Friday morning. Mmanuell wakes up full of nerves, on the advent of yet another of his carefully devised schemes. He normally finds it trivial to control his emotions, but sometimes it feels better to let the exhilaration run through- his anticipation towards how the day's going to play out is simply impossible to resist.

Mmanuell leans over his en-suite sink and rubs his hands across his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror with a smug grin. You got this, nothing could be easier, he reminds himself as he briefly takes notice of the condition of his skin. Plain brown, still no Gates. They're taking their damn time, but we move.

He leaves his room and starts heading downstairs into the kitchen/living-room combo where, as usual, his parents are already getting on with their own morning routines.

'Morning mum, morning dad.' Mmanuell jogs down the last few steps and nods at his parents before sitting down at their table and wolfing down the bowl of dragon meat and rice&peas that his mother made him for breakfast.

'Morning son!' Teegan Ezenha called back from across the kitchen as she finished prepping tonight's dinner. 'Last day of the term, you excited?'

Mmanuell nods and replies between mouthfuls of food, 'Yeah, me and my mates-'

'Don't talk to your mum with your mouth full.' Mmanuell's father, Ttala Ezenha- an intimidatingly tall, beastly looking man covered head to toe with geometrical tattoos- ruffled his newspaper and looked up at his son from across the kitchen table through thicker-than-they-need-to-be glasses, his voice vibrating their glass table as he spoke.

Mmanuell glares back at his dad and swallows the food in his mouth before continuing. '...Me and my friends came up with a scheme to celebrate, yeah. A little last minute, but nothing we can't handle.' Mmanuell clasps his hands together and rubs them in excitement, 'Easiest dub of our lives.'

'Is that so?' Teegan pushes up her glasses, her interest piqued. 'On a scale of "Standard" to "October 6th", how grand are we talking?'

Mmanuell chuckles, which quickly evolves into a cheeky laugh as he reminisces about the best night of his life. 'Well...I mean we're never going to top October 6th Mum, come on.' Mmanuell and his entourage flew to the city in the dead of night, broke into a library, dismantled all of the bookshelves and melted the screws into a solid gold bar which they then sold for a generous profit. They were never even caught! It was beautiful. 'But if I had to compare it to one of my previous works, I'd call it the...sequel to "May 5th".'

'Ooh, sounds interesting! I know you'll do fine.' Teegan smiled, going over to the table to wash up her son's dishes and kiss her husband on the cheek- but Ttala sighed and rolled his eyes.

'Just try not to go over the top Mmanuell. We should be expecting another Random Wyvern Event one of these years, their numbers usually surge way before one officially begins. Don't want you stepping on one by accident.'

'Yeah I'll be fine, the entire plan takes place indoors. Nothing to worry about.' Mmanuell gives his dad a thumbs up and turns behind him to look at the picture frame hung above the fireplace; it's a painting of his family: Mmanuell, his parents, and a man who looks identical to his father except completely bald and with darker skin. 'Even if the dragon population exploded overnight, I'm sure you and uncle Draden could cull itb right back down, so it's all good..now I mention him, he actually hasn't visited in a while. Dad, do you know when he'll be back?'

Ttala groaned, 'Hold on, let me check.' He reached an arm across the table and went for the calendar lying beneath some magazines, flicking through the pages until he reaches the current date, April 2017 '...Uh, sometime next year, most likely.'

'Next YEAR?! Why so far! There was only a month between his last two visits!'

Mmanuell's father puts down his newspaper and looks in his son's general direction. 'Mmanuell, you know Draden rarely gets any time off with all that foreign King's Agency business he's involved with. Plus, we're both getting old, flying from Tsunia to Cryotia isn't a small feat. He'll come when he comes. Leave it at that.'

Mmanuell squinted at his father. 'You said that with contempt.'

'...Did I?'

Mmanuell starts making gesticulations as he sticks his head out over the table, 'Yes! And you're both one-hundred and thirty-four you're not that old. Yeah, he's a King's Agent, an "assassin", a "hitman", kills people or whatever. Come on I'm nearly sixteen I know this-'

Mmanuell's dad loudly flips the page of his newspaper. "Shut up", is what he's trying to say.

'D-DAD?! Hello?'

Ttala is now looking straight at Mmanuell, hitting him with that dollar-store pepper spray stare, but before he can raise his voice Teegan comes up behind Mmanuell and pinches his trapezoid, forcing him to turn around and meet her gaze. A small hint of annoyance breaks through her warm expression, but she is smiling nonetheless.

'What your dad is trying to say is that we won't need to rely on uncle Draden because YOU'RE going to be a Dreacon too, sooner or later.'

'Ehhhh...', Mmanuell groans.

Mmanuell's mother loosens her grip on his shoulders and taps him on the forehead, 'Don't "Ehh" me. Your Gates will have grown in by the time Ttala expects you to start helping him out, you'll be taking over the family business in no time.'

Mmanuell rubs his chin, pondering. The family business, is that right. Fighting swarms of dragons every other day does seem fun in it's own right, but the idea of doing that for the rest of my life sounds boring as hell, though. Hm, maybe my-

'Your opinion will change once your Gates actually grow in, son. Here, have a look at some of my work quickly before you leave for school.' Teegan dumps something she fished out of her blue and white wyvern-leather briefcase on the table before Mmanuell: A hefty document binder with a detailed mural of a Frost Wyvern on the front. "The Random Wyvern Event: an overview by Teegan Ezenha".

Oh, this is one of mum's research papers. Mmanuell flicks to a not-entirely-random page— the book is sectioned off into different categories with laminated paper, and he lands on the first page of the book's largest topic: The Random Wyvern Event.

He's skimming over it, but it's mostly talking about the purported mechanics behind how Cryotian Tyrant Meadvale has remained as the Great Frost Wyvern throughout most of recorded history, despite every other country's Tyrant changing form and triggering new Random Species Events every 4 centuries or so. Mmanuell inconspicuously closes the book and pinches his eyes. Despite merely skimming through it, he could smell how mightily boring that was.

Okay, enough of that, back to the task at hand. Operation April 14th: Get-Our-Stuff-Back!

...

...That doesn't sound as cool as October 6th: Goblin Raid Advent.

Regardless of any naming issues, the mission in question is just about ready to start barring the final, most important piece which Mmanuell left in his bedroom- he hops upstairs and flings open its door. A solitary ray peers in through closed blinds, illuminating the specks of dust that float through, making his room feel like the trophy room of a retired champ.

Again, just as dramatically, Mmanuell brandishes open his curtains letting the morning sun pour in and accentuate the brilliance of his master den: a double bed to one side with enough space to fit three more, a bookshelf to the other full of some of the finest literary works to grace the land (fiction books), complemented by the trophies and spoils from schemes long past. Stolen ID cards, some poor sod's house keys, a visiting government official's wig (the story behind this is wild, Mmanuell can't help but laugh whenever he looks at it), among other various sundries that bespeak Mmanuell's infinite cunning.

And there it is, the centrepiece. You love to see it.

To the side of Mmanuell's bed sits a washing-machine-sized treasure chest made entirely out of Pallobalt Crystal. It is a lustrous, lavender-hued metal, so not actually crystalline whatsoever...but its irresistable luster grants it that namesake. The sheer size of it makes it a bit hard to do so, but Mmanuell tilts one end of the box up and places a hand underneath, supporting its volume with his cheek as he adjusts his grip and nearly instantly Mmanuell's whole body goes numb; it's a tingly feeling, like dipping your hands in warm water after a day of snowball fighting in a blizzard. On the verge of paralysation, but Mmanuell wins these.

Teegan calls for Mmanuell from downstairs, waiting for him at the front door. 'Mmanuell! Do you want to skate to school or are you fine walking!?'

'I'll stake today!', Mmanuell calls back.

'Okay, let's get going sweetie, say bye to your dad!'

'Alright!', Mmanuell carefully inches his way through the thin upstairs corridor so as not to pierce the delicate wallpaper with the sharp edges of the chest, only to be cussed out by his mum as soon as she sees him trying to hulk his way down the stairs with that safety hazard.

'Mmanuell why do you have that?! The entire thing is made out of Crystal are you trying to kill yourself? Where- when did you even get that-'

'I will simply handle the situation, don't worry Mum, I got it.', Mmanuell reassures her. The thing to remember here is that Pallobalt absorbs the Flow out of you like a sponge does water. They're "relatively" safe to touch for people who cannot use Magic yet (i.e literally only Mmanuell) but people like his mum, a fully grown, magic-proficient adult? Wouldn't dare to touch this bare-handed, which is why Teegan has such an apprehensive look on her face. She can't even take the thing off of her kid without risking passing out, so she just has to trust the boy.

'...I hope you know what you're doing, and don't go poking eyes out with those corners either! Come on, I'm running late dear.'

'Yes mum', Mmanuell sticks his head over the chest he's carrying and peers into the kitchen door, 'Dad, we're leaving now! Bye, love you!'

...

He fell asleep at the table, his arms folded and the newspaper he was reading laid across his face. Best to just let him sleep, he'll go to his actual bed when he slides off the chair in an hour or so. Teegan ushers Mmanuell to move back a bit as she pulls open the front door, sucking out the corridor's cosy warmth and sending a zephyr of cold air right up Mmanuell's nose and freezing the back of his throat. Holy shit that hits hard, I love it.

Mmanuell steps out the front door after his mum and trains his eyes to the pearly white of the snow-covered cul-de-sac that his family lives on. It's hard to open your eyes fully without nearly blinding yourself, Mmanuell's hometown looks as if Infinite Azure froze over: clear, sunny skies in direct contradiction to the freezing cold and a permanent ankle-deep coat of snow on the ground, which is strange because Mmanuell's never seen a cloud in his life. It's probably got something to do with the fact that the Inani Montibus is so nearby, or maybe it's the influence of Tyrant Meadvale slumbering within those mountains messing with the weather? Mmanuell doesn't really care, all he needs to know is that school gets called off really often because of massive snow pile-ups, or the doors freeze shut, or the boiler malfunctions, or there's a frost wyvern loose in the dining hall...luckily today isn't one of those days.

Teegan ruffles Mmanuell's hair (flattening his afro/pompadour fusion in the process) and cracks her knuckles, 'Hold on son, I have to get to work early today so I can't skate with you today, I'll make the entire path from now.'. Teegan takes a deep, concentrated breath... then lets loose a steady stream of Flow from the multiple whirlpool-shaped markings across her body and lets it seep out of the sleeves of her fur coat. It evaporates off, out of her skin like an iron shooting out steam, and after a few moments, there's enough of the turquoise, smoke-like gas to fill a pool. Again by her sheer will, the cloud of Flow condenses into a uniform rhomboid shape, about a person's length in height and width, reminiscent of a giant marker; its hue also brightening on account of less sunlight blocking out its natural azure glow.

'Alright, let's see if I don't run a path into a tree by accident now, shall we? around the roundabout and down the road, easy enough, then the rest of it...' Teegan pinches her eyes shut and envisions the route her Magic has to take to create a traversable path to school, making small twists and turns with her other hand as she does so. Effortlessly following her mind's will, her magic marker lowers to the ground and is dragged along the snow, the Flow at the bottom of being Transmuted into an icy pavement of lustrous Ice Magic as it moves along, like ink being trailed on paper in a pen's wake, or like one of those fancy Narishaelan toys that move on their own and set dominoes on the floor, or a...Zamboni? If that's what they're called (not much of a use for them in the land of permafrost).

Mmanuell watched his mum flex her Magical prowess in awe (and silence, so as not to disturb her); as Teegan continued drawing a course all the way out the cul-de-sac and into the snow-covered, unpaved roads beyond, extending beyond both her and her son's sight for what he could only assume was the entirety of the 2-mile journey to school. This continued for about two minutes until Teegan sensed that the Magic she whipped up was depleted, she opened her eyes and smiled at Mmanuell, who smiled back and applauded her display of fine Magic control. 'Wonderful stuff, mum.'

'Thank you, dear. Here, put your skates on.' Teegan brings forth yet another small cube of Flow from her Gates, which she splits in two and sets over the freshly laid path of Ice Magic, where they Transmute from the bottom up within seconds into primitive-yet-functional bladed shoes. Ice skates...also made of Ice Magic. They fall over as Teegan stops controlling them and checks her watch...she spent a little too much time dealing with Mmanuell. 'Okay, nothing should dissolve before you reach school but if it does let me know; your mum must be losing her touch, haha! Have fun, your plan will go just fine, enjoy the last day of school, love you, see you at home time!' Teegan speaks in a rushed tone as she creates a rectangular box out of solid Wind Magic, tall enough for her to stand in, with one side open and a thin pole going from top to bottom to act as a handrail. She lifts it up dozens of feet into the air, orients it to face north-west, and blasts off at an impressive speed. Mmanuell watches his mum become nothing more than a speck in the crystal blue sky, veering around the smaller scrappy mountains that make up the edge of the Inani Montibus. He should get going.

...

A twenty-minute skate through the lovely Cryotian spring taiga, closer to fimbulventr than any spring a non-Cryotian would be accustomed to, brings Mmanuell to St. Balwart's— a great, big, building that his father says has been around longer than him. Mmanuell's late; it's empty in the front playground, the snow littered with footsteps heading to and from his next ordeal: The school walls are always covered beneath mounds of snow and an insanely thick sheet of ice is covering the main entrance; it froze over a few years ago and hasn't melted since, so the janitor man carved it into a staircase that people use to get inside through the giant (now smashed out) window above it. This is a safety hazard, and with the massive Crystal crate he's still holding, one wrong move will probably leave him with dented ribs. Luckily all Mmanuell has to do is use the unnecessarily sharp corners of his treasure chest as an ice-pick and slowly inch his way up. After a couple dozen seconds, he's made his way up the slippery stairs, through the window door and is on his way to his classroom.

LET OPERATION: "GET OUR STUFF BACK" COMMENCE!

Mmanuell's classroom is pretty standard, and the same one he and his class have been in their whole lives: A large room with a very high ceiling and bright yellow walls, decorated with paper craft and poems from years long past. The radiators have all been painted over with pretty patterns and doodles of trees and animals. Two corners of the room have been sectioned off; one for the bookshelves, the other to hang up coats and school bags. The twenty or so children sitting around the six tables that take up most of the room turn their heads towards the classroom door in dread as the sound of maniacal giggling draws closer.

Mmanuell kicks the door open and welcomes his adoring, participating audience for today's show with a shit-eating grin as he stumbles into the room with a Crystal box that could easily fit seven of them in there. Most of them avoid eye contact out of concern for their well-being. A regular Friday, then.

'You already know what time it is. Has Miss already done the reg-'

He's cut off by the hiss of Yyna Komodia's voice, his teacher for every subject because that's how school works. Her sharp, piercing whispers make people think she's a lizard in disguise, but no one'll dare say that to her face. It's easier to just call her "Miss" though since her full name is a mouthful, however fitting it may be.

'Mmanuell, please do not kick that door open. It's Friday, can you not just be normal? Sit down and-

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Ignoring the lambasting of his teacher, Mmanuell lugs his Pallobalt crate towards the coat rack and gracelessly chucks it on the floor, creating an inconceivably loud clang that resonated through the bones of the entire class- shutting up Miss and...whatever she was going on about.

'Yap, Yap, Yap, and I just walked into the room. Can I sit down or are you going to keep going on?'

She's glaring at Mmanuell with vexed, beady eyes...as if staring at him hard enough will let her see into the inner machinations of his mind. Alas, they are enigmatic. Today operation has been in the works for too many days to count.

...

It has been less than a week at most.

But, still. It yet remains completely foolproof!

Victory is 100% guaranteed.

Absolutely...

Yes.

Yyna pinches her eyes and groans, '...Why did you bring Pallobalt Crystal large enough to kill someone into class, Mmanuell?'

Mmanuell flashes a fake smile as he answers back, 'Well, it's my school bag. Why else?'

A few of the other kids stare at Mmanuell in disbelief as Miss Komodia's eyes twitch, her patience already running thin.

'...And what, exactly, was wrong with your previous one, Mmanuell?'

He dismissively shrugs off the question as starts taking his coat off and rebuts by playing one of his cards early for the fun of it. 'Nothing, but my Mum said I can have this one.' This is a total lie but Yyna is scared shitless of Mmanuell's mother for reasons he's too young to understand. On top of the fact that she was the head teacher of St. Balwarts for a time, Mmanuell having her approval sometimes allows him to take liberties with skipping over stages of authority. It's not an excuse he can use often she'll actually get in touch with Mmanuell's mum and that won't end well. But, just as expected, Miss bites her lip in defeat after hearing Mmanuell say the magic words.

'Oh...that's fine then, but I'll be talking to her about this, so put your stuff away and come and sit down while I take the register.'

Sure you will. As Mmanuell began taking school stuff out of his Pallobalt crate a brown-skinned girl with pigtail box braids, thick, round glasses and star-shaped Gates across her face shot her hand up to get Yyna's attention. 'Miss! I forgot my pencil case in my bag, can I go and get it?'

'Of course, Kkele.' Miss quickly switches attitudes and gives her favourite student a warm smile as the girl gets out of her chair and neatly tucks it under her table, which is the closest to Miss' desk. That's Kkele: the smartest person in Mmanuell's class after himself, of course, and one of the only two students at St. Balwarts who was born with the ability to use Magic. She's also Mmanuell's best friend. As she walks past Mmanuell to get her pencil case, Kkele leans in towards him and whispers in his ear.

'Are we good to go with it? No unexpected setbacks or anything?'

'Nah, we're all good. Be ready.'

Kkele coyly grins at Mmanuell and they both inconspicuously walk back to their seats as Miss calls the names of children organised in orderly groups around their tables. Miss normally starts the day by doing the register, but sometimes she forgets. She gets in trouble for that.

'Ok then, that's the register done.' Miss picks a child to bring the filled-out clipboard to the reception office downstairs, writes down Friday's timetable on the whiteboard, and begins lessons. But, having quickly grown bored of being in school for a grand total of ten minutes, Mmanuell inconspicuously slides a paddle ball out of his back pocket while Miss isn't looking. He's "trying" not to get caught, and starts playing with it underneath his table under the impression that nobody can see him.

He sits slap dab in the middle of the classroom. Everybody can see him, everyone can hear the damn thing. Including Miss.

'-Mmanuell!', she interrupts herself from narrating the book everyone is reading as a class to reprimand Mmanuell. 'It hasn't even been half an hour, how dare you...'

Blah, blah, blah, nobody's actually listening we don't have time for all that.

'...Give me that!' Miss made her way to Mmanuell's table at the other end of the room and extends her hand as a signal for him to give up his item.

How offensive!

'But Miss, it's just my bookmark(!)' Mmanuell hugs his paddle ball closer to his chest with a- just, absolutely flabbergasted expression on his face.

Miss raises an eyebrow at this and scoffs. 'Using a paddle ball as a bookmark? I do not think it is, Mmanuell. Now may I please-' Miss was about to tear into Mmanuell for using such a lame excuse, but as she gets a better look at the thing, sure enough, there are little reminders from several different dates scribbled all over it in randomly coloured, dried out felt-tip pen marker about the books that have been read in class over the past few months.

'...You should know better than to use a toy as a bookmark, instead of an actual one.' Miss lowers her voice and retracts her hand, before jutting it back out again and repeating herself.

'But Miss-'

'No "buts", young man, you know the rules. Use a normal bookmark. The toy, please.'

Pretend-sulking, Mmanuell hands over the decoy to his teacher as she walks back over to her desk.

Yeah, that should do it.

Too proud of her false victory to see the macro game, Miss Komodia takes a key from her desk to open the storage room where they school supplies and whatnot, then uses a different key on her necklace to open the "confiscation chest" that's kept within that same storage room, before locking them both and putting the keys back where she got them- If Miss sees a child with a toy, she'll take it and put it the large black chest in the classroom's storage room...and then tell their parents...and exaggerate things to get in more trouble because the suffering of others gives her sustenance, surely.

'I'll be talking to your mother about this as well, Mmanuell.'

Oooh, shiver me timbers. Shut up, man! Mmanuell glares at her. Mum won't care. She condones this behaviour, but you know what Mmanuell doesn't condone? Not being allowed to play with toys in the middle of class...but that's okay! Why? Because after days (count: 2) of careful planning and blackmailing persuading his friends into helping him, the "Certified™ Intellectual© Genius®", Mmanuell Ezenha, has come up with a scheme!

Yes, a scheme to end all schemes...to get all the confiscated items back, without Miss Komodia getting so much as a sliver of an idea of what's going on right beneath her nose. This is the true nature of "April 14th". Ahh, sometimes Mmanuell wonders if this is too easy.

He just needs to unlock the confiscation chest and "liberate" everyone's toys, easy as!

But, both it and the room it's kept in are locked; Mmanuell had an idea of where their respective keys were being kept, but that was a risk, and a risk wasn't good enough...so he made a necessary sacrifice to confirm their locations...and now that he knows for sure, the operation can truly begin.

Still "upset" that he was "bested" by his teacher, Mmanuell reads along with his own copy of the book Miss was reading aloud to the class before she was interrupted. About 15 minutes later, three sharp flicks on the paperback cover signalled the beginning of the next phase. A classmate that Mmanuell forced influenced to join the plan with the threat prospect of him snitching to informing Miss Komodia that they'd stolen all the Maltesers from the candy box (which is something Mmanuell also made him do), nervously got up from his seat and goes up to his teacher's desk whilst she's sitting there reading aloud to the class, awkwardly fumbling through her drawer of assorted stationery items before working up the courage to pick up the woman's house keys.

Miss probably wouldn't have even realised what was going on because kids are allowed to get a spare pencil/ruler/etc from Miss' own belongings, but it'd be more surprising if Miss wasn't able to discern the metallic glint of her own keys out of her peripheral vision. One of her better-behaved students misbehaving? Doing something which was very obviously a dare made by the other kids, no less? Behaviour such as that demands a few words in private, outside of the classroom.

How hard Mmanuell had to suppress his laughter as this kid gave Mmanuell a "Look dude, I did it! I'm part of the plan guys!" thumbs up should not be understated.

Like Mmanuell gives a shit. He's a shy, weak kid even quieter than Ssamuell (but at least Sam has a personality; this guy is just plain boring) who's always trying to force a friendship with the more popular kids in class by doing silly things, so Miss is probably going to have a word with him about "standing up for himself", "being more confident", and "being unique". All that jazz.

Maybe he'll actually listen and stop being a...Mmanuell believes Tsunians call people like him a neek? Yeah maybe he'll stop being such a neek.

Now that Miss is occupied with something else Mmanuell is granted the opportunity to casually waltz up to her desk, take the backroom key and replace it with a different but-similar-enough-not-to-notice substitute, whistling and twirling it around as he does so. Kkele gives Mmanuell a wink and a high-five as he goes back to his seat and slips the acquired item into his pocket.

Now for the confiscation chest key itself. Up until just now, Mmanuell hadn't actually seen it since he attempted to make a cast of it using stale play-dough a few days ago (that was for a different plan, just respect the initiative). Unfortunately, that initiative backfired on him and now, instead of on the desk right next to the storage room key, the confiscation chest key is on his teacher's necklace. An, even more so than before, trickier location. This is seriously not good.

Miss Komodia wasn't giving Mmanuell any strange looks as she walked back into the room with whatever-his-name-is-Mmanuell-forgot-sorry-kid, so it's safe to assume he didn't snitch. Regardless, Mmanuell has to think of something quick to deal with getting the second key, or else the plan ends here...

Oh boy. It's improvisation time. This isn't going to end well, but whatever it takes. Mmanuell Ezenha is a generous fellow, the type of child who wouldn't hurt other people's feelings for his own benefit...

But this benefits everyone, so that makes it O.K.

Mmanuell waits a dozen or so minutes to build up the courage to go against the script, but eventually, he does. Projecting his voice as if he's reading off of a poorly written script, Mmanuell does the only thing he can think of to get the final key at such short notice.

'Hey, Kkele! Won't mind if I borrow that super-rare Land of the Lustrous jumbo pen you have, do you?'

'...Huh?' Kkele turns around in her seat and looks Mmanuell up and down, concerned at the juncture this plan is taking as she slowly drags her oversized sticker-adorned pencil case closer to her. 'Why do you need it? I have other pens you can use, you know?'

'Yeah but I want that one.'

Kkele squints at him, 'Don't you dare.', she whispers.

He nods back at her confidently, 'Trust me', he mouths back.

Squints turn to glares as Mmanuell gets out of his seat and casually strides towards Kkele

'Oh, HELL NO! Mmanuell DON'T-'

Mmanuell snatches Kkele's pencil case from her grasp with a shocking amount of force and empties its contents out onto her table, spilling stationary all over the floor and once again directing eyes towards him. A veritable stream of pens, pencils, rulers and rubbers spilled forth from the oversized, sticker-adorned bag before the rare jumbo pen in question made itself visible- although it was less a "pen" and more, almost literally, just an engraved glass cylinder full of ink with a pen nib bolted on one end; much more of a collectors item than anything you'd actually write with, but that would explain why Kkele, lover of all things rare and valuable, would treasure it so.

So it stands to reason that Mmanuell would snatch the thing out of the air before Kkele could so much as begin to catch it for herself shatter it into pieces in front of her face.

Ink burst across the entire room, speckling the walls with black splotches, ruining the reading books the school just purchased, splattering across Mmanuell's, Kkele's and all the other children's faces, and getting all over Miss Komodia's clothes; she was sitting right there, so that's her fault.

Every pair of eyes in the room kinda just stared at him for like, three seconds straight. Ignoring them, Mmanuell wipes the glass and ink stuck to his hands off on Kkele's shoulder, then lifts her glasses up to look her dead in her eyes, 'You're not gonna want that back are you? I don't see the point in collecting shit if you aren't going to use it, you won't miss it.'

This might not even work and the damaged trust may never be repaired, but Mmanuell didn't come this far to fail because of the consequences of stale play-dough. He didn't want to do that, truly, but Mmanuell needed to provoke Kkele enough for her to act with her heart instead of her head.

Miss practically erupted in anger at the ruination of her clothes. Even though sixteen and twenty-eight may as well be the exact same age to an Arcerran, Yyna's fashion sense sucks (the ink makes it look better if you ask Mmanuell). But, Yyna could barely get sp much as a sentence out before a torrent filled the room and swept up everything that wasn't bolted down into a vortex of pink-hued, glue-like Water Magic.

'MMANUELL YOU DICK, I WILL ACTUALLY KILL YOU! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!!! HOW COULD YOU BE SO MEAN?! HEARTLESS! INCONSIDERATE! RUDE!' Kkele yelled at the top of her lungs with teary eyes, the Flow seething from her star-shaped Gates responding to her rage and effortlessly Transmuting into her signature Resin Gum, which she promptly shot at Mmanuell...which sent him flying against the wall across the room, dropping to his knees from the impact and clawing at the orb of viscous liquid surrounding his head in an attempt to get it off, but Kkele's adding more volume to it than he can remove.

As far as on-the-spot improv schemes go, Mmanuell's already regretting this.

'Okay....sorry..I'm...(!)...pens...n't...that rare...I..nother...my bag! Stop...hitting....water...'

The world's worst improviser tries to shout and beg for mercy, but that only allowed more Water Magic to rush into his lungs; if Mmanuell really wanted to he could breathe it all in and absorb it, but being bed-ridden with Flow Overload for two days is something he'd rather not do.

Guess he'll drown, then.

Mmanuell's lucky he has dirt on all of his classmates otherwise they probably wouldn't have responded to the signal to start phase three of the plan, which was to commence when Kkele "gets angry" in any sense of the phrase, and proceed to start a full-on riot to serve as a grand distraction: screaming, laughing, throwing stuff around, scooping bits of water out of Kkele's vortex and chucking it at other kids; at this point, it's out of Mmanuell's control (not a fan of that.) and the plan might fail tremendously (not a fan of that either.).

Yyna, on the other hand, was dodging and ducking through various pieces of rogue stationery and water bombs as she bellowed for her class to stop at once, but it was too loud to even hear yourself think; who's listening to a teacher, this far into the madness? We revel in the chaos!

She then tried to pick up Kkele and calm her down, but sneaking up on a Mage from behind tends to make them very jumpy and is widely regarded as a bad move. Instinctively, Kkele created a large explosion of freezing cold Steam Magic that turned the entire classroom into a cloudy, sight-obstructing labyrinth and dropped the temperature by at least 5°C.

Foggy, soggy, and full of noisy children that don't want to listen, absolute chaos ensues...which leaves Miss Komodia with no other option. She rips her necklace off, flings it onto the floor with no regard as to where, and overpowers Kkele's mental connection to her Magic with her own, taking over control of the swirling vortex of Water and Steam Magic filling the room, rendering her powerless. Miss concentrated really hard for a few seconds, and then all the Magic in the room just, dissolved back into Flow. Everyone's vision cleared up and stuff that was soaking wet moments prior dried up instantly, including that orb of water that was this close to sending Mmanuell on a trip to the Great Pantry; all of it, just hissing and smoking with a bright turquoise aura, which quickly faded away and disappeared into the air.

The discord which plagued the room's orderliness died away. Every single child in the room stopped mid-riot petrified, in anticipation of what would surely be their biggest collective telling-off since that November. We...we don't talk about that November.

Miss Komodia stood in the centre of the room: She wasn't glaring at anybody with her snake eyes, her face wasn't red like a plump ripe tomato, hell, she didn't even raise her voice. You wouldn't even have been able to tell she was angry weren't it not for the air around her literally popping and squeaking with Gaseous Lava Magic, commonly referred to as Explosion Magic, so unfortunately for everyone in the room that is not the case.

'Kkele.' Sparks flew across the room as she looked down at the girl.

The poor little thing was sniffling, her breath shaky from the shock of using so much Magic on impulse, which is a big no-no during school in case it wasn't already evident; she also rarely gets in trouble, so realising that she's going to get it worse than Mmanuell usually does probably isn't helping either.

'Y-yes...Miss?'

'Come with me to the first aid room. You might be dangerously low on Flow after using so much Magic.'

'Yes, Miss...'

She gently takes hold of her top student's hand and guides her to the classroom door, not before turning back towards Mmanuell with what might be the calmest face he's seen on her all spring term contradicted by a glare that could split his soul in two a thousand times over, 'You stay there, Emman.'

Shock and confusion overrode Mmanuell's in-control demeanour as he struggled to comprehend how this might affect him in the long run.

A choked "..Y-yeah." escaped the boy's lips as he realises. Oooh, yeah there's no going back from that. Upsie Daisy.

As Miss and Kkele leave the classroom, the door closes behind them with a click and a clunk that reverberated throughout the still-silent room and snapped Mmanuell out of his momentary daze, bringing him back to the task at hand.

I'll think about it later. Need to make the most of this opportunity. All that's left to do now is...Oh. Hold on a second, we're actually already done. Oh wow, very nice.

...And that, you see that? That right there? That's why Mmanuell Ezenha is the one who does the things around here. That fancy necklace that stops Miss from using Magic in school to ensure the safety of the children? Which she is only allowed to take off in case of an "emergency"? That "Magic Inhibition Hex"? Yeah, it's laid on the floor like a used toy. And you know why that's good? Because the final key is attached to it, that's why! Last time he checked, a kid who can't use Magic being attacked by one who can is an "emergency", and as expected, removing the Hex also means relinquishing the Key! It went a bit overboard, but the distraction was large enough to shift the centre of attention from Mmanuell to someone else. Genius befitting one such as HIM.

Mmanuell can barely contain his overflowing pride as he detaches the confiscation chest's key from its shackles and triumphantly holds it above his head for all to see. His classmates stare mouths ajar, as the kid who succeeded where all others failed made an announcement to the entire room.

'Clap.'

Applause. Cheers. Someone threw a pen at him. All is well in the world, but not without sacrifice. RIP Kkele Montiba, Ethraksha rest her soul...but she was a small price to pay for salvation...even so, now is not the time for victory, for there is one last part to this meticulously planned mission. Mmanuell approaches the backroom door and unlocks it with the first key, the satisfying sound of metal locking into place with bolts and latches fills his ears as the dry, dusty air of the back room, forgotten to his kind (year eleven school children) rushed across his face as the door opened.

Ah, yes. At long last, he can finally return to his classmates what is theirs. The second key fits in nicely. Two soft clicks and the seal is broken. The fresh light that seeped in breathed new life into items that have long since been neglected and abandoned, banishing the shadows that have long concealed the pandora's box of fifteen-to-sixteen-year-olds...the confiscation chest.

Mmanuell was flooded with elation as he opened the heavy lid and layed eyes on things that haven't been seen in months: Rubik's cubes, those zodiac-themed metal spinning tops, even a couple of garbage-themed sour candies that aren't allowed in school anymore which surely can't still be good to eat. Mmanuell carefully steps into the box and totally buries himself in the cornucopia of artefacts, soaking in their prestige and glory. It's hard to choose what to take as the first reward! Any one item is just as good as everything else, so maybe he'll ask the public. Mmanuell dips his head out of the sea of toys and calls out to his classmates with the same imperious, smug tone he takes when talking to people who aren't his parents. He was facing the back room's window rather than its door, but it was hard to turn around and they could probably hear him anyway.

'Hey guys, what do you think we should take first!? I know it doesn't really matter because we're getting everything back anyways, but I want something to frame!.'

Silence? Hmm, okay? He knows people aren't the most eager to talk to him for reasons he couldn't figure out for his life, but this isn't the sound of grateful classmates. Mmanuell leans his head closer to the door and calls out to the ones he's done so much for.

'Hel-lo? When I talk, you answer. You all know this, speak up!'

Thank Ethraksha, somebody finally did. You'd think kids'd have a little more respect these days.

'Mmanuell.'

An adult woman. Oh. Oh no. No way. Mmanuell's heart climbs all the way up into his throat as he scampers out of the confiscation chest onto the concrete floor, spilling a bunch of its contents with him. Panicked and uncertain of his next move, Mmanuell picked himself up and met eye-to-eye with the last thing he expected, or wanted, to see.

'...What do you think you're doing?'