, Cecilia couldn’t help but stare in disbelief.
Every ti she thought she had Mika figured out, as the prodigy doctor, the genius inventor, he revealed another side of himself.
Each revelation was stranger and grander than the last, making her wonder if he was even a human or sothing beyond.
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