Quinn
The city of Marge finally came into view as Boone and I crested the last ridge. Smoke spiraled lazily from chimneys, and the central shrine of the soldier, Margerette, glinted gold in the morning sun. I had read about her in history texts, but seeing it here made the stories hit differently. During the Great War, this lone woman had held an entire army at bay—100 Sorcerers—and now the city carried her name.
Boone rode beside me, silent as ever. He always kept that expression, as if the world were a burden he personally carried. He didn't speak until we entered the city.
We stopped at the edge of the marketplace, the air thick with spices and smoke. Merchants shouted their wares. Children ran between carts, screaming and laughing. Everything felt so alive. The World Council protected civilization here; they protected the entire planet of Elor from their headquarters in Celestiala. It was all one big nation.
I pulled my cloak tighter and glanced at Boone. "Three days away from the mountain, and you're already homesick?" I teased.
Boone didn't answer. I don't think he liked the joke. My mind suddenly remembered Boone's warning before we set off. I recalled him mentioning to me to watch what I said carefully. Words weren't safe yet; the World Council could have spies planted anywhere.
Instead, I turned toward the shrine in the center. The sun reflected off its surface, burning almost like a signal. We'd rest here, gather supplies, and then push toward Celestiala, Elor's capital. Where everything starts, and maybe where we'll find the leads to reunite the Syndicate.
"Stick together, okay? We don't know what can happen," Boone whispered behind my ear. He cut ahead of me, taking the lead. I followed along as we stopped at the supplies that interested us.
We stopped at the foot of a cart led by this old woman. She didn't look a day under 80, yet here she was, in broad daylight, tiring herself out. My eyes met the produce she was advertising: Dwenchs. A big, round fruit covered in a brown shell, the material almost wood-like. Once you make a crack, it falls apart beautifully into two halves. You can scoop out the jelly inside, a truly sublime flavor. The sight of it brought a smile to my face and memories of my childhood. I reached out for the fruit to weigh it; however, the old woman quickly brought down her cane on my hand, the sound echoing. A couple of Dwenchs fell off as I snatched my hand away.
"Hey! What's the big idea?" I yelled at the old woman. In the corner of my eye, I saw Boone rushing over.
"No touch. If you want to touch, first buy," the old woman responded, her voice raspy. Boone dragged me back a foot away, already getting ready to scold me. Before he even talked, I spoke up:
"No, don't even. I didn't do anything this time. This old woman is just a stickler."
"Alright, alright!" he said with gritted teeth, suppressing his anger. He glanced over at the cart, at the Dwenchs. An immediate expression played on his face.
"Let's get some! This would hit the perfect spot as a snack. Let's buy a couple for the journey."
It seemed that Boone was thinking the same. He approached the stall again, while I stood behind him and listened.
"Hello, Madam. May we get 10 Dwenchs?" he said with a polite smile.
The old grandma returned the smile as she revealed the price. "Oh, of course, dear. Just two Coins for 10 Dwenchs."
Coins are the official currency of Elor. One Coin isn't a whole lot, but it'll get you a couple of fruits. 20 Coins are recognized as an Irid. Irid Coins look the same as a Coin; the difference is the two letters engraved on the front. 100 Coins, or 5 Irids, are known as an Iris. There is no difference in how the coin looks except for the initials carved on the front. The initials carved on each type of Coin are a tribute to people, dead or alive, and their contribution to the world. The initial of the Iris Coin is SV.
Boone turned around to face me with his palm out. "2 Coins, quickly, come on."
I looked at him, dead in the eye.
"I thought—I thought you would have money."
He stared back into my eyes; the same thought crossed both of our minds.
Shit. None of us had money.
Zero Langham
Three days had passed since I returned to the Academy from the village. My body was recovering, but the aftereffects of what happened still burned in every joint. Gia and Julius had been reinstated into the Academy and returned to their dorms. Julius and I weren't exactly on friendly terms yet. He didn't seem like the teammate type. I still had plans to make him acknowledge he was part of the team.
Toho walked beside me as we made our way toward class. The morning was brisk, the air carrying that early-spring chill that made the lungs burn. A sudden bump stopped me mid-step.
"Zero," Terra's voice came. She looked up, her eyes uncertain.
"Hey! How are you?" I gave myself a cheerful expression. I'm glad this run-in just happened. I've been meaning to ask her a question.
"I'm fine, but you? Are you alright?"
"Oh, I'm fine, I promise it's nothing." I decided to take my shot and blurted out, "Have you thought about joining a team yet? Or making your own?"
She shook her head slightly, hesitant. "I… I don't know. I haven't decided."
I nodded, letting it sit. Some decisions needed time.
By the time we reached Essence Theory class, the professor had already begun. His voice carried across the hall, calm but ominous. "Today, we discuss the next step in harnessing your power: Routes."
Professor Todo was an excellent teacher. He originally was a Sorcerer, a B-Rank at that. However, after his most dangerous battle, he was left wounded with his Essence Vein damaged. This meant he wouldn't be able to use Essence again, at least not at the level he did. He retired shortly after but applied for a job as a teacher here. He believed he could still make contributions outside the field, and he was doing exactly that.
"Once a Sorcerer discovers an affinity for a particular Essence, a Route forms in their soul," he explained. "It guides your power, teaches you new techniques, and evolves your Innate Technique. But it comes at a cost. You must give up the ability to use other Essence Types. Only then can the Route guide you fully."
I glanced at Toho, and he glanced at me. This was one of the rare moments we paid attention.
It is completely up to the Sorcerer whether they want to follow their Route or not. By following your affinity's Route, you forfeit the ability to use any other Essence type except your affinity. Everyone felt the weight of the concept pressing down. An option like this is vital to the type of Sorcerer you are. If you are one born with a mediocre Innate Technique, then spent your life honing Essence combat and unlocking a Route, you would be presented with one of the most important choices. Follow your affinity's Route, become great, excel at it. You would become a master of that type, much more than any other Sorcerer without a Route would be in that type. You would even evolve your Innate Technique into something better. The cost would be losing the ability to use any other type of Essence forever. This option heavily determines your future as a Sorcerer.
The lecture ended quickly, leaving the details hanging in the air. We'd learn more about Routes in our next class.
After class, Toho and I skipped lunch to head straight to the Academy's battlegrounds. The battlegrounds were left open for any and all students to use, as long as each respected the other's space. I began working on my sword skills. It was my responsibility to fix the mistakes I've made. My hands gripped the hilt tighter, my stance lower. My swordplay had gotten sloppy, and I needed to train. For most of my childhood, I've let my talent guide me, but now I've reached the level where I need to train to get stronger. Toho moved beside me, practicing precise Essence control. He made a ball of Pure Essence, concentrating and holding it between his palms. He kept going, a droplet of sweat falling from the tip of his hair. He twitched his arm, and the ball popped.
Lucian Wraith
I found him sitting by the edge of the forest clearing, testing a small fire spell.
"You're going to speak with Gohan, right? For permission to join my team," I asked.
The other boy nodded quickly. "Yeah, you're okay with that, right?"
I nodded my head while pulling a small tin from my pocket and handing it over. I had run out of the pills. He pulled out another small tin from his pocket, and we exchanged them. I looked at the golden patterns woven into his white silk jacket. He disrupted my thoughts with his voice:
"Those will help. Use them carefully. Don't overdo it."
I took them without a word, the itch all over my body growing. I opened the tin, popping a pill into my mouth in front of him.
"How many do you take a day? Be honest," he asked.
I looked him in the eye, responding in a low voice. "Not many. Maybe… 2?"
He nodded at my answer while standing up from his seat on the tree stump.
"Just don't overdo it. Who knows what the long-term effects are."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Gideon." I slowly began to walk away. I could feel his eyes staring at the back of my head as I walked away.
I pocketed the tin, patting my pocket to assure it was there. With each step I took, the itch faded. I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Unknown
Morning light hit the dark wood of the Academy's halls. I stirred from my bed, getting up briskly and heading to the mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling the grease on my fingers. I scratched my beard, getting to the itch that was bothering me on the side of my chin.
I walked over to my bathroom, opening the door, which let out a long creak. After a short shower and brushing my teeth, I trimmed my beard with a pair of scissors, meticulously cutting each strand to what I wanted it to be. I dressed in the Academy professor uniform that was given to me: black pants with white and grey patterns all over, like tidal waves; a white button-up that I nearly tucked in; and a pair of suspenders tightening the outfit's grasp on my body. I then chose one of the three coats they supplied me with. I pulled over the large trench coat, my arms slipping in and straightening it out.
I walked over to my mirror, grabbing the comb to slick back my greasy hair. I reorganized my stand. I placed the comb alongside the scissors, moved the white clay pomade to the edge, and set my tiny bottle of perfume beside it.
My coat fell over my shoulders, dark and heavy. My sword rested sheathed on my lower back, my hand reaching back to angle it to perfection.
I glanced in the mirror one last time. There was nothing remarkable about the face staring back.
With a slow exhale, I left my room, walking down the hall, my steps naturally quiet. Many thoughts ran through my mind:
I can't wait for my first day of teaching.