After the assembly ended, those with spatial affinities teleported out, and those who could fly or use constructs did, leaving the others who could do neither to march out clumsily from the small exit. Aodhán, Daruk, and Andrew stood on a floating construct, a series of emotions playing out across their faces.
As they exited the hall, Aodhán’s gaze landed on Meredith, who stood on a similar construct with Aida Simms and Imani, but his mind barely registered her presence as he was mentally reviewing his status screen, with principal Zatya’s words still echoing in his mind.
“I call bullshit.” Andrew hissed the moment they flew out of the building, forcefully pulling Aodhán's mind away from his thoughts. He blinked, his mind slowly returning to the present. “What did you say?”
“Weren’t you listening?” Andrew scowled and scanned the area to make sure none of the professors were within hearing range before repeating himself. “I said, I call bullshit. Something terrible must have happened to require this ban. How are we supposed to figure out what is going on with the war if we can’t even discuss the matter with those outside?”
“Ah, right.” Aodhán scratched his head awkwardly and muttered. “That’s what you’re worried about.”
Andrew frowned at him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “What else am I supposed to be worried about? My family is a military family; what else are we supposed to talk about asides the war?”
“The antithesis of affinities is a good topic.” Daruk offered from behind them, wearing a grin that stood in contrast with the overall mood of the students around them. “I’m sure Aunty Mio and Uncle Roshan would have a lot more to contribute in the family group chat.”
Andrew’s expression shut down, and he turned away before muttering. “We do not have a group chat.”
“Too bad.” Daruk patted Andrew’s shoulder sympathetically. “Well, they say every disaster is an opportunity. This seems like a great opportunity to open one.”
“Pay him no mind.” Aodhán said to Andrew. “I’m sure you and your family will come up with new things to discuss.”
“That’s the problem.” Andrew grumbled as he pushed Daruk’s fingers away. “I don’t want to talk about something else. I’m invested in the war. To have no access to any information regarding it feels suffocating.”
Aodhán sighed. He couldn’t exactly relate to what Andrew was feeling, but he could imagine, and it definitely didn’t feel good. However, there was nothing they could do about it any longer; complaining and grumbling wouldn’t change the principal’s mind, so what need was there to dwell on it?
Raising his chip to his lips, he decided to test things out. He searched through his contact list, which had grown considerably longer with the addition of Aldric and Unrid. He picked the latter and sent a message asking about the state of the war. Just as he’d expected, the message got flagged immediately, and the next instant, an error message appeared before him.
[RESTRICTED] Your message could not be sent!
“Well, that was fast.” He muttered to himself before sending another text, this one simply asking Unrid how he and Synové were doing. There was a millisecond lag, as the message was probably scanned for restricted information before being sent. Unrid didn’t reply immediately, so Aodhán closed the message menu and shook his head. “The ban is already in effect. Any information regarding the war is being restricted.”
Perhaps Andrew was right. Maybe something terrible had happened and this ban was being placed to prevent panic, but Aodhán couldn’t deny the fact that a part of him was happy about this ban; at least, this way, he could simply grow stronger without constantly worrying about what was happening in the war.
They proceeded to the cafeteria for breakfast, after which they made their way to the lecture hall for the class on Awakened Advancement Theory (AAT). When they arrived at the hall, they found a ton of people already seated, along with professor Dubois, who stood on the circular stage, discussing intently with Lilith Bloodmoon. There were still a few minutes before the class began, and so in their usual manner, they made their way to the middle row.
One would have thought that Professor Dubois’s presence would deter any sort of altercation, but as they made their way towards their preferred seats, they were suddenly blocked by a trio of nobles, two of whom Aodhán wasn’t exactly surprised to see, but the third person surprised him somewhat.
Ever since he’d begun to incur the wrath of some of the major nobles for being 'disrespectful’, Aodhán had been approached and challenged by a varying number of them, including Grendar and Kellan Dravenor, which was why he wasn’t too surprised to find them staring daggers at him. However, despite their silent ‘feud', this was the first time Cyrus had walked up to him to challenge him. It was somewhat exciting to know that he warranted such attention from the duke’s son, but mostly it just made Cyrus less of an opponent in his eyes. It made him feel like he had the upper hand despite bearing the lower rank.
Grendar stood on the left, manipulating a mesh of metallic wires in a way that he assumed she thought threatening, while Kellan just seemed uncomfortable. Cyrus was his usual proud self, but this time his shoulders were raised slightly higher as if to intimidate him.
Aodhán tried to suppress a smile but failed. Sometimes, because of how powerful they were, he forgot that they were only just sixteen years old. Granted, he wasn’t that much older than them, but he definitely felt older.
Cyrus’s scowl deepened when he saw Aodhán’s smile, and he took a step forward. “Is something funny, commoner?”
“Yes.” Aodhán answered without hesitation. “The fact that you’re here right now, trying and failing to intimidate me. I find it hilarious.”
“I told you he was too proud.” Grendar hissed, her sneer shaping up into something more sinister. “We should have thought him the error of his ways since the first moment he began pulling this nonchalant superiority shit.”
“I assure you that you would have regret that.” Aodhán responded, letting out a hint of his aura from his voice. It gave his voice a rougher, more dangerous texture that caused Grendar and Kellan to take a subconscious step backward. Cyrus, though, was unfazed.
He stared Aodhán down and took a step forward. “I only came here to instruct you, and it’ll be in your best interest to heed me. Withdraw from the selection process. The tournament is an event meant for nobles, and regardless of your many tricks, you’re not one.”
Aodhán tamped down on a surge of irritation and glanced at professor Dubois, who was staring impassively at them. It was obvious that she could hear them, and the fact that she made no move to put a stop to this proved that she either wanted to see how he handled the matter or was in agreement with Cyrus as she herself was noble. The latter seemed more plausible, but Aodhán decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume the first. He would be glad to put Cyrus Valerion in his place anyway.
Rather than shrink back or burst into sobs as Cyrus had probably expected, Aodhán laughed, a sound so mirthful and infectious that a few students found themselves unconsciously joining in. When he was done, he shook his head and said, “I would heed your instructions, Cyrus, but unfortunately, you do not make the rules around here, and the one who does doesn’t seem to share your distaste for commoners like me. I suggest you take your grievances to the principal; I’m sure she’ll give you a satisfactory answer.”
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The matter should have died there, but Cyrus wasn’t satisfied. He sneered and pointed a finger crackling with spatial essence at him. “You think you’re better than us, don’t you? Walking around the halls with your head and shoulders held higher than that of freaking royals all because you’ve got a familiar?”
“I don’t think I’m better than you, but it's obvious you think so.” Aodhán replied honestly. “Tell me, Cyrus, do you feel threatened by me?”
His question caused a gasp to echo across the hall, a reaction that only served to make Cyrus even more furious. His face turned almost purple with anger; however, Kellan must have done something because his expression went blank an instant later and his composure returned. He straightened his shoulders, and in an exceedingly pompous manner, Cyrus declared. “I am the first trueborn son of Duke Solaris Valerion, a being subservient only to the royals. I do not fear you, Aodhán Brystion, nor am I threatened by you. If anything, I pity you. I'm merely concerned for your reputation, or perhaps what would be left of it by the time your strength is revealed for the sham that it is. Do yourself a favor and drop out of the selection process while you still can, or I assure you that you won’t even make it into the top twenty.”
Daruk, who had been silently stewing from behind Aodhán, suddenly spoke up, his voice cutting and cold. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor, Cyrus, and walk away with whatever shred of dignity you have left?”
Aodhán grinned and wiggled his fingers in a ‘run along’ motion. He could fight his battles alone, but it was extremely satisfying to know that he didn’t have to.
Cyrus eyed Daruk contemplatively and said, “I’ve got no beef with you, Daruk.”
Daruk scoffed and shook his head. “Do you even hear yourself? Aodhán is my brother, which means if you have a problem with him, you have a problem with me too. So, like I said, do yourself a favor and walk away.”
Cyrus narrowed his gaze at them, glanced at Andrew, and sniffed. “Andrew Willowood, you better talk some sense into your friends.”
Andrew clenched his fist and glared at Cyrus but didn’t respond. Aodhán couldn’t blame him; his family was after all a barony. Unlike commoners who had nothing to lose, the case was different for lower nobles.
Cyrus turned around and walked away, spatial essence still crackling faintly around his finger. Kellan followed dutifully, while Grendar clucked her tongue in disappointment before leaving.
“I’m sorry I didn’t speak up to defend you.” Andrew muttered quietly as they watched the retreating figures before turning to stare directly at Aodhán. “However, I want you to know that if it comes down to it, you can always count on me to side with you. I’ll never betray my friends.
“But you have your family’s reputation to consider too.” Aodhán finished and nodded. “I understand; don’t worry about it.”
“Well, it’s just as we thought, Aodhán.” Daruk quipped to lighten the mood. “Cyrus is definitely as insane as his half brothers.”
Aodhán laughed, and when Andrew asked what they meant, he shrugged. "Sorry, Andrew, but we’ve sighed too many NDAs to speak.”
“Nonsense. There’s still a lot we can tell you without breaking the NDAs.” Daruk scoffed and draped an arm across Andrew’s shoulders. “So you remember that time Aodhán bottomed out his willpower? Well, what really happened was that...
They walked to their seats, and fifteen minutes passed before Professor Dubois spoke up to address the class. “Good morning students.” She began as she walked to the front of the stage and tapped the large screen hanging from the ceiling. It came on with a flash of blue light, and she continued. “I’m very glad to be here with you once again. Juggling my responsibilities as a member of the Awakened Council and a teacher hasn’t been the easiest, but I’m glad I could make this work. I've spoken with professor Jorendil, and I must say I’m quite impressed with how far you’ve all progressed. Today, we’ll be discussing a topic that is just as simple as it is technical.”
She tapped the screen again, and the word Bloodlines appeared on the screen in bold red letters. Aodhán didn't bother jotting anything down as professor Dubois began explaining the meaning of bloodlines. He had read so much on the topic, especially in the days after he’d absorbed the unique bloodline principal Zatya had given him, that he could write a short note on it without issue.
In simple terms, a bloodline was a soul seed that, when absorbed, not only transformed the genetic traits of an awakened individual but also subtly enhanced the inherent power within them, giving an overall boost to their control of specific affinities whilst creating aesthetic manifestations.
Professor Dubois said almost the same thing, but then she paused and asked. “We all know what the soul seeds are, but not many know of their origins. Who can tell us in express terms where these soul seeds are gotten from?”
Several hands shot into the air, practically begging to be called, and Aodhán couldn’t help but snicker at their desperation. He couldn't blame them for being so eager after losing hundred points each at the assembly; however, his little snicker must have caught professor Dubois's attention because she pointed to him and said. “Would you like to enlighten us, Mr. Brystion? I would love to hear your opinion on the matter.”
Aodhán cleared his throat and stood up. “The soul seeds are produced by ÆFLYM itself and are usually mined from the quintessential wellsprings that line the edges of Lutia.”
From what he’d read, these quintessential wellsprings were basically caves dense with spirit or soul energy. There were many theories on the topic, with some scholars hypothesizing that the caves were nexus points for ley lines and the soul seeds solidified essences, while others theorized that it was foolish to consider the soul seeds as solidified essences considering their functions. Aodhán more or less agreed with the latter group; however, more information concerning the topic was restricted to the advanced class, and Aodhán wasn’t ready to go up to the second floor just yet.
“Well put.” Professor Dubois responded grimly. “Ten points to you, Mr. Brystion.”
She turned back to the class and said, “As Mr. Brystion has just explained, soul seeds have mysterious origins. What we do know is that they are produced and mined from the quintessential wellsprings that line the edges of Lutia. However, these wellsprings are few and far between, which means there is a shortage of soul seeds to go around for everyone. Asides their small numbers, these wellsprings require a long time to regenerate after being mined, making the seeds an extremely valuable yet finite resource.”
“Is this why soul seeds are only given to nobles while commoners are forgotten and left to fend for themselves?” A voice suddenly cut in, and Aodhán turned to see Marcellus glaring at the professor from the back row. The students around him shuffled awkwardly. Most of them were commoners, so the combined attention of several nobles made them uncomfortable.
Marcellus of course remained unfazed, and in that moment, Aodhán felt a touch of admiration for his annoying housemate.
Professor Dubois, however, didn’t share his sentiment and instead glared at Marcellus. “Nearly a millennia ago, when war first ravaged this kingdom, most people ran to the central kingdom for refuge. The nobles you see today are the descendants of the families who stayed behind to fix things and put this kingdom back together. They have bled and paid for their braggart rights, and if the king and his council, in their wisdom, decided to give these nobles the privilege or access to these soul seeds before commoners, then have they done wrong? Do you think you deserve what they do, or do you think you know more than the king and his council?”
Aodhán frowned, not liking the professor’s response one bit. Marcellus grimaced, but when he didn’t respond, Professor Dubois smirked. ”I thought as much.”
The class continued after that, but for the next one hour, Aodhán was uncomfortable. Looking at things from the professor Dubois’s point of view wasn’t so bad, but surely there was a better way that accommodated everyone equally, or was he being idealistic?
His mind continued to roam, and it wasn’t until professor Dubois asked another question that Aodhán’s mind returned to the class.
“Now, having detailed the ranking system of bloodlines as the reasons behind their bizzare manifestations, can someone explain to me how bloodline inheritance works?”
This time, even more hands went up, but professor Dubois ignored them and instead turned her gaze to the far end of the hall. “Miss Cavanaugh, perhaps you’d like to shed some luminescence on the matter.”
Aodhán looked at Lupin along with the rest of the class. She was dressed in a much simpler black gown compared to the one she wore yesterday, and although her face was still pale, she seemed to be doing much better than yesterday. Lupin’s gaze darted across the hall, and she sighed heavily, as if mentally urging herself to care about the lecture.
On second thought, maybe she wasn’t doing as fine as he’d thought. Lupin pushed herself to her feet, and in a tone similar to that of a drone, she responded. “Bloodline inheritance works naturally as it is passed on from parent to offspring and is usually activated at the time of awakening. If a person does not awaken, the bloodline remains dormant, and if a person awakens an affinity different from the bloodline they already bear, the soul seed becomes recessive, and such a person is then able to absorb another soul seed.”
“Thank you, Miss Cavanaugh. Very well said. Ten points.”
The class ended soon after that, and when they stepped out of the hall, Daruk asked. “How would you guys like to mess up the tower leaderboard?”
Aodhán had been hoping to go up to his room and practice his runes, but Daruk’s words kindled a fire within him. His competitive spirit reared its head once again, and with a manic grin, Aodhán responded. “Let’s go make a ruckus.”