“You know, I might be good at fighting, but that doesn’t really mean I revel in it.”

Michael would have laughed if the entire situation wasn’t this odd. He was standing in an unused classroom, next to a young dude and an elf, who were trying to bring Michael over to their side. A side which, by Alex’s own words, could be justly described as battle loving fanatics.

Not even remotely my cup of tea.

“That’s what they all say at first.” The elf quipped.

For someone who hated his guts until just a few moments ago, Erea was surprisingly affable with him. Then again, she was weird, even by elven standards probably. She getting that apology out of the way and accepting he won one over her must have done wonders for her internal tempest.

“Erea is right in a way, everyone does say they’re not that into fighting, until they get good at it and come into their first winning streak. Then the number of those who start taking fighting lessons seriously goes through the roof. But that’s not what we’re about. Not all we’re about, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, they have no problem with Regitris’s faction. But they just want to grow… for the sake of growing.”

“Whereas you want to grow for the sake of fighting?” Michael asked.

“In a sense. My faction is called Martial. We are Martials. Any faction had sub-factions or different cliques with slightly different interests. That is one of the ways a new faction can appear, by the way. Among the Martials, the two main groups, though the separation isn’t definite, is composed of those who want to fight to get better at fighting” he said, pointing at Erea “and those who fight to grow.” He said, pointing at himself. “In Levels and power both.”

“We get Levels too.” Erea piped up.

“Yes, but you don’t fight for Levels, right?”

The elf thought about it and shrugged.

“So, let me get this straight. Regitris and his get want to grow, forever and ever, just for the sake of it. You all either want to Level so you’re better at fighting or fight your way to higher Levels. Did I get that right?”

“You’ve summarized what I said pretty nicely, yes.” Alex grinned.

“Right. Anything else you want to add?”

“Just one more thing. We can respect what Regitris is trying to accomplish. I have even contemplated his faction myself, at times, though Erea probably never did.” He said, eliciting a nod from the elf. “Thing is, we see their path as wind, while we see ours as rock. Yes, we focus more on one aspect in regards to Leveling, but it’s a practical one. We hone our bodies and our magic and when one of us reaches higher Levels, you can be sure that someone will be better prepared for a fight than any of his peers. That’s why we think our way is better. We reach the same enlightenment, only we do it by breaking apart all opponents.”

He finished his speech and look at Michael winningly.

Michael himself, however, felt… not impressed. He heard this speech from army recruiters, though with words like ‘honor’ and ‘prestige’ replacing ‘Levels’. He didn’t doubt it was possible for one of the Martials to reach a high enough level and he did approve of the get stronger, get deadlier approach, but he was seriously considering his options.

Choosing them might have meant getting a stronger start into getting more powerful in a fight, but that may just cost him the chance of reaching maximum level. Or, at the very least, delay it. Short term gains for long term losses. Siding with Regitris, however… that didn’t look like a quick ascension, but it did smell of wide and more varied fields of magic. A more rounded approach. Slower in progression, but probably higher aiming.

Besides, Alex was right in a way. Nobody was that much into fighting until they got good at it. And if Michael did get good at fighting… he remembered what magic could do to you. How it could steal the ground from under your feet. Not something he’d wish on himself again.

“Look, you’re going about this the wrong way.” Erea cut in. “Alex is all about the metaphorical goals and the inner guidance and blah blah. You’re the pragmatic sort, I can tell. So, here’s what’s in it for you if you join us.”

She intuited his pragmatism correctly, so Michael was pretty interested in what the feisty elf had to say.

“You’ll level like nobody’s business. Especially since you’ve got talent. You’ll get to come on missions with us. You can still come on missions, even if you decline our offer, but if you accept, we can loa you artefacts and that’s beside the tutoring and the Spell books we provide. I bet you could make it to Level 10 within the year.”

Alex shot her a dubious look, but Michael himself could actually believe her. If he were to throw himself head first into danger and manage to walk out unscathed? Oh, he’d Level, no doubt about it.

“If you keep up with the missions and last for more than a year, then I bet your Class will change. Specialize. You’ll get to be a |Battle Mage| or a |Magical Duelist|. Whatever.”

“Is that something that happened to you two?” he asked.

“Nuh-uh. First you join, then we share secrets.” She winked.

Michael had to actually focus after that wink. Like, really remember himself to focus on her words.

Dude, c’mon, she’s probably like two hundred years old.

…which means she’s gotta be experienced.

No! Focus!

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Thankfully, Erea didn’t notice Michael’s look. Alex, however, was grinning that shit-eating grin known to guys everywhere.

“And here’s the best part.” She continued. “At least for me, but I’m guessing you’ll see it the same way. Out of all other factions, a Martial is considered war ready by the time we reach the end of our second year, judged by our artifacts alone. Other factions don’t reward their own with as many Spell tomes or artifacts. Ours does. So you can bet that if you stick with us you’ll be decked head to toe in magical armor and weapons. So, you know, if you reach the end of your studies and decide you don’t want to spend the rest of your life as a book worm, then you have a nice career option waiting for you.”

That… actually was a good point. As good as Alex’s? Better, really. It would have spoken to him, had circumstances been different. Going big as a mage and as a sword for hire? That’s like… the premise of half the fantasy books he read. More than half of the games he played. But here’s the thing, he didn’t want to get old in this world. He wanted to get strong, ferret out any advantageous secret and find a way back. Yeah, it might take a while and he wasn’t opposed to making the best of it, but that was still his main goal.

But… what if his goal changed? He thought about it as he looked at Erea.

Who was smiling at him.

I’m just doubting myself because of her. Damn elf.

“I’ll think about it.” he said and she deflated a little.

“Don’t feel too bad, Erea.” Alex laughed. “He hasn’t picked a faction, so he probably said the same thing to Regitris too. So, you know, when you think about it, your speech was probably as good as his.”

That actually made her perk up a little, amusingly enough.

“It’s not that I don’t agree with what you said. You made good points. But I need to sleep on it. At least a few days.”

“Of course, there’s no rush.” Alex said, while Erea rolled her eyes.

“Fine, sure, but remember, early wyvern gets the goat.”

“That’s… not at all how my people say that expression, but I get your meaning.”

They walked out of the room and into the corridor, where they parted ways.

“We’ll let you think about it and maybe approach you again in a few days. Or not.” Alex shrugged. “Oh, but we’ll definitely send for you guys next Friday, if something good comes up.”

“Yeah,” Erea said “maybe this time you’ll |Light Arrow|!”

Michael just managed to dodge the Spell, by dropping down to his knees. His hand was already outstretched and ready for casting, wand forgotten in his robes, when he saw the elf looking at him, eyes full of mirth.

“Hah! Dodged it.” She said. “Martial material right here. What? I’m just keeping you on your toes? Don’t disappoint me, Michael.”

Saying that, she winked and turned around, leaving them back.

Alex left too, but not before raising two thumbs before her back, grinning at Michael.

Was… was she flirting with me? Is that how someone like her does it?

Michael strolled down the hallways in a haze. It seemed to be tradition by now that each of his days here at Gnosis would shock him, at least a little. Today, there had been two shocks. One was that there was a second faction aiming to get him. Another was that Erea had apologized. And then did a complete one eighty in regard to him.

Was she faking it? I mean, being an elf doesn’t necessarily make you trustworthy.

She didn’t look like she was faking it, but… hmm. Michael thought that Erea was way to direct for such subterfuge, but he had to admit that using such a pretty elf to get under his skin might have been a way the Martials were trying to get him over to their side.

Note to self: stop thinking of her as ‘pretty’.

“I’ll just have to be clear headed about this.” He murmured.

“About what?”

He dropped down, wand out and scanned the area for threats. There was no one in the hallway with him.

“Who’s there?” he called out, though no answer came.

Not impossible that there’s a charm placed around here, only designed to spook you. Still, stay alert.

Resuming back his train of thought, Michael made a decision. He would think about the two proposals, and pick a side, based on logical arguments. Not pretty, blonde elves. Ar-gu-ments. Either that or he’d refuse both sides and play this game as the lone wolf. Because trying to wipe out a dungeon by yourself never ended up in a respawn, didn’t it?

Tiredly, he made his way to his room. It wasn’t quite nighttime yet, but he figured he could pass the time away. Get his mind of Erea. And he would have done that too, had his door not refused to appear.

Odd.

He was standing right where he was supposed to stand. As it was supposed to appear a few steps ago. Wondering, he moved around the corridor. The door never manifested. He even saw a few other students walking into their rooms, giving him the stink eye, as if he was trying to learn where they were staying.

And Michael still didn’t see his door. He didn’t know whether this was a prank, an act of spite or just an enchantment malfunctioning, but he didn’t care. He was tired and thanks to this day, he had a lot of tension to work out.

So he got close to the patch of wall where the door to his room should have been, pointed his arrow at it point-blank and whispered.

“|Flame Dart|”

“Shit!” a voice said from behind him.

Michael turned and saw… a shadow.

No, not a shadow. It was more like a half-transparent ghost, only darker in shade. Robed, with the long cloth obscuring any features. Well, he could tell it only had one head, but that was about the extent of his description.

“Not a usual idea, to dispel an illusion by attacking it with a Spell. Then again, I did use a rather obvious Spell anchor.”

“Illusion?” Michael asked.

“Yes. I layered the illusion of a blank wall, over the regular illusion obscuring your door. When you approached and the academy’s illusion disappeared, mine kicked in. Like it?”

“Love.” He deadpanned. “What do you want?”

“Oh, just to make your acquaitance. And to get a sense of you. There are many sides who would wish for you to be one of their own. Mine included.”

“I’m guessing you’re not a real animated, half see-through shadow robe, are you?”

The voice behind the robe laughed.

“I could be. Gnosis is home to many races. But sadly, I am a bit more mundane than this. No, this is just an illusion too. We are not as open as other factions. Indeed, we are more… secretive.”

And dramatic.

“Right. Look, I’m tired, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just ask you a few questions. If your answer’s not short enough, I’ll move on to my next question.”

“…very well.” It said, sounding taken aback.

“All factions seem to have a focus. What’s yours?”

It seemed to ponder the answer before answering.

“Mysteries.” It said, with a voice that probably wanted to sound enticing.

Vague and nothing of direct interest to me. That’s strike one.

“What’s in it for me if I join?”

“We can offer truths that others have forgotten even exists. We can help you answer questions other would not understand. We-“

Can bore me to death. Strike two.

“Do you have any pretty elves among your members?” Michael interrupted.

In truth, he wanted to ask a completely different thing, but he was grumpy and the annoyance he felt at the mysterious intruder kind of made the question slip out.

“I- We… could have? Maybe?”

“Thank you for your offer, but I have to refuse. That being said, I welcome a future collaboration, should our interests align. A good day to you.”

There. That was professional enough, right?

And that was how Michael closed the door in its face. And how a floating, semitransparent, hooded shadow was left standing in the hallway for a few minutes, scaring the occasional appearing student. It desperately tried to ponder Michaels words. ‘Pretty elf’. What did that mean? It was a code for something, but for what? Pretty… could Regitris be considered pretty? Or did ‘pretty elf’ mean immortality, in this context? Eternal youth?

The being eventually winked away, to ponder this mystery in a more secluded spot.

Truly, this young Michael had more depth than anyone could know.

And by the next day, mostly everyone at Gnosis knew he was being courted by the Ascentionalists, the Martials and one other faction.

That was life at the academy.