“All right, everyone,” Thorne shouted over the students' groans and cries. "Get up, get up!” he yelled, pulling up a student writhing on the ground. “Put away your poles and get out of here. Class is at the same time tomorrow. I expect you all to be here.”
Thorne sat and watched in silence as his students scurried around the gym. They put away the supplies, helped each other up, and finally left the gym for whatever other activity they had. Soon, in no time at all, the gym was empty, and Thorne sat in solitude.
“You can come out now,” Thorne shouted, his voice echoing in the lonesome space.
“Rrrringg. Rrriing. Rringg.”
A cascading buzz resonated throughout the gym. “There you are,” Thorne sighed as he zeroed in on the gym closet.
From the depths of a dimly lit gymnasium, a pale white man emerged, his presence commanding attention. Clad in an old-fashioned suit, as black as the night sky, he cut a striking figure against the mundane surroundings. The suit, tailored to perfection, accentuated his lean frame, revealing a hauntingly thin and almost emaciated physique.
As the gym closet door creaked open, he stepped forward with a calculated grace, his movements reminiscent of a wraith navigating the mortal realm. A light purple bow tie adorned his collar, delicately tied, adding a touch of unexpected elegance to his attire. The contrast between the vibrant hue and the dark suit captured the eye, an enigmatic marriage of light and shadow.
His short stature defied the notion of physical dominance, yet there was an air of quiet intensity about him. Every step he took reverberated with a subtle determination as if he carried the weight of unseen burdens upon his slender shoulders. The passage of time had etched lines of experience upon his pale visage, lending an air of mystery to his presence.
“Yes, here I am.” He spoke in a deep, melodious drawl. Every step he took oozed with old-timey charm and dominance. He quickly stepped through the gym floor, his shining black dress shoes clicking against the hardwood surface. As he got closer, Thorne finally confirmed his suspicion; ‘A sound cultivator.’ Thorne grimaced upon seeing the crystalline light-purple diamond planted firmly on the man's white forehead.
“It is nice to finally meet you, Thorne.” The man articulated in a flowing, smooth manner. His words slithered into Thorne’s ears with a seismic impact, “I believe we must have a…conversation…” he said with a thin smile.
Beads of sweat began to form on Thorne’s brow as he stayed in this strange man’s presence, “About?” Thorne probed, licking his lips.
The well-dressed cultivator shrugged, “Many things, but before we do so, could you be a good young man and go grab me a chair? These old bones aren’t too well equipped for the grueling task of standing.” he said, smirking.
With his eyebrows knitted together, Thorne stared at the man, who simply held his gaze firmly and stared back at Thorne. “All right,” Thorne mumbled as he hesitantly stepped over to the closet that held the chairs, retrieving one for the elderly man.
“Ahh, thank you.” The man sighed contently as he leaned back in his chair. Thorne did the same and sat a few feet away from the man. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, Thorne peered into the man's eyes, waiting for him to speak.
The man looked at him and smiled, “Do you perchance have any tea? Long talks are so drab without beverages.”
Thorne gaped at the man; “No. I don’t have anything.” He spoke.
“Well, that’s a shame.” The sound cultivator murmured shaking his head, “But it's no matter. We’ll just have to push through, I suppose.”
“Yes, I suppose we will,” Thorne said bluntly, cutting off the man's slow drawling style of speech, “So, who are you, and why do you want to talk?”
“Oh yes, of course.” The man smiled. "I am Karal Muchazo, the principal of this fine school. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier; I've really lost my manners.” He chuckled.
Thorne gritted his teeth but remained silent, allowing the man to continue.
“I wanted to talk to you for more than one reason.” The man spoke, looking into Thorn’s eyes, “To start, I wish to know to whom you pledge your allegiance.”
Thorne squinted at the man in surprise. ‘Is he trying to secretly interrogate me?’ he thought as he watched the man’s calm composure. Thorne scratched his chin for a moment and pondered over the best way to answer the man's question, “My allegiance is too…however supports me as an individual.” He said, a slight waver in his voice.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“That’s good.” The man grinned, but no smile lines appeared. “My second question is about your newfound position as a teacher. Why are you participating in this job?”
This time, Thorne couldn’t restrain his incredulous reaction; “Are you serious. I was assigned this job. I arrived here yesterday.” he annunciated while staring at the man with a slight scoff.
Remaining calm, the principal chuckled softly, “No, no, you misunderstand.” He said with a playacting smile, “I simply mean to ask if you enjoy this job and if you hold a passion for it.”
“All right.” Thorne nodded, brushing off the strangeness that the man exuded in droves, “Uhm, for your question, I guess that I do, yes.” Thorne answered, “I enjoy helping out the young ones,” he said through a fake smile, “I think that nurturing the new cultivators is the best way to have the city flourish.”
The man looked at him with a strange smile; “Cultivators?” he asked, amused. The sweat that had been forming began to drip down Thorne’s face as he gulped, ‘fuck.’ Thorne grimaced internally, but he had to hide it behind a small laugh; “Oh, it's just the word we call practitioners in my former city. I'm sorry if it confused you.”
The man kindly waved his hand; “No, no, it's fine. It must be difficult for you and your peers to acclimatize to a new city so rapidly.”
Heaving a sigh, Thorne bobbed his head up and down, “Oh yes, it's been difficult, but I'm sure that my companions and I will adapt soon.”
“Of course,” the principal said, smiling; “Now, onto my final question,” The man's purple eyes glinted for a moment under the gym’s florescent lights. “How powerful do you believe yourself to be?” He probed casually.
‘This is strange.’ Thorne thought for a second as he looked at the man with an arched brow.
Upon noticing Thorne’s hesitation, the man smiled lightly and held his hands up; “Of course, I do not mean to pressure you to give away such valuable information, but it is helpful for me to be aware of the capabilities of my staff.” The man remarked, shadows dancing across his long ace; “I hope you understand my position.”
“Of course,” Thorne said, with a small smile “My strength is... unique among my peers.” He stated while pointing at his dual-spectrum crystal.
“Naturally.” The man nodded.
“But I would say that I am quite strong. To say the least, I can handle myself with competence.” Thorne stated, peering into the man's eyes, looking for a reaction.
None came apart from his characteristic small smile; “Thank you,” he said, getting up from his chair, “I appreciate you lending me some of your precious time.” The principal walked toward Thorne and outstretched his pale hand.
Heaving himself up, Thorne took the hand and shook it. ‘Wow, it's cold,' he realized as he broke the handshake.
“I have one more thing for you, actually.” The man stated loudly as Thorne was about to walk away. Turning, Thorne gazed at the principal, who was holding a small piece of frayed paper in his outstretched hand. “It's your housing and payment details. You can ask any guard to show you to them.”
Thorne took and pocketed the paper. “Thank you," he nodded. The man turned his back on Thorne and began walking away.
“Oh, my dear Thorne,” he heard the man say. Looking over his shoulder, Thorne saw the man's intense light purple eyes, bearing into his multicolored pupils; “Would you mind putting the chairs away.” He said with a smile before turning away and disappearing back into the supply closet, from where he had emerged from some moments ago.
Thorne gaped in astonishment as he saw the man leave; ‘What the hell is going on.’ He thought to himself as he returned the two chairs. Scowling, Thorne left the building; ‘something isn’t right here.’ He realized, ‘The man was definitely trying to interrogate me.’
With padded steps, and constant over-the-shoulder looks, Thorne left the homogenous school building, and entered the sunlit industrial sector of the city; ‘I have to assume that they're always watching... whoever they are.’
----------------------------------------
“Report.” A deep, rumbling voice commanded. The person who owned the voice stood tall in a dark room with his hands folded behind his back. He was facing in the direction of a full-wall window and was basking in the marginal sunlight that streamed into the skyscraper.
“I-I didn’t learn much, Lord.” A quivering voice stated. Behind the standing man was a kneeling figure. The one kneeling wore an old-fashioned, perfectly tailored tuxedo with a dashing purple bowtie. “My subject didn’t reveal much, only that he was competent in terms of strength and that his power could be classed as unique. Likely due to his dual crystal.”
“Hmm,” The towering man grunted, “Is that all?”
“Uhm,” The melodious voice of the kneeling man cracked slightly as he mumbled, “Oh actually no,” he shouted in joy, “It may not be much, but my subject used the word cultivator. It was used as a substitute for practitioner. It seemed natural and almost reflexive.”
The upright man nodded, “That’s interesting. You may go, Karal, and remember to keep tabs on this Thorne character.”
The kneeing man scrambled to his feet and bowed before the standing figure—despite the man not even facing him. “Of course, thank you for your time, lord,” he said before scurrying out of the room.
The towering man scratched his chin; “Hmm, cultivator, and where is that word from?” he pondered out loud. “I must learn more,” he said to himself.
“RAT!” he roared.
The door to the skyscraper penthouse burst open, and a diminutive human man darted into the shadowy room. “Yes, master.” He squeaked out as he prostrated himself.
Not bothering to turn around from the window, the master spoke in a low tone, “tell all of the supervisors of the new refugees. They must examine them with more care and listen much more. Tell them to report to me directly if they hear any ord or phrase not native to our city.” The man commanded.
“Of course, Master, I shall do as you wish.” The man—Rat—said as he stumbled his way out of the lonely room.
The master stood there momentarily and looked out the window with a blank face. “How beautiful.” He murmured as he surveyed the vast city below him; Sandstone houses crammed together to conserve space, Ant-like people running around, completing whatever menial task they were set on, “How disgustingly beautiful.” He snarled, turning away from the city skyline. As he turned, a silver crystal which adorned the man’s forehead, gleamed for but a moment in the radiant sunlight, before it was once again stolen by the gloom of the macabre penthouse.