Vincent stood outside classroom 412 once again, his mind flooded with so many questions, so many concerns and curiosities. Filled with fear, uncertainty, and some anger, he didn’t know what to do. To enter the classroom or turn and run as Lucian had mentioned? He could go home, confront his parents, let them know how much they had wronged him, and shut himself in his room till the end of time. Or when he had to go back to school, a normal school, and forget all this supernatural nonsense.

Then again, if he was a werewolf, what sorts of changes were going to happen that he hadn’t already dealt with? Would he transform during a full moon and go on a rampage? Would he be able to control it? Or was this all some bad dream?

It had to be a joke, just an elaborate and cruel prank. At least that is what he wanted it to be. He could deal with the aftermath of being fooled by a prank. He had done it before, many times. The truth, though, was harder. He didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t want to face it. He wanted to run and never look back, so what if he became lost as Lucian had told him.

“Welcome back, Vincent!” Mr. B boomed with a big smile. Vincent started, not realizing he had taken a few steps into the classroom, his decision apparently made. “Feeling any better, son?”

Vincent didn’t know what to say or how to respond, so he just met Mr. B’s eyes and rubbed his neck. “I’m doing fine, sir. Thank you for asking. I, uh, am sorry for passing out during your class.”

As Vincent took his seat, Mr. B slapped him on the shoulder with a big chuckle. “Everything will be alright, son.” The slap made Vincent wince as it was harder than expected. It would probably leave a bruise. This guy was strong. Then again, the guy was also a werewolf and so was Vincent, which is why he had smashed and broken so many things in the past. At least that mystery was solved, even though it had been replaced with more problems.

“Now that Vincent’s returned, let’s continue with the lecture, shall we? As I was saying before, this class will mainly cover hand-to-hand combat skills. But before we get into that I want you each to introduction yourselves. Give us your name, your being type, and what you hope to achieve by the end of your first year at Crescent Academy.”

Mr. B pointed at Isabella, the girl with the strange eyes, which Vincent realized were not contacts. It made his heart sink. What was she, then? Some sort of demon?

She stood, shifting nervously as she rubbed her arm. “Um,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m Isabella Dawn.” Vincent sensed her uneasy energy, understanding what it felt like to be forced to be in the limelight. It was one thing to choose to talk to someone, or enter a group setting. It was another to be told to do it. Talking in front of a group was a normal challenge compared to what faced him in a new and open world full of monsters and mystery.

Isabella’s uniform consisted of a black skirt, shoes, and black cardigan over a red dress shirt that was tied with a black ribbon; the shirts both had the crescent moon insignia on the left chest, just like Vincent’s.

“I’m a Dawn Vampire,” she continued. “And” –

“A bloodsucker,” Alacard blurted out, not taking heed of Mr. B’s warnings from before.

Isabella’s cheeks blazed red at the utterance of the word, and she spun around and glared at him. “I’m not a bloodsucker,” she said, stomping her foot and revealing her fangs, which Vincent realized he had seen earlier. It was no illusion. He had to catch himself from falling out of his chair again, his heart suddenly racing.

“See, no other beings get a reaction like that,” Alacard said, motioning to Vincent.

“S-sorry,” Vincent said, straightening and rubbing the back of his neck, his heart thumping uneasily against his chest as he struggled to stop it. “Just a lot of new things today. I’ll be alright.” That was a lie. He didn’t feel alright, because nothing was alright. Not anymore. This was all nuts!

Mr. B narrowed eyes on Alacard. “One more outburst like that, Alacard, and you’re done for the day. I don’t want to hear such words from you again, got it?”

“Ohhh,” Alacard said, raising his hands as if this was the end of him. “I’m so scared.”

Mr. B stepped to Alacard as if to challenge him to say another clever comment. Alacard folded his arms and slouched in his seat.

Mr. B turned back to Isabella after letting out a sigh and rubbing his brow. “Miss Dawn, you may continue.”

Isabella shifted her weight nervously. “As I was saying. I’m a Dawn Vampire, and my name’s Isabella Dawn. You can call me Issy, if you like.” She gave Vincent a glancing smile, which only made him shiver as he took in the blackness behind the glowing red rings that were her irises. He just couldn’t believe it. First werewolves, now vampires? What else was going to be thrown at him today.

Vincent didn’t know if she was smiling at him because she wanted to be friendly, or because his blood smelled nice to her and she wanted a taste. She was a vampire, after all. Vampires, according to what he knew from watching movies and such, sucked on the blood of human beings, right? Then again, besides her scary eyes, she seemed nice enough.

Isbella placed a hand against her chest. “I have a mix of elven blood and Prevalent blood in me.” She glanced at Vincent, her tone like that of a teacher’s giving a lesson. “Prevalent Vampires are true vampires in that they are typically human beings that have been bitten and become reborn as undead creatures of the night, just like the typical stuff in all the lore and fantasy stories, except Prevalents are real, just like all of us.” She cleared her throat, looking up and thinking as she tapped a finger against her chin. “A Dawn Vampire, like myself, is born like a human being but in different circumstances, which is probably more than I should be going into right now.” She smiled and then paused as if wanting to explain more for Vincent’s sake, which made her blush.

She then glanced up to Mr. B, as if looking for approval. He looked like he was fine with her continuing.

“Anyway,” she said, shifting in place and rubbing her arm. “Dawn Vampires are evolved forms of Crimson Vampires, or so they say, but again I need to go on about me, not my past and the history of what I am in so much detail. It’s just that we do have a newbie and all, right? It doesn’t hurt to give him a little more info.” She paused and thought for a moment, looking upward as she tapped her chin again. “I really enjoy cooking, even though that wasn’t part of the question.” She looked like her nerves were getting the best of her, trailing off in different directions, losing track of herself, so she brought it back in. “What I want to achieve by the end of the year is…” she looked down at the ground as she spoke this part, as if her confidence had dropped. “To be more confident in my beingness, more self-reliant. That’s about it.” She gave a little smile, which Vincent sensed was a little forced, and she sat down with a sigh of relief.

How could he even sense what she was feeling? What the heck were all these vampire types? He thought a vampire was a vampire. And, was he the newbie they were talking about?

“Such a riveting speech,” Alacard said with a slow clap of his hands and a stupid grin on his face.

Mr. B. turned to Alacard. “Looks like we have our next volunteer.”

Alacard let out a sigh and folded his arms. “I already gave my name before newbie wolf boy here passed out.” He jabbed a thumb at Vincent. “I’m Alacard Gray, and I’m the strongest werewolf you’ll meet. Heck, I’m the strongest being around. I’m a beastly, monstrous thing that rips and tears at his enemy’s throats without a care in the world, so don’t get in my way.” He smirked at Vincent, showing his sharp canines. “I’m here because I have to be. It’s like the law or something. Once I’m eighteen, I’ll break out on my own and enter the wild domain of free werewolves. Until then, I don’t need to achieve nothing because I’m already living at the top of my game. I’m an apex predator that can’t be messed with or beaten. So don’t get in my way when I’m doing my thing, or else you’ll be sorry. If any of you need any tips on how to become less pathetic, go ask a teacher or something. I hear they can help ya.” He put his legs back up on the desk, leaning back.

“I admire your spirit, son,” Mr. B said as he stepped to Alacard in a challenging manner. “But put those legs back on the desk again, and I’ll be glad to get in your way.” He leveled his eyes on Alacard, waiting for him to comply.

Alacard looked thoughtful for a second, as if he was considering not doing what he was asked, then after uttering a little tsk noise of derision, lowered his feet.

“Next, we have…” Mr. B said, peering around the room –

The girl with wild orange and yellow hair stood with a toothy grin. Her pink eyes exuded a fierce energy and had what looked like a cross-shaped dark indent in the middle.

“I’m Mizuki,” she said in a proud manner, pushing her generous bust forward. “I’m a Kindred Phoenix Child, which means I can light up the night sky with a dazzling show of fireworks.” Her smile, her face, her whole body gave off an intense energy. “And if I want to,” she continued, glancing at Alacard. “I can burn anyone’s butt to a crisp.”

Mizuki wore a pair of red-lensed goggles over the top of her messy mane. Her arms had rugged black gloves that went up to her elbow and looked like they were made for mechanic work with their thick leathery material. A radiant pedant in the shape of a large blood droplet dangled around her neck, hanging just above her loosely buttoned shirt that seemed to have trouble containing her large chest. Her cardigan was draped over her chair, and the skin on her arms that was showing was covered in bandages or had what looked like burn scars, the burns on her neck and cheek looked fresh.

Vincent blinked and gulped as the sight of her made him feel of mixture of attraction and trouble as he got the feeling that she was the type to rough anyone up that looked at her wrong, even if she did have a pretty face beneath the scars and nice body. He couldn’t help but glance at her bust as it jiggled along with her movements, but looked away quickly as he didn’t want to come off as rude.

“My goal,” continued Mizuki as she jabbed a thumb against her chest which made it ripple slightly, the movement and the way she positioned herself revealed the outline of a bra that was probably strained to capacity. “Is to stand in the way of people that think they are better than their peers.” She leveled her eyes on Alacard and smirked.

Alacard leaned back with a wide smile, licking his lips with enjoyment as he looked her up and down with a deliciousness. “I wouldn’t mind having you stand in my way, honey. Gives me something to look.” His eyes lingered on her bust.

Mizuki clenched a fist, her jaw tense. “Call me honey again and see what happens.”

He continued staring, looking her up and down as if she was some juicy morsel. “I prefer my honey think and juicy.”

Smoke rose from her clenched hand. “I’m gonna fry you to a crisp, wolf boy.”

The smell of burning wood filled Vincent’s nostrils, and he wondered if the gloves were worn as some sort of protectant against the fire.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Mr. B stepped between them, raising a hand. “Now, now, you two. There will be no frying of any sort. At least not now.” He gave Alacard a questioned look. “And, Alacard. Keep your wandering eyes, and thoughts, to yourself. While you each have competitive natures, you’re still classmates, so I expect a certain level of respect for each other, got it?”

Mizuki shrugged, her hands no longer clenched or smoking. She slumped back down in her seat, folding her arms and shrugging.

Vincent wondered if burn scars hurt, and if it was from her own fire creation or something else? He had to look away, though, because she gave a wide smile at him noticing her, and he didn’t want her to think he was checking her chest out or something, which he admittedly was earlier. Her playful smile made him think that she knew exactly what went on the minds of boys when they looked at her that way, so he turned away in a quick and nervous fashion, scratching the side of his cheek.

Mr. B faced the boy with brown hair and distant blue eyes and a face that Vincent thought should belong on the front of a fashion magazine. The kid looked like the kind of guy that women were attracted to and wanted to be with. He exuded a charming nonchalance and didn’t seem to care that the teacher was looking in his direction, or looming over him.

The kid just continued to lean against his propped-up arm and stared out the window longingly. He looked tall and in lean shape, and his hair was well trimmed as if he cared about his appearance, even though his body language seemed to give off an aloof and mysterious air. As Vincent watched the kid, he felt something similar to when he was in Lucian Illustrious’ office, yet much less pronounced.

“Alexander,” Mr. B said, leaning a hand against the kid’s desk. “Would you kindly introduce yourself?”

“As you can see,” he said in a smooth tone, not turning to acknowledge Mr. B. “The adults call me Alexander, even though I prefer Alex. I’m a magician, which you know, means I can pull fancy parlor tricks and simple illusions, like pulling a small animal out of a hat and making a bird vanish out of sight in midflight.” There was a bit of a sarcastic wittiness in his words. “It’s all really boring,” Alex said, waving his free hand around nonchalantly, giving the impression to Vincent that he probably knew how to deal cards well, and pull off sleight of hand moves. “Being a supernatural being. The only fantastical thing about it is that we have more expectations and responsibilities placed on us other than the average classwork, as well as a wonderful future of working for the magical man, keeping the peace and balance and all that crap.” There was a derisiveness in his voice, as if he disdained being a magician.

He eventually turned his gaze toward his teacher and the other students, still leaning against his arm. “My goal is to become acquainted with the lovely ladies of our classroom and school.” He nodded at Isabella, and gave Mizuki a wink. “They are the real wonders of the supernatural world.”

Isabella flushed and looked down, fiddling with hands in lap, whereas Mizuki just held her eyes on his, giving him a challenging smile as if she knew all about Alexander’s type.

“Does that suffice, David?” Alexander said, looking up at his teacher with a sly smile.

Mr. B nodded acceptance, adding a little of his own slyness. “Yes, that does, Mr. Illustrious.”

Vincent perked up at the name Illustrious. So, the kid had the same last name as the headmaster. No wonder they had similar energy. Plus, he was a magician, which meant he could use magic, whatever that meant. Sparks from wands, moving objects with the mind, reciting words and making water part, perhaps?

Mr. B let out a long sigh, then turned to the kid that was sitting playing cards with Mizuki earlier. The kid jumped up, his blonde hair whipping about, his shimmering green eyes full of delight. He tensed up and focused for a moment, then changed, much like Mr. B had changed earlier, except his change happened in what looked like a poof of smoke.

A blonde-hair, oddly-proportioned Mr. B stood in his place. It was wrong, so wrong, but enough of a change to notice that it somewhat resembled their teacher. The kid smiled as if he had pulled off something amazing.

“You there,” the fake Mr. B said in an accusatory tone that was off as it was a mixture of the kid’s squeaky voice and Mr. B’s baritone. “You can’t just go around impersonating teachers. The punishment for that is death!” The fake Mr. B beamed with confidence as if pulling off something stunning. It wasn’t.

Mr. B frowned.

“Well,” the kid said, shrugging his defeat, a poof of smoke returning him to his regular self. “It was worth a try, I suppose.” The small kid rubbed a hand through his hair, smiling like a little trickster.

“I’m Max Miller,” he said. “I’m a twinzer, which means I can shapeshift into anything I want to, at any time. So be on the lookout, as you may run into yourself someday.” He snickered at his little joke, winking at Mizuki in a cringey fashion.

Mizuki pulled at the bottom of one of her eyes, stretching it out, and stuck her tongue out at him.

“My goal by the end of year,” he continued, lifting his hands in front of him and moving his fingers inward as if grasping a ball with a mischievous grin. “Is to be able to shapeshift into the perfect female form and look at myself naked.”

It was one thing to have some perverted thoughts, to check out cute girls and think certain things, to discover naughty things on the net that involved the female form. But to say something out loud so brazen was social suicide.

Mr. B narrowed his eyes on Max. “If I catch you doing that,” he said with a disapproving tone, “being expelled will be the least of your worries, son.”

Max gave a little shrug and slumped back down in his seat as if this was normal for him.

Vincent felt his body tense as Mr. B turned to him.

“Finally, we have you, son. Tell us about yourself, and what you hope to achieve this year.”

Vincent had no idea what to say, so he just awkwardly stood at the ready and saluted. “Sir, yes sir.” This probably wasn’t the right move, which was apparent from the reactions that included smiles and giggles. Nerves had always gotten the best of him in this way.

When the pressure was on, anxiety going wild, he’d always crumble, forgetting simple things, and acting like a complete idiot, doing random and rash things without thinking, like he had just done now. His face hot and beading with sweat, he wasn’t sure if he should sit back down or continue speaking in his standing position

What he wanted to say was that he needed time to adjust to this. He was so frustrated, angry, lost, confused, and feeling a flurry of other emotions at this moment.

“I’m Vincent Black,” he said, shifting nervously, his hands fiddling inside his pockets. “I’m a… a…” He couldn’t get the words out, feeling a knot in his chest as he cleared a dry throat and tried again. “I’m a werewolf.” It was weird saying it, because while he didn’t want to believe it, some part of him knew it was true. “My goal is, uh…” He wanted nothing more than to leave, go home and curl up into a ball and cry. He gripped the top of his chair. “To find out more about myself and this crazy world of… monsters. Because that’s what I am. A monster that will lose control to his own nature, right?”

He stared down at his hands gripping his chair, lost in the thought of this idea, this new world, this thing he was to become.

“We’re all monsters, bro,” Alacard said, leaning back. “Just embrace it.”

Mr. B frowned at Alacard, then placed a hand against Vincent’s shoulder, his voice supportive. “That may be what you think now, but it’s not what you will become. Not if I have anything to do with it.” He gave Vincent a reassuring nod, then stepped back and addressed the class.

“This first year will be hard,” he said in his booming voice. “It will challenge you, toughen you up. And it all starts with learning the fundamentals. It’s not just about living under the guise of humans, protecting them from the shadows, but about finding your own footing as a being in the world.”

He folded his arms and leaned back on his desk. “You may find yourself resentful for all the work you have to do on top of your regular classes, thinking how it would be so much easier to not be a supernatural being. And you’re right, in a way. It will be hard. But if you dedicate yourself and give me your complete focus, I promise to do everything I can to help you improve and grow.” He let them ponder that for a moment before speaking again. “That’s it for today. The rest of the period is free to do what you will.” And he left.

Alacard watched him leave, then let out a scoff. “What a lame lesson.”

Vincent felt his jaw clench, finding it hard to keep to himself. “No, you’re the lame one,” he said, under his breath. Which was stupid on his part, because he was dealing with supernatural beings with supernatural hearing.

“Did you say something, chump?” Alacard said, leaning in his direction.

Vincent didn’t want any trouble, or did he? He thought to himself for a moment, bouncing one of his legs against the ground now that he was sitting, his hands clenched as felt a mixture of anxiety and anger.

He turned to Alacard. “I said you’re lame.”

Vincent wasn’t sure why he was rising to the challenge instead of just backing down and keeping quiet like all the other times in the past. He certainly didn’t want to get himself in trouble, or have a situation that led to him getting expelled like he was when he was a kid. Then again, everything had changed today. Everything was different. This punk kid was also a supernatural being. A werewolf, just like him. So, he wasn’t going to just sit there and be pushed around by this punk.

“You talk a big game, chump,” Alacard said with a raised eyebrow. “But can you back it up?”

There was no way Vincent was going to back down at this point, especially since he felt this inner urge pushing him to move forward, to stand his ground, to fight.

“I’ll do whatever I need to,” Vincent said with a confident grin. “Because the only thing I see is a punk bully that acts tough but is just broken on the inside.” Yikes. Why was he stirring the pot like this? While there was a voice inside screaming for him to stop, there was another much more pronounced voice telling him to keep at it, to stay strong, to bite down and never let go.

“Oh, do you now,” Alacard said with an intense look of his own. “Well, chump,” he said, emphasizing the word chump, “Keep talking like that, and see what happens.”

Vincent felt the tension get palpable, and while he felt a rising fear, he also felt a willingness to lunge forward and fight. He wasn’t going to back down. Not now, not ever again. This feeling, whatever it was, was… invigorating! And so, he pushed forward.

“Sounds like something a punk would say,” Vincent said.

Alacard ground his teeth as he seethed and looked ready to jump out of his seat and pounce on Vincent.

Vincent readied himself for a fight, not sure why he kept pushing forward. Yet for the first time in his life, he relished the moment.

“I’ll show you who’s the punk, chump,” Alacard said, slamming a palm down on his desk and pushing himself to his feet.

Vincent watched him, wondering what he was going to do. Would he fling more insults at him, or something else? He tensed himself, ready for whatever.

Alacard simply lifted his desk as if it was a small book and tossed it into a far corner of the room where several other empty desks were, the feat causing a ruckus of clattering desks and debris and dust.

With a gleeful smile and a cracking of his knuckles he narrowed his eyes on Vincent, saying, “I’m gonna kick your ass.” Then, he let out a growl and lunged forward with ferocity.

Vincent leaned forward, feeling a fierce energy of his own as his instincts kicked into gear, his fists raised, his body tense, his eyes ready.

Before they could meet each other, Mizuki burst forward, cutting between them, a palm pushed against each of their chests. With a solid shove, she knocked them both back, her strength undeniable as they both slid backward. There was even a slight heat applied to her that made Vincent jump back as if touching a hot stove.

Ouch, She’s fast! Vincent thought as he rubbed his chest, wondering if a burn mark would remain. And strong. That would be his second bruise for the day, and yet… while she had hit him hard and applied quite the heat, it should’ve have hurt more, right? And the slap from Mr. B earlier didn’t seem like it was tender anymore. Perhaps it had something to do with his new werewolf being.

“What are you doing, crazy girl?” Alacard snarled with a swipe of his hand, fury in his wide eyes. “Get out of my way, or I’ll pound you too.”

“Only thing you’re pounding is your own meat, wolf boy,” Mizuki said with a toothy smirk. She then lifted a clenched fist, smoke rising from it. “Oh, and call me crazy again and see what happens?” Vincent couldn’t tell if she was seething or being playful. What he sensed, though, was aggressive energy radiating from her, plus a smell of burning wood and hint of vanilla.

“Why are you defending this newbie loser?” Alacard snarled. “He hasn’t lived like us, experienced what we have, struggled like us. Let me pound him so he can get a small taste of what we’ve been through.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care,” said Mizuki, standing her ground. “He’s one of us, and so I’ve got his back. If anyone needs a pounding, it’s you.”

Alacard sustained a growl, grinding his teeth as he hesitated to strike.

“You know,” she said with a little smirk and tease in her tone. “Getting burned hurts, a lot.” She lifted a gloved hand, fingers pointed upward, and a flame burst to life, emanating from the back of her palm, burning brilliantly across and above her fingers. That material must have protected her skin from being burnt. She held her fiery eyes on him with a gleaming smile. “I wouldn’t mind frying a punk like you.”

“Shut up!” he snarled, leaping into action with a furious frenzy, not caring that she was about to literally blast him with fire.

This time, though, Isbella jumped into action. She was much swifter than Mizuki, which must have been her vampire abilities kicking into gear. Isabella pivoted on her foot, moving her body into a palm striking motion, smacking Alacard’s chest in a precise motion with what looked like a lot of power. The hit sent him stumbling backward into a cabinet.

He shook himself off and stood tall, lurching forward as if he was going to rip all them apart. “Stop standing in his place, or I’ll rip you apart,” he snarled.

Isabella stood strong. “Is this how you want to start the year, or are you that desperate to show how tough you are?”

His lip curled in a snarl as he looked like he was about to lose it, his fingers cracking as he wriggled them about. “Screw you, bloodsucker!” He screamed in a maddened fury as he leapt into action, rushing her with a crazed look.

There was a moment where it felt like everything slowed down, even though it was all happening quickly, where Vincent felt this weird, tingling sensation move over his body, and his hairs standing on end. He wanted to raise his hand in warning and yell, ‘watch out,’ as if it would change what was about to unfold.

Luckily, someone intervened.

. . .