CHAPTER 5: SURFACE PRESSURE

About a month had passed since they met their horses, and since then, each student had improved their craft. At the moment, the 23rd Advanced Class of Holard Academy was outside by the stables, training whatever they lacked to become stronger. They had been warned that soon their skills would be put to the test in a true life-or-death situation. While it wasn’t a lie, it also was not completely true. Only two students would have their lives put in danger, and only the two that showed the most promise. So, if a student chose to stagnate, they wouldn’t die from it. Of course, Brewer knew better than to inform them of that, as believing one’s life is on the line is one hell of a motivator.

That wasn’t to say any of them were doing particularly poorly—much the contrary—in this past month they had each grown fairly well as magic users. There was a reason why they were in the advanced class; if someone were to see these kids now, they’d never guess they’d only been officially studying magic for around a month. “Report season is coming up. Who do you have for your top five to send to the council?” Asked Ms. Breve, Brewer’s vice-principal. “If I had to pinpoint them now, I’d place Rachel Red at one, Jack Royalis at two, Lafayette Wanderbout at three, Thomas Milligy at four, and Kanashimi Isaretly at the fifth spot,” said Brewer, not turning to look at Breve. He was watching his students train through the window of his office, although it was fairly high up in the building, making it hard to see the stables; he made do. Before Breve could respond, Brewer added, “However, I know about how peeved the council is just at the sheer notion I let a raw magic user into the ranks of my advanced class so that I may omit Jack from the list. If that is done, Jay Gault, the new transfer who is not a member of the advanced class, shall be number 5.” Brewer turned his head back. His eyes fell on Breve as she sat atop his desk like he often did himself. He sighed before turning around fully and walking closer. “My, my, Clover—” Breve said, leaning her face against her hand as she melodramatically leaned to the side, laying herself more across his desk, “—I didn’t give up my spot on the magical council and come work under my own student so you’d appease the populous. What happened to the man who took in a raw magic user into his future elite strikeforce a month ago?” Brewer shook his head slightly, picking up a stack of papers from his desk. Breve was right, yet sometimes being the opposition at every meeting got so tiring. He checked the papers he had picked up; they were the reports he had written where he chose Jack as number two. He handed them to his vice-principal, “You’re right; could you please deliver these for me then, Ms. Breve?” Breve nodded, taking the papers and getting off the desk. She walked out the door, turning her head back right before she left, “Gladly,” she added, leaving the room. Brewer now took a seat atop his desk, grabbing his nearest cup of coffee and swirling the liquid within it as he stared down into it. “I wonder how the next council meeting will go…”

***

Rachel tossed her now-empty waterskin aside and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she yelled, “Again!” Lafayette nodded, clapping his hands together, and yelled, “Accendio!” As a plume of fire burst from his motion, Rachel brought her arms together in a martial block; however, instead of her usual rosebush protection rising, she mustered much sturdier and thicker material, like the bark of a tree. The spell manifested from below this time; the already existing grass under her seemed to quickly mold and morph as the bark was raised in defense. Doing it like this was much more mana-efficient than simply springing life from herself like she usually did. As the two spells connected, Lafayette’s fire burst apart the bark, but not before being fully redirected and blocked. Rachel was fine under all that, a little hot due to the rising heat the fire caused, but otherwise fine. As the charred pieces of bark flew past her, one of them caught and made a small cut on her arm. “Ow,” she said reflexively, slapping her hand over it and using some of her magic to close the cut. Her breath was ragged, but at that moment she realized her own progress. She already had enough precision to heal small wounds on herself, and she was truly proud of that. Most of the apprehension surrounding her old rosebush spell seemed to be gone. However, that wasn’t the only change that month had brought. Ever since they’d learned about the life and death scenario a little into the month, school days were mostly grueling training. As such, her usual outfit switched from a white button-up shirt to a black tank top, and her long, flowing hair was consistently tied back into a bun so she could better keep up with her classmates. Looking down at her arms, however, she wondered if she made the right call. She had always taken fervent care of her appearance, but now in this time of training, her arms were riddled with cuts, bruises, and scars everywhere. Her magic had certainly gotten better, but not good enough to heal without scarring; even shallow cuts left their mark when healed by her magic, thus the reason she let some of them heal naturally.

Lafayette, on the other hand, seemed like he never had an insecurity cross his mind before. “Good work, El!” He exclaimed, running towards her with his hand outstretched for a high-five. She took it, noticing that his arms looked much the same as hers, yet he didn’t seem as apprehensive about it. Like almost everyone, Lafayette had also dropped his style for the more practical outfits that were almost the same across every student. His arms were arguably worse than hers, as he didn’t have the healing magic to fix them, so he was walking around with multiple open cuts and bandages instead of little scars. She nodded at him, trying to get the pressing insecurity over her scarred skin out of her mind. She was a warrior now, right? Looking a little banged up shouldn’t bother her that bad.

The only student that didn’t change clothing styles was Jack Royalis. Jack still wore oversized, baggy clothing with no particular class or style to convey. Most of his clothes were made by his mother and were solid, bland colors such as beige. Most of them were also one to two sizes too big; this made it almost surprising that he, too, was training and doing so harder than most.

“Heads up!” Jack yelled, ducking under Tom’s previous strike and twisting his leading foot backward, rotating his arm out for a cross straight towards the other boy’s liver. Tom’s eyes widened; a chill ran down his spine as he realized he was completely outmatched speed-wise, and Jack’s raw magic would make sure that punch hurt like hell. Thinking quickly and on the spot, Tom twisted his foot into the ground, funneling his magic under him. Then, the rest of his mana was entirely spent coating his body; he created a hard outside layer of rock that was still forming as Jack struck him. As he did, Tom’s eyes widened further; he felt his mouth involuntarily opening, but no sound came out. He tried to gasp; however, he felt his breathing impeded. He fell back flat on his rear, gripping the ground below him for stability as his earth armor crumbled before it even got to fully debut. He had gotten the wind knocked out of him, and his spell shut down in a singular punch. His eyes were wide with panic as he tried to catch his breath to no avail. He figured he was going to be the laughingstock of the class, but as he turned back to his classmates, all he saw was awe and worry, none of it focused on him. He followed their gaze, following it back to Jack. First, he realized just how far he had fallen back; only now the realization Jack wasn’t in his immediate view dawned on him, but that realization was cut short by the streak of red running down his opponent. Blood, Jack’s arm was covered in blood. The spell he had cast right before the earth armor, a spike had burst through the ground and stabbed straight through Jack’s arm. He stood still in place, still silent, and in the position of a not-fully-carried-out cross punch. The horror of the realization was enough for the wind to get knocked back into Tom, yet he held his breath. He scurried a couple more feet away from the boy and towards the group before even standing up, his eyes still wide. Jack had sent him flying, broke through the earth's armor, and knocked the wind out of him with a punch he didn’t even get to fully carry out. Not only that, not carrying it out wasn’t a calculated choice; he lost force by a spike stabbing through his arm, and he still effortlessly knocked Tom clean out of the battle. “What the fuck...?” Tom muttered to himself, dropping his usual insulting demeanor out of pure shock.

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Rachel quickly rushed to aid Jack, having him pull his arm out of the rocky spike—which doctors don’t usually recommend—before using her magic—which doctors don’t usually have—to heal the wound. That was the deepest wound she ever healed with her magic, and after doing so, she grabbed Jack’s shoulder for support as the draining of the last of her mana left her lightheaded. “It’s okay, El,” Jack said, grabbing her shoulder back to brace her further. “Don’t exhaust yourself like this; not every injury needs to be healed all the way.” He let go of her shoulder, beginning to walk towards Tom to help him up, before turning his head back at her, “Thank you, though; I really do appreciate it.” Rachel smiled back, glad to have her effort recognized. “Of course!” She chirped. Jack smiled back at her; by the time he turned back to Tom, he found him already being helped up by Daisy. “Stupid fucking raw…” he muttered under his breath, catching himself before throwing a slur at Jack once again. He mumbled something else instead, before grabbing Daisy’s wrist and walking through the rest of the group and towards the inside of the school. “Let’s go, Daisy,” he grumbled. Some gazes were fixed on him as he left; as the awe of Jack’s feat subsided, people instead focused on the true victim of the fight.

As Tom swung the doors that led back into the school open and entered, dragging Daisy behind him, Mr. Brewer passed by him, pushing out to the field. The crowd began whispering amongst themselves as Brewer entered and Tom left. Both were topics of discussion; some students worried about Brewer’s appearance and its relation to the life-threatening situation they were to be put in, meanwhile others were more focused on the recent Tom situation. However, Brewer cut through the chatter. “Silence,” he said in a commanding tone, yet barely raising his voice. “As you all know, you have been given these past couple of classes of free training time to prepare for the possibly life-threatening operation dangling over your heads,” he began. The students held their breaths, some out of excitement, most out of fear. “And as such, it is finally upon you lot to be tried on how you trained. Well, two of you, I need to see Jack Royalis and Rachel Red in my office relating to the subject. The rest of you, get back to training; you never know when you may be called up next.” A collective exhale could be heard from the crowd. The student’s relief at the news that only two of them would have their lives put on the line was apparent in every student but two. Rachel gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes widened with fear. Her eyes searched for Jack’s, looking for some sort of reassurance. She expected to meet his eyes and get given a stern nod of solidarity, the same he always gave her in tough times. Yet this time, this time was different. When she finally met eyes with Jack, it was as if he wasn’t there. His eyes were wide and distant as if searching for something. It felt like he was looking right through her. It made her even more scared, a feeling of isolation and cold that crept closer as her only pillar of support was ripped from under her. “Follow me, you two,” Brewer instructed, waving his arm forward to visually indicate his request as he began trudging towards the school doors. Rachel nodded, gulping hard as she followed behind him. Jack was not too far behind. The whole walk up to the office, they were all silent; none of the three uttered a single word as they climbed to Brewer’s office. As they reached the spot, he opened the door for them, allowing them to enter before doing so himself.

Brewer, for one of the few times since they had met him, sat in his actual chair for once. He motioned at the chairs in front of him, “Take a seat,” he instructed. The two did as they were told, their fear rising every second instead of lessening. Knowing that they’d have to face this just the two of them instead of as a class was much more frightening. “No need to be so tense,” Brewer interjected, feeling their fear, “the danger of your task was greatly exaggerated by me so that you’d train harder.” Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, partially relieved by the news. Rachel, on the other hand, was still fairly mortified. Brewer opened a drawer on his desk, pulling out two relatively cheap-looking maps. “Recently, a run-down temple on the Worse Lands has had reports of weird sounds, and anyone who has gone to investigate at night has disappeared. We do not believe it is much of a threat, likely some sort of beast non-magic users aren’t equipped to handle. You two were picked because currently, you have the most promise as magic users, so I am entrusting you two to be dispatched and check out the situation two nights from now. You may bring whatever you please; this is not a test; you simply must find the cause of the issue, neutralize it, and return alive.” Brewer seemed much more formal now than ever before, sprawling open the maps and marking a spot in the “Worse Lands” section. He then handed each of them to indicate their locations. “Understood?” he asked, letting each of them have their map now that they were fully briefed. Jack simply nodded. “Y-yes, sir,” Rachel responded, having calmed down slightly but still too anxious to look up from her lap. “Great, now go, you two; your time to get ready is limited.”

After that, the two found themselves standing outside Brewer’s office clutching their maps. “We’ll be okay, right?” Rachel asked, turning and looking up at Jack. “Yeah,” Jack retorted, still looking straightforward. Rachel noticed his odd behavior; he usually would look at her when affirming something like this. “I’m sure,” he said, his words followed by the final bell of the day ringing. Yet to look her in the eyes, Jack simply started walking forward, before taking a brief pause. “C’mon, El, we don’t want to be home late,” he said, continuing to walk without ensuring she was truly following. She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it, and tightened her pace to catch up to him. The walk home today was more silent than any walk they had ever taken together before.