A man who values energy-efficiency is respectable; I need to re-educate myself.
I would have loved to hear his interpretation of Affinity Execution, but I guess it's too complicated at this point for the other students.
He lifted the hardcover of the collection of paper in front of him.
Twenty pages in an hour and forty minutes? I've never had to complete so much work—in the measurement of paper at least.
He imagined his mouth turning to a frown. I miss Vigo's class, he thought.
Majorly because he was genuine, but the part that compelled him to do it was to seem complex.
While others struggled to the end, he had one minute to spare after completing it twice.
There is much to learn.
"Arthur?"
The whites of his eyes grew in visibility, and his pupils trembled micrometers at a time.
Hesitantly, he glanced up to meet the speaker; he did not have to turn much, her head was situated directly over his own.
Her long brown hair created a tunnel that provided a shield from the outside.
Their gazes snapped into place, like two pieces of a puzzle—for one of them at least; the other was too lost to think.
She uncurled one hand from the ledge supporting her and created a shape resembling something round with her fingers at the site just below her collarbone.
His eyes followed as she went, and his hand did shortly after.
It was something round, smooth, hard. "What is this?" He tried to think, and decided to turn his brain back on.
This is my pendant… Arthur's pendant.
He looked up again; she was still staring, hypnotizing him until the tunnel of hair was suddenly yanked back.
"Hey, don't mess with Cedric; you're being too insensitive about his situation."
This is one of the nobles in this class. They're lecturing someone else on sensitivity?
"Let her go, it's fine. She didn't mean any ill intent behind it," Arthur said in a casual manner, like a friend would to another friend.
"Oww," she exaggerated after her restrainer released her hair; she continued patting the area of tension until she saw the look of regret on the noble's face.
"Just kidding! You were actually really careful handling my hair, and your hands are so soft!"
"You're _, right? I'm Alice."
"___, ___"
"____"
"__" "That's great! Let's see each other again in our history period."
"And Cedric, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, my eyes were tricking me into seeing something that was still in my mind, and I misspoke. I hope we can still get along!"
Arthur stared blankly at her as she bowed deeply.
"Yeah, sure," he managed to muster, well enough to pass as a Cedric response.
As she rose from her bow, in the gaps between strands of hair, she glanced once more at his chest, and the pendant was no longer there.
Alice, I need to be cautious of her as well.
I can't say for certain now, but she might be entrancing me with some kind of Black Magic.
Alice Noctiliene, Celeste Devreux, Vicktor Vulivar, and Derrick Dunwell. They are all oddities in this class who've left an impression on me.
But whether they'll be friend or foe, such has yet to be conclusive.
He left as the clock read 13:01.
Several dishes were presented before him in his enclosed room: meats, vegetables, breads, and sweets. He stared long and hard at their vibrant colors. He had never been placed in front of such foodstuffs before, and he was repulsed.
He finished a meat dish and grabbed a piece of bread before leaving.
It was 13:17.
He roamed the nearly empty campus, searching for the root of non-existence. Along the border of his sector and the third-year sector, he felt a trembling of the ground, followed by the sound of a muffled explosion.
He stared at the ground between his feet, then at a sector checkpoint just fifty meters in front of him.
He weighed the potential reward and risk, as well as the convenience and curiosity, and made his judgment.
His fingers gently pinched a card—five times the thickness of standard Mage Association paper. It was given to Arthur by Vigo after the first day of class, once he learned of the troubles Arthur faced getting to the night sessions.
The card was thick, yes. However, after five months of use, five days a week, it had not a single crease, discoloration, or break in symmetry. It possessed no magic protections or properties, yet it maintained its pristine condition.
The gatekeeper allowed passage without trouble.
The first building in Sector Three looked like a residential lodging. It had six rooms, two floors, and a chimney. The white color and flat texture of the walls did not suit it; the mossy rock-brick that made up the chimney seemed to be the only thing untouched by renovation.
This place was the closest thing to a holy site, if the Academy were a religion; it was where the first Headmaster lived, and where he taught his class.
Upon entering, there was a low platform of wooden planks leading to a cellar. No student was allowed to take the step up to the rest of the house, but there was no physical barrier preventing it—not even a door.
It's a lesson Head Instructor Vigo teaches us every day: Anchor yourself to your purpose; if you succumb to distractions, you have no future.
Such an admirable mindset. He is truly a great man.
One second, one step; he quietly strolled through the dimly lit corridor. He peeked through the nearest door, one of two in total. It was where his class on Magic Engineering was held every night.
It was empty.
It was somewhat large, of greater area than the house itself should allow, but the style of the room was no different from the rocky, centuries-old chimney and corridor. It was unfit for the modern Academy, yet it held a charm that Arthur resonated with most strongly.
Even now, little more than an hour after high noon, no sunlight ever reached this place; only old-generation Magic Lanterns, hardly an improvement from burning charcoal on a stick.
Suddenly, the crashing and breaking of something fragile—a glass or vase—shook him awake. His eyes crept toward the direction of the noise and fell eerily on a door.