Class wasn’t even cancelled for an attempted shooting, though it did get delayed by a bit while members of the military police from the Reserve came to take statements and investigate for potential other threats. This was First Academy, after all. With a student attrition rate of just under twenty percent a year, most of which were dropouts but many of whom died—be it in a Tower, from a military activity, or just plain bad luck in a class—danger was an accepted part of life.

More cynically, Syl figured that none of the prismatic families valued their first-years enough to shut down classes for them. If there had been a credible threat to the life of one of their prodigies in the Reserve, it might have been a different story.

Whoever the other shooters would have been had either left beforehand or concealed their guns better, because Syl no longer sensed them.

The Reserve that came were professional, their identities hidden by face-obscuring visors and nearly-identical uniforms. Their group of twenty locked the arena down, setting crime scene boarriers at each of the numerous entrances to the colosseum-like arena. They moved with clinical efficiency, scanning each remaining student and speaking to those they identified as most affected.

That did, unfortunately, include both Syl and Bianca. Other students corroborated the stadium footage that displayed the two of them abruptly standing to charge the two shooters. Said shooters had been taken into custody already and would likely never see the light of day again, but the Reserve wanted a full and complete image of what had happened.

The interrogation, if it could even be called that, took place right there on the stadium. The Reserve had brought a privacy screen, an engineered flux device that spread out on the ground and created an opaque dome of white light around Syl and two Reserve members.

“Sylvester Auria,” one of them said, not unkindly. “First year. Class 3. Do I have that right?”

Woman. On the taller end. Unfamiliar voice, but her flux is marked. Not quite gene-optimized. Servant of a prismatic family, probably. She’d be more lenient to Syl than her companion, who carried himself like he was god’s gift to magic. Servants knew what it was like to be on the bottom.

Syl nodded. “You do.”

“As a preface, this conversation will be revisited by perception-type lie detection spells. You are entitled to leave at any time.”

“I understand,” Syl said. That was always a trap. Anyone who left instead of answering a question was universally treated as guilty, often of more than they actually were. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The female Reserve officer tapped her FCD, her visor lighting up as a digital file appeared in front of her. “You and your… friend? Partner? Acquaintance?”

“Friend and client,” Syl said. “I’m her FCD engineer, assuming you’re talking about Bianca Ashwood.”

“As a class 3?” the shorter man asked dubiously.

“She’s not from a prismatic family or any of its offshoots,” Syl explained. “Many less fortunate families can’t afford to find engineers that are also talented otherwise. We grew up together, and I had a knack for FCDs, enough that her family decided to take me in and have us work together.”

All true enough to avoid most common types of lie detection magic. If they forced him to clarify, Syl had other options to cloak his words, but he didn’t want to do more than he had to. His true identity needed to remain secret for his, Bianca’s, and the entire academy’s sake, and letting too many clues slip now would be detrimental in that regard.

“Very well,” the woman said. “You and Miss Ashwood noticed the shooters before even the target did. Your reaction time is commendable, as were your actions themselves.”

“A little too commendable, one would think,” the man said. “How did you know they were going to be there? How did you react so fast? You’re a class 3 with terrible practicals. How did you take down two class 2 students with rifles?”

“One question at a time, please,” Syl requested. Fortunately, for these questions, he’d at least partially prepared answers. “I can’t answer everything at once.First: though my practical scores were low, I have strong detection skills and a degree of paranoia. Perception-type wide-range A-class spell, Safety Net. With range extenders, it is capable of finding weapons in areas approximately the size and shape of a practical magic stadium.”

“Safety Net is not taught until third year,” the woman remarked. “For someone with poor practicals, you’re quite advanced.”

“And it’s an expensive spell,” the man added. “You can’t tell me that you’re in class 3 and somehow powering a continuously refreshing mana-hungry spell.”

“Yes I can.” Syl smiled. “My flux pool is a bit larger than average, but I am lacking in other places, like casting speed, which you also asked about. My FCDs can pre-load one spell apiece, and they also have the capacity to overcharge them. I choose the C-class Flash Step, which integrates with martial arts nicely. That enabled me to move as quickly as I did.”

“And the last question?” the man asked impatiently, clearly unsatisfied by the answers he’d gotten. “How did you do it?”

Syl’s smile grew wider and colder. “By applying the principles of the very class we’re in, sir. Practical magic.”

There was something in his expression that gave both of the Reserve officers pause. Syl paused himself, adjusting his face back to as pleasant a facade as he could.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Sylvester,” the female officer said, clearly a little more wary of him now. “One last thing. At the moment you and Miss Ashwood successfully subdued the shooters, the cameras appear to have experienced a slight glitch. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Heavy FCD interference can jam digital cameras,” Syl said. “It may have been that.”

“Thank you once again. That will be all.”

Syl expressed his thanks and left, noting the male officer’s visor locking onto him as he walked.

They didn’t specifically ask about Violet Eyes. The camera play had worked, but he was going to have to be careful. He wouldn’t always be able to get away with casting spells he had no business knowing.

Bianca was already out of hers. That one must have been easy. She was the star student of their year. They had probably expected something like this out of her.

…hm. There was an idea there that Syl didn’t terribly like but found entirely too plausible.

“Are we good to talk?” Bianca asked.

Syl didn’t detect anything picking up sound at the moment apart from the arena cameras, but those weren’t precise enough to catch and isolate individual conversations.

“Yes,” he said. “Class should resume soon, but I would tread with caution.”

“You think so?” Bianca asked. “You are likely correct, as always.”

“This was too sloppy of an assassination attempt to actually work,” he said. “I think someone might know about us, or at least have an inkling that there are hidden figures in this year’s class.”

“You’re not wrong,” she agreed. “You found a drone operator during the entrance ceremony, too.”

“Not something we can track down immediately, but I have my suspicions,” he said. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Bianca said. “More than me, even. They expect me to be strong. It’s unjust that you not be evaluated for what you actually are, but it also means that expectations are lower.”

“I will be cautious,” Syl replied. “Class is about to begin again. Let’s go.”

The student body was significantly warier of each other after what had just transpired, but they returned to their seats anyway. Professor Adams cleared his throat, commended Bianca and Syl—mostly Bianca—for their role in stopping the two shooters. He made eye contact with Syl during his monologue, at which point Syl suddenly grew very interested in a slightly discolored panel in one of the stadium walls.

“That unfortunate incident took up more time than I would have liked,” the professor said, “but there should still be enough time for one to two practice duels between the listed pairs. The rules are simple. As stated before, you have three spells that you may use. The first to be marked by the other loses. Credit for today’s class will be assigned by number of successful duels.”

“Heartless, isn’t he?” Lyon asked, sauntering over to Syl’s side. “I get shot at, and I still have to go to class?”

“I’m glad you’re alright, Lyon,” Syl said without looking up at him. “Don’t you have an assigned partner?”

“Yep, but he’s taking his sweet time. I wanted to thank you personally. I might’ve been fine, but then again, you never know. It’s a good day to not be shot in the skull.”

“As most days are,” Syl replied drily. “It’s not a problem. Keep an eye out for yourself.”

“Will do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Syl had to wait a while for his name to be called, though not as long as he’d expected. Since his practical scores were at the bottom of the barrel, he’d thought that he would be called dead last. Instead, he was paired with a class 2 girl with blue-tipped black hair and a factory-issue FCD in a tablet configuration strapped to her arm.

When he asked Adams, the professor just stared at him. “Do you think I can watch something like that and unleash you on some poor unsuspecting class 3?”

That was fair, though it also told Syl he should be a bit more circumspect about his power.

“Liabell, but I go by Lia,” she said, extending her off hand.

“Syl,” he replied, shaking the offered hand and looking her over briefly.

Above average height for a baseline woman, but just about average for a gene-edited one. Flux flow was normal, and being class 2 despite bearing no family’s emblem meant she was certainly naturally talented, but she didn’t seem comfortable at all with the FCD she was using. Combined with the definition in her arms and her micromovements, he could take a guess as to her typical role.

“Heavy melee fighter?” he asked. “Kenjutsu, aegis, fulminata, that kind of deal?”

Lia startled at that. “You can tell?”

“You carry yourself like one. Every step you take feels measured to modulate the distance between us, and you have the build of someone who’s trained martially. You’re clearly not as familiar with that FCD, which leads me to believe your usual casting device isn’t this one.”

“Oh, wow,” she said. “You really know your stuff, huh? Yeah, I usually use a sword, but it’s way to big to take to a friendly duel. I know my way around a standard FCD, though. Looks like you do too.”

She fingered the class emblem on her uniform unconsciously, as if reminding herself where she was.

“You know, you’re really intelligent,” Lia blurted, unprompted. “Why are you in class 3?”

Syl shrugged. “You’re about to find out, I’d guess. Is here good?”

Lia looked around, confirming that they’d found a relatively empty area. “Sure.”

With just three basic spells, one of which was an offensive spell that inflicted little more damage than a light shock and obvious coloration, there were a startling amount of ways to win duels. On the other hand, Syl didn’t want to break any of Lia’s bones with his fists, nor did he want to accidentally kill her by overcharging Flux Stream, and she was at a handicap in terms of FCD anyway.

Besides, he had just told himself he was going to be more discreet.

Instead of rolling over her in the fight, Syl took the time to practice his multi-process spells. That was one of the aspects he lacked thanks to his non-functional vocal cords and massive flux pool. Whereas other magicians might be able to get up to dozens of simultaneous processes, he could rarely manage more than five.

Syl attempted to use all five at the same time, dedicating himself primarily to shields. These weren’t single-process spells, though, which meant he was constantly modulating spells on and off just in order to keep them on. Instead of constantly keeping a shield spell up like Lia was, he had to flicker them on and off only when she attacked him. Syl challenged himself by trying to make his shields as small as possible while still protecting him, practicing his accuracy.

Lia was a decent opponent. Sure enough, she was more than capable of handling a regular FCD, but she was clearly disoriented with it. Eventually, she got the hang of it, and they ended up hitting each other once each—Syl’s tiny shields weren’t quite able to precisely block a Flux Stream that she bent midair, while her focus on offense left her open to a one-process Flux Stream that barely touched her.

“Good duel,” she said afterward. “Just goes to show that the classes really aren’t everything you think, huh?”

“Maybe, but you were holding back,” Syl said. “I’d like to see what your techniques actually look like.”

“Only if you show me yours,” she said. “You’re not the only one who can tell experts from novices. Come to my dojo sometime. You seem interesting.”

“I’d be honored,” Syl said. “Class is about to end. Would you like to share contact information?”

He wasn’t sure how genuine her offer was. If she accepted and messaged or called him, he’d accept it. If it was just for face, he would have to tell her that her efforts were better directed towards a prismatic family.

“Sounds good to me,” Lia said, holding her FCD out. She grinned lopsidedly. “See you around, genius boy.”

Syl nodded. “And you as well.”

Day 1 and at least three people have appointments with me, he thought. Bianca might get jealous.

Speaking of which, Uriel had wanted to get coffee with him. It would be rude of him to turn her down now.