Magic Sciences Room, G.A.W.A. - Primus

  Magic circles surrounded by runes flared up around the iron ore, and two pieces of Blackstone. The circular cast iron setup they were in, built into the center of the classroom/laboratory, was designed to take the heat that the alchemically fused ingredients were producing. Light and heat flared white hot, and then just as quickly as it began, the magic ended, leaving a single steel ingot behind. Drake Long smirked, and his newest classmate, Souma Rishin, a young man with a disturbingly sharp intellect, cheered Drake’s efforts. “I told you! Alchemy is exhilarating!” His young eyes were on fire. “All it takes to make Mithril is magic, and more Blackstone! You’ve got this, Drake.”

  Souma had what Drake referred to as ‘anime protag hair’. It was platinum blonde with oxidized copper green tips, and for some reason, stuck straight up, like a paintbrush. Drake blamed it on the terrifying intellect the ten year old had, like his hair was trying to escape his powerful mind, but the going rumor was that it had gotten stuck that way in a magic accident when he was five, and despite his parent’s attempts to fix it, it refused to go back down. Drake raised his hands again, and again, the magic circles appeared around the hole in the floor, but after a solid minute, nothing happened. Twice more, he tried, and failed.

  “I’m just…not understanding how Steel becomes Mithril, Souma. And infusing magic isn’t doing much…nothing I can see, anyway. You said Alchemy operates on the law of Equivalent Exchange,” Which was a dimensional echo he was very familiar with, “So how am I supposed to exchange Magic power for Mithril Ore?”

  Souma chuckled, and snapped his fingers, forming a single ‘finger gun’ that he brought up under his chin as he smirked at the monk. “That’s not what’s being exchanged. What you’re exchanging is the Steel, and your Magic. Magic, is Power. You need it both to power the Transmutation, and the Exchange. Lucky for us, you have ridiculous amounts of it!”

  Once again, Drake focused, this time splitting his magic, and sure enough, he felt the Transmutation begin this time. Galdurath had deeply undersold Alchemy as just ‘people make potions with it’. With Souma’s help, Drake now understood that Alchemists on Arcadia could do quite a lot within the laws of reality, provided they had enough magic. Most regular Alchemists needed magic crystals charged with magic power, and lots of them, to pull off Transmutations like steel into mithril, otherwise everyone would’ve done it. Drake was the exception to that rule, thanks to the intelligence stat being directly linked to one’s magic pool. Souma whooped as the energy faded, leaving an azure ingot in place of the steel one, and the two nerds high fived.

  Drake crouched by his work then, and the smaller human joined him. He smirked at Souma. “Whaddya think? Should we attempt Adamantite?”

  Souma chuckled, and rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s see…if we break Magic power into numerical units, it takes about four hundred for five seconds to Transmute, add another two hundred for the Power cost of changing Steel into Mithril…such reactions usually double the cost, so Adamantite…” The kid trailed off, and then smirked. “You said you have over eleven K, on your Status?”

  Drake nodded. Souma grinned. “At your ridiculous recharge rate, you could…you could probably get it to Orichalcum! I’ve never seen real Orichalcum!”

  Drake smirked. “Would you like to?” The paintbrush hair bobbed as he nodded eagerly. “Alright then…” Drake, for his part, did his own math, and felt like testing his limits a little bit. It probably wasn’t smart, but Souma had told him that chaining Transmutations could ultimately lower the total cost of magic power needed.

  “Alright then…” Drake muttered as he mathed out how much coal he’d need to reach orichalcum. Adamant ingots needed six. Runite needed eight. It followed then that orichalcum would use ten pieces just to become malleable enough to shape into an ingot, from an ore. “Souma! When I say ‘mark’, I need you to toss in eight pieces of Blackstone, and then ten! Think you can handle that?”

  The kid nodded again, and Drake smirked. “Just don’t miss. A Transmutation like this would probably explode pretty hard if we screw up the required materials. Alright. Here we go!” Souma fished out the required Blackstone, pretty much all Drake had left after his efforts in Eldarheim, and crouched by the Alchemy basin, ready to act.

  Magic circles burned to life around the single ingot, and Drake knew them to represent actions in the smelting process. Heating, mixing, forming, and cooling. He’d have to use all of those, three times in a row, to reach orichalcum level. The classroom began glowing again, the only sign of what they were doing visible through a small window in the classroom’s door. First, came the change to adamantite. The blue ingot shifted to green as it reformed, but Drake wasn’t done. His uniform started flaring behind him, as the Transmutation shifted to a higher tier and the magical forces involved grew more potent. Souma quickly tossed in eight pieces of Blackstone, and Drake heated them, then added the required magic to convert adamantite into runite. Sure enough, through the blinding light, he saw the green shift to that high tier sparkly light blue. “Alright! Now ten!” He shouted over the humming energy.

  Souma acted quickly, completely focused as ten pieces of coal joined the Transmutation in progress. Again, the circle rune for heat flared, Drake added more magical power, and the basin sparked as the high tier Transmutation turned their runite ingot into an orichalcum one. Then, something else happened as well, as Drake’s Alchemy level surged past thirty. Transmutation like this didn’t actually give much experience, since it just required magic and coal, but going for orichalcum had pushed his Alchemy level over thirty, and thus, his Job skills fused together. White light surged around the new Omnicrafter, and Drake dropped on his bottom, panting, as the magic died down, but Souma was ecstatic.

  “I’ve never seen a Transmutation that high level! That was exhilarating! Dude all I gave you was a piece of Iron Ore, and we made it into freakin' Orichalcum!”

  Drake chuckled at his little friend’s enthusiasm. “I’m just glad I had enough Blackstone left. Good job on the timing, Souma.” They shared a fist bump, and Drake stood, then retrieved his prize, smirking at the ten year old. “Y’know, that last Transmutation turned me into an Omnicrafter.” Souma’s eyes went wide with a mix of awe and envy. “What did you say your Class was, my friend?”

  “Artificer.” Souma answered.

  Drake nodded, and then used his newest skill, after checking his Status quickly. Omnimorphosis was almost broken in how useful it was. No more anvils, no more benches, no more poking his fingers with needles. All he needed was magic, and will. And he had those in spades. Souma’s eyes went wide again, as Drake activated the verbal component of his new skill. “Omnimorphosis! Smithing!” The black ingot with orange-red veins running through it levitated before the Omnicrafter.

  His design was simple, and to his amazement, as he pictured it, the skill brought the image of what was in his mind into reality, in a sort of preview screen that only he could see. Artificers were more inventors than fighters, but Arcadia was dangerous, and ideally, their main weapon would do both killing and crafting. At the cost of some more magic, Drake lowered the level requirement to wield what he was crafting, and then, he made his will into reality. Runic circles appeared around the ingot again, though this time there were hundreds, and they were all tiny and complex.

  Arcs of magic, like white lightning, surged into the ingot, shaping it into what Drake desired, and once they were done, he grabbed his creation by the handle. It was a hammer, keeping that same color scheme of black with red-orange veins, it could rotate its head to be a pinpoint tool, a generic smithing hammer, and a sharper one, for bashing monsters that got too close. Drake highlighted this feature of what he created, and then handed it to Souma.

  “Behold. The Multi-Hammer. It will keep you safe, and help you with your Artificing in the years to come.”

  Souma took the item, and then his eyes bulged as he saw how good it was, and that he could wield it. “Drake…this is…this would cost hundreds of thousands of Gil! I can’t-”

  Drake held up a finger. “It was your Iron Ore that I made this from, technically, and though I provided the Blackstone, the actual material it is composed of is one that you gathered yourself.” Their class had gone gathering for basic materials earlier that day, the first day of the week, and all poor Souma had managed to mine was a single piece of ore. He hadn’t let that bother him, though. “You can probably use the sharper head to do some mining, too. You won’t end up with just one piece of ore again. Use this, and become a Legendary Artificer!”

  Souma grinned, and then wiped his slightly teary eyes, meeting Drake’s gaze with determination. “I will! I just became ten billion percent more effective!”

  Drake chuckled. “I have to get to my other classes…but you can go find your Party if you want to gather more stuff. Just flash that Epic tier hammer, they’ll probably want to see it in action too. And stay safe out there. Don’t get so absorbed in gathering that you miss the Goblin hiding in the bushes.”

  Souma promised to be safe, and then scurried off, with a shout of, “Excelsior!”

  Drake just shook his head, and eyed his new Omnicrafting level. It averaged his other Job levels together, which put him at level fifty, presumably out of two hundred. As Laurelin had predicted, Drake immediately got drawn in by the sheer amount of things he could now make. He was so drawn in, that he lost track of where he was walking, until a familiar voice called out to him.

  “Oi! Drake Long!”

  He looked up from his menu, to realize he was…somewhere he completely didn’t recognize. The person calling out to him was Faelar, the friendly janitor from his first day. He trotted over with a knowing smirk on his handsome elf features. “Getting lost again, are we? You almost walked into the Instructor’s Lounge just now.”

  Drake blinked. “I…wow that’s a big room for a break room…anyway. I uhh…got caught up in reading my new list of things I can make. Just became an Omnicrafter, you see.”

  Faelar let out a low whistle. “Level sixty nine in a week, and already neck deep in Omnicrafting. I knew you were one to keep an eye on. Nice job, kid.”

  Drake chuckled. “Thanks, Faelar. I uhh…I don’t suppose you could point me back to the classrooms, could you?”

  Faelar smirked. “Back the way you came, and two right turns. Just uhh…be on the lookout, alright? I heard that the Top Five have taken an interest in the new so-called ‘Highest Level First Year’.”

  Drake blinked. “The Top Five?”

  Faelar nodded. “The five strongest current students at the Academy. Most of them are fine, destined to be great Adventurers down on Tharvoss, against Dagorath’s hordes. The one you really want to watch out for…is Skalos. Skalos Lycaon (Lie-kay-on).” Seeing Drake’s blissfully blank expression, Faelar continued. “He’s a Luparyn. Black fur. Real mean eyes. Not a fan of people like us, either.”

  Drake blinked again, and tilted his head. “People like us…?”

  Faelar nodded. “Non-Beastkin. He hates Humans and Elves specifically, and especially the races that combine both. Determines purity by how much fur someone has.”

  Drake’s eyes narrowed. “I thought that was random though, even for first time interracial pairings.”

  Faelar nodded. “It is. He doesn’t care. The Adventurers Guild keeps censuring him for his attitude, but his power…lets him get away with a lot. He’s already Runic tier, and if not for his Beastkin Supremacy, he’d be Draconic rank. He’s that strong.” Faelar patted Drake’s shoulder. “So watch yourself, yea? He’s not the only one keeping an eye on you, either. Between your leveling and your Dragon…you have a target on you now. In fact, I’d have your Dragon sleep off-campus, and out of Primus entirely, if I were you. The rewards for materials from a Dragon are very high, and people aren’t going to care, or believe, that they’re from a good one.” Much as Faelar personally liked Falkor, he also had ulterior motives in moving him off campus. Dragon turds were…quite large. And cheesy, for some reason.

  Drake nodded again. “Right…I’ll keep an eye out. Thanks again, Faelar.”

  “Stay safe, kid.” The janitor replied, before shaking his head. He knew better. Once Skalos got his scent, he’d be taken out, one way or another. It had happened to promising first years before. Faelar would’ve liked to root for the kid, but Skalos was a literal force of nature.

  As Drake rounded the corner to the hallway leading to his classroom, he found most of Class Seven arrayed outside, before a single figure. He was a tall, muscular, black furred wolf man who was in the process of snarling at his classmates. “...cking tell me where the little Monk is…I’m not interested in the rest of you furless wastes of Magic...”

  Rose was in the front of the group, with Garret by her side. Lyria and Zara were behind her, as was Leif. The rest of Class Seven seemed to be inside already, or watching from the door. Leif had his ears back, and looked ready to give in to his instinct to flee. Seeing Drake, he pointed a finger, and said, “Th-there he is! Now leave us alone already!” Rose turned at the same time the wolf man did, hitting Leif with a look that made him understand he was dead to her.

  The Luparyn, who could only be the aforementioned Skalos, stalked towards Drake, hands in the pockets of his Academy pants. His eyes were red, and practically glowing with power, and his ruff of black fur around his neck was breaking free of his uniform, along with his absurdly chiseled physique. Then, Drake understood why, as he saw the wolf man’s level. Sitting at a daunting ninety eight, that meant he had the stats to match, if not more. Thanks to his Corestone Catalyst though, which he very much still had equipped along with his other items, Drake’s stats were on par with his, probably. The gulf between them was not as great as the unimpressed Luparyn seemed to think.

  Despite their similar stature though, those feral eyes and his gleaming, toothy maw still filled Drake with instinctual fear. Humans and wolves, at least on Earth, very much had a love/hate relationship. Some, probably in pursuit of food, had become loyal pets and friends. Others, with attitudes more akin to Skalos, had either avoided humans, or actively hunted them when they were alone. For the record, Drake largely blamed his fellow Earthling Humans for that relationship. They had no business hiking through wolf territory for fun, and what species wouldn’t attack predators who often hunted their kin if they had a numerical advantage? Even the historically friendly Orca Whales had been fed up with humanity’s bullshit, when he’d left.

  Despite the instinctual fear, Drake met Skalos’s eyes evenly, and he knew immediately, that this was a canid who had suffered great trauma. Probably at the hands of humans. He’d seen that look before in the shelter. Feeding those poor doggos, who had too much hate in their hearts for humans to ever do more than tolerate them, only went so far. They were the kinds of dogs that had to be handled with multiple people, and unfortunately, had often been put down for their own good after a set number of violent incidents. Seeing not fear, but pity in Drake’s eyes made Skalos’s hackles rise, and start sparking with electricity. It was then that Drake noticed the wolf man’s class, and gulped slightly. He guessed, correctly, that a Stormbound Shaman would be not at all unlike an Enhancement Shaman, straight out of World of Warcraft.

  That meant Skalos was probably devastatingly deadly in melee, decent at mid range, and could also probably heal himself, though, at his level, Drake had learned that most classes had some method of restoring their own health points. “As I thought…yourrr're Nothing…” Drake ignored his bait, but that only pissed him off more. That made the Human frown, as it meant anything was just going to make Skalos angrier. “When your classes are done…you and I arrre going to duel…outside, on the field behind the main building. Don’t try running back to your room. Cowarrrrds receive harsher beatings…”

  Once again, Drake said nothing, even as the snarling wolf man brought his deadly maw inches from his face, and throat. Drake’s body tensed, ready to strike Skalos in his own jugular with a Hidden Blade, but he wouldn’t make the first move. He trusted that his friends would keep the wolf from ripping his durable neck off, and that Rose would be able to heal him before he bled to death. As if recognizing the danger on instinct, Skalos drew back with a snarl, and stomped off.

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  Once Drake could no longer hear his heavy footsteps, he exhaled, right as his classmates, and mainly Rose, ran up to him. She hugged him tight, and he patted her back, as he felt her shivering. “I’m alright, Rose. Even if I wasn’t, I knew you’d heal me.”

  She looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes, tainted now with worry, and that alone, set Drake on his path. He also knew what bullies were like, especially bullies who possessed raw power and didn’t expect anyone to be able to stop them. “You know who that was, right?”

  Drake nodded. “Someone whose going to get his ass kicked after our classes are done.”

  The looks on their faces, were priceless. All except Rose’s who looked genuinely terrified. “Drake, no! This isn’t like at the Guild! Skalos will tear you apart! He’s done it before!”

  Drake’s eyes hardened. “And that’s why he’s going to get his ass kicked. I know his type, and I have a good idea about his Class…” His eyes shifted to Vincent then, who’d joined the group in the hallway. Other first years were peeking out of the other rooms now, and murmuring as they registered his words. “Vincent…please tell me you know about Stormbound Shamans.”

  Vincent pushed his glasses up, and they caught the light as he said, “He’s not just Stormbound, and capable of heals, he’s an Alpha Luparyn. They have their own set of irritating abilities and skills. Not to mention, as a Beastkin, his stats are naturally higher than ours, even as High Humans.” He gave Drake a brief overview then, and thankfully, it was what he’d expected. Enhancement Shammy, but with a few tricks. He also apparently used metal clawed gauntlets as weapons, which actually worked in Drake’s favor. If he could block the magic in the Luparyn’s arms, his weapons would just be sharp, and lack any stunning effects. Thus far, Drake had used his Dragon’s Fangs to inflict damage instead of going full Hyuuga and blocking his target’s magic, but after sparring with the God of Magic, he was confident that he could disrupt someone’s bodily energy network enough to make it temporarily not work.

  Once Vincent finished, Drake stroked Rose’s cheek, as she hadn’t pulled away from him. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Even if I lose…and I probably will, I have enough tricks to put up a good show…and I have a feeling that will be enough.” Despite his attitude and reputation, Drake knew a good doggo when he saw one, and deep, deep down, Skalos had once been one. He knew it in his core. He just had to punch through the delusion about Beastkin being superior by demonstrating that Humans and Elves were the chosen races of the Gods for a reason.

  They took their seats in class then, and sure enough, a minute later Aslan was there. By that point, naturally, the news had spread to every first year class in their hallway: the overpowered monk was going to fight the most brutal Beastkin at the Academy. Their class went by quickly, mostly because Drake found it interesting, as he always did when learning about the world’s history. This time, they’d covered the last raiding party to ever clear a Dungeon: Vis Aeterna. Most of them had passed on by this point, but Class One’s teacher was apparently a former member.

  As Aslan mentioned that, the entire class gave him a look, and apparently Drake wasn’t alone in wondering what their Instructor had done in his youth. Picking up on the unasked question, he said, “…As for myself…I was a member of one of the last serious Dungeon clearing attempts…at the Wardengrave Dungeon…and it did not end well. You can ask me about the details when you’re Fourth Years.”

  As they broke for lunch, Rose approached their muscular mountain of an Instructor, and Drake didn’t bother getting up, as he had a feeling he’d be asked to stay anyway. As Rose spoke in hushed, hurried whispers, Aslan nodded his mighty maned head and gestured for her to depart, then steepled his claws as his sharp eyes fell on Drake. They were both sitting, as Drake's desk just happened to be right in front of Aslan's, and the silence in the room grew, as Aslan pondered his words.

  “You…have a penchant for overcoming higher leveled foes. This has, beyond doubt and belief, impressed pretty much everyone at this Academy, and no small number beyond it as well. I’m afraid it has also led to…an enlarged ego. Skalos Lycaon is a scion of, arguably, the strongest natural bloodline Arcadia has ever seen. From the dawn of Arcadia, his family has possessed one of the deepest ties to the world.”

  Drake scowled. “And what has he done with this power? From what I’ve heard, abused it for clout.”

  “Would that it were so simple…” Aslan rumbled. “Only two of his Dueling opponents didn’t drop out of the Academy, and the two who stayed, had to get several essentially artificial limbs.” Drake winced, as that was something he very much understood. On Arcadia, as on Earth, replacing shattered bones was not an exact science, but it could be done.

  “Despite that,” Drake said firmly, “It’s long past time somebody kicked his ass.”

  Aslan sighed again, and gestured for him to leave. “Some lessons must be taught with pain. Tread carefully, Drake Long.”

  As Drake left with a soft sigh, he ran straight into Rose, who of course, had waited for him. His eyes went wide as he saw her on the verge of tears. “Are you going to back out?”

  Drake shook his head. “I can’t. When you back down from people like Skalos, they get fixated. What he wants is a spectacle. I’ll make sure it’s one he won’t soon forget.”

  Drake made an ‘oof’ noise, as Rose tackled him, and clung to his uniform’s front. “I don’t want you to die, Drake…why do you care so little for your own safety? Do you have any idea how I’d feel, watching you get torn to shreds?” Tears finally escaped her eyes. “I thought I lost you once, and it…made me realize my feelings. I can’t…especially after the Birthday weekend you gave me, I…can’t lose you. Please back out. Just until you level up some more. At the rate you’re going you’ll hit one hundred by the end of the week anyway!”

  Drake blinked, slowly. “Wait, it was your Birthday!? How did no one tell me this?”

  Rose made a face, as he changed the subject, but it was too important to ignore. “Wh- You didn’t know? But what about all the presents, and the trip to see the Gods, and the…” She shook her head, before she lost her focus. “It’s why I’m seeing my parents tomorrow. At a party I was hoping you’d be Alive for!”

  Drake smiled at her, though he hated seeing her so upset. “The gifts were because, as I told you, I love you, Rose. I realized the same thing when I was dragged into that Goblin pit, in the Wallow. The thought of seeing you again drove me to avoid dying, or getting captured.” Eager to keep dodging the topic at hand he said, “So…your Birthday would make you…?”

  “Eighteen. The number after seventeen. Why, does that hold some special Earth significance?” She asked, drying her eyes.

  Drake nodded. “I mean…yes…but also no…? Cross-planetary norms are…murky…anyways.” He had a sneaking suspicion Laurelin was one hundred percent behind that timing. It was too coincidental. Drake looked her in the eye, and wiped away the tear streaks on her cheeks. “I’m not going to die, Rose. I promise you, I will return alive…probably badly wounded, but alive. Goddess Laurelin made me very hard to kill. Even wolf fangs will have a hard time ripping me apart, but Skalos will never get the chance, and he needs to be stopped. If it’s not me, it’ll just be another First Year who can’t handle him as well as I can.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “A-Alright…just…” She sighed, exasperated at the whole situation. So, she grabbed his hand, and started dragging him towards the cafeteria. “Just have lunch with me.”

  In short order, they had their meal, and a table with only four seats, relatively far from any of the cliques. That wasn’t going to stop people, though. Two strangers approached them, as Drake had barely loaded his fork with mashed popotoes. “For fuck’s sake…”

  Seeing who was coming, Rose gasped, and set down her own utensils. “Those are two of the Top Five. Alvar Thalorian is considered the strongest in the entire Academy. And Florian Solemere is...well...you'll see.” Ignoring his rumbling stomach, Drake followed her lead.

  She inclined her blonde head to the golden feathered birdkin with blue streaks on the feathers above and below his eyes who looked closer to maturity than Ceyrin had, and had the bearing of a priest. His class was listed as War Cleric. “It’s good to see you, Alvar.”

  She said the name of his High Human companion with a simultaneous sigh. “Florian…”

  Florian was quite obviously a bard, and fit that description to a T. His clothes and headwear looked like he’d gotten them from a Ren Fair, and his waist length cape was just eternally blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Drake blinked, as upon focusing on a magic item, probably thanks to his Omnicrafting, he could see its name and attributes. The Cape of Billowing didn’t add anything notable. Aside from a five point boost to charisma, its main feature, was that it billowed. Forever.

  The bard just smiled a wide, almost creepy and yet somehow still charismatic smile, as Alvar continued. “This must be the Monk I’ve heard talk of. The entire Academy was set abuzz upon hearing you survived, alone, in the final phase of a battle against a Malblin King empowered by the God of Monsters. A Malblin Tyrant, on the precipice of becoming a Demon Lord. Then, we heard that Skalos Lycaon had decided to make you his next victim. And that you had agreed to his challenge.”

  Drake nodded. “I’m Drake Long. Nice to meet you both. You heard correctly, about the Goblin trash, and about Skalos. Rose thinks he’s going to tear me apart. You two are also considered among the Top Five, right? What do you think?”

  Florian opened his mouth, overjoyed to share his opinion, but Alvar silenced him with a single raised finger. “Shut up, Florian.” The bard closed his mouth, but kept that smile. His time would come.

  The eagle eye of the War Cleric facing Drake, sitting at a very mighty level ninety nine, pulsed with power as it grew clouded and stormy. “Interesting…” He said after a moment. A smile curved up, where beak met flesh. “Most interesting… Like Rose, I believed Skalos would be your end, thus we were going to offer you protection, but…your reputation lives up to the hype. So I will instead grant you Fourth Tier Buffs, and those shall even your odds considerably, enough for this Duel to be a fair one.” The bird man leaned in close, then. “Find me, before your Duel, and I shall ensure a fair fight.”

  Drake nodded, and smiled at him. “I will, thank you, Alvar.” His eyes shifted to Florian, and his billowing cape. “What about your thoughts on my chances, sir Bard?”

  Alvar and Rose simultaneously facepalmed, and Drake blinked at them, before all three of them found their gazes inescapably drawn to Florian. Drake’s brow furrowed as he saw magic swirling around him in a purposefully graceful spiraling flow around his entire body.

  “Oh…I think he’s going to tear you apart…but if he Doesn’t…?” A lute magically appeared in Florian’s hands, and he strummed on it with a graceful stroke of his fingers. The entire cafeteria looked their way as the note cut through the din of conversation. Those who knew what was coming, smirked. Those who did not, mostly the first years, had looks of confusion. “You might just become my latest Muse, Drake Long!”

  Florian spun away from their table as he adjusted his instrument’s knobs, and strummed again before the eyes of the lunch room. “How about a light song!? I’m feeling a Fight Song!” The students gave an encouraging whoop, and Florian grinned. “Dedicated, of course, to Drake Long! The latest victim of our canine Lycaon!”

  And with that series of rhymes, the bard began tapping his foot, and soon, the entire room was copying him. Drake took this opportunity to finally eat, though despite his best efforts, his foot tapped along to the beat

  "From a tale so Long, the Storm is drawn,

  A challenge laid on the Academy lawn!

  A brutal Beast, all teeth and hair,

  In the halls confronted, by the maiden faiiir!"

  Florian spun, gesturing to Rose, who followed Drake’s lead. But the bard would not be ignored. He leapt upon a nearby empty table with a dancer’s grace, and kept loudly thumping his foot, as his lute provided a jaunty backdrop.

  "Skalos, drawn from his foul lair,

  To savage her Love! So young! Such hair!

  But to whom doth our maiden’s heart belong?

  Why, the Monk! The Hero! It’s Drake Long!

  Fearless before the Alpha scion,

  Of the noble House Lycaon!

  The Monk refuses to run, to hide!

  He takes approaching death in great striiiide!

  Oh! Though he may die to the thunder’s pull,

  His bones, broken, his strength made null!

  He still stands, unafraid to fight!

  But will the wolf fall to his might?

  A bringer of Pain, a rising Fame,

  But who will win this brutal game?

  The Beast who scorns those lacking fur?

  Or the Monk whose Class remains obscuuure?

  Strike and storm, clash and cry!

  One will stand, and one will die!

  Flames will rise, sparks will fly!

  And in the ennnnnd…fair Rose will cry!"

  Drake’s eyes narrowed at the bard. “I’m going to end him…”

  Rose shook her head with a sigh. “He’s right, though…I probably will cry... Out of-”

  She was interrupted, as Florian was still not done. He leapt like a fae ballerina from his table perch, to the floor near theirs, and strummed again, loudly, “But will they be tears of loss, or joy? Tell us! Tell us, lover boy!”

  Drake dropped his fork, fists clenched, as he stood up. “That’s it. You’ve chosen Death, Florian.”

  But the fucking bard was already prancing away, all too familiar with that look. “And so ends my jaunty tune! Until next time, my fuming Muse!~”

  The cafeteria was abuzz with reprisals of the song, and outright laughter at the final taunts, and Drake’s reaction. Jeers filled the air.

  “So fierce!”

  “Such hair!”

  “That hair won the maiden fair!”

  Then, came the chanting. Just two lines, since that’s what people could remember, but Drake had a feeling Florian would spread his words to everyone before long. It was too catchy, too easy on the ears, to not eventually learn by the end of the day.

  “Strike and Storm! Clash and Cry! One will stand and one will die!”

  Seeing the chanting was getting to Rose, the two ate quickly, and hurried to their next class. The rest of the day became a blur of assignments, broken up only by the occasional random stranger, usually female, asking him if he was really going to face Skalos. One magic equivalent of physical education, a lesson on obscene monsters, and a lesson on Jobs that were not a part of Omnicrafting later, and Drake was very much ready to have this Duel. People all throughout the halls, even a few of his Instructors, had been humming Florian's jaunty tune. He found Alvar easily enough with Rose's guidance, and his pupils dilated, as he experienced higher tier Buffs for the first time. Apparently, the highest tier a Buff could reach was nine, but only those well above level one hundred and fifty had access to them, and casting them drained so much magic, even Drake would've had trouble casting more than one. If he'd been a caster.

  When he emerged from the Academy's main building, it wasn't hard to find the field Skalos had mentioned. It seemed like the entire school had shown up. Fifth and sixth years were occupying the bleacher seats that ringed the blue and gold turfed field, while everyone else had to stand and crowd around for a view. Drake gave Rose a final hug in the entrance courtyard as Falkor arrived to help him with his dramatic entrance. This was to be a spectacle, after all. "I'll be okay, I promise. Have some faith in me, and Alvar's Buffs." She told him that she would, but her eyes were lying. She was terrified, and shaking, even though she was pretending not to be nervous.

  With that, Drake hopped on Falkor, and the pair shot up high into the clouds, drawing looks from the crowd, who very much noticed the giant white dragon launching into the cloud cover. Once it was just them, Drake spoke with his draconic friend. "It's just me for this one, bud. I'll be okay."

  "I know." The dragon rumbled, confidently. "You've handled those like Skalos before." Drake nodded. Handling angry canines had been his job after all. They had not all been like Falkor. He gave his friend another nod, and then slid sideways out of the saddle, falling through the clouds, and making them disperse as he shot through them, forward flipped in the air, and landed hard enough to make the field shudder with his earthbending.

  Skalos was there, armored and ready in what looked like chainmail armor suited for a caster, once again in line with what he'd expected. Drake had also equipped all of his adventuring items. He was going to need every single one against someone this strong.

  "Drrrake Long!" Skalos snarled. "I thought you'd run away on your Dragon. Pity. I would've enjoyed hunting you down."

  Drake smirked, and shifted to airbending, causing the wind around him to make his robe flare up. "Skalos Lycaon!" He shouted, as the wind carried his words for everyone around to hear, "When I beat your mongrel ass today, you will Never harm another younger year Student, or lower ranked Adventurer than you again! Do you accept the terms of this Duel?"

  Skalos snarled. "Only if you accept that I'm about to rrrrip out your fucking throat!" Lightning surged around him, and lit up along his body. Drake swore. Beneath the fur, were tattoos, probably similar to runes, that no doubt helped him control his natural power to a higher degree, and seemed to be acting as his chest armor as well. Such practices, he had learned, were considered dangerous to have implemented on one's body, but it seemed Skalos wasn't worried.

  Drake fell into his martial stance. "Take your best shot, furball."

  The glowing symbol signifying a Duel appeared over both their dominant hands, the crossed pair of swords gleaming brightly. A sixth year Drake did not recognize rang a handheld gong and shouted, "Begin!"