Colonel Asshat’s Perspective

Colonel Oushatt Pr’nissent stormed through the academy halls, his destination loomed before him. He threw open the door to the lavish office and entered without a greeting. An assistant sitting behind a dark red wooden desk shot to her feet as the doors slammed open.

“Firik!” Oushatt’s commanding shout was infused with enough mana to make the room shake.

The unfortunate woman clasped her hands over her ears as the air erupted with the fury of Oushatt’s voice. Dust fell from the ceiling to pollute the lush orange carpet. Valuable paintings in gold-lacquered frames shook precipitously as the walls vibrated.

A door on the opposite end of the office from the colonel burst open as a rotund man in a finely-emblazoned academy robe hurried into the room. The anger on his pudgy face died instantly as he beheld who had dared to barge into his office.

“Colonel Oushatt?! W-w-what are you doing here?

“Ahem, I mean to say, Colonel Oushatt, how may I be of assistance to you?” The saccharine sweet smile directed his way by the boot-licking professor made bile rise in the back of the colonel's throat.

“Your incompetence has truly cost us dearly this time, Firik. I’ve half a mind to dispose of you right now before your idiocy causes us another disaster.”

Firik’s eyes and mouth opened wide at the naked threat and malevolence in the colonel's words. Before he could respond, Oushatt’s aura lashed out, sealing the room from listening ears.

Firik took two panicked steps backward, fully believing the insane officer was about to make good on his threat. His heel smacked into the open door behind him, causing the obese man to land heavily on his back, his bulk jostling violently.

“Look at you, utterly despicable. Get off your back and find me a drink you worthless swine.” Oushatt walked past the floundering professor and appropriated his opulent desk and overly cushioned chair.

Disgusting. This thing is practically a throne. No wonder he’s so soft, surrounding himself in such decadence.

Firik leaped to his feet with the speed and power only a fifth Tier could manage. He dashed to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a bottle. When he noticed the colonel occupying his chair, he grimaced but quickly hid his face, hoping the powerful man didn’t notice.

“This vintage is from th—”

“I don’t give a damn where your wine is from, Firik!” The colonel’s hand slammed into the man’s no-doubt priceless desk.

“Explain your absolute failure to report on Jiran’s capabilities, Firik. That brat is far more dangerous than your letter implied.” He spoke the boy’s name like it was a curse.

“Please, Sir! I wrote that letter before I knew he was the Fireling. I thought he was just another distraction planted by that slut, Professor Lenora. She’s been leaving wild trails of misinformation to keep me from discovering what the Kruest faction is planning.”

“Firik, you fool! The entire competition for the seventh seat could be botched because that boy!

“All our preparations need to be revised. Every single action we have taken to ensure the final seat goes to Ma’traline needs to be reevaluated. Our schedules must be moved forward.

“Above all, we need to keep this Jiran from doing anything else until we are ready. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control.

“Do you understand now, Firik? Your one mistake in underestimating the impact of that child could cost our faction everything we have worked for over the last ten years,” The colonel’s shoulders and head drooped as his rant came to an end.

Firik had never seen the man show the slightest hint of weakness or uncertainty in the many years they had known each other. To see him now in this state caused the severity of the situation to fully sink in.

“How is that possible? If the rumors are to be believed, Jiran was only a disciple of Master Filibree for a year. Surely in seven seasons he could not absorb that legend’s teachings enough to upset the entire competition.”

“You should have come to his class, Firik. He displayed and then taught a method to instantly convert density to mana. It was both beyond simple and effective.

“All it took was a single thought of density being something unnatural and originating from outside myself, for his technique to work.

“This must touch upon the vaunted ‘truth of density’ that Filibree was always going on about,” Oushatt’s fingers crooked in the air, and disgust engulfed his face when he spoke about Filibree and his bizarre convictions.

“Truly? B-but, that would mean… This changes everything.” Firik stood frozen, as his mind sluggishly tried to follow the long and far-reaching chain of implications.

“The emperors!” Firik shouted and then pressed on before Oushatt could speak.

“If the emperors can convert their density to mana instantly, they will no longer be forced to remain in the metropoles. They could directly attack the graymin, or the undead hordes directly. We could withdraw forces from the frontlines. The power structures all across the empire will shift!”

As each new implication presented itself to Firik, the man sunk further into shocked despair until he was blubbering incoherently. A mana-fueled smack roused him from his panic. Outshatt’s guard, who had just struck him, stepped back to his place near the door beside his comrade.

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“What do we do, Colonel? How can we fix this catastrophe?”

“Finally, the first sensible thing you’ve said.

“First, we need to stop Jiran from unleashing any more of Filibree’s teachings. If the boy has another shoe to drop of this caliber, it could destabilize any plans we come up with.” Oushatt gave the professor a few moments to think before speaking again.

“Dominus’s ban on action against the Fireling is no longer in effect now that the foolish boy has ousted himself. We cannot give the princess time to negotiate a new ban. We must act immediately.”

Oushatt’s firm declaration was met with a look of fear from Firik.

“Please, Colonel Oushatt. We must proceed with caution. If we harm Jiran, Master Filibree might take direct action!”

“Calm down, you disgusting coward. Obviously, we will not be harming Filibree’s disciple. If that had been my plan, I wouldn’t have bothered coming to you in the first place.

“We need a way to disable him, control him. I need information, and unfortunately, your worthless hide is the only source of knowledge I have regarding the boy. So think! Give me something I can use against him,” The colonel's hand once more came down on the desk hard enough to send cracks through the expensive wood.

Firik’s mind spun into overdrive as he struggled to think of any details he knew about Jiran that could be used against him.

“Every attempt I’ve made to get closer to him and gather information has been met with failure. He’s the most infuriating and stressful master class student I’ve ever encountered,” The professor's jowls jiggled as he stomped his foot.

“Are you telling me that you have nothing I can use? Nothing at all?” The threat in the colonel’s tone was clear.

Firik panicked as the two royal guards on either side of his door took a step toward him. The grim determination in their eyes to do him physical harm caused every pore on his body to immediately leak a sickly-sweet bead of sweat.

“No, wait! I’ve got something, I know where he’s been staying since he came to Cruex. There has to be something there we can use,” The panicked professor prayed to the voice that his last-ditch efforts would yield results enough to save him from pain.

“Hmm, it’s not much. But it's worth looking into. I’ll leave Silas and these two to oversee your efforts to curtail the boy. I have far too much work now to remain in the city. I expect updates every hour, understood?”

“Yes, as you say Colonel Oushatt. Every hour, it will be as you command,” Firik's salute was sloppy compared to the crisp perfection from the guards near the door.

“Firik, I suggest you pray your information yields results.”

Oushatt stood from his appropriated throne. As he passed the two guards, he gave them both a steady look.

“Go to Jiran’s residence and find something or someone to use against him. Do not underestimate him, Filibree would not have left him alone this long without confidence in his strength.

“We all know the rumors around the Fireling. If even half of them are true, this will get… messy. I’ll send reinforcements soon. Buy me the time I need to prepare the empire for the coming storm.”

Jiran’s Perspective

Jiran could still hear the enraged princess two floors above him. He had made his escape by turning on his camouflage and drawing his aura tight after ducking into a side hallway.

With over an hour to blow until training began in The Garden, Jiran decided to find some lunch outside the academy.

Should I head back to the inn for lunch? Nah, bit too far. If there's a single teacher's class I don't want to be late for, it's Sophia’s.

Jiran frowned at the mere idea of getting on the cute but deadly woman's bad side.

He found several food vendors at a nearby market and sampled a few of their dishes. He ate quietly in a small park with dissatisfied grumbles.

The cafeteria meals are so much better than this crap. Blegh, I'll make up with Olive when I see her at The Garden so I don't have to miss out again tomorrow.

How does a princess grow up to be so awful at communication? It's almost like she spent all her time fighting instead of learning etiquette. Yeah, I bet that's exactly what happened.

Jiran was one of the first students to arrive for afternoon training. He entered the first available changing room. It was a small unadorned space with several dozen bags stacked on the back wall.

Each bag had a loose-fitting tracksuit made of tough, canvas-like material. He quickly changed and put his uniform inside the bag he had retrieved the tracksuit from.

There's something strange about this suit's material. Almost like it has mana woven into it somehow.

When Jiran focused on the strange sensation from the suit, he felt a tug at his consciousness. Like a child reaching out their hand.

Curious about the strange phenomenon, he tapped the clothes with a feeler of his mana. The moment his mana touched the suit, it instantly constricted to perfectly match the size of his body.

Cool! Self-sizing clothes. I have got to figure out how they did that. I wonder if I could apply it to a suit of graphene latex for Mayalyn.

Jiran grabbed the bag with his regular school uniform and headed out to the entrance field to wait for class to start.

When Olive made her appearance and saw Jiran, she stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms over her chest while looking the other way. Jiran sighed while he flew over to stand beside her.

“You know you completely misunderstood everything I said back there and then tried to attack me, right? If anything I should be the one mad at you.”

Olive grumbled something under her breath that Jiran didn’t quite catch. Her posture eased slightly but she still faced away from him.

“Don’t be like that, Olive. Tell me what's bothering you. If you don’t ever speak to me again, how will you learn about the material I made that can channel mana?” Jiran used a teasing voice as he baited her into acknowledging him.

“I said, I’m sorry!” Her shout came out loud enough for everyone to hear, causing every head that wasn’t already turned toward them to look in their direction.

Olive faced him with a mixture of annoyance and dismay. She bit her lower lip while emotionally preparing herself to receive Jiran’s anger.

Instead of the scathing recrimination she expected after attacking him, he just reached out and patted her on the head with a bright and charming smile.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, Princess? Apology accepted. Hey, you should go get changed before Sophia shows up,” Jiran pointed at his own tracksuit while nodding his head toward the row of changing rooms.

Olive’s eyes widened as she scanned the air, looking for any sign of the diminutive woman. With a spring in her step, the girl dashed toward the changing rooms.