12 years later
Jack Royalis leaned over the door of the blacksmith’s shop, where the smell of burning and tangy metals constantly lingered, pressing his forearm into the top of the door frame as he put the rest of his weight into it. He was a rather large teenager, with dirty blonde hair that was brought forward by gravity and partly obscured his eyes. Growing bored of waiting, Jack tapped his foot impatiently. He was clothed in a plain, oversized beige shirt and drawstring pants. The acrid aroma of the house was replaced by the sweet scent of strawberry as the front door swung open. It would have been a pleasant break had Jack not known who it belonged to—Rachel Red, his childhood friend, and the girl that had dropped from England with him when they were both five.
Rachel was always prudent about her presence, but not enough to own more than one brand of perfume, which made her easily recognizable. “Jack! Hi!” Rachel exclaimed, ecstatically throwing her arms over her friend's neck. Her expensive gold stud earrings jingled with her buoyant movements. “You kept me waiting again, El,” Jack replied in an enervated tone, tilting his head away from the embrace but still wrapping around her with his arms. Rachel stuck her tongue out in response. "That’s because beauty takes time!”
“Whatever. We should get going now. I don’t want to be late for the first day of school." Jack averted his eyes from hers and pulled away. Rachel sighed, letting go of him before stepping forwards in the direction of their destination. “Fineee, but you could be a little more enthusiastic about seeing your best friend, you know?” she said, dramatically flipping her red hair and swishing her head back to glare at him. “Don’t need to when I see her every day,” Jack mumbled. He’d quickly catch up to her.
They began their path to Holard Magic Academy, an institution whose name was likely inspired by the town it was located in—the warm and welcoming Hoal Town. This was the first day of the school year; it was the 23rd year in a row that the magic school was opening its doors. The school was relatively new, but it was doing very well for itself, especially considering how most of its management was done by one person. Jack and Rachel reached the widened school gates after crossing numerous lively streets. Ahead of them were huge dark oak doors that looked so heavy it was difficult to imagine how closing them was even possible. Tons of students siphoned into the entrance; some were native to Hoal, while others were from varying parts of the world. Regardless, they had all come here for one reason: to study under what had so quickly become a prestigious institution.
Jack placed his open hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun as he looked at the influx of students pouring into the school. He dropped his hand down to his pocket and pulled out his acceptance letter along with an informative paper that contained his schedule and a map of the school.
“Who do you have for your homeroom?” Jack inquired, glancing over at Rachel.
She smiled, shouting, “Mr. Brewer, same as you!”
Jack drooped his eyelids exasperatedly, covering half of his eyes. “I never told you that,” he said.
Rachel brought a finger up to her lips, her green eyes glittering as she tilted her head. “And you didn’t have to! I memorized it back when you showed me the acceptance letter.”
He looked back at her quietly before turning towards the doors again and muttering, “Let’s just go before we miss the first period.”
They walked through the gates and climbed up the winding stairs, trying to stay focused on getting to class timely while also leaving room for wonder as they admired the place's grandiosity. Every hall was lined with huge windows, and the sights outside were breathtaking. The pair wished they had gotten here earlier so they’d have had time to wander aimlessly around the halls and continue gaping. Due to Rachel’s lack of sense of direction, Jack carried the map, guiding her every time her attention was diverted from the main route until they finally arrived at the classroom.
The classroom seemed bigger than most. It had an expertly carved door that was darker than the others in the school. They opened it and saw a man, who they could only assume was their teacher, resting sideways on his desk. He was wearing a huge, dark coffee-colored coat, with winding details of a very light brown around its edges, three nearly-black diamond shapes that stretched around the torso area, and a greatly exaggerated collar. His dark brown hair stood at an odd mix of messy and neat, with its texture being a blend between curly and straight, yet not wavy. He had coffee-colored skin, round-frame glasses that sat loosely on his face, and very noticeable eye bags.
The man heard the two coming in and raised a gloved hand to bring his coffee mug to his lips, taking a long sip as his eyes gazed at them. “Mr. Brewer?” Rachel tentatively inquired. The man nodded affirmingly. “Take a seat. Class is about to begin.” His tone was neither welcoming nor harsh, and he didn’t look a day over thirty, but he sounded much older. He was an enigma. Rachel gulped, unnerved by the teacher. She made her way towards an empty chair—in front of a light-skinned student with a silver-lined brown open blazer hanging from his shoulders, pitch-black pants following the same scheme, and sharp hair that resembled the sporadically white quills of a porcupine. Jack, on the other hand, was unaffected, sitting beside Rachel without the slightest delay. His seat was positioned in front of a girl with deep, purple hair who was dozing off on the hardwood of her desk.
The class sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the dormant teacher. Mr. Brewer's eyes had a hazy, tired look as he stared into the wall behind the students silently. Even when the bell rang to signal the beginning of the class, he remained taciturn, leisurely finishing his coffee and unperturbed about starting class. The students each surmised their own answer regarding the teacher's arcane nature, attempting to decipher his mysteriousness. However, the instant whispers began spreading and the veil of silence was lifted, Mr. Brewer set down his emptied mug on the dark mahogany table, the distinct sound of it tapping on the wood slicing through the voices. Having captured the class’ attention, he stood up.
“Good morning, class. For the first day, we’ll start with something tame. It’ll just be a field test of your magic types," Mr. Brewer said in a heavy voice, his penny loafers clacking against the hard tile floor below. The announcement was met with pleasant murmurs and interest—but they were interrupted by the porcupine-haired kid, who rose to his feet and asked, “Wait—Field test? How’s that supposed to work?” The other students in the class followed his thought process, and while they were wondering how checking one magic type would correlate to a field test, Mr. Brewer called out, “Heads up!” Heads all around the room swiveled, searching for the possible threat. The teacher, however, had disappeared. Then came a large crash!
As the students refocused, they saw Mr. Brewer lunging towards Jack, his arm stretched out with the hilt of a knife in his hands. Jack held his arms up protectively, reflexively coating them with magic, but he fell back from his seat, his chair falling flat to the ground below. When the knife made contact, it instantly shattered. Composing himself again, Jack was unsure of what was going on; his teacher had just tried to stab him.
Instead of showing any real reaction to what seemed to be a failed assassination attempt, Mr. Brewer simply said, loud enough for the class to hear, “Raw Magic!”
The realization of what the test truly was set into the students. The noise of chairs crashing onto the floor echoed throughout the room. No one wanted to be caught off guard.
Mr. Brewer carried on, ignoring the shattered knife. His feet, graciously floating over Jack’s desk, had yet to touch the ground. He pointed his hand towards the porcupine-haired boy, causing the shards of broken metal to fly into the sky and launch themselves towards him. Yet, despite being the first to question the situation, his reaction to being targeted was careless. He flinched, bringing his face back fearfully as his hands swayed out. “Wait! Hollup, I wasn’t ready. This ain’t fai-!” His sentence was interrupted by the rapidly increasing temperature of the air in front of him. The boy's deep focus on survival was pushing his body to instinctively shape mana, but his inimical whining was obstructing him from it.
As the shards were about to rip through his arm like buckshot, the burst of magic created a plume of flames that stopped the thin metal in its tracks as all the shards all fell to the ground softer than before. “Awesome!” the boy cried out, looking down at his own hands. He could still see a small flickering spark that didn’t hurt him—a residue of the accidental spell. His excitement was short-lived, though, because he soon heard “Fire!” coming from way closer than he remembered it, and then he felt a vise grip around his wrist. The boy’s burning, hot hands were dragged against his will and thrown towards the purple-haired girl beside him. His eyes widened as he realized he was so outclassed, even in a matter of physicality, that he couldn’t stop himself from landing on her body and inadvertently hurting her. His breath grew shallow; he felt so powerless at that moment. "Sorry!" he said.
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The girl shrieked, raising her arms in a fluid motion. The motion she performed was followed by a thick column of water—one which Mr. Brewer easily dodged, but his airborne student couldn’t. Both the drenched boy and the purple-haired girl fell to the ground, his wet, porcupine-like hair flattening. “Water!” barked Brewer, locking on to another student. “Earth!”
Rachel looked around nervously. Her turn hadn’t come yet, even though she was in the front of the classroom. She felt paralyzed by the circumstance; it was a test, so she couldn’t run, and she didn't know when he would come for her, so she couldn’t prepare. The situation was comparable to a prisoner awaiting his execution. “Fire! Wind! Water!” Brewer continued. Rachel zoned out the stern callings of magic types, focusing only on her own dread. She rested her hand on the closest desk, digging her nails in and dragging them across the wooden top. No scratches were visible, which worsened her anxiety.
Rachel heard the flutter of a cape—Mr. Brewer was coming. She stepped backwards, hitting her chair. She knew she couldn’t outpace him, so she turned her head around to glance at what lay behind it. Overwhelmed by indecisiveness, she brought both her hands up to her face, grabbing the bottom of her jaw as her fingers curled over it—a mix of anguish and fear. “STAY AWAY!” Rachel yelled, closing her eyes in fear of the consequences if she was unable to perform magic in the same way as her classmates. Then suddenly, the room fell deathly quiet—no sounds of motion or words uttered. Rachel slowly fluttered her eyes open. As her sight returned, she noticed she couldn’t immediately see the classroom anymore; she saw green, fleshy—in the way plant stems are—walls covering the area around her. From the outside, Rachel was enclosed circularly by thorny branches that soon ruptured apart.
Brewer’s hand, which had been dangerously close to connecting, was caught in the range of Rachel’s accidental spell. A small streak of blood ran down his pricked fist. His attention would be stolen by the blooming of a striking red rose from one of the thorny branches. He scoffed. The spell was known as Rosebush, and Rachel had undergone so much stress that her feelings carried into the conjuring of the spell. Mr. Brewer sighed. “Nature!” he said, relieved that, at the very least, his clothes were intact.
He had purposely left Rachel for last after realizing she was different from the rest, different in the same way Jack was—they were both outliers, but their personalities were the reason for the specific targeting order. Brewer turned away from the branches before him, holding out his hand to trigger a counterspell that made them vanish. With nothing holding her up, Rachel fell down. Brewer walked back to the front of the classroom, sitting atop his desk, his arms each grabbing one side of it. “Good job on your first assignment class. I understand this may have been stressful for some of you, but nothing grows without stress,” he stated, the shaken classroom having another period of odd silence.
Finally, a snarky voice broke from the back of the classroom. “What was the point of that?! Couldn’t you have just sensed our magic types like a normal person?!” she complained.
Brewer rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up on his face as he crossed his legs. “I could’ve, but that would have been easy. You wouldn’t have gotten a feel of what using magic is really like, and unrealistic expectations would have been set for the rest of the class,” he said calmly.
“Bullshit! That was super unnecessary! You just wanted an excuse to beat up children or something. My parents will be complaining to the principal!” the girl continued.
“Go for it. I don’t think I’ve ever read a complaint about myself before. It might be a fun read, I suppose—oh, right! I never told you guys my full name, did I? I may be your teacher, but I am also Clover Holard Brewer, founder and principal of Holard Magic Academy. Nice to meet you, 23rd advanced class,” Brewer replied, resting his head on his closed fist as he maintained a serene smile.
After dropping that bombshell, Brewer was confident the student wouldn’t try to keep up the argument. He was exempt from any trouble within these walls, after all.
“Wait, advanced class?” asked the purple-haired girl. “I don’t remember entering in anything like that.”
“Correct. Every year, I pick out the students I believe have the most potential and place them all in my class. That way, they can get the proper teaching they need,” Brewer explained.
And before anyone could protest the ethics of such a practice, the lunch bell rang.
The whole class—including the two Outsiders—rushed to the door, exiting hastily. And while Rachel would have liked to survey the school’s halls before getting lunch, the tempo at which everyone had bound towards the cafeteria made her reconsider. She looked down, pouting at the stressful ordeal and the lack of exploration the schedule allowed. Jack’s eyes wandered, catching a glimpse of Rachel’s indignation. "Relax, El. We have a long break after this, so we can go explore after we get something to eat,” he said. “Wait, really?! Yay!!!” Rachel responded, regaining the pep in her steps as they turned the corner.
The cafeteria had huge, circular, medieval-style doors that complemented the dramatics of the entrance gates. The wooden boards that made up the doors split seamlessly at any attempt to open them. Inside the cafeteria was a vibe disparate from the gloomy medieval architecture. The tiles on the floor were a glorious white, and the large windows weren’t stained in any way, letting the morning light enter without hindrance and creating a much brighter, more traditional school environment. There were also round tables that had attached benches; their craftsmanship paled in comparison to other woodworks around the school.
“Hmph—not even sure if I want to look at the rest of the school after seeing this place," Rachel said disappointedly, crossing her arms as she walked to the lunch line. She was visibly disillusioned. Jack shook his head as he came up behind her with a soft smile, his sole concern at the moment being the taste of the food. The line moved slowly until they reached the long buffet-style strip in which the singular food option on the menu was offered. For the first day of school, it was Hawaiian Tusk meat with Dragon Fruit juice. Jack had never eaten Hawaiian Tusk in his life; his mother had always argued they were too cute for consumption. However, his own beliefs wildly differed from hers. Hawaiian Tusks were big—over 10 feet tall—hulking beasts of pure muscle that resembled pigs. They had black and white spotted fur and nice, even bangs, but they also had giant ivory tusks that they used to spear through and disembowel enemies. The word "grotesque" suited them better.
So, Jack accepted the slice of food unresistingly, nodding in gratitude as he was handed the glass of Dragon Fruit juice, which he placed on his tray. Rachel, on the other hand, had no familial qualms about the food. Hawaiian Tusk was a common meal around her house; her dad often participated in Hawaiian Tusk hunting season. She was experienced with the meat’s toughness and the sweet, spicy sauces that it naturally came with.
Rachel smiled back at Jack, who was sporting a placid expression, as they both detached from the line, their trays in their hands. “Look! It’s the kid with a porcupine on his head, and the girl he almost assaulted!” she exclaimed, pointing a hand towards a nearby lunch table. “That’s his hair, El. And I’m positive they have names,” Jack managed, confused by her assessment of the two. The food he was holding inhibited him from palming his face.
“Let’s go talk to them!”
“I’d rather we sit alone.”
“Come on, Jack!”
“El, I said—”
Despite Jack’s protests, Rachel hurried to her classmates, forcing him to reluctantly follow.
As the pair reached the table, the boy’s unusual hair enthralled Rachel’s attention yet again. Now that it had begun to dry, it was a blend between curly and straight—yet not wavy. Rachel gregariously chirped, “Heya! Can we sit with you guys?” The Porcupine kid turned his head, which rested on his fist. His legs were crossed, calf over knee. “Sure, Rosebush girl from our class, right?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her. Rachel gave a thumbs up, setting her tray next to his and settling down. Jack refrained from doing the same.
“That’s me! I’m Rachel, by the way, but all my friends call me El,” she said as she finally sat on the bench, striking up a smile and holding her arm out. "What friends?" Jack muttered quietly under his breath. The Porcupine boy slid his hand into hers, shaking it with a wide grin. “I’m Lafayette!” The name sent an unexplainable chill down Rachel's spine. Shaking off the feeling, she averted her gaze to Jack, drawn by the sound of his tray finally being set on the table. “And I’m Jack. Nice to meet you,” he said wryly. Lafayette stretched his arm for a dap. Jack took it—a pop as their hands hooked together. A small smirk formed over Jack’s face, and Laffayette’s widened.
The purple-haired girl, who was yet to introduce herself, set her arm flat on the table, laying her head against it. “I feel slightly offended. No one’s asked for my name," she said, obviously being sarcastic. As she made her remark, the volume of the table would dwindle into silence, waiting for her to introduce herself—until Laffayette spoke out. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that, Kana! We were just getting to you." “Hush!” Kana yelled loudly, standing up straight and patting the dust off her shirt. She smiled at Jack and Rachel. “I’m Kanashimi! But you guys can just call me Kana.” Rachel and Jack were stunned by her capricious personality. She had shifted from lethargic to fierce to friendly in a matter of seconds. Rachel blinked, reinvigorating her senses, and vivaciously said, “Hey girl! Put him in his place.” She put her hand up for a high five, which Kana provided. Lafayette rolled his eyes, trying not to take any offense.
The group continued chatting, conversation easily flowing along until everyone finished their meals and departed for the next class.