Auditorium shaped, the interior of their classroom was decorated with dark wood panelled walls and gleaming cryst lamps. The ceiling was made of limestones while the floor carpeted by red hatched green. Their school desks stretched to three a seat with twenty in rows of five. Windows that stretched from wall to wall lined the back, facing the inner wall of blackboard guarded by two doors. A far cry beautifully decorated interior from the drab outer grey stone walls.

With only a class of fourteen, most of the seats were empty and they had no fixed sitting arrangements. That day, Quinton sat at the middle front, sharing a desk with his sister. It felt right for him to be close to her, given the hectic day. Ever since finding out about their epitaphs, all they had done as a class was attempt to figure out what it all meant. The one breakthrough their class had was that the future predicted would likely happen within the year, given that after that, they would no longer be in such close proximity for the numbers to matter.

What helped them further was that Rehiy decided it was a good time to refresh their knowledge on epitaphs while they waited for a 'special guest' to make an announcement of their situation.

The drakin teacher recited, “The Overseers were a group that had the magical ability of precognition, the ability to see the future. However, the future is messy, and as such, seers often only see the future in glimpses through mediums, such as dreams, paintings, or in this case, name titles.”

Quinton watched his sister stifle a yawn. She was a certified prodigy. An individual capable of learning almost anything instantaneously, she excelled at combat arts and studies, and could have easily skipped her years in the academy should she have applied herself. But she preferred to relax, to make her way slowly in the world and leaving a lasting impression with her constant presence.

'Given time', was what she said.

It was a reference to her capabilities. Because of how easy it was for her to learn new things, she wanted to take in the rest of the world slowly and at peace. If their parents had been alive, they would have pushed her for further education, and he had the feeling she knew that, hence her willing to take life lacking.

He gave her a nudge at her yawn. She smiled back, waved sheepishly away his concern and returned her attention to the class.

“While we do not know much about them, we do know the accuracy and specificity of a prediction is dependent on the power of the seer. The stronger the seer, the more precise and detailed they are,” Rehiy continued, reading from a book on the subject. “As for the predictions themselves, they are mysterious in their own rights, though they operate within their own rules.”

It was his job as her only guardian to make sure she gets where she needed to go. Even though he was older than her by just a few minutes, she was his responsibility. His everything. He was not as talented, skilled, or smart as her, and as such, his only duty was to make sure she could be anything she wanted and to help her find her happiness.

He had planned their entire year. Weekly extra training to improve her combat performances along with longer hours in the school library to further boost her already capped grades. And he was planning on getting a part-time job to help pay for additional remedial lessons needed.

Now, with the epitaphs, his timetable had been thrown into disarray. He had to figure out what the epitaphs meant, and how to work around it after. He hated when things did not go according to plan.

“For one thing, predictions are not able to count. Anything specific, such as competition victory, order of death, and ranking of strength, has never been done before. The ability to simply alter these outcome makes them a paradox to predict. Therefore, most predictions are vague about a large, general event or events that will happen regardless of any mid scale interference.”

Quinton did a quick scan of the room and all of his classmates gave the same reaction of confusion mixed anxiety. The question seemed to float in speech bubbles above everyone's head. If counting is not something that predictions can do, then what was the meaning behind the numbering of their epitaphs?

He did not like it. There were too many unknown variables out of his grasp of control. Most epitaphs had a situation which 'announced' the beginning of the greater event, such as 'Cold Fusion's' discovery of extreme low temperature crystal manufacturing which created the cryst substance they used today.

But their epitaphs were numbers in no particular order. Joachim Kerr's number of Zero drew attention at first, with some of the class thinking it might have a connection with his muteness. But his translator, Ishumi, was far off at Ten. The new kid, Nossaral Unn, had the number One, which cleared their suspicion that they were arranged by seniority. Pempe was the class de-facto 'leader', but he was placed at Five, and Kingston, the vice, was last at Thirteen. Though what really set Quinton off was how far apart he and his sister was. Number Two and Twelve. He worried that whatever happened, he would not be able to have his sister's back, and that scared him more than any uncertainty.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And that concludes the bas–” Before Rehiy could finish, there was a knock on the door. “Ah, that's the guest. Class, do get on your feet to greet them.”

“Why?” Lua asked nonchalantly. “We don't even greet you, and you're our teacher.”

Rehiy replied while crossing the room. “You're just lucky I got used to it. But you would want to greet our guest.”

He opened the door and outside stood a human man in a casual set of silver lined leaf tunic and black pants. The man had half a stone cape draped over his right shoulder and his neat shortened hair flickered dark scales in the light. His eyes were the gentle green of morning dew, though with the echo of a sailing path.

Following close behind was a hume woman. Her long grey hair bounced in two neat curly ponytails like the end of a twin tailed fox. She had a stride that boast an uncomfortable amount of confidence and showed a woman at calm ways with the world. Her strapless one piece dress had the shade of maroon, slowly fading through into a green at the edges, the cloth ending split at her shin at the start of the straps of her dress sandals.

For a moment, the class stared blankly, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke. Then, they shot to their feet, saluting with their right arm cutting across their chests.

“King Adam!” the class greeted.

The king waved them down. “Settle. No need for formalities here.”

“Why?” Lua asked, almost immediately. Rehiy shot her a deathly glance.

But the king merely smiled. “Why what?”

Quinton watched as a rare shadow of nervousness dawn over his sister's face. He already knew that her question was one asked out of uncontrolled curiosity, and she was slightly regretting asking it.

Nevertheless, she continued, “Why should we not be formal with you?”

“That's lovely,” Adam turned to the woman with him with a grin. “Isn't that lovely, Mary? They're rebellious. Oh, I've never been rebellious before. Well, I have, given that I did assassinate the previous king. But not like this. No. This is proper rebelliousness. Teenage rebelliousness. I like it. It means you are all growing up fine, finding your own stance in the world to protect. We're just here to guide you on finding what best defines you righteousness.”

The lady named Mary explained in a joyed tone, “Adam, and by extension, myself, do not quite like the formality royalty brings. With people of trust, we prefer to be candid.”

The king, however, was not entirely listening. Instead he spoke to the class. “What about other classic teenage traits? Tell me, class, which one of you have the most angst?”

The class collectively pointed to Quinton. Even Nos, who had been with them for less than half a day was doing so.

“Really?” Quinton voiced out.

“Brother, you are really tense sometimes,” Lua answered, her finger meekly pointing across her chest at him.

“Young man,” the king approached him. “Angst is good. It means you are thinking. It means you can see problems. If you have no angst, you lived life with no worries. You will grow up, failing to see issues with the world at large. So, a question, what is the issue here?”

He realized the inflection of the king was referring to their epitaphs. Something was wrong with their epitaphs that required further examination. Quinton wondered if it was one of the points he had came up with before, but concluded the king would not ask such a simple question. From what he had heard of the man, King Adam Law was, if not anything else, wicked smart.

“It's...” he began, but held his tongue as he racked his brains for something more. “Why us?” he concluded.

The man smiled. “Very good. Yes.” He stood to height and proceeded to stand before the class. He gestured for everyone to seat and after a bow from the students, they returned to their seats. He continued, “Why you? Four batches of Class C before you, and honestly, while you are the largest this class has ever gotten, being given an epitaph is no small event that flies out to the mundane.” He leaned his sitting against the corner of the teaching desk, folding his arms as his face took a serious expression which showed his standing as the leader of a country. “Class C is unique. Always has been. But something about the fourteen of your stands out from even the extraordinary. Something that only the fourteen of you will do that none of your peers before or after you will. While we do not know what that is, so long as you are studying here, it is the responsibility of this academy, and by extension, the institute and royals, to ensure your safety.”

Mary stepped up beside the king. “Sik Rehiy along with the other heads of the academy has been briefed about your situation. Your Spellblade badges along with your class identifications has also been informed to every head of the Alliance. Aleynonlia's Guardblades, Jarad's Sand Riders, Nugohs' Ryukenshins, Drakspires Dragoons, and Rubicum's Rangers. The elite fighting forces of these countries have agreed to assist you fully should you need it with just a flash of your badge.”

A wave hit them. Quinton felt nauseated. Looking around, his classmates' expressions ranged from excited to constipated. What was happening? Had they really just been handed assistance to the greatest combat forces in the world by the King of Aleynonlia himself?

Mary added, “This is in no way a light matter. Such mass assignment of epitaphs in such an organized manner has never happened before. Maybe a pair or three, but never fourteen. I understand if you wish to withdraw from school for this, but know that it would unlikely help. Predictions are made on what will happen, regardless of selective choices. Without foresight, we cannot change the outcome with any accuracy. With the resources we can provide, your best option might be to stay and continue school life as per usual, as normally as you can, while we investigate into this.”

The king said, “Take your time to make your decisions. So long as you are with the academy, you are protected. I am truly sorry for this. I had hoped for all of you to have as normal a school life as possible. But know that epitaph holders usually change the world with great discoveries, killing of gods, starting and ending wars, or destroying empires. We must assume that each epitaph holder has a future or current capability of at least toppling a country. And mind you, there are fourteen of you, and only eleven nations to go around.”