“You four! Quiet down back there, class is starting!” Mr. Sword shouted at the party.

Lucia, Gaia, and Livia all turned from the adorable creature, which was attempting to look intimidating, its tiny body puffing up in an exaggerated display. The origins of this ineffably cute fellow stemming from none other than ever-reserved Temp.

“Roar!” it squeaked, its wings flapping wildly and quickly about Temp’s temple, faster than any baby should have been able to—barely managing a soft gust of wind—just enough to ruffle the hair on his head, turning it into a further mess. The little dragon spread its scaly—amusingly small—wings wide. It bared its tiny fangs, which looked more like a baby’s teeth than anything threatening, and tried to puff out its chest as much as it could, retracting its razor sharp claws to prevent accidental harm.

It was a dragon... but a very, very cute one.

Facing the tall instructor, Temp and his comrades tried their damnedest to keep their eyes off of their child-like companion, seemingly getting more irritated at being treated with such laid-back attitudes for a noble creature of its stature, flapping its wings about even more, generating further gusts of wind, cooling Temp down in the humid summer air of the makeshift open lecture hall, the wet grass around him somehow swaying slowly in tandem with the chaotic breeze.

Most of the school's architecture and facilities had been destroyed by the demon’s invasion, leaving nothing but some training grounds and the grand magic tower, completely razed.

Although it was not only the school which had been affected.

For the Elves and Fairies of the East, parts of the holy forest had been desecrated, leaving behind only the mana-filled surrounding air, itself unperturbed by the devastation laid upon by the invading forces. Their only salvation being that their own capital city of Niflheim going largely untouched, still shining in all of its sacred, long-lived glory, the World Tree left unharmed—protected by the famous Elven magic swordsmen—its bark beaming with health, and crown providing refuge from the blazing sun and freezing nights.

The Dwarves and Gnomes of the West did not share the same fortune. Their smithies and laboratories ravaged by the destruction, the sheer scale of it too much for even the hardened warriors of the Dwarves to withstand, the Eternal Flame, a symbol of their welfare and prosperity, flickering for the first time since the Great War.

Land was also not the only thing affected.

In the seas, the proud Seafarers, nomads of any race, who lived by the sea and died by the sea, were completely wiped out. The much sought-after country-scale ships—each capable of housing close to a million civilians—were completely destroyed by the demons and unseen aquatic nightmares, too big to approach the shallow shores of Pangea.

Finally, the sky. The once azure blue skies of Pangea were forever tinted with a light red, as though the heavens themselves were barricaded off by a thin sheet of red cellophane paper, the red hue bleeding across the vast expanse of the welkin, faint yet undeniable, like a hunger you can’t seem to get rid of, and itch somewhere you can’t reach, a hope you can’t trust. The sun’s rays, once a sign of life, turned into a harsh, uninviting death beam, slicing through the air like sharp knives—as though the mere act of being graced by its cancerous rays would cause one to simply blink out of existence. Its light, once a fuel for photosynthesis and the kickstarter of life, now a symbol of fear and death, burning with artificial intensity, cold and hostile.

“As you all know, with the recent demon invasion, we have to strengthen ourselves, thus, you will pair yourselves as freshmen with your seniors into parties and undergo strict training. Keep in mind, it is not a question of if, but when, the demons invade again.” The older professor said, head tilted towards the rift in reality above them, eyeing it with an intensity rivalling the Gods, as if cursing them for allowing this disaster to befall them.

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“Swordsmen and mage alike will also undergo rigorous circle magic practice and theory to deepen your understanding of mana and its uses and purposes, starting now.” A younger professor said, huddling a group of 4 students together.

The students shifted, and the four of them found themselves outcasts, no one poking their heads into the already established group.

“With your hopefully close-knit group of buddies assembled, please meet me at Training Ground 5 near the grand magic tower in 10! And I really do mean close-knit, as you may be stuck with this party for the rest of your life!” The younger professor grumbled as he side-eyed Mr Sword, arms crossed and teeth grinding together.

All Mr Sword replied was with a smug grin, like he knew, no, like he was the cause of the professors’ frustration.

Seeing the unresolved beef between the two instructors, Temp could only imagine what he and his “close-knit group of buddies” would end up becoming, especially because of their abrupt—and honestly very embarrassing—first impressions.

***

As the reverie ended, both Temp and Lucia came to their senses the messy, marble white ward.

Right in front of Temp stood a hulking Dwarf, nearly a head taller and far broader than him, especially across his massive lats, which created the majestic v-taper Temp had only seen in Dwarf-nen comics and animated shows. He looked like the kind of older character who teenage Human girls—and their Elf counterparts—would swoon over.

Startled by this behemoth of a man standing before him, being the shy, introverted little boy that he is, Temp instinctively crawled backwards, trying to physically and emotionally distance himself from the giant as quickly as he could.

“See Livia? Even Humans are scared of me, maybe I just don’t belong.” The Dwarf expressed, the sparkle in his wide, onyx black eyes dimming ever so slightly. His grin faltering, replaced by a slight frown, his bushy eyebrows losing all previous expression, drooping like it mirrored his sinking heart.

“Don’t be all doom and gloom, Gaia, he was probably just shocked by your huge frame and wanted to admire your whole body!” Livia—the Fairy—responded, the petite Fairy with shimmering wings and evil glint in her eye, turning to Temp and flashing him an exaggerated, innocent grin, her eyes completely closed from the size of her grin. It was the type of smile which someone did if they were threatening you, and Temp almost hear Livia’s mental threat, ‘Play along or else’.

Registering the command, Temp quickly flashed a quick smile back, nodding in agreement with the small-but-dangerous Fairy.

Temp shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as he tried to make himself as small as possible, meeting no one’s eyes. His fingers fidgeted with his sleeve, and he gave a barely audible, “Uh, yeah… I guess…”

Gaia, sensing his discomfort, softened his tone. "Hey, no need to be nervous," he said gently, his earlier expression of doubt replaced by a look of concern. "Didn't mean t’ scare ya. Just sometimes forget that not everyone’s used to the Dwarven hospitality, y’know?" He gave Temp a friendly smile, but Temp’s eyes remained glued to his own feet, nodding slightly without looking up.

Lucia stepped in smoothly, acting as a buffer. "I’m sure Temp will warm up once he sees we’re here to help each other." She placed a reassuring hand on Temp’s shoulder, which he stiffened at slightly.

Livia watched with mild amusement—the dramatic scene of both of them crying still fresh in her mind—and turned back to Gaia, keeping her voice low, “Just give him a bit of space. I doubt anyone would be fine after realising some strangers caught him at his lowest.”

Gaia nodded thoughtfully, his own shoulders relaxing as he took a small step back to give Temp more breathing room. Meanwhile, Temp’s mind buzzed with relief at Lucia and Livia’s intervention, though he was mortified by all the attention on him, especially at the bombshell of a revelation that their intimate moment was spied on.

Temp couldn’t shake the weight of humiliation, his mind replaying the earlier scene like a haunting melody. They saw everything, and Temp, once again, could do nothing about it, like a pawn on a chess board.

Powerless.

Just like that time with his Unique Ability.

Just like when Lucia cried.

And it was at this moment that Temp finally decided he had enough, and that he would hone his strengths.

To not depend on anything.

To protect Lucia.

To have the power.

The power to decide his own fate.

***