7 aligned seats, all the differentiating hues of the earth as they revolved circularly in the room, bending yet still unmoving as they curved to take in all angles of their subject, who at this gruelling moment, happened to be their year II teacher, Hejln Tworn, who stood in the centre of the room, hand held to his chest similar to how his student, Anselm Kek, had done so towards him previously.

"I feel as if you grow a little more the more I lay my eyes on you, Hejln," came the amused statement. Tworn kept his salute, surveying the row of chairs until his eyes found the silver mask he knew the voice belonged to. Aki Myte, one of the elders of the associate, the vice head of the academy, and a man who was once his teacher.

"I could say the same for you, old man, but i can't say I like thinking much on the idea since it just means you're closer to your death bed," spoke Tworn, slight smirk on his face. "Since you're so old and all, y'know?"

Myte's mask hid any tell of his expression, the polished sliver flickering from the natural sunlight above them that peeked through, reflecting. "Still got your bite, I see," the older man replied, a flavour of annoyance and pride in his vocals.

A shuffle beat from behind him as Tworn felt them, the honored spectators of his meeting. His grace slivered about the space behind him, just grazing the feet of the standing Luokmair fellows, soldiers and teachers alike. The first he recognised was Emi Larosa, the usual flutter of her soft grace yielding and opening the second she felt his near. Soft and delicate like the petals of a flower, a dishonest camouflage he couldn't help but admire. How pretty. However, the scarred man who stood beside her looked the least bit amused at the scanning of Tworn's grace, quick but still prominent as it skimmed, faintly touching, but sharp like the talons of an eagle.

The only reason it didn't hurt them was because Hejln Tworn was depriving himself. To be honest, every second he found himself restraining, keeping his grace at bay and only letting a drop trickle. Like a wild dog which he kept constantly on a leash. And they wonder why I drink. His life was so exhausting.

Oh?

Tworn suppressed a laugh as he took in the man beside Emi, his grace nicking at Tworn's own, red and irritated as it domed around him. Back off, the irked message was clear. Dark Rayan, as annoyed and bothered with life as Hejln had always known him to be. The presence of the Associate members and Luokmair's higher figures did not seem to change his adverse outlook.

"Those other kids of yours dead yet, Tworn?" This question was from someone else, his silken purple robes unyielding against the light. Nata Levio, unfortunately for Tworn, was as smug and annoying as ever."That would certainly be unfortunate." A muscle in Tworn's jaw twitched in pair with the words, falling flat as fast as it rose, setting itself back into his usual tired and unbothered expression.

Dead yet.

Those other kids of yours.

It was unusual for teachers to have individual students greater or smaller than the number 4. At the moment, Tworn found himself to be lecturing and teaching only three. 3/4, incomplete. Clo Morlein, Anselm Kek, and Mias Rowln, an odd number of 3. Some would say an odd number of misfortune. A number of grim fortune. Tworn never liked the number 3, it felt innately wrong, tragic.

Yet, even skirting from the dismal 3, he had managed to find himself at the door of misfortune with four annoying, snobby, power-hungry little brats he called his students. Four strong kids who would poke at him with every swing of his flask, laughed away the oxygen from his classroom and acted so blissful with every turn of their missions.

4 idiots who were his. His kids.

My children.

Four, not three. Clo Morlein, Anselm Kek, Mias Rowln and Nico Harz.

Dead.

How unfortunate, indeed.

"I do believe that to be a highly inappropriate question to ask, 1st Sergeant Levio." Tworn refused to turn his head at this particular voice, rather it seemed to annoy him worse than any of the previous ones he was forced to hear. "Those students are as much as our students as they are his," finished the woman, sending a sweet smile his way. No, they weren't. He didn't acknowledge her further and acted as if only silence chewed deep in the room that short moment she spoke.

"It was only a jest, Ri," grumbled Levio, throwing a sore snarl towards the ginger woman sitting 2 chairs from his own. "I'm sure your brother has a strong enough backbone to comprehend a friend's humour. I joke likewise with all my friends."

"You have friends?" Piped Tworn, looking entirely bored at the discourse. "My, Nata, you continue to surprise me with your quality of geniality." He was smiling, he couldn't help it seeing the scowl of a sat Levio. "I heard people were spreading rumours about nobody being able to stand you, a lot of god-awful whispers actually. 'Snob, unlikeable, a thorn, yadda yadda, why won't he drop dead, weak, yadda yadda.' The basics, right? It makes me happy to see you've finally conquered those terrible rumours."

"Bastard." Another dark glare his way. "I'll have you know—"

"That's quite enough, children," chimed another voice, now from the centre of the chairs, slightly pedestaled compared to the rest as the man, no much older than Hejln himself, took him in. Smiling, peeling amber almost as vibrant as a sort of burning as he kept only amusement on his young face.

Hejln Tworn liked Rairt Chomtumi, the man always seemed to beam with that smile of his no matter the circumstances, bright whites steering away the worries of all else around, white hair as colourless as the clouds of heaven. Even when they were still in the academy and Hejln was just a boy, he would smile. Whether he was beaten to exhaustion with training, came back from a mission, bleeding or even knocked out, his lips would always be pulled into that joyous grin. He guessed it was consoling to those around him, even in the worst of circumstances, a force contrasting the dire of any situation was a breath of fresh air.

"I've received a report, of casualties at the east," Spoke Chomtumi, slightly solemn in his tone but still smiling. "17 members were killed, left unrecognisable on discovery." The air in the room stood dense. Not even Levio could muster his usual look of detestation as his face fell into one of loss. "Ungraceful beings have taken another number of our children, our friends. It's a disheartening revelation no matter how many times I may hear it."

"Was it him?" Asked a woman's low voice, a 3rd chare sat on the fourth chair.

"It seems our dear, old friend has well acquainted himself with a particularly nasty group of individuals, fitting for the likes of himself, if I may say." Chomtumi's sun-like smile grew more, strained as his eyes creased and vanished. "But fret not, we will adjust. What matters now is the safety of our people. You will have to be more careful on your missions with your students, it seems they've grown an appetite for ambushing." His eyes cracked open again, the acid sun of his eyes peering into the bunch that stood before him. There were 6 in total including Heljn Tworn. The numbers seem to be dropping with every meeting. "Chares through 1 to 9 will be allocated missions to quell Logo's new company. You will be given information and later will set out to wipe out each and every one of them," he finished with a hollow chuckle, titling his head a little to take in the people before him, once his younger students by 4 years.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Ah, how the times fly by.

Emi was scowling from behind Tworn, seeming conflicted between fear and hatred. "What about Logos?"

The white-haired man smiled her way, seeming amused by her determination. She wanted to kill Logos, much like everyone else in the room. She had spoken up for everyone else. "If you set eyes on him, you're free to act as you would any of his friends. Although I do wish to causation you; you would be renouncing your life as soon as you engage him. I'm sure your students will be more than broken if they were to lose you, Larosa. It would be a great loss for the academy as well, so all I recommend is you withdraw at or preferably, before contact."

"I will not withdraw," declared Rayan, scarred muscles bulging as he folded his arms and stared down his superior with almost offence at words that had left the grinning man's lips. "I will kill that bastard where he stands." Retreat, flee, like a coward?! That was not what a soldier did, it was not what he did. He had a purpose, a goal in life. He was going to kill Logos and fleeing would not achieve that.

"I'll say again; I only recommend. You're free to fight him, Rayan. I will not hold you on a chain. But be considerate of the potential outcomes, that is all I say.”

Rayan did not reply this time, only turning an upset glare to the floor, to his beat-up combat shoes.

“So, Tworn,” continued Chomtumi, turning Hejln’s attention back on him. He was still smiling. “I heard your previous mission did not turn out as spot-perfect as usual. Care to fill us in on what happened?”

“One of my students found a kid, about her age, just wondering lost inside my vacuum.” Interested eyes seemed absorbed, egging on for more as he carried on. “He’s a grace user, a big novice at that. He couldn't control his grace fighting a silver Itol in the city providence we were sent. Nearly killed my girl, tore down my vacuum and killed the thing.”

He didn't know how it was possible, but it seemed Chomtumi's eyebrows bore smiles of their own as they pinched up in wonder. “Tore down your vacuum?”

Tworn shrugged, ignoring the little murmurs which sprinted around the room. “I’m as surprised as you; little shit gave me a run for my money for a second.”

And then the questions came flooding from all directions.

“Where’s he now?”

“The primary infirmary.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No idea.”

“Is he a student?”

“Doesn't look like one. No uniform, no status. Nada.”

“What about his family?”

“No idea.”

“Name?”

“Can't say I could tell you because I don't know.”

“What percentage was your vacuum at?” The golden question—It caught the eyes of all as they wavered in blaring silence in wait for his answer.

“0.5,” lied Tworn, untruth smooth running from his lips and not missing a beat.

He saw some shoulders slump at the small number. Regardless of how low he claimed, some still seemed enlivened at the idea of someone tearing down Tworn’s vacuum, he could see the glint in their eyes, a boy. Hejln Tworn was not as unreachable as he always was thought to be.

If there is one now, even at just 0.5, there will surely be others with time.

“You said he nearly killed the girl? What happened?”

“She has a birth defect which essentially prevents her from releasing her grace naturally, so it accumulates at her core. She needs to open her core, physically, to be able to use her grace. But sometimes her wounds leave her vulnerable and so, she’s not able to properly latch onto her grace.” Tworn stuffed his pockets back into his coat. “The boy’s grace is gluttonous and similar to her, he’s not able to control it. Both their graces are like toddlers—Cloren’s is a toddler who lets go of mommy’s hand because it wants to frolic in a field of flowers, an oblivious hassle. His is troublesome, a toddler who runs away from daddy because he wants to wreak havoc, be a little shit, and more specifically, steal. Kinda like mine. But the difference is I can control my grace, and that kid doesn't. And when you put two toddlers in the same room with one another, one who just wants to play and another who wants to ruin the fun, you get one who is harmed and another who causes the harm, to himself as well at times,” he finished, scratching at his head with a little closed-eyed smirk. “You get the gist.”

“Thank you for the amazing analogy, Hejln, but even if the boy didn't know what to do or what he was doing, that doesn't change the fact that not only did he nearly kill one of our academy students, but a report given to me says he also hurt a few office civilians.” Pecu Yung’s deep gaze was penetrating as he spoke, displeasure clearly written on his face.

Report, huh? Tworn only smiled, thinking of the passer of the said report. Oh, Anselm. Always so dutiful.

“You’re right. It doesn't change the fact,” Tworn admitted. “I reversed the bodies of any harmed civilians, restoring them to full health.”

“A true devil’s contract,” spoke another masked man. “I heard that when you reverse them with your grace, they’ll die when you do. Is it true?”

“I’m not dying any time soon,” is the only reply Tworn gave him through clenched teeth, pivoting from that topic. “I’d like to add that Cloren’s only alive because of that boy.”

His sister’s question was puncturing. “Care to elaborate?”

He answered anyway, not looking to her as he continued on. “I examined her condition after rescuing her, his grace didn't leave her body and it was repairing the damage done to her.” That seemed to catch their attention, engrossed eyes boring with an excited inflexion. “His grace has a regenerative aspect,” he said, boring a smile which competed with Chomtumi's own.

“Kinda like you,” Emi’s whisper was so small, Tworn would've missed it if it weren't for his grace which enclosed the space, snatching up the smallest exhales of air. You’re always right.

“Kinda like me,” he repeated, smiling as he spoke aloud for her, to her. A little too much like me.

Silence revolved around the room.

“This isn't good,” spoke Levio, looking a little paled as he digested the sight of the man stood before them. This was horrible—it was terrible, the notion of another Hejln Tworn. He turned his stare to Chomtumi, speaking gravely, “He’s a danger. We don't know where he came from, all we could know is that was sent to us by Logos himself. We mustn’t allow him to stay any longer. We need to contain him and disable his grace.”

“Disable his grace?!” Emi raised her voice, looking sickened at the suggestion. “Strip the last bit of his life force, his purpose, his existence, all because you’re scared?!”

His glare punched into her. “You’re speaking out of terms, Larosa.”

“I’m not going to stand here and let you suggest insanity!” Her scowl was verbal. “And to think you couldn't get any more pathetic. You want to hurt a child?”

“A child?” He pushed forward in his chair, hands gripping the arms of his seat. “Will he still be a child when he brings Logos here and everyone is massacred? What about your students, Larosa? Aren’t they just children? Would you be able to forgive yourself if they died because you took pity on some strange boy who would be the bringer of their demise?!“

“Nat—”

“Will he just be a child then?! When he has their blood on his hands!”

“That’s quite enough!” Rang Chomtumi’s discontented shout, shooting Levio a disappointed stare, and a bittersweet smile “While your concerns are admirable, Nata, our humanity is what sets us apart from Logos. Emi is right, he is just a child. We shouldn't jump to such extremities until we figure out who he is and where he is from. “

“Yes, sir,” replied the man through tight lips.

Chomtumi turned back to Tworn with another bright smile. “What do you think should be done with him?”

“I have an uneven number of students. I have space for another. I want to take him up as my fourth student, teach him to control his grace and become stronger.”

“That’s preposterous—”

Chomtumi’s scold was hissed. “Levio.”

Tworn turned to face Levio, an indecipherable expression on his face. “Locking him up and making him a blank canvas will do nothing but traumatise him. That’s a temporary solution. What if he got out? What if Logos hears about the boy who was able to destroy a creation no other could and took interest? You think he wouldn’t do anything? No. He would find him, save him and that boy would be grateful and he would latch onto every word that bastard says. He would hate us, kill those dear to us. What benefit does turning away someone as strong as him give us?”

Silence.

Tworn backed to the star-coloured gaze that was latched onto him, analysing. “What do I think should be done with him? I think you should give him to me and I’ll teach the kid how to kill the man everyone is too afraid to even think of, the one who keeps burning and ruining our world.”

There it was again, that smile. Chomtumi could only ever smile, pulled cheeks speaking so many unspoken sentiments.

“Then, that is what we shall do.”