[Loop 1], Grey:

The remarkable thing about Grey's candle lighting spell was that it had been invented by a human.

Grey had not been its deviser, but rather the beneficiary of its true craftsman. The human Gray had been in many ways lackluster. Just not with regard to the finer points of magic.

Flickerlight was a First Circle spell that produced a tiny point of flame at the desired location. It used an incredibly complex mathematical form to use both the caster's gaze and one pointing finger (or other manipulator limb capable of pointing) as a targeting mechanism. This combined with the fact it produced only a transient and near microscopic flame at very close range meant that the spell rarely started fires unintentionally. Candles had their wicks soaked in a highly flammable oil so that the tiny spark created by Flickerlight would be enough to ignite them. The tiny spark Flickerlight produced was generally too small and flickered out too quickly to burn anything else. For a fire spell, it was exceptionally safe; its pinpoint of firelight was so feeble it could barely be seen in a pitch black room.

That was before the human Gray had figured out the targeting mechanism and decided to up the ante. Not by much, he hadn't wanted to get in trouble for inventing what was technically a new Second Circle spell and failing to register it. Even so, the new spell, which the human had rather uninspiringly named Candleflame, produced a flame about the size of a small grape.

Or an eye.

Grey smiled as the agonized screeching started.

And winced.

Honestly though, did that Harpy have to scream like that? It really hurt his ears. Why were his ears so weak anyway? Really, human senses were just so poorly designed it was laughable. Hardly any designed tolerance for conditions outside the norm. Oh, well. He could make do with what he had on hand.

Grey shoved his musings aside and got back to work. His first cast had been aimed for the left eye of the one that had mentioned "putting him out of his misery". That one was crueler than the rest and so naturally had to be disabled first. Such cruel creatures rarely hesitated to do grievous harm once violence started, thus had been priority.

Now unable to keep itself aloft and clutch its eye in agony at the same time, the Harpy Grey had burned nearly crashed to the ground, only staggering into a rough landing in the last moments with a frantic flutter of wings.

"I'll kkiiiiillll you little boy! Kiiill you!" the idiot screeched.

Grey rewarded the death threats by burning its remaining eye, the right one.

"KkkkeyyAAAH!"

Wonderful. Now it was blind. Time to move on to the others.

He felt his mouth curl into arrogant sneer and immediately scowled. No. Now was not the time to have a power trip. So what if he had disabled one opponent with a spell most would have laughed off? One showcasing of skill and forethought would not win him the battle. What he needed to do was focus and eliminate the remaining threats. All of them.

Except, instead of doing that, Grey stared stupidly at the feathered shaft that had just sprouted unannounced from his left sternum. Arrow. That was an arrow.

Arrow! In HIM! He'd been shot!

He was trying to decide whether to leave it or pull it out when a second shaft slammed into the area around his left armpit, and moments later a green and red feathered thing with a beak and dagger-like talons suddenly filled his entire field of vision.

His brain said "Harpy! Dodge!"

Grey said, "Huh?" then experienced an aerial predator heavier than he was crashing into him, taloned feet first.

Pain. It was all he knew for… He didn't know how long, but when the fiery red haze of agony finally cleared there was something on top of him. A person. A bird. Claws? Death. Right. That's right. It was death.

Grey had no clue what was going on, his vision was all blurred shapes and blurrier motion. Muted gray-blacks swinging for his throat. He jerked his head out of the way as two wicked barbed talons flashed through the space his face had been mere moments before. The Harpy raised its other hand and swiped for his eyes again from the opposite side, the blur of its green and red feathers being the only warning Grey had of its attack. Again Grey jerked his head out of the way.

A part of Grey realized he was not thinking correctly. His breaths were coming way too quickly and were far too shallow. Everything hurt. His entire chest felt like it had been replaced by a maze fashioned from ragged fire lines of pain. Oddly, he did not feel all that much from his left hand side. Except his elbow. That hurt for some reason.

Perhaps he was in shock?

He moved his left arm experimentally. It moved, slowly and not quite the way he wanted, but it didn't feel like anything was broken. It was more like he couldn't figure out how he wanted to move it. Oh. Interesting. His left hand, now held above his face, was covered in blood. Huh. Well, if that blood was his, it would definitely explain why he wasn't thinking correctly.

Hmmm. Wait. Was there not just some crazed avian Arkanik trying to kill him a second ago? More than one? Where were they now?

A figure, which was not quite the perfect shade of blue (and Grey would know as Blue was his color) knelt by his side. A man. Arkanik. Scaled. Blue scales, but drab brown workout wear. What an affront to nature. Everyone knew that blue creatures should wear black, slate gray, or white. Perhaps silver or green. Never brown, since that was the color of mediocrity. Yet this one was, and now it was casting healing magic on him. Wonderful.

Was he being sarcastic? Why? Didn't he need help? Yes. No. He was not being sarcastic, because it was likely whoever was casting was in the process of saving his life. Gratitude filled him and he felt himself shake with relief. His heart pounded and stretched. How had he not even realized how scared he had been?

Relief warred with remembered terror, the latter slowly coming unclouded by the fog of shock.

Emerald green and radiant white-golds blanketed his vision in complex weaving patterns. A sickening lurching sensation came from his left armpit and a smaller pop came from the left side of his chest before both subsided into soothing numbness. The light faded at some point and most unfortunately, Grey's mental discombobulation faded sometime thereafter.

The first thing that struck him was how there were a bunch of students standing around looking down on him with morbid curiosity. As if they expected him to expire at any moment. It was embarrassing. Did they not have anything better to do with their miserable lives?

"Are you alright, young one?"

Young one? Who exactly did this being think it was to address–Oh. Right. Grey remembered what he looked like now. What he was now, and he sighed. Why was it always so hard to remember? He had been human for over a year now. You would think he would have gotten accustomed to it.

Everytime he woke up from any kind of rest it hit him all over again: He was a HUMAN now. The very thing he had hated for so long… And everyone was staring. He needed to get up and get on with things. And maybe take a shower to get some of the humanity off. Showers were a plebian way of cleaning one’s self, but he could no longer simply absorb and metabolize the grime from the day. One made do with the abilities one had.

Grey shook his head. He could still feel the brain fog, but he forced himself to get up anyway. He took in the scene around him: the Harpies were splayed out on the ground in various places. Two were squeaking in pain and a third appeared to be out cold. Odd. Grey didn’t think he had done that. In fact, he was fairly sure he had been about to be killed.

Hmmm… Upon reflection it was likely his violent actions had escalated the conflict from bullying to lethal levels. Shame and indignation warred within him.

He smirked a little. Talking to himself like a crazy person always got his thoughts in order. Perhaps that said something worrying about him.

A well muscled blue Cobald looked up from where it knelt, casting healing magic on a Harpy. Grey recognized it as the belligerent one that started the entire brawl. The one whose eyes he burned out. Grey recognized the Cobald healer as Professor Kaint. They had never spoken before, but Grey made a point of remembering important faces.

“May I ask you a question young man?” The warrior-healer asked without looking up.

“Shouldn’t you focus on the healing you are doing? Muscles, tissues and organs are complicated things and–”

Kaint held up a hand (again without looking up) cutting Grey off.

“Well, yes. But I am not doing the heavy work. The nurse-mages can rebuild their eyes. I’m just stabilizing things. I confess I may have hit them too hard, earlier,” the Cobald admitted ruefully.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Grey opened his mouth to do just that, when he was interrupted again.

“The question, student. May I ask it?”

“You are asking one right now,” Grey pointed out.

The professor waved him off and stood. “It doesn’t count.”

Grey sighed, exasperated.

“Fine. Ask your question…err?!”

Suddenly, Professor Kaint loomed over him with a grim look on his reptilian face.

"You just attacked these other students with unrelenting violence."

Though it wasn't phrased as a question, Professor Kaint stared at him and something about the awkward gaze told Grey he expected a response. Now.

"Yes…", Grey replied carefully.

He knew this was going to be bad. Even after being healed Grey still had aches and stinging cuts all over. His guess was that the stupid Cobald hadn't completely healed his wounds intentionally. Probably the start of a punishment that was truly going to be unfun. Perhaps he'd even get expelled.

"You SEE! THIS STUDENT," the Cobald paused his roaring words for effect, "PERCEIVED AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT, PREPARED HIMSELF, AND REACTED WITH IMMEDIATE, AND UNCOMPROMISING, VIOLENCE!"

Falling silent, the burly man threw up his hands as if giving praise to the New Gods in their heavenly realm.

"Be this student. We MUST all be THIS student if we expect to survive!"

The majority of the students assembled seemed completely unsure of how to react to this. They just saw one of their own badly burned by a Squishy and now that Squishy was being praised by their instructor. It just did not add up.

Except for, apparently, that one Cobald girl who was smiling and clapping for some reason. Grey was glad to know someone appreciated his quick decision making, other than a man widely regarded by many as being a few cards short of a full deck. Though, judging by the mix of uncertain and harsh looks being flung her way, Grey would say this girl was definitely still the odd one out.

"Young man, what is your name?" Professor Kaint asked, turning back to him with almost ceremonial gravity.

The mad Cobald's congratulatory tone momentarily threw Grey off guard. Being praised for his actions was the last thing he had expected, so he was a tiny bit hesitant when he replied.

"...Grey…Sir."

"Well Grey, I haven't seen you around at our meetings before. I take it you are a new recruit eager to join our ranks?

"Y-es… Sir."

"Good. Now. I have to ask–"

The Cobald's voice dropped to almost a whisper as he stepped (uncomfortably) close and crouched to put himself almost on eye level with Grey.

His voice, when he next spoke, was winter.

"Have you seen them?"

Ah. Grey knew this one. This was one of question he knew he could answer perfectly.

He took a moment to settle his nerves and his thought, and then intoned the words he had prepared in advance with as much seriousness as he could muster.

"Yes. I have. In the pitch black between worlds, I HAVE seen them. And they are coming." Grey did his very best to intone the words with a straight face. He thought he was rather successful on that count.

Professor Alain Kaint looked like he had just seen an Atavism. His toothy jaw hung open and his eyes were wide and expressionless like a Dog’s. Grey waited patiently. This was only a first approximation. He did not remember enough to know how to construct a second and likely lacked enough information to do so. Even so, the words and the tone should have been close enough to elicit a favorable response.

Grey tuned out the sound of the other students starting to mill about and talk. Only about a fourth were industrious enough to break into pairs and begin sparing without instructions from their professor.

“You have… seen them? Truly?” Kaint asked, his voice eerily calm and quiet.

Grey’s heart decided to rebel just then and take an unscheduled break from its shift. It did not last long, but the sudden pause in his chest and the terrible wave of vertigo and anxiety that came with it made Grey question whether his strategy of playing into this man’s delusions was really a good one. Because he suddenly did not feel like he was speaking to a fellow Squishy. Greater Races like his draconic stepfather had a certain force of personality; their magic was an ever-present weight behind everything they did. Or at least, it felt that way to Grey. The blue eyes that stared out from Kaint’s face had that same intensity, just considerably more unhinged.

Grey opened his mouth to backpedal from danger when a far greater threat entered the gymnasium. He caught sight of it first as a blob of carmine red and black in his peripheral vision. He knew. Right away he knew who it was. Because, honestly, how could his terrible luck permit anything else?

Against his better judgment Grey turned to look.

A petite girl with raven black hair, ruby red eyes and almost porcelain skin walked through the gym, set her bag down on the wooden bleachers and stopped Grey’s heart for the second time that day as she began doing stretches.

She was…Everything to Grey. There was something about her fierce attitude and small lithe form coupled with the obvious power of her dragon heritage that drew Gray in. She wore a button up white shirt that contrasted with her black pants and black wings, the red of her eyes, and the carmine of her wing accents. Beauty was a common thing among the Noble Families and among the Greater Races and honestly being enamored with it was beneath Grey. He refused to be brainwashed by his own brain into valuing frivolous creatures with no personality and even less ambition. But Fen was different. She… had ambitions… Honestly she was kind of perfect.

She was the absolute bane of his existence and now that she was there the situation simply could not be salvaged. He needed to retreat. Now.

Thankfully this horrid creature had an obvious weakness: without its glasses it would not be able to recognize him.

Grey gave a vague nod to Professor Kaint and turned and quickly began walking to the door that led back out to the courtyard. It was nerve wracking since this path took him right past his stepsister, Fen, but it couldn’t be helped. He kept his head down (even though he knew it was unnecessary) and prayed to all the gods, New or Old, that might be listening that she wouldn’t–

“Grey?? Hey!”

As the friendly female voice reached his auditory cortex, Grey experienced a moment of pure terror, where dread of something utterly impossible yet so horrible you HAD to contemplate it actually DID occur despite its impossibility. Where pure dread crystallized into waking reality.

Grey kept walking. His heart pounded with the hope he had not heard those words or that voice. But his hope was in vain.

In pleasant tones colored by curiosity at a happy surprise the voice continued, querying:

“What are you doing here?”

Grey froze. He never would have before he met her. Before he had woken up to himself in this horrible world. She had this sort of terrible alchemy her voice did to him. Rationally he knew that if a situation was undesirable you just had to take immediate action to change it. Like running. Running would have been a good option. Now, while she was still shocked to see him. He had to run NOW because once she got her wits back he would never outrun her.

Except his legs, the traitors, would not move!

He heard footsteps and a lock of black hair, iridescent like a crow’s feathers, fell into his peripheral vision.

“Hey Grey, I didn’t know you were going to join Prof Kaint’s sessions! You could have told me. We could have walked over together,” Fen said, her voice chipper and far too feminine for his liking.

Grey was horrified. She had not had her glasses on, hadn’t she? He dared not look her in the eyes to check but could have sworn… Without them she should not have been able to recognize him. Was his hypothesis wrong? No. There was too much evidence in her previous behavior. He was certain that Fen had some form of prosopagnosia, the inability to recognize people by their faces. It had actually taken him months to figure it out. Or, rather it had taken the human Gray that long. The issue was her glasses corrected for the deficit somehow. If she hadn’t misplaced them so frequently at home he would never have figured it out. So the question was, what had changed? Why could she recognize him? More importantly, how would he escape?!

“Hello? Um. Grey. You okay? Want to be sparring partners?”

No! No he did not! Did not! Touching her was bad. Her touching him was worse. The feelings he had for her were not real! They were NOT HIS! It was this stupid body’s reproductive system trying to boil his brain into compliance with disgusting biological urges that would ruin his life and his plans! Yes. Exactly! Besides, the world did not need more humans, it needed less of them. He would be part of the solution, not the problem!

Except… Fen was a half-dragon. Like all half-dragons, her draconic blood was gradually winning. In a matter of centuries, maybe only a few decades or five if she was lucky, Fen would wake up one morning a full blooded dragon. He… He was a human. Any child they produced would essentially also be a half-dragon destined to eventually evolve to an even more superior form. Looking at those facts it was obvious that he should bre–

Grey’s brain spiraled into a montage of ghostly sensations of what it might be like to “spar” with her. He imagined what it might feel like to tuck Fen’s warm body against his. The feel of her shirt between them. The scent of her hair. Her warm wings around them both.

A lightning strike of mental dissonance crackled through his head as he desperately tried to shut the train of thought down. It ached like someone had actually struck him in the skull only the sensation came from the inside.

All the while Fen was staring at him, waiting for him to say “Yes. Sure.”

Thankfully, Professor Kaint’s calm and reasonable voice came to Grey’s rescue right before his resolve broke.

“Unfortunately, this young man was just leaving. Sorry, Lady Fen, he will not be sparring with anyone tonight. Sorry, to you as well, young man. But after the trouncing you just got, I can’t have you suffer any more blood loss on my watch. Head home for now, but please come to our next session. I promise no one will accost you again. You have my solemn word.”

Grey frowned. What did Kaint mean by “trouncing”? He just took on three Harpies as a Squishy with no combat training, downed one, and lived. Honestly, that was a remarkable feat. And hadn’t this paranoid lunatic been singing his praises not five minutes ago? Why the sudden about face? Trouncing? No one had trounced him. He did rather well.

“Wait! Grey got hurt?” Fen asked, wide eyed. She grimaced as she took in Grey’s battered state.

“No. Well, yes but–”

Fen’s head blurred to the side and her carmine eyes flashed like firelight as they darted from one unconscious Harpy to the next, seeming to register the injured students in the gym for the first time since she entered.

“Grey? Did you just fight three Harpies by yourself?!” Fen’s voice was adorable incredulous.

“Yes because–”

“You.” She glared at him and let the silence hanging off the end of her word dig into his soul.

“Are a reckless idiot.”

“I thought I did rather well,” Grey said, shooting Professor Kaint a look he did not know was desperate and pleading.

Much to his surprise, however, he did not get support from that quarter.

“Yes, for a Squishy, you did. You still would have died,” Kaint interjected calmly.

“SERIOUSLY?! He–It was that bad?” Fear crept into Fen’s voice making it squeak just a little at the end.

“Yes. He badly injured one of them. They will likely be blind until they receive some form of regeneration,” Kaint replied.

“YOU are a SQUISHY!” Grey protested, unable to let the earlier comment the Cobald had made go. He knew his rage and indignation were getting the better of him. Unfortunately, knowing that just increased his anger.

“Yes. And as one Squishy to another I congratulate you. However, a true combatant knows when a fight cannot be won and avoids it. Your actions only escalated the situation.”

Professor Kaint paused and recited his next sentence with the gravity of a man quoting scripture, “Dying on a hill is never worth the dying.”

Fen turned to Grey, and her intense frown coupled with her ruby eyed glare hit with enough force to make him flinch.

“Grey, that isn’t like you. You always think things through. You make the smart choices. What got into you?” She asked.

Blood rushed to Grey’s brain and stayed there. She was complimenting him and it was great!

It took him a few seconds to formulate a proper reply. When he did, it was not what he actually said. Instead of the clinical but appropriate apology he had planned, he replied with the amiably brainless tones used by very happy Dogs the world over:

“I do. I make. Smart choices.”