Firdah, Minbasha 9, 350 AOR
Every morning starts the same for Annabelle Sylvest.
She wakes up, washes her face, changes into her uniform, packs her bag with anything and everything she’ll need for the day, and then grabs her bracelet from the bedside table before sighing at her reflection and leaving for class. As she had been unfortunately paired with a divine princess, seemingly born on a completely different planet than her, Sylvest did her best to ignore the green eye elf. Most mornings, she simply glances at her when the princess greets her or asks if she’d like to go to class together.
She pays Violet no mind, just like the whispers and stares that follow her every time she walks through the glorious halls of Aldera, its pristine floors vastly different from their distorted lies. The lofty ceilings and open windows made her not feel as confined by those around her, though every now and then, a shoulder would bump into her rather roughly, followed by mocking laughter. Regardless, she makes it to class. There, the prince greets her with a handsome smile befitting his stature and charm, and then Gray gives her a fleeting glance before he’s whisked away by Crim and his endless conversations. He never even listened.
A brat—that’s what he was. Always in his own world, neglecting everything around him… Unfortunately, Annabelle knew that she was exactly the same. It was a correlation she despised.
With the second week of class starting, Annabelle had gotten somewhat used to her new environment. It wasn’t easy, but… compared to what she was used to in the last decade… she couldn’t complain. So as Airetore talked to the class, entertaining some of the female population’s obvious attempts at flirting with him, Annabelle rested the side of her head against her fist with an empty gaze, one that swiveled the room until she was looking at Gray out of the corner of her eyes.
He sat reclined as his eyes, like that of a rolling prairie on a cloudy day, were occupied with the book before him. A few strands of hair fell over his face, barely obscuring his vision, while the rest was tied up in a ponytail. His rugged appeal could not be ignored by Annabelle. She resented him since the moment he slammed into her on the first day of classes, but that didn’t mean that she could overlook his tan complexion, chiseled features, and firm build. Where the men in Elda—like Crim—possessed more princely charms like that out of a fairy tale, Gray was the complete opposite, going so far as to smell like pine and morning-dew grass.
A farmer boy, through and through.
“What?” Gray asked after noticing Annabelle’s gaze.
She let out a huff. “Nothing.”
“Then don’t look at me,” he muttered and turned back to his book.
Annabelle was about to retort, but she was forced to bite her tongue as Professor Airetore finally began his lecture. So she pulled out her journal and a pencil while Professor Airetore paced the stage, a piece of chalk scribbling against the center chalkboard by itself.
“Reinforcement Magic,” Professor Airetore stated, repeating the two words on the chalkboard. “It’s a Class Five magic, and at its core, it’s an art that reinforces its wielder and whatever they desire. A week ago, our very own Mr. Gray was victim to it, facing Mr. Latiss as the latter amplified his fists to be stronger.”
The jibe caused many students to chuckle, though Gray looked unimpressed.
Professor Airetore continued, nonetheless. “Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with using Reinforcement in such a manner; however, I’m here to instruct you on the multitude of uses that it has.” The professor rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearm and a silver, fog-like aura that wrapped around it. “Using it to strengthen the limbs for attacks is the basic idea; however—” he then grabbed a dagger from the podium and slashed it at his arm. The class winced at the action, some even gasping or screaming, but the blade shattered against his forearm— “It can also act as a defense. Depending on the potency, some reinforcers are said to have a defense as formidable as a Dark Dragon’s scales. That’s not all though. By reinforcing the inside of the body, something that only masters of the art are capable of, one can even reinforce organs, arteries, and any other internal vital point. Some have even found that reinforcing muscles is possible, meaning that legs can become faster for longer amounts of time.”
Like normal—considering she’d only known him for a week—Gray began scribbling in his journal, writing down notes as Airetore taught the class of sixty students the Art of Reinforcement. Annabelle listened, even if her attention was hardly on the professor, but once he finished, she scribbled a handful of words into her journal:
Cover the target area. Attack, defense, and speed increase thereafter. RM can also be applied to weapons through channeling (like a medium). Overcompensating can cause Mana Overload faster.
Shutting the journal closed, Annabelle gathered her belongings, stood up, and exhaled before mumbling. “Onto the next.”
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“Why are we outside?” Annabelle complained, pulling at the neck of her blouse while scanning Grounds One, where she and twenty-nine other students stood within the large grass field in an unorganized cluster.
“Why are you always complaining?” Gray grunted, seemingly unbothered by the heat with his arms crossed and expression as dull as ever.
“My sincere apologies, farmer boy,” Annabelle snarked. “Next time you want to say something, make sure it’s worth a damn.”
“Take your own advice, why don’t you?” Cal shot back. “I can feel my will to live shrivel with each word you speak.”
She turned to Cal. “Is that so? Well, now I have the sudden urge to speak even more. Maybe you’ll kill yourself and save us both some trouble.”
Cal matched Sylvest, turning to face her with his eyes set in a glare. “A half-decent idea. At least then I won’t have to deal with some barbaric monkey every waking second of the day.”
The two stepped closer, close enough that Cal could smell the honey-lathered toast from breakfast on her breath. However, the sweet scent did little to ease the harsh words that followed.
“You don’t know how bad I want to slam my fist into your face right now,” she said.
Cal turned the side of his face toward her, tapping his cheek while glaring. “Just be sure to knock me out—it’d be embarrassing if you didn’t.”
“Don’t test me, Gray.”
“My, Sylvest, test you? How could I when you’ve underperformed on all the tests we’ve taken this far? I don’t want to further damage your already broken head--or ego, to boot.”
Sylvest laughed between clenched teeth before pulling Cal’s tie once again. Stormy blues met deep greens. “Maybe I’ll crack your head in. That might teach you some respect too.”
“Oh, I was taught respect—especially towards women—but you…” Cal let his eyes look her up and down. When he met her gaze again, he nearly smirked in amusement. “You make it hard to tell what one is.”
Their faces nearly smashed together as Sylvest yanked him closer. “You fucking—”
The sound of rushing water above interrupted Sylvest’s to-be tangent, and as she and Cal looked upward, their eyes widened at the sight of a wave of water nearly as large as the training grounds. It descended toward them and the rest of the class, causing many to cry out, though right as Cal could feel the first signs of mist hitting his face, the wave vanished, replaced by a hurricane of snow that fluttered to the ground.
“I hope that cooled you off, lovebirds,” a baritone voice spoke just beside them.
Both Cal and Sylvest’s heads turned in the opposite direction before craning upward as a man as tall as Airetore stood before them. His frame was broad, and with ruffled, chin-length hair that was colored like the leaves of the Scarlet Sanctuary, he looked more like a wild animal with enormous muscles bulging from the black leather armor he wore. That didn’t even account for the sheer confidence and mana seeping from his body.
The man’s cobalt-blue irises stared down at Cal and Sylvest, grinning before he placed a hand on each of their shoulders and winked. “Though, if you two need a room, Aldera does not have gender-specific dorm rules.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, his head snapped downward, the cause being a woman who had smacked the back of his head… a woman who looked almost identical to him, if it weren’t for the more dignified, pristine aura surrounding her.
“That is enough, Rowan,” she said, voice soft and mother-like. “Adults they may be, you are twice their age. Be better.”
“Relax, Roseline. Love can not be quelled, after all,” Rowan persisted.
Sylvest visibly recoiled before she smacked the man’s hand off of her. “Assume one more thing about me and I’ll drop you like Farm Boy here.”
Though he backed up with his hands raised, Rowan laughed. “That’s a good fire that you possess, girl. Never let it be extinguished.”
“Indeed,” said Roseline as Rowan fell in line with the woman who possessed the same colored hair and eyes as him.
However, where Rowan’s hair was like a lion’s mane, the woman’s was regal—clean and without fault, tied into a rounded bun whilst a few wavy strands fell down the sides of her face. Her face was sharp, almost thin, and was without sign of old age. The silver and crimson armor she wore was like a dress as her vitals were defended by metal coverings, including gauntlets, a chest plate, and defense around her shoulders and thighs.
A knight and her lion, Cal thought as the striking pair stood before the now gathered class, the last of the snow falling at their feet.
“Please gather around, students,” Roseline said in an equally firm, but gentle manner.
The class obeyed, gathering around the pair, though Cal and Sylvest continued in their side-eyeing whilst Ray watched on in accepted exhaustion.
“My name is Roseline Vamidion…”
“And my name is Rowan Vamidion…”
“We are the Vamidion Twins, and from this point forward, we will be your instructors in Fusion Magic.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“You might ask, what is Fusion Magic?”
“And to that, allow us to show you.”
Without a second to waste, the pair launched upward into the air before Roseline summoned a mass of fire while Rowan conjured a snake of wind around his body. They threw the spell at one another, and when the spells combined, a dragon of flames as hot as the sister suns formed, screeching to the sky before Rowan hit the ground, raised his hands to the dragon, and essentially steered the dragon into the ground. It disappeared for a moment, and Cal could have sworn his feet grew warmer, but a second later, the dragon was drawn out of the ground; however, where it was once an intense inferno, now it was molten and made up of magma whilst lava poured out of the cracks in its body.
That was when the snow at the students’ feet began to tremble. Cal took a step back, nearly losing his footing as the water from the snow was extracted and a blast of wind slammed into his legs. A handful of other students fell, but Cal kept himself upward before instinctively righting a stumbling Sylvest by wrapping his arm around her waist. When he realized what he had done, and Sylvest looked up at him with an unreadable expression, he quickly released her and turned away.
Thankfully for Cal, the water that had been separated from the snow made for a good distraction as Roseline directed it with one hand and used the other to point at the dragon. Just like the snow, the magma dragon began to separate. Rowan pulled away the Fire Magic of the dragon whilst Roseline possessed Earth and Water Magic. That’s when Rowan also snagged the explosion of Wind Magic. Thus began an intricate dance between the siblings, one that looked reminiscent of a fight with the pair throwing punches and kicks at one another whilst their respective magic danced with them.
As the class wowed at the sight, the performance reached its climax. The sibling pair spun toward one another, an elegant step in Roseline’s movements while Rowan’s rambunctious—yet intentional—motions contrasted his sister’s like night and day—hot and cold. Then, the duo met one another.
Water met Fire and Wind met Earth, and from it, steam and sand were formed, shooting high into the sky before the combination of the fused magics was spread far and wide, encircling the training grounds in a veil of glittering gold.
Applauds welcomed the sibling duo as they returned to the mass of students. Even Cal gave them a few claps of his own, though he did notice that Ray—the magic-loving fool—was hardly impressed, his expression rather dull.
“Not impressed?” Cal asked.
Ray looked at Cal and shook his head. “It’s impressive, but I’m only here ‘cause it’s a required credit.”
“Meaning…” Cal inquired.
“That he already knows Fusion Magic, dumbass,” Sylvest answered for Ray.
“I wasn’t going to say it like that,” Ray muttered.
Sylvest rolled her eyes. “You’re too nice. It’ll benefit you not to be so.”
“Negativity clearly doesn’t help, so I’ll keep being me,” Ray said with a smile.
Cal didn’t miss the indirect jab at him and Sylvest. The glance Ray gave him proved his theory, though he ignored the prince when the Vamidion Twins gathered everyone’s attention again.
Roseline stepped forward first. “Now, we can continue to learn the basics and take what’s taught at face value, but understanding the origin of anything is most important. That said, when the Firnmasha Artifesta was created, the six classes were created. At the time, magic was convoluted. Mages and magesses were uncertain as to what was right and wrong, what magic was what. It caused chaos in the world of magic. So, correlating magic to the Divine Beings, the Magic Arts within the six classes are perceived as magic’s base…”
“But that is not to say that there are not more types of magic—as you have just seen,” Rowan picked up his sister’s speech. “Outside of the main classes, there are enchantments, potion brewing, Magic Circles, and then Fusion Magic.”
“The latter is our specialty,” Roseline said. “Fusion Magic. It is the act of combining two magics—typically the Elemental Arts—and creating a new magic. There are two types of Fusion Magic, with two manners to which it can be applied.”
Rowan stepped forward, his arm suddenly shrouded by dull green vines. “The first type of Fusion Magic is Passive Fusion.”
He whipped the vines at a nearby rock, hardly scratching the surface. Then he held out his arm, which Roseline approached, her arm layered by a glowing gauntlet of water, one that she placed on Rowan’s arm, causing the dull vines to flourish into a vibrant green hue. Roseline stepped away, and Rowan repeated the process of striking the rock with the vine.
This time, it split clean in half.
Annabelle’s brows rose in surprise, intrigue laced in her eyes as Roseline displayed the action with her hand. “As you can see, the application of Water Magic to Nature Magic caused the latter to strengthen; however, it does not actively change the makeup of the mana; it is one mana type that boosts another, understood?”
At the students’ nod, Rowan summoned a ball of stone whilst Roseline gathered an orb of wind in her hands. The former said, “The second type of Fusion Magic is Active Fusion, which—” the two pushed the two spells toward one another. When they met, the orbs of wind and stone turned into a billowing ball of sand— “is the act of changing the very fiber of two Magic Arts and creating a new one…”
“In this case, Wind and Earth Magic to Sand Magic,” Roseline finished before they let the sand drop to the ground, where it gathered in a small mound. “For today’s activity, you and your teammates will work together to combine magic and determine whether it is Active or Passive…”
“We have shown you the first—and most basic—application of Fusion Magic: two people using separate spells to create one. That is how you will approach it today.”
“You had mentioned a second method, what is it?” a girl to Annabelle’s right asked.
Roseline answered the question with a much more serious countenance. “That is a more advanced method, one that allows a single mage to combine two types of mana whilst it is still in their mana chords. It is not something students should aspire to accomplish.”
“Could we summon two spells in each hand, and then combine them?” another student asked.
“It is a more plausible solution than the advanced method, yes, but it still takes a great deal of concentration to do so,” Rowan explained. “To accomplish single-mage Fusion Magic at your young age is known to be imp—”
“Like this?”
The heads of every student and the Vamidion Twins snapped over to Ray, who stood with an almost confused expression as he held a tiny tornado in one hand, and a cyclone of water in the other. Rowan’s mouth dropped before Ray pressed the two spells together, forming a snow twister that shot snowflakes every which way. The prince laughed, and the students joined as they attempted to catch the snow with their tongues. After an ample time of fooling around, Ray dispelled the Ice Magic and pressed his lips together in uncertainty.
Roseline coughed into her hand. “Well, we should have expected that history’s youngest Proversum would find Fusion Magic easy rather simple. As that is the case, Your Highness, if you wish, you can leave for the day—”
“No thanks. I want to stick with my teammates,” the prince quickly responded, causing both Cal and Anna to glance at him.
“Very well,” Roseline said with a nod before regarding the class. “As for everyone else, please separate with your squadmates and find a place to complete today’s activities. When you’ve successfully labeled five different Fusion Magics, you are dismissed. Does everyone understand?”
After confirming their understanding, the class separated. As the field was rather vast, about a hundred feet separated the ten trios whilst the twins remained in the middle to watch, though they did occasionally approach the squads who were in need of help. Squad Eighteen took to the edge, where Ray lounged beneath a large oak.
Annabelle frowned a bit before looking at Gray. She frowned harder. “Alright, Farm Boy, what’s the plan?”
“Let’s start with dropping the stupid pet names,” Gray groused.
“Pet names insinuate that it’s a term of endearment. You, you unfortunately faced bastard, are far from endearing.”
“Did you just call my face unfortunate?”
“So you can listen? Color me surprised.”
“I’d rather color you black and blue.”
“Wow! You really know how to make a lady feel special,” Annabelle mockingly swooned.
“Yeah, though it’d help if I could find one,” Gray said, eyes boring down into Annabelle’s. “All I’m seeing is a selfish deadweight whose mind is as useful as a pile of shit.”
A weight fell on Annabelle’s shoulder. “And that’s enough of that.” It was Ray, his hand on her and Cal’s shoulders. “I think it’s about time we… you know, put our qualms aside.”
The audacity of him to try and tell her what to do caused Annabelle to nearly shout at the prince, but a strained glint in his eye had her shutting her opening mouth. Her problems were with Gray—for whatever reason—not Ray. Besides, the Prince of Elda wasn’t a bad person.
Was he overly bubbly?
Yes.
Did he seem entirely ignorant about others and their desire to be left alone?
Also yes.
But that didn’t mean he needed to be shouted at.
Plus he was strong—insanely strong. Annabelle had no desire to wrong someone of his strength—both magically and politically.
Gray was another story.
He was strong in a physical manner, and he was a crude ass, but he was as unimportant as her, meaning she could do with him as she wished. Something about him, an almost primal instinct, told her to steer clear of Cal Gray; yet, there was an even greater need to make him miserable, especially after he had run her over on the first day of classes.
He was a nuisance, and Annabelle Sylvest despised nuisances. Regardless…
“Fine,” Annabelle relented, though not without shooting Gray a glare.
He scowled but backed off. “How are we going to do this?”
“Don’t ask me. I’ve never tried this,” Annabelle said before looking at Ray. “How do we do it?”
The prince shrugged. “I don’t know. Just cast a spell and combine it.”
“What a genius,” Annabelle mumbled. She approached Gray. “What magic do you know?”
“Next to none,” he answered.
In turn, she gasped, utterly baffled. “Next to none? Are you that incompetent?”
“Do you think the farm boy gets to play around with magic every waking second of the day?”
“Couldn’t you have at least known something before coming to an institute of such caliber?”
An annoyed sigh left Gray’s lips. He looked away, only adding to Annabelle’s annoyance. Doing her best not to strangle the man in front of her, Annabelle took her own deep breath and leveled Gray with a firm stare. “Well you clearly know some Lightning and Wind Magic, so conjure that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said, despite still summoning a small collection of Lightning around his arm. “Now what?”
“Don’t ask me!” Annabelle cried out incredulously.
“You told me to do this!” Gray shot back, waving at his amplified arm.
“Dammit! You’re so damn annoying!” Annabelle complained before wrapping her hand in fire and emulating what Roseline had done to Rowan’s arm earlier by grabbing Gray’s arm.
“Wait! No!” Ray shouted, just for his exclamation to be interrupted by a deafening explosion.
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“You might actually be the stupidest person I’ve ever met.”
Wrapped in bandages, Annabelle looked ahead, lips pressed together in reservation. In the bed next to her, Gray was in the same condition as her, body covered and gaze locked ahead.
“My little sister might be smarter than you. Shit, Gordon might be too,” he muttered the last part before swinging his legs off of the bed and pulling off the bandages on his head.
“You should leave those on,” Annabelle said.
Cal scoffed, completely ignoring her advice. “Why the hell should I listen to you? You just blew us up. Did you actually think nothing would come out of fusing Fire and Lightning Magic?”
“Well… it’s definitely a Passive Fusion,” Annabelle tried, an odd sense of defeat washing over her.
Gray glanced at her, the annoyance in his eyes falling, replaced by their typical poise. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it and tossed the last of his bandages on the bed he was just laying on. Annabelle’s gaze fell on the bandages before she was reminded of something.
“Gray… your scars—”
“Just stop,” he said, the tone he spoke with exhausted. “We don’t get along. Don’t try and pry now.”
“What happened to establishing some cordiality?” Annabelle said as she shot out of the bed and stepped toward Gray.
The look in Gray’s eyes almost made her stumble backward. “That died the second you brought up my father.”
Annabelle paused, thinking back to when she might’ve mentioned his father. They’d had a handful of not-so-pleasant interactions in the week since school started, but… Ah, the first one.
Annabelle clicked her tongue. “So what? I didn’t even insult him. I just called you his biggest dissap—”
Her words were cut short, the cause being Gray as his hand grabbed the bottom half of her face, covering her mouth shut. Her eyes widened, a marginal amount of panic setting in as he pushed her backward until she hit the table between their beds. His broad frame loomed over her as his eyes—burning with a rage that left her legs trembling—dropped dangerously close to hers. The second she gathered enough of her bearing, Annabelle attempted to resist, but he only tightened his hold and pushed her closer to the wall. There wasn’t even a foot between them as Gray’s lips grazed the back of the hand that covered her own.
“Listen well, Sylvest,” he growled. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. It’s just as you said, we’re here for our own reasons—no need to overstep one another’s line. But, in hopes that you never cross my line again, I’ll give you one minuscule piece of information: my father’s dead, and it was my fault that he died, so—” his next words reached the depths of Annabelle’s soul— “the next time you want to call me baggage to the person I killed, be sure that you’ve found peace with your life. Do you understand me?”
Shakily, Annabelle nodded, and with that, Gray backed off, his hand lingering until he peeled it off of her and allowed his fingers to push her head aside. His dangerous glare didn’t recede until he grabbed his few belongings from the foot of the bed. Then he left, securing his daggers and not giving a single glance back to Annabelle. When the infirmary doors slammed shut, Annabelle clutched the fabric of her uniform right above her heart.
She tried her best to calm her pounding chest, but she couldn’t. The rage in his emerald green eyes was simply too overpowering. She had underestimated Cal Gray, and she had entirely misjudged him, yet—her expression shifted to one of rage like the one he had just shown—she couldn’t help but still hate Cal Gray.