Chapter XVII
(6 Years Ago)
Year 2048
Yoki jolted awake, his heart pounding like some unseen menace had wrenched him from the depths of sleep. A sharp, instinctual awareness coursed through him, heightening every nerve. He sat up in a flash—an automatic response from years of training—primed to confront whatever danger might lurk within the shadows of the dimly lit room. Where am I? Panic constricted his throat as he surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion twisting in his gut.
His gaze settled on Enrique, who stood shirtless in pajama bottoms, blinking through the haze of sleep with a bewildered expression.
"By the wrath of Noctisanguis, you scared the hell out of me, Yoki!" Enrique exclaimed, clutching his chest in exaggerated relief as though he'd narrowly escaped death itself.
Yoki's initial panic began to recede, giving way to recognition. Right—he had just moved in, and the unsettling unfamiliarity still lingered around him. He exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the tension.
"Sorry, man. New place, you know? Gotta acclimate," he muttered, attempting to mask his embarrassment.
A mischievous grin spread across Enrique's face, his startled expression melting into amusement.
"What? What's so funny?" Yoki asked, eyes narrowing.
Enrique's grin widened, clearly reveling in some private joke. "Oh, it's nothing."
Still groggy, Yoki felt a spark of defiance. He snatched his pillow and flung it at Enrique, giving in to an impulse of playful vengeance.
The pillow struck Enrique squarely in the face, eliciting a shriek fit for a horror film as Enrique toppled backward onto the floor. The sight of his friend sprawled out prompted a burst of laughter from Yoki, the levity catching them both in a wave as swiftly as the pillow had flown.
What began as a mere pillow toss quickly unraveled into a full-blown wrestling match. Laughing and grappling, the two tussled for dominance, their laughter echoing in the room. Eventually, Enrique managed to secure a headlock, pinning Yoki down. Gasping with laughter, Yoki tapped out, unable to muster the strength to resist.
As Enrique bounded toward the bathroom, Yoki, still chuckling, reached for his robe, the fabric comforting against his skin.
"You're really going to leave me here?" he called out, slipping into the soft garment and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
Enrique turned back, the smirk still dancing across his face. "Going somewhere?"
"Uh... yeah?" Yoki responded, genuinely perplexed as he glanced toward the door, uncertain of what Enrique was hinting at.
With a playful gesture, Enrique pointed toward the window as if revealing some hidden treasure visible only to him.
Yoki blinked, still mystified. "What? Care to give me a hint?" he asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.
With a casual shrug and a chuckle, Enrique continued on his way, leaving Yoki scratching his head.
Determined not to be late, Yoki strode from their room, navigating the eerily quiet dormitory. A strange, hollow stillness enveloped the common area as he approached, a chill prickling along his spine.
Odd, he mused, frowning. Perhaps everyone's already in class? Yet, as he neared the exit, his eyes landed on the oversized wall clock, its silver hands frozen in eerie stillness.
2:34 a.m.
His heart sank, realization striking him like a lightning bolt. "It's… the middle of the night," he murmured, disbelief etching itself across his face. "I got up in the dead of night because Enrique had to go to the bathroom!" The absurdity of his situation hit him like a wave, and he couldn't help but chuckle at his own folly.
Everything fell into place. Rather than steadying him, Enrique had let him wander into a maze of confusion, and all Yoki's alertness had been for a threat that didn't exist. Groaning softly, he ran a hand over his face, embarrassment warming his cheeks.
Muttering curses under his breath, he turned on his heel, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He trudged back to his room, humiliation settling heavily upon him. Here he was, ensnared by his own misjudgment, unable to discern between the night's quiet hours and the break of dawn.
For someone so bright, you can be awfully obtuse.
"Oh, shut up!" Yoki snapped.
An outsider might have thought him deranged, talking to himself, but it was merely another barb from the Painkiller's ever-sardonic voice.
From across the room, Enrique's muffled laughter, brimming with mirth, echoed as he climbed back into bed.
"Goodnight, Yoki," he called, his voice laced with playful irony.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," Yoki muttered, rolling his eyes even as a smile tugged at his lips.
The absurdity of the situation finally settled in, and laughter bubbled up, breaking the silence of the night.
──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────
Yoki and Enrique—an inseparable pair—set out for their Calculus III class just as the first light of dawn stretched across the sky. The golden rays spilled over the cobblestone path, and Enrique couldn't resist revisiting the early-morning prank, his broad grin widening with every few steps. Yoki took it all in stride, his laughter mingling with the crisp morning air. As they walked, they engaged in an imaginary chess match—a rematch, courtesy of Yoki, to test Enrique's self-proclaimed prowess from the night before. Yoki was already two steps ahead with a wily smirk, confident he could maneuver Enrique into checkmate within five moves. His friend, however, was blissfully unaware of the impending trap.
"Knight to f6," Enrique declared with a confident flourish, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Queen to h7. Check," Yoki replied smoothly, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Enrique frowned, caught off guard. "Alright, uh… King to f7," he stammered, attempting to recover his footing.
Yoki's gaze sparkled with quiet delight. "Bishop to g6. Check."
Enrique squinted at the imaginary board, visibly faltering. "King to e7," he replied, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
"Knight to d5. Check," Yoki stated, the calm assurance in his tone radiating confidence.
Enrique scratched his head, confusion setting in. "Uh… King to d6?" he ventured hesitantly, his bravado dissolving.
Yoki's smile broadened, his quiet triumph almost tangible. "Queen to c7. Check."
With a resigned sigh, Enrique saw his options narrowing. "King takes d5," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation.
"Queen to d7," Yoki declared with finality. "Checkmate."
Enrique groaned as realization dawned. "Are you serious? How did I miss that?"
Stolen story; please report.
"Just a matter of discerning the patterns," Yoki replied, satisfaction evident in his tone. "A few more games and you might just catch on."
"Yeah, yeah, you got lucky this time," Enrique laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "One of these days, I'm going to say 'checkmate,' and you'll never hear the end of it."
Their banter trailed along the cobblestone path, adding a lively note to the morning as bystanders chuckled at their playful camaraderie. Yoki was about to retort, but a familiar voice interjected from behind—a welcome intrusion.
"Actually, he's right," Lucia said with a cheeky tone, sliding effortlessly between them. She winked at Yoki before smacking Enrique on the back of his head with a playful thump.
Yoki turned away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as a blend of delight and embarrassment washed over him.
"What? Am I really that unbearable?" Lucia feigned indignation, giving a dramatic sigh. "Fine, I'll keep my distance, tough guy."
"Ha! As if you'd let anything stop you," Enrique chuckled, nudging Yoki with a conspiratorial smile. "Yoki, you'd better get a protection rune, or Lucia here will chew you up."
"Oh, really?" Lucia shot back, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she elbowed Enrique and then turned her gaze to Yoki. "If anyone needs protection, it's definitely him."
She lunged to shove Enrique, but he sidestepped swiftly, tripping her lightly. Lucia stumbled forward, grabbing Yoki's arm for balance, her expression momentarily surprised. Seizing the opportunity, Yoki grinned wickedly and stepped aside just in time for her to stumble onto the ground.
"Oops," he said with mock innocence, his laughter ringing into the morning air.
"Seriously, Yoki?" Lucia glared up at him, her books sprawled around her like scattered autumn leaves. Yoki and Enrique dissolved into laughter, their amusement infectious.
"All right, all right, come on," Yoki chuckled, extending a hand to help her up. But as she clasped his hand, an unseen force seemed to hit him square in the stomach, and he doubled over in surprise, his laughter turning into astonished disbelief.
Enrique laughed even harder, his face alight with mirth as Yoki clutched his abdomen. "That… that was completely uncalled for!" he gasped, caught between laughter and a hint of pain.
"Oh, really?" Lucia teased, still seated on the ground, her smile mockingly evil. "Maybe next time, you'll remember to be a gentleman."
They gathered her scattered books as Yoki tried to regain his composure, rubbing his stomach with a bemused smile. As they neared the classroom, Lucia shot him a sidelong glance, the glimmer of playfulness still in her eyes. "You all right, Yoki? I'm impressed you took that hit so well."
Yoki raised an eyebrow, gathering his composure. "I've had worse. It'll take more than that to knock me down."
"Oh, I've got plenty of tricks left," she smirked. "But I'll let you off easy… for now."
"Please, don't encourage him," Enrique said with an exaggerated sigh. "If you do, he'll become insufferable."
Yoki flashed Enrique a cheeky grin. "Says the guy who lost at chess and is still holding onto last night's prank. But don't worry, I'll keep my ego in check… for you, Lucia."
Lucia laughed, giving him a playful nudge as they strolled, their laughter lingering in the air like sunlight. "We'll see about that. But watch out—my 'telekinetic punch' will be ten times worse next time."
With shared glances and a spark of youthfulness still sprinting in each of their steps, they finally arrived at Calculus III, the classroom today outside, led by the point of the strange compass they each owned.
Calculus was… well, nothing short of a formidable ordeal. Over the hour and a half, Enrique and Yoki had not only earned the simmering wrath of Professor Ilbrun—they'd practically secured a direct invitation to night detention.
"You two are lucky we didn't lose any house demerits. The Umbra underclassmen would've had a field day!" Lucia muttered though a slight curve at the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement. "And naturally, I'll be snug in my bed while you two waste your time cleaning the dust that could vanish in seconds with a simple sunderglyph," she added with a wink, clearly savoring their imminent punishment.
Enrique and Yoki, united in their misery, replied in unison, "What's the sunderglyph?"
Lucia paused, raising a single brow as she tapped her compass absentmindedly, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Yoki's gaze drifted toward the object, captivated by its almost sentient dance through the air. The compass was more than a mere tool—it was alive with an unseen force, its ever-shifting, fluid movements as enigmatic as its wielder.
How did it map the campus so precisely, predicting its changes with almost supernatural accuracy? Yoki's thoughts darted restlessly, tugged by the compass's mystery. He'd spent countless hours observing it, trying to decipher its secrets, but the answers continually eluded him, slipping through his grasp like sand.
Why the secrecy? What warranted its guardianship so fiercely?
He clenched his fists, frustrated by the unending questions that gnawed at him. Then there was the sunderglyph. He'd seen it used once—a mere flick of the finger, a rune carved into the air—and the dust had disappeared instantly. It wasn't merely magic; it was something more—both simple and elegant, precise yet endlessly intricate.
The campus itself felt alive, shifting, and evolving, bound to forces Yoki couldn't fully comprehend. What role did the sunderglyphs play in that delicate balance? Were they simply spells of magick to be used as tools—or something far greater?
The ground beneath his feet, the walls around him—all seemed to conceal a hidden truth, something buried deep within. This mystery had haunted him from his first day at The Academy, an enigma that refused to let him be.
He managed to keep the uncertainty at bay by constantly moving, filling his days with tasks to distract from the relentless weight of unspoken questions. Yet, the burden never truly lifted. Memories—the traumas—clung to him like shadows that refused to dissipate.
Stonegate, Clancy's death, Doc's cryptic warning about someone named "Chief," and Fruitcake's betrayal haunted him with a tenacity that time could not seem to dull. And Lapis Cruciatus—God, that name. It reverberated in his mind like a long-forgotten curse. Even now, the mere thought of it tightened his chest. It wasn't just the place that tormented him; it was the fear—the crushing sensation of being ensnared by his own mind, shackled by his own past.
He swallowed hard, trying to dispel the thoughts. He couldn't—wouldn't—allow them to control him. But the memories lingered, clawing at his consciousness like an open wound that refused to heal.
"Yoki, are you even listening?!" Lucia's sharp voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
Yoki blinked, suddenly aware that he'd been lost in thought for longer than was socially acceptable. He glanced at Enrique, who wore a devilish grin, clearly reveling in Yoki's momentary discomfort.
"Uh, yeah. Totally caught all that. What about the sunderglyph, though?" Yoki muttered, scrambling to cover his lapse in attention, hoping to divert the conversation.
Lucia's gaze softened momentarily, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. "You're hopeless," she sighed, shaking her head with a hint of affection. She gave him a light shove before returning to her compass.
Yoki rubbed his temples, wishing for a moment's respite from the storm within his mind. He turned to Enrique, trying to mask the weight in his expression. "So, what's the deal with that?" he asked, nodding toward Lucia's compass.
Enrique shrugged, his grin still wide. "Man, don't even try. You'll just end up more confused than you already are."
Yoki forced a half-hearted chuckle, struggling to keep up the facade. Maybe Enrique was right. Perhaps attempting to understand Lucia and her mysterious compass was a fool's errand. But there was something about it—something ineffable—that captivated him. The mystery called to him, lingering in his thoughts, refusing to fade. And just like that, the enigma of the compass slipped back into his mind, drawing him into the dark, twisted labyrinth of his thoughts—a place he could never entirely escape.
Before long, they arrived at their next destination: the Colosseum, or the building in which the Colosseum existed. Despite its name, the arena had a peculiar quality; it shrunk and expanded according to its purpose—or so he'd heard. As the trio entered the entrance to the building, most of their classmates had already gathered.
The room fell silent as Professor Kael, their combat techniques instructor, emerged from an adjacent office. The burly man, marked by a battle-worn scar across his brow, emanated an imposing presence.
"Today, I'll learn more about each of you," he announced gruffly. "Think of this week as a preliminary test to gauge each other for myself and you. The top five plebes will go on to the Arcane Trials from my class, with the opportunity to apprentice under me later. That's more than you need to know, but let's get to it, shall we?"
He scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Yoki.
Professor Kael's stern face softened into the faintest grin as he gestured toward Troy, the hazel-eyed boy with whom Lucia had sparred before Enrique introduced him to the group.
"Troy and Yoki, why don't you start us off today? Nothing too intense—just until one of you submits."
Troy nodded at Yoki with respect and stepped into the center of the Colosseum.
This is merely a training room, boy.
Ah, gotcha.
The classroom throbbed with tension. Students lined the periphery of the arena, their murmurs hushed, anticipation thick in the air like charged static before a tempest. The arena floor, scarred and blackened from previous training bouts, bore runes resembling those they had studied in the last day's Runes class.
Ugh, detention—I'll need to miss Runes tonight and get notes from someone. Too bad Lucia wasn't in that hour.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have to worry. His mind, often meandering, snapped back to focus as the runes began pulsing with an energy of their own. This place was a familiar ground for the students—some hungry for the challenge, others just eager for it to end. They had trained for The Academy their whole lives—Yoki had but in ways unfathomable.
But not Yoki. None of the students at The Academy knew about the death of his parents or his time at Stonegate, of the traumas he's faced.
Today, he was squared off with Troy, his every muscle taut, ready to spring. The others didn't understand. They saw the unflappable, poised Troy and the fierce, tempestuous Yoki, but only Yoki knew the feeling—a spark within that could erupt at any second. His palms were sweaty, his heart pounding as his gaze bore into Troy's. This wasn't just any fight—it was something far more significant.
From the sidelines, Professor Kael observed, arms crossed, his expression implacable. "No holds barred. Show us what you've got," he declared, voice flat as the arena floor.
Troy's eyes narrowed, and Yoki felt a jolt in his core. Troy wasn't merely here to brawl but to prove something. And so was Yoki.
"You're not invincible," Yoki snarled, his voice a deep rumble that sliced through the quiet hum of the arena. His words hung heavily, and Troy met them with a smirk—challenging and defiant. Troy was a machine—cool, calculated, unshakable. But Yoki? He was the storm.
And the storm was about to break.