Ermand turned his head everywhere. It was white space around him, and nothing else more.

Where am I?

"Hello?" He called out.

The situation was more than confusion for him. At first he thought why would the Professors send him to a peaceful village for his deadly final DCT, and get trapped with an old woman who acted like an evil witch later. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a place where there was nothing but a white atmosphere and ground, that could hardly be distinguished. The reason why he had been thrown there stood like a question mark in his head.

Might if the demons come here?

For a long time, he stood rooted in the place, motionless until his knees were aching. Ermand bent on his knees and sat on the floor after feeling a bit tired. But when he was completely in the sitting position, Ermand realized he was falling down. To where he was going to crash or whether he was really falling down, he was unaware.

Finally, he hit a soft, cushion ground that bounced him up and down. All of the strangeness and the easiness in whatever world he might be in for the DCT made him doubt what was actually coming for him.

"Ermand Chisel the Spellcaster, rest on the pillow while I take you to the masters..." The sound would be distinguishable for anybody if they had been with Ermand and the old woman. The tone and the sound matched precisely to that woman. Ermand sensed danger. There was something wrong.

"Rest, Ermand Chisel the Spellcaster. You have plenty of time to wake up and think, now rest or you may feel tired afterwards."

"No. Tell me where have you brought me to!" He roared.

The woman cracked into a devilish fit of laughter.

"Where you should be, boy," she said before cackling again.

"Hey! You haven't answered me! Are you a Ficklefolk?"

But the woman's voice was no longer there. There was silence, dead silence everywhere only if Ermand's tries to make one, would there be any sound. The silence irritated him, he hit the pillow beside him.

What sort of a trap is this?

Then he thought of the woman's words. She told him a lie that Ficklefolks were good and the Protectors were bad. Then, she must be one of the Ficklefolks.

So, what if I'm in the trap of the Ficklefolks like Jack told?

He then thought of the last words the woman had spoken to him.

She said she'll be taking where I should be. And before that, she told me that she's taking me to the master. Who are these masters? Does she work for the Ficklefolks?

Ermand still didn't understand the depth of what the Ficklefolks would do to him. Jack's words were unclear to him while he nodded back since Ficklefolks were just a single possibility. He was looking forward to fighting with demons. And here's what he has ended up with. He didn't even completely memorize the song Jack had told him to. He couldn't risk failing the DCT nor giving up his life although he was sure he wouldn't die but the fact that he'll be free from deep injury was unguaranteed.

How will I get out of this place?

He laid back on the pillows and sunk himself in deep thought. When his eyes wandered the only empty white space around him, an idea occurred to him.

Why haven't I thought about this before? But how will I do it?

It has been five months since the Defenders selection. He remembers that he had been thrown into a void before appearing into the room of the judge who has selected him. He vividly remembers what had happened to him and what all things had he thought to drag himself in and out of the void.

Think. I need to get out of wherever I am!

Ermand tried focusing both his body and mind to get out of the prison he had been unconsciously led to. He tried it on and on until he finally gave up the thought that it would not help him.

No spell could help me with this. All of the advanced kinds of spells I had learned went futile now. What will I do? Rest here until the woman calls me up and represents me to her masters?

On the surface, it seemed like an odd idea but when he began thinking about the pros and cons, waiting until it's time, proved somewhat worthy to him. At least, he would know what's happening. So he shut his eyes and calmed himself down.

After several minutes, he was suddenly woken up with a sharp needle that pierced into his leg.

"Ahh!" He gasped, getting up from his rest.

When he looked around himself, he watched the men and women around him with terror.

The men had long ears with one end sharper like an arrow that was pierced with metal rings from top to bottom, till the lobes. All of them wore a long gown that seemed to be made of animal skin. Their eyes were all green and the area surrounding their eyes were stained with a white paint. One of the unmistakably long feet was near to him while a young lady with her long purple hair that swept the ground was busy slashing his golden hair with a tool that looked like a sharp dagger. The old woman was bickering with a man while one of his wounded legs were in the strong grip of her. He noticed she looked like her population, which he failed to notice before.

"What are you people doing?" Ermand shouted, wriggling on the ground. It was then he realized that his hands and legs were tied to a rod clamped against the ground.

"Are you Ermand Chisel the Spellcaster?" A man who seemed to be the leader of the Ficklefolks asked him.

"Y-yes. Who are you?"

"The Ficklefolks," he replied. His narrowed eyes pricked Ermand's.

"I'll dig inside his head before we devour him."

Devour me? What is he going to dig in my head?

For Ermand, at that point of time, survival was far more important than finding the crystal and passing the DCT.

The man slowly rubbed either part of Ermand's head with his forefingers. Ermand stopped wriggling while he enjoyed the massage and dozed off.

"Where have you come from?" The man demanded, hitting his wooden staff against the ground.

"W-what?" Ermand asked, getting up from the support of his hands. He recognised that he woke up from the same pillows he had rested on a while ago.

"Who has sent you here?"

"It's my DCT."

"DCT?"

"Why have you brought me here?"

"You will do what I tell you to."

"No, I won't."

"You will," the man stamped his staff against the ground again.

"I won't."

The man gritted his teeth and walked near him.

"Freezen," he whispered.

At that instant, Ermand was stuck to whatever position he was a moment ago. He couldn't move an inch, nor could he even blink.

"You will tell me where you came from and that you'll follow my orders."

"I will, master," Ermand replied. He himself couldn't believe what he just said.

"Where did you come from?"

Ermand resisted answering him, but his struggles went futiles.

"Tawarn."

"Where in Tawarn?"

"Agledon Magic University for Spellcasters."

"Who sent you or did you come by yourself?"

"I've come here to collect my crystal."

"You're a Chisel, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, you're not worthy for my job. It's better if we have you as lunch," the man said, turning back after hitting his staff on the ground for the last time. And everything became blurry.

"No!" Ermand cried, wriggling on the ground, trying to snap the ties around him when he woke up.

He heard something simmering in a large pot near to him. A Ficklewoman was stirring the content inside with a big wooden ladle.

"Peel his skin," the leader ordered while the other Ficklefolks immediately grabbed a tool that looked like a filleting knife and rubbed it against a stone, sharpening its edges.