Chapter XXI
(6 Years Ago)
Year 2048
As the sun descended, it cast elongated shadows across the sparring grounds, where ancient oaks imparted their age-old wisdom to the encroaching twilight. Yoki stood at the outskirts, the gentle billowing of his cloak in the evening breeze contributing to his enigmatic presence. His tenure in the Diamond had cultivated an aura of subdued threat, extending a foreboding shadow across the expansive grounds of the Academy. At present, Enrique remained his only confidant, providing a source of warmth within the pervasive chill of isolation.
Today, however, an unusual atmosphere pervaded the surroundings. Nearby the practice rings, a minor assembly had congregated, their hushed conversations creating a sound akin to a beehive, stifling Yoki's curiously. Yoki walked over, soon seeing the two students sparring at the ring's center. Their movements epitomized graceful and precise execution, each strike representing a harmonious blend of controlled force and expectation.
Captivating, isn't it?
Standing beside him, Enrique nudged Yoki with an elbow, his eyes alight with admiration. "Observe them closely," he said, nodding towards the fighters. Yoki's eyes narrowed, absorbing every nuance of the duel as the air crackled with the two's aura. Over the course of the morning, Yoki had been able to pick up on the currently battling students names. Troy's hazel eyes seemed to spark with an otherworldly light as he anticipated each of Lucia's movements, giving him a preternatural advantage in the combat dance. On the other hand, Lucia exuded an aura of serenity amidst the chaos, her sapphire-blue eyes focused on every movement.
Lucia's blond hair shimmered like spun gold in the dimming light, her every motion a study of feline grace and raw power. She could anticipate Troy's strategies, countering and weaving her intricate web of attacks. Troy, though more compact in stature, moved with the fluidity of a seasoned warrior, eyes flickering with every strike as if drawing from an unseen well of knowledge.
The clash of their powers was a mesmerizing spectacle to behold. At one moment, Troy would foresee Lucia's attacks with uncanny accuracy, only to be met with the sheer force of her telekinetic prowess, causing the ground beneath them to tremble. In response, Troy would gracefully evade her assaults with an almost dance-like finesse, his movements seamlessly flowing with the ebb and flow of the skirmish.
Eyes gleaming with determination, Lucia sized up her opponent. With lightning speed and impeccable timing, she feigned a stumble, leading Troy to believe he had the upper hand. As he lunged forward, she sidestepped gracefully and delivered a decisive blow, sending him sprawling to the ground in a dramatic display.
The crowd erupted in wild cheers, shaking the arena with their fervor. Even Yoki found himself drawn into the excitement. Offering a rare display of approval as he applauded, a momentary smile lit up his otherwise inscrutable countenance.
Lucia offered her hand, assisting Troy as he rose to his feet. The two shared laughter and spoke with camaraderie, their bond palpable even to the onlookers. Upon leaving the ring, Enrique eagerly signaled for them to approach.
"Come meet my friend," he exclaimed amidst the noise.
Troy and Lucia approached, their foreheads sweaty and their smiles widening as they drew closer. "I'm Troy," the hazel-eyed boy said, extending his hand. And this is Lucia."
"Yoki," he responded, clasping Troy's hand. "That was . . . amazing. I have never witnessed anything quite like it."
Lucia's azure eyes gleamed, fluttering Yoki's heart. "Thank you. We have been engaged in joint training sessions for an extensive duration. It consistently presents a formidable challenge," she remarked.
Yoki nodded, sensing an unforeseen rapport. "I dare say I could accompany you on occasion," he proposed, surprising himself.
"The greater, the merrier," affirmed Troy, patting him on the shoulder.
Yoki experienced a glimmer of optimism for the first time since his arrival at The Academy, a feeling that had been elusive until now.
I can fit in here.
Don't jinx yourself, boy.
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The hallways bustled with the buzz of new and returning students rushing to their classes. Despite the burden of whispered speculations about his history, Yoki walked alongside Enrique, who enthusiastically discussed the subjects they would be delving into.
The inaugural session convened with the Introduction to Sphaeram. He walked into class, marveling at the majestic lecture hall adorned by immense bookshelves resembling sentinels safeguarding vast knowledge stores. Professor Thaler, a figure of svelte countenance with resplendent silver hair and penetrating green eyes, initiated the discourse with a sweeping wand gesture, evoking a mesmerizing manifestation of energy.
"Sphaeram encapsulates the essence of all magic," he pronounced, oration resonating with sagacity. "It permeates the fabric of every atom, uniting us with the intricacies of existence."
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Yoki attentively absorbed the professor's words among the assembled audience, diligently transcribing them upon the parchment with his quill. The pursuit of knowledge like this, knowledge his father had refused to elaborate on, kindled an ardor within him.
The class flew by, leaving Yoki slightly disappointed, having reviewed the material from their pre-reading summer material.
The day unfolded with elemental manipulation, runes, and combat techniques classes, followed by academia in all the core subjects. Yoki immersed himself in each session, determined to excel. Despite the lingering shadows of his past, he found solace in the rigorous demands of his studies.
In Elemental Manipulation, Professor Elara—a renowned Earthworker— demonstrated the raw power of the elements. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured flames that danced in the air, and then she transformed them into a cascading waterfall, the water glistening with ethereal light.
"Mastering the elements requires precision and intuition," she explained. "You must learn to sense the essence of the elements and become one with their flow."
Yoki focused his mind on a flame. He thought of the hot substance burning out from his hand. He imagined the heat it gave off and how the flame flickered within the light. A small flame that flickered out nearly instantly appeared in his hand. He sighed, knowing it couldn't have been that easy. He heard an exclamation and turned to look. A geeky-looking kid with short red hair and green eyes had a fireball in his hand, but it wasn't just the fireball itself—it was burning in blue flame. He blinked once and slowly coaxed the fire into a delicate bloom of water, smiling.
The kid made it look so easy. What the hell!
"That's Daniel Silki. He's a tri-elemental Earthworker, proficient in wind, water, and fire. I've heard he also possesses the trademark Silki trait of flexibility. He's a prodigious talent in the realm of Earth working, and the Silki family is renowned for selectively breeding individuals to maximize their genetic potential in every way. Their breeding efforts are focused on enhancing power."
As the bell rang, Enrique and he gathered their things and headed to their next class, traversing the crowded corridors of the Academy. They made their way through the throng of students.
"I don't understand how it's so easy for him and you too? You couldn't make the fire because that's not one of your elements, but you made a stone ball in seconds. What's the trick?" Yoki asked, all while they weaved their way through the bustling corridor to reach the Runes classroom where their next Professor—Professor Aelwyn—awaited them.
He laughed, "I'm an Earthworker, Yoki; you're a Nightwalker! For heaven's sake, if I couldn't conjure one of my elements before you, my family would personally see to my exile."
Entering their new classroom, they were greeted by the warm glow of softly lit lanterns. The air was filled with the] scent of parchment and ink, creating an atmosphere of scholarly serenity. The walls were adorned with ancient tomes, their well-worn dragonhide bindings hinting at the magicks contained within.
In Runes, Professor Aelwyn guided them through the labyrinthine intricacies of magical scripts.
"Runes are the language of the Sphaeram," Aelwyn intoned, his voice melodic. "They hold the secrets of the cosmos, the power to bind and unbind, to create and destroy."
Yoki traced one of the example rune's delicate lines, feeling its power's subtle hum beneath his fingertips. Each stroke of his quill resonated with the archaic wisdom in the symbols, a connection to the past that filled him with wonder.
Next, in Combat Techniques, Master Kael, a burly man with a scar running down his face, put them through their paces. His gruff demeanor belied a deep well of knowledge and skill honed through countless battles.
"Strength and strategy are two sides of the same coin," Kael growled, his voice like gravel. "You must be as cunning as you are strong, as swift as you are resilient."
Yoki sparred with Enrique, their movements a blur of punches and parries, each trying to outmaneuver the other. The training was intense, but it forged a bond of respect and camaraderie between them, a shared determination to grow stronger.
Yet even as he buried himself in learning, Yoki couldn't escape the glances and murmurs that trailed him. The other students maintained their distance, their wariness palpable. Only Enrique remained by his side, a steadfast anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
As the evening descended, Yoki and Enrique wearily returned to their dormitory after a relentless study session. Amid their exhaustion, a commotion near one of the tall dormitory buildings caught their attention. A group of people had gathered, their faces reflecting shock and horror.
Squeezing past the onlookers, Yoki was met with a sight that sent a shiver down his spine. A fellow student lay in a crumbled mess, motionless on the cobblestones, their vacant gaze fixed on the sky. The hushed whispers among the crowd seemed to slither like the sinister hiss of serpents, further intensifying the sense of unease in the air.
"Suicide," someone muttered, voice trembling..
"No way," another replied, shaking their head. "He was too happy for that."
Yoki's gut twisted. He knelt beside the body, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. There were no apparent signs of struggle, but something felt amiss. He had learned to trust his instincts in the Diamond, and now those instincts screamed at him.
Enrique appeared at his side, face ashen. "Yoki, you okay?"
Yoki nodded, though his mind was a tempest. "I don't think this was a suicide," he whispered, voice barely audible over the murmurs. "Something's not right."
Enrique frowned, glancing around nervously. "We need to get someone."
Before Yoki could respond, a stern voice sliced through the air. "Step back, all of you!" It was Indigo. Yoki had felt her distinct aura even before she had spoken. She knelt by the limp body, her gaze flicking over it.
Yoki watched as Indigo's expression darkened. She rose, her eyes sweeping over the gathered students. "Return to your dormitories, now. Advise no one to come to this sect of The Academy."
Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed, their whispers trailing behind them like shadows. Yoki and Enrique lingered longer, exchanging worried glances before returning to their dorm.
As Yoki lay in bed that night, his mind churned with tumultuous thoughts like a raging maelstrom. An ominous sense of foreboding gripped him as if something malevolent hid behind the facade of the apparent suicide. The haunting image of the lifeless student lingered in his thoughts, evoking a profound unease. Recalling his own experience with death by fall in the lapis cruciatus, he remembered the near-painless nature of it, which only intensified his hope that the student's passing had been swift.
The next day, rumors began to swirl like smoke throughout the Academy. Whispers of a dark presence, a shadowy figure responsible for the student's death. And amidst these whispers, a name began to take shape, sending chills down Yoki's spine.
The Painkiller.
Yoki kept his silence, his mind a battlefield of doubt. He couldn't be sure if the voice in his head was another entity or a figment of his psyche. But with a potential threat looming over the Academy, he knew he had to remain vigilant, knowing this was more than it appeared on the surface.
As he walked through the hallways, he felt the weight of his peers' gazes, their curiosity and suspicion almost tangible. The nickname "Painkiller" floated through the air, an invisible burden pressing down on him. He was an outcast, someone of no lineage to The Academy, none they knew of at least—Yoki's father had ensured that.
He only hoped that his intuition was wrong, that it was an unfortunate case of suicide. Despite everything, dread filled him of the days to come.