"Are you alright, clo?" Asked a man's voice. The man was large, decking in a black and military-style overcoat, loosely left unbuttoned and branded with red and gold brassard labelled '1st'. He had a scar spliting his lips, heavy lidded eyed partly concealed by leaking ginger hair as he took in the duo before him, pushing back the rectangualr glassses sliding down his long face as he did, hiding the darkness under his eyes, the bags of sleepless nights and his staining hangover.

He really should've left the bottle alone, but the pink ribbon sealing it had tempted him and before asserting his refusal to give in, he had found that he had already gulped away more than half of the spirit.

Maybe I do have a drinking problem? The man let out a little chuckle, humouring himself. Nah.

Hejln Tworn had just managed to throw back up his vacuum, completely sealing the destruction caused from their physical reality, maintaining the safety of the office civilians as he quickly latched onto the two long-passed-out teens, leaping out of the shattered window and into the sky at rocket speed. Come to think of it, nobody had ever managed to tear down my vacuum. If he was honest, the boy hadn't just torn down his vacuum, he had completely eviscerated it, forcing the man to reactive it from scratch.

Not just any vacuum, an admin vacuum.

There were three levels you could project your barrier to, a vacuum which disconnects you from the real world to ensure the safety of those unable to use grace, projecting them to contain the beasts that seem to pop out at the scent of power.

The first level is junior. Most will remain at that level, it's an almost innate given. It's a muscle that has to be stretched and some people just don't have the will to progress further that, at least those who aren't taken in by the academy and choose to ignore their given abilities, but it's a rarity to come across someone like that without them having already being preyed on and killed by unaccounted for Itols. It's the very reason the Graceful Luokmair Academy hooks its claws into people with the smallest of grace, whether they have potential or not. Most progress into promising students but the few, few are what you'd call the casualties, students unable to hold and become a figure of accidents, disasters.

Then there are seniors, most will progress to that level close to their graduation. It's a level Hejln had been pushing his three students to and out of the three, it's a vacuum only one has managed to master. Anselm Kek. There's no use in surprise when it comes to that boy's talents. He truly is gifted.

Then there's admin. You have a better chance at being cut into a quadrillion pieces and being mended back into a whole by a street peasant than reaching admin. And out of the 8 billion alive, there were only 10 who had ever grazed the actuality of an admin vacuum, a vacuum that can only successfully be kept for a prolonged time by 1: Hejln Tworn. Admin took a significant toll on people's bodies, rendering them cripples depending on exposure. Some people could only go for a couple of seconds, others mere minutes, but him? Hejln could activate his admin vacuum, take a well-deserved night's rest and wake up with it unwavering, having zero negative impacts on his body.

He can remember how the teachers gushed over him after he had returned from his encounter with his first platinum itol, soaked head to toe in blood and guts and they hadn't even given him the courtesy of washing it all away before they dragged him away to give the associates a display of his power.

They had sat in silence for an hour, his eyes glued on the associate's president as everyone seemed to only gawk at the sight, expressions unmoving as land seemed to disappear and the roaring oceans cried below them. He had created a sphere of the ocean in his vacuum, leaving them floating above the pacific and sitting in the sky. Unheard of, was a phrase thrown a lot during that meeting, their eyes stuck on the changing scenery as he shifted everything to the world above them, darkness and distant stars fluttering in the distance as deep space projected about them. Fear had struck them, an acknowledgement that one mistake and they were all dead. Fear that remained even after the vacuum was long deactivated and they found themselves back in their office.

He had only given it 2% of his effort. In their next encounter, he had projected the admin vacuum in a vast desert, replicating the arid heat with his grace as he remained planted in the sand, unmoving as his elders were instructed to tear down his barrier with all their endeavours, this time at a max of 10%.

The strongest and most capable people in the entire region were positioned in one place, people his friends and classmates had fawned over and spoken greatly about. Yet not a single person had managed to even scrape Hejln's creation.

While it was unspoken that day, a shift had occurred in their graced world, a suffocating triangle that had placed Hejln above the most powerful individuals he knew to exist.

He was 1 in 8 billion, possibly more if you account for the dead. An undoubtedly instructable barrier now left as nothing.

An admin vacuum, his very own admin vacuum at 35%, finally had been broken down by someone, a kid. Hejln only hummed to himself, observing the boy as he took it in. The associates are going to lose their shit.

The wind howled against his ears as he moved, holding the two teens under his armpits like sacks of potatoes. Sky stride is what he dubbed his move, a name he had manufactured during his school days. The air and wind would form sturdy stepping stones for his feet, keeping him propelled in the sky. It was an invisible floor, stairs. It was his flight as he made his way to the roof of a neighbouring building, clear from the ruins and devastation.

Well, if you could even call such a technique flying. To everyone but himself, it would look as if he were flying, but since Hejln could feel the air solidify below him, it just felt like he was just standing, sometimes loitering, but never flying.

His student, Clo Morlein, sat against the rails of the one skyscraper he had stopped them on as he inspected the building they were just in cave into itself, now nothing but rubble. She was conscious now, he could hear it in the shifted flex of her lungs.

Wakey wakey, Cloren Morlein.

"I'm sorry, sir," came the faint response. He turned to the girl on the floor, sat up and wincing in pain as he observed the glow in her torso start to dim. Her grace...It seemed her grace was working on autopilot, albeit in such a way he had never seen it function. It was healing her, recuperating itself almost defensively.

His attention found the brunette on the floor, still knocked out cold, depleted as a result of his over-exertion of grace. The moment he had touched him, Hejln Tworn had noticed the way the boy's grace imbedded itself into him, like a live virus. It had nestled itself inside the man the second he had tried to absorb the boy's energy in an attempt to smother out the destruction. An invader, but for whatever reason it remained in the bodies of others, long after its wielder had lost consciousness, that was the question which truly interested Tworn. That was the only reason Clo's body was healing itself at that moment, the residue of the boy's grace within her was maintaining its host, living off her. He had indirectly kept her from croaking.

And it seemed the boy's grace desired a very alive host.

How intriguing. Ornii is going to be over the moon when she sees this kid.

"Why are you apologising, Morlein?"

"I failed to maintain the security of the vaccum and put the lives of civilians in danger."

Hejln turned, analysing her. "That was outside of your ability, it would not be just to blame you for something as unimaginable as that." His gaze found the boy on the floor, slightly jerking as he crinkled his brows in his sleep. Was he having a nightmare? "Besides, I took some time to analyse the scene and any injury caused to the civilians was not as life-threatening as they first appeared, I may be able to reverse their bodies to get rid of the burns and erase them to make them forget." He walked to the railing Clo leaned on, folding his arms and he looked over them and at the city enclosing them. What a cordial breeze, it needs more appreciation. "Additionally, all the damage was caused by him," he spoke, jabbing his finger behind him and in the direction of the brown-haired boy. "Not you. He will likely face the consequences of what had occurred today."

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"Thank you, sir," came Clo again, head bowed in embarrassment. He turned to her once again, taking in the way she failed to meet his eyes, fist clenched on the material of her pants and she shook. "For saving me...again." Oh, silly Clo.

She had gotten a laugh out of the man with her apology, eyes beating to her red-haired teacher who only seemed amused at her words. Green hit with her brown. Why was he laughing?

"What are you waffling about, idiot?" Her brows trembled with confusion, worry. "'Sorry for saving me' my ass. Are you kidding? What was I supposed to do? Let my student die?"

"No, but, sir, if I hadn't been so emotional—"

The patter of feet on the railing behind caught Clo's attention from her teacher, her eyes shooting to the black-haired boy standing lanky on the railing, not even bothered by the drop behind him as he balanced himself. Anselm Kek's red robes fluttered behind him as the wind slightly picked up, spiky hair unmoved against the jel which held it in place. Hallow blue always seemed to dig into you, white swirls etched into pale blue, pupils hidden from sight.

His eyes dropped to his classmate. "Are you alright, Morlein?" he asked, his tone unshifting like it always had been but the girl didn't answer his question, too absorbed at the sight of him. God, why? Why did he have to come now of all times and see her in such a state? Clo tried calming herself, trying to scrub off the red heating her face, trying to neutralise her expression. God, why are you punishing me?

"I told you to call me Clo, Anselm," was her sharp reply, tender.

A second platter of feet caught her attention, although Clo didn't bother lifting them away from the boy who also watched her as a panicked yelp travelled in the air. A thump finally pulled her focus to the view of Mias Rowln and she couldn't help but snort at the girl on the floor. Her dark curls obscured her face as she groaned from the floor, dark maroon skin glistening as it usually did against her white robes, their school's emblem scratching as she shifted on the stone.

"I can hear you, you know, Clo?"

"Sorry, Mias."

"1st Chare Tworn," came Anselm's voice once again, hand to his chest as he spoke. "Rowln and I have successfully destroyed the silver rank, it's safe to lift the vacuum."

"Not yet, Kek," their teacher replied, turning so that his back was rested on the railing. "There was another silver rank in my vacuum."

"What?!" Whined Mias tiredly, huffing as she looked up at her teacher from her position on the roof floor. "But I'm too tired to fight!"

"Rowln," came the harsh voice, Anselm glaring at her disapprovingly. That seemed to shut her up, making Tworn's brows rise. This was an unstable team structure. And he seems to be the centre of it, Anselm Kek; one is completely enamoured with him whilst the other is completely terrified. He had put Clo Morlein in his group because whilst she was strong, Tworn had known her for her rebellion, an assertive personality that was supposed to allow for a healthy contrast against a mission-oriented and strict personality like Kek's. But it seemed to have backfired on the man. He hadn't anticipated this.

Anselm Kek made Clo focus on the wrong thing and made her more agreeable than Tworn would have liked. All the while her fluster had given Anselm more reign in their group, asserting his authority over not just a people-pleaser like Mias, but now also Clo.

Mias and Clo had known each other since they were children, making him think that making her an addition to his group would allow for a nutritive retreat from the steady bickering he had anticipated from Morlein and Kek, but since Clo wasn't meeting the standards of her role, Rowln had failed to assert herself in the group.

He needed to fix this.

What a pain.

The man let out a huff, sneaking a golden flask out of his coat pocket. He popped off the lid, chugging the content, all the whilst his attention remained on the passed-out boy some feet from them. I wonder...

And it seemed Tworn wasn't the only one whose focus was snared by the mysterious stranger laying flat on the roof floor.

"Uh," piped up Mias with a scrunch of her thin eyebrows, taking in the sleeping boy. "Who's that?"

Clo's attention snapped back to her at that, her eyes wrinkling in anger. "A smug, ugly piece of shit who tried to murder me!"

"Morlein," spoke Hejln in a half-attempted scold, taking another swing of his flask.

Anselm only eyed the man, displeasure on his face as he observed the of alcohol his teacher consumed. He had witnessed the man take a total of 40 swings during his time with them today, how he hadn't run out? That was beyond him. Don't tell me he's been using his grace to create more...Anselm couldn't help but grimace. A constantly inebriated teacher, the school must have been out of its mind letting this man of all people become responsible for students.

Mias eyes widened, shuffling away from the body she had crawled closer to out of curiosity. "What?!"

"I doubt it was intentional," came their teacher's voice, taking another swing of his flask, making Anselm and Mias look to him. "The kid doesn't know how to control his grace." Tworn's eyes ran to Clo, attending to the sneer fixed on her face as she took in the boy, staring as if he had tortured and killed her parents in front of her.

Hah. My day just seems to be getting better.

Mias pouted, shuffling back to the boy until her knee was close to scraping the material of his shirt, looming over him as she took in the boy's resting face. "Oh," she spoke, voice light and slightly restricted.

"What is it?"

"He's cute," replied the curly-haired girl, smiling as she analysed him. Brown flooded his pale face, pin straight and messy. It was a dishevelled look, but it worked and she couldn't help but admire it. Her eyes jumped to his closed lids, eyes shifting and zooming from under them. She wondered what colour would greet her once he opened them.

Clo was turning crimson, not like she had been with Anselm. This was a hue of irritation. She was fuming, vexed with his presence. "Yeah? Wait till you hear the ugly shit that comes out of his mouth," she fumed at her friend, scowling. Was she seriously fawning at that thing? That asshole? "Let's see how cute you find that bastard then."

"Why isn't he restrained?" Asked Anselm, his expression blank as he observed Mias poke the boy on the cheek.

Tworn broke out a short chuckle. "Oh, trust me," the man said, smiling. "The kid ain't waking up for a while."

"How do you know?" Sulked Mias, still lightly jabbing at his face. Then she halted, eyes trailing the shine that slid down his face. Woah.

"Because he over-exerted himself killing the Sliver Itol all by himself."

"What?" He had expected the quick exclamation from Mias, not their cynical Anselm who was now replicating the scowl of Clo.

"Yep," replied Tworn, popping the word. "That and the fact that I took 95% of his grace." His previous words seemed to really be getting under Anselm’s skin, the boy's face for the first time was encasing an expression outside of indifference. Looky, looky here. He watched on with a dumbfounded, yet bitter look, thoughts running.

Someone's feeling threatened.

"Sir?" Called Mias delicately, back turned towards the three of them as she crouched over the boy.

Tworn pushed back his glasses, staring towards the direction of his student. "What is it?"

"He's crying."

✽ ✽ ✽

"I've been trying to reach you, Hejln," spoke a woman, tone smooth as two people strolled the halls of the Graceful Luokmair Academy building, empty and marble echoing against their feet. The man was much taller than her, now wearing a black trench coat dragging behind his feet as he strode, unbuttoned and exposing his white button-up, hands stuffed in his pockets and only leaving once in a while to drag back the glasses on his face which shrugged forward as a result of the way he held his head low.

"I was in the infirmary overlooking the kid," replied Tworn, taking a glance to his right. The woman wore a similar black coat to him but in white, adorned with a silver lace that sat across her midsection like a belt. She wore a dress, with white outlined in silver ribbons. She turned his stare, doe brown shooting right through his own greens with adoration.

"I understand," she replied, folding her arms as the steps of her heels clattered in the air in reverberation, face bright. "But you mustn't keep the Diadem waiting like that, Heji bear. Our Ornii is an unstoppable doctor, he's in safe hands."

Tworn only grumbled back, ignoring the endearing nickname as he spoke, "I don't doubt that. I just wanted to determine something important before I spoke to the Diadem," he told her, the two of them coming to a stop before a large set of oak doors.

"Which is?"

"You'll be in the meeting," spoke Tworn, not giving the shorter woman a hint of anything. She rolled her eyes at the man, still not losing the fondness in her gaze. He's always up to something. "Won't you?"

She nodded her head eagerly. "Awe, worried you'd miss me too much, Heji bear?" She teased, nudging her arm into his side.

"Miss you, Emi?" Is all he said in reply, repeating back her words as he gave her an unmoved stare as he pushed the doors open and walked in, his voice trailing after him and finding her as he failed to contain the smile in his voice. Miss me too much. "Good. Then you'll see for yourself."