Radiating

Magic was always here, always around us, but us humans, we couldn’t tell. We tried to explain it as Gods, miracles, ghosts, phantasms, and even science. But it remained, that sixth element, that no human could understand. We were so close to seeing it, so frustratingly close to unlocking the secrets of the universe, before we ended ourselves. Not by pollution, but by way of humanity hitting the carrying capacity of earth. There was no room to expand, no more horizons to push. So we went up. 	At first it was just a few airship carriers, held aloft by massive nuclear engines. Then houses. And neighborhoods, and the communities that followed. Then towns, and cities went up, and humanity followed. Eventually every major city in America had risen above the clouds. Then we discovered it.
Magic. It began in the most dead and deserted of places. The Navada desert, were the U.S Government tested their weapons of destruction.  Chernobyl. Fukushima. All polluted with ‘radiation’. We didn’t understand it, why anomalies cropped up in those places so often, attributing it to the dangerous energy. But where there was death, blossomed life. And with Cities floating above the clouds, dumping death upon the ground, old earth was reclaimed, from the ruin and abandonment, and once again it flourished in its colors, regal green and solemn blue. The people who stayed below, the Underdwellers, they called them, they changed. Some for the better, some for the worse.
They became monsters, beastmen and women, animalistic in body but of sound mind.
Of fur and of fang, of scale and of claw, they morphed into the nightmares mothers told their children to hush them at night. It was terrifying, at first, to see your sibling become a being that appeared to be a wolf, but spoke like a human. But we preserved. Miracles became common place, to the point that they became normal life. Walking on water was no long Jesus’s trademark, and breathing fire to heat your leftovers was a a basic household occurrence. Humans mutated in other ways as well. Iron skin, regenerating lost limbs like starfish, eyes sharper than a falcon’s, and arms that could bend steel like silly putty, humanity became improved, but their society fell.
No more, did they rely on the technology that had caused their change, they used their magic. Those with the most powerful magic rose to power, warlords conquering entire countries for their own kingdoms. Gone were the countries of old, and in their place rose city states, ruled by royal families. Humanity had turned back the clock.
Some had sworn revenge on those who had left them down below to suffer with in the squalor and depravity left behind by humanity’s avarice for consumerism, but as the clock was turned back, and the centuries passed, that sentiment, and those living above, were forgotten, just like those above had forgotten those living below.

--
The only thing you knew was that your chest hurt. It ached, and not in a good way. The acrid stench of smoke and burnt flesh met your nose, and you gag, almost vomiting up anything that had been left in your stomach. Your eyes creak open, painfully, and take in the sight around you. Flames, all around you. You’d panic, like your instincts were telling you to but you’re too tired. You hear a ringing in your ear, faint, but annoying. You stand, struggling to your feet. Touching your chest, you quickly flinch away at the pain. You look down, and wince at the nasty gash across your upper torso, a diagonal slash from the bottom of one peck to the top of the other. There was that ringing again. The dust and smoke are nearly choking you and you let out a strained cough. The ringing came again, but clearer. It wasn’t ringing. It was a scream. You cock your head to the right, where the sound had originated from, and your blood runs cold. There stood a man, tall enough to touch the sky, dressed in a red cloak. You try to move, but you legs don’t cooperate, and you fall back onto your behind. The man grinned widely...unnaturally widely. It was as if his face expanded just to fit the smile upon his face. That maliciously wide, hideously chaotic, smile.
He opened his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is faint knocking, soft and distant. What? He approached you, still grinning that mad man’s grin. You hold an arm up to defend yourself, but you know its useless. He goes to say something, but its just knocking again. He falls on you, his body melting to liquid, covering you, drowning you.
Everything blurs, burns and aches. Time itself slurs together and you are drifting downward, down into the abyss. You can’t breathe. You can’t breath. You sit up in bed, eyes wide. You groan, stretching your limbs. In the other room you could hear your uncle snoring. You gulp, mouth dry and palms clammy. You weren’t drowning in an infinite abyss, you were awake, and very much alive in your own bedroom.
It was modest, with only a desk and an armoire. The desk, littered with books, papers, and pens. A few papers had fallen, where they now rested on the floor. The armoire was stuffed to the brim, a few of the un-closed drawers revealing that they too were stuffed with books. You probably owned more books than outfits, which isn’t saying a lot. You shake your head, the vestiges of your dream still leaking cobwebs that sapped your focus. You had been studying late into the night again a self avowed punishment for messing up on the arcanes section of the written exam you had just taken, but you don’t recall getting into bed. Odd.
The thumping came louder this time, less cordial, more annoyed. You check the old clock on the wall. Hour hand not even past seven. Who could even be knocking on the door this early? With another groan, you get out of bed, looking yourself over in the mirror. You were wearing what you had on before you fell asleep at the desk, a ratty old t-shirt and jeans. Eh, good enough for you, at least you weren’t in your underwear.
You stumble out into the hall, legs stiff with that early morning atrophy you knew signaled a decent night of sleep. The house was quiet, aside from the increasingly rapt knocks from your door. It was a quaint little ditty, two stories with quite as many bedrooms. It was your uncle’s home, and you lived here with him. Why you didn’t live with your parents was beyond your understanding, but you had a few ideas. The way your uncle seemed hesitant to talk about them meant they were dead. You had come to grips with it a while ago, to your uncle’s dismay.
It was…whatever to you. They probably loved you, and that was all that mattered. You were too focused on your studies to think about that kind of trite nonsense anyway. Stiffing it down the stairs, you manage to open the door before whoever was knocking put their hand through the stained brown mahogany.
The cold air of winter hit you like a middle school bully, icy talons plunging themselves into your lungs. You grimace, maybe you should have grabbed a coat. No matter, there were more important things on hand, like the two cloaked figures standing on your porch. Given the muzzle sticking out of one’s hood it was an anthro, and a male, given how large his shoulders were. The other was most likely a female, she was shorter than you, and her shoulders didn’t touch the sides of her black cloak. Both had a matching four pointed star on the chest; it was the logo of King’s Academy.
The taller one made a motion with his hand, extending it in greeting. You take it.
“May we come in? It’s terribly cold out today.”
You take his hand in greeting and nod, stepping aside. They both enter, and you note how smoothly they walk, they almost glide through the door frame one at a time. The female doesn’t say anything but she nods at you. Closing the door behind you, you lock it, shutting out the cold biting air outside, and follow the two cloaked figures into the living room.
You motion for them to sit, and they do, pulling off their hoods. You had guessed right, one was a canine of some sort, most likely a wolf, given the grey fur, and the other a human female with sandy blond hair. You elect to stand, leaning on the back of the largest chair in the room, mainly to hide your nervously tapping foot. The wolf gestures at the desolate and cold fireplace with a hand.
“May I?”
You nod, and he extends his hand, muttering something under his breath. The incantation. Sparks danced on the tips of his fingers, little flames doing hopscotch, before they jumped together just above his palm, catching alight into an intimidatingly minuscule fireball. That, he threw into the fireplace, which burst into flames, a crimson lotus of heat.
You watched every second of it enrapturing you in its marvelous mundanity. Flames, jumping to life from nothing, just to light a fire to keep you warm. Was a miracle like that not begging to be studied? To be analyzed within an inch of its arcane life? Would it not be unfair of you to learn everything about magic, to unlock its mysteries? You nod slightly. Yes. It would.
The male’s steely grey eyes lock with yours and you feel your breath leave for a moment. Was this a test of some sort? You knew they were with King’s Academy, their robes had signaled as much. They couldn’t be here to give you your written exam results, you had just taken that. Your face remains neutral, but on the inside your heart is doing flip-flops, and you’re doing your best not to vomit. Social settings weren’t exactly your forte.
“Well..” The female begins, brushing a strand of hair out the way before scratching her neck. “I assume you know why we’re here.”
You gulp, you didn’t exactly know, in all honesty. Hopefully this was a welcoming party and not them letting you down in person. Had your arcanes section been that bad? You knew them now! Would they let you retake it? You mind was whirling like a storm, and your anxiety rose, along with the bile in your throat. You swallow again, forcing it down again, and open your mouth to speak.
“I-I do believe that you are here regarding my entrance exam, however I hope it is on a good note rather than a bad one.” God be damned if you failed to enter, the monetary cost just to apply had wiped out your savings. If they made you pay again, you wouldn’t be able to afford it. Applying to the best magical institution in New Carolina wasn’t exactly cheap. Your financial musings were interrupted by the wolf clearing his throat.
“No need to be worried, this is just a regular visit, we do this to check up on the students before we bring them in.” He produced a duffel bag from…somewhere along with a brochure. You leaned forward, interested. Hammer space spell. A highly coveted, highly protected spell, it allowed one to store objects of need in a small pocket of space-time, accessible only to that user. Best place to keep your wallet, really. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to impress you, show him what he can learn if he comes to King’s Academy. Cunning wolf, but you would play his game.
“So…” You say, picking up the brochure. “What did I score on my exam?”
The wolf snorts, amused.
“Ever anxious to know your grades, hmm?”
“You have no idea.”
“Don’t worry about it, the fact that you even got that test means you’re in.” The female said, as flatly as the brochure on the coffee table.
What?
You had to take a second to process that. You were…in?
“What was the point of that ‘entrance exam’ then?” You ask accusingly. You had heard that the academy liked to mess with their student body, keep them on their toes. You narrow your eyes. The wolf holds his hand (paws?) up in self defense.
“Hey, that was just a benchmark, for the eggheads up in Avalon Tower, they love that sort of shit, analytics up there, yea?” He accents his statement like a question, probably hoping to illicit a response of sympathy from you. ‘I’m not responsible for this’ kinda deal. Your face twitches but you relent, annoyed at his disarming charm.
“Fine, but I still don’t know why you’re here.”
“We’re here to-”
“HEY! What’s going on down here?!” You and the cast of cloaked spell-slingers jumped at the booming voice at the top of the stairs. Your uncle wasn’t a morning person. That you knew well.
“It’s just me and two people from the Academy! You can go back to bed!” You call up, hoping he won’t come down and make a fool of you.
“No,” the female says, “It’ll be easier if you come downstairs for this.” You give her a quizzical look.
“What is ‘this’?” You ask, getting annoyed at their word games. You didn’t apply to King’s Academy and take that exam for word games. The wolf gives you a guilty look.
“Well, since you’ve techinally been enrolled in the upcoming semester, you have to leave…Today.”
Your lip curls into a snarl, but you reign in the spike of annoyance at this new found information. You hated surprises. Your uncle had learned not to spring things on you early on.
“...What?” Was all you said, a barely contained hiss. The wolf’s ears fold back, and the female visibly cringes.
“I-we..”
“Don’t say another word.” You say, grabbing the bag and stomping up the stairs, past your bewildered uncle. You toss the duffel onto your bed, and begin stuffing clothes into it. Underwear, shirts, your two pairs of jeans, all get haphazardly tossed into the bag’s awaiting maw. Done packing you grab a few pens off your desk and stuff them into your pocket. Better safe than sorry, you guessed. Your uncle is downstairs with the 2 cloaked instructors, making small talk. They must have given him the four one one.
“I’m ready.” You announce, far to mechanically for something of this occasion. You were going to King’s Academy, for Gods’ sake. Why didn’t you feel anything more than a twinge of excitement? You shake your head, you don’t care, what’s happening’s happening. Your uncle is nursing a cup of coffee, and you realize that you didn’t offer them anything to drink. Poor hosting. Hmph. They’re wizards, if they wanted something, they could congjour it up themselves. Your uncle stand, his knees stiff.
“You sure about this?” He asks.
“Yeah, I’m certain that I’ve got everything under control.” You say.
You had no idea how terribly wrong you were.


Act 1, Chapter 1: Seven Crowns

The transition was faster than you had thought possible. The two instructors, (you still didn’t know their names) had shipped your happy behind out of your house, after an emotionless goodbye to your uncle, and plunked you in a seat on a train, where you were now watching the idyllic landscape of the midwest empire slide past from the window. You would have felt a twinge of sorrow for leaving, had you not already waved the hamlet you called home goodbye. You sigh, and tear your eyes from the window, and flip open the brochure, the fifth time in fifteen minutes. Like all things related to that school, it was black, with golden print. The logo, that ever innocent four pointed star was the only thing printed on the front side, with all the information kept safe within the folded pages.
‘Welcome to King’s Academy, the most prostegious source of magical knowledge! You are most likely no longer a novice to magic, or its uses, but this institution will bolster your already highly talented magical abilities! Please be sure to keep this brochure on hand, as it its your student guide to the school, containing all the information you will need to survive in our gilded halls. The rest of the brochure was just basic information. Breakfast as seven, lunch at twelve, dinner at six thirty, class schedules would be established at the first meeting. Dorm meetings, blah blah blah. Whatever. You toss the brochure back onto the table and resume staring out the window.
You remained like this for quite some time, ignoring the looks of the other students that happened to be on the train, electing to listen in on their chatter and pick up what you could glean. You hold your hand under the table and mutter the incantation. A listening spell, one of the most useful for information gathering, and train it on two people who’s four pointed star emblazoned bags marked as freshman, or at least, students.
	“-id you hear? The Nash twins are coming and they’re gonna be in our class!” One student, a female cat anthro, said. Her chatter-mate, a smaller black dog anthro, snorted.
“Yeah, they’re here to wipe the floor with us. They’ve been recruited by almost every school in the country, why they’d choose KA above the rest of them is beyond me.”
You narrow your eyes. You hadn’t hear much about the Nash twins, but you knew who they were. Twins, a male and a female, both highly promoted by their father and highly sought after. King’s Academy was no saftey net school, but you were certain that they were recruited by better schools farther east. The reason you had chosen King’s Academy was that it was closest only an hour by train, and well, the cheapest to attend. Student loans, ya?
The dog speaks up again.
“What surprises me is the Bledsoe girl, she’s already being looked at by Praetorian scouts, at least that’s if the tabloids were to be believed.” At the word ‘praetorian’, your ears perk, well they would have if you were a dog, like the speaker. The Praetors were a secretive group, highly exclusive and well known, a group of wizards and witches that were given power of which placed them in the highest echelon of society, even above nobility and some royalty. You glowered. So there was a praetor recruit here, in your class. Just your luck. The Nash twins and that praetor recruit. What a class. Your face snaps into a wild grin at the thought of you beating them in academia and in combat. You were determined to be the next praetor selected from the ranks of King’s Academy.
Your thoughts were interrupted as the door to the train car slid open with a clack, and the two instructors walked through, sealing the door behind them. You dispelled the listening spell, and the magic circle floating above your hand shattered with a flash of light. The female human gave you a look of interest, which you ignored. She probably had detected the spell. You want to look away but the wolf appears ready to begin speaking, and was clearing his throat.
“Hello, freshman!” He began. “If you are a cool dude you probably know me, and if you don’t your probably a loser, so I’ll do introductions.”
A student sitting in front of you- you couldn’t see what species they were, stuck their hand in the air.
“But Professor Wylander, half the country doesn’t know you.”
“Well, that’s 26 million registered losers.” He says. “Regardless, I am Professor Jacob Wylander, yes the Wylander, and I teach arcanes. My partner here is Professor Sylvia Johnson.”
“I am a Professor from the divinations department, so please, if you need help with something, come talk to me.” She days, winking.
“Well! With that out of the way, we can get to the fun part.” Wylander says, waving his hand in front of him, causing the air to crackle and spark. “Please check your bags.” he continues.
You look down, and unzip your bag, shuffling though your bag, you hand coming into contact with something you didn’t remember putting in there. A metal object. Black, like the night, it was a bracelet, like the cuff of a shackle. There wasn’t much to it, the bracelet was simply a glossy black, studded with a few gems. Not your personal taste in jewelry, but it was rather expensive looking.
“So! These are Comuniclets, names a beta, and so are these, don’t complain.” Wylander said, pulling up his sleeve to show his own wrist, which had the bracelet snugly fit. “Just slip it on and press your thumb on this gem right here, see?” He said, pointing to the largest gem on the device. You do so, and wince when you feel something sharp bite into your thumb, and when you pull it away, some blood rolls down from a small incision right on the pad of your thumb. You glower, excellent, a new wound to heal. The bracelet thrummed to life, golden lines making different patterns on the glossy black surface. Now this was something you could rock with. The bracelet shifted, shrinking down on your arm and latching softly just below your wrist. You still had full range of motion. Everything is dark all of a sudden. You contain a yelp of fear as you realized that your vision has gone dark, and you hear some shrieks and screams of panic from other occupants in the car. With a flash, your vision is back, but a little different. In the bottom left hand corner is your heart rate, and temperature, along with the temperature of the room you’re currently in.
“What the FUCK is this?” You hear someone shout.
“Alright, alright, simmer down kiddos.” Prof. Wylander says. “Its just the Comuniclet booting up. There are a few neato features, so just dink around with it for a while before we get there, because...” he pauses, checking his watch. “15 minutes till we hit the school, and your new lives begin.” He gives off a devilish grin. “It will probably be hell for a few of you, but hey, that’s how it goes.”
You frown at this new development. They probably had some way to track your movements through this thing. The thought of being watched constantly annoyed you. The idea that they could probably listen in on your conversations too was something you didn’t like. You tap into the magic floating around you, and a complex magical circle spawns above your right hand. A scanning spell, one of your favorites to use, it checked for any and all sorts of gimmicks and tom-foolery that people placed on objects. Your frown deepens when you realize that there are multiple warding spells weaved into the metal of the bracelet. From the complexity of them, you doubt you would be able to crack them in any amount of time, and even if you did, you might set off an alarm of some sort within the device. You wave off the spell, and fold your arms, annoyed that you had been tricked into giving up some privacy.
The rest of the ride was uneventful, and you ended up simply staring up at the castle like building that was approaching from the distance. High tower spiraled above the main building, and they all seemed to be connected with bridges, creating a large almost box like shape over the castle. The entire thing was surrounded by a city. You expected to plow straight through the outside ruins, but surprisingly, the train slowed down, and stopped right on the outskirts of the city. One student spoke up.
“...Um, why are we stopping out here? Is there a malfunction?” Wylander gave them a cheeky look.
“Because this is your stop!” At the confused faces, his smile widened. “Cmon people, get up out of your seats, and move into the car ahead, we have some explaining to do.
You remain in your seat electing to let the throng of people in the train car go ahead of you. The female instructor regards you with a faint smile, as if she knows something you didn’t. You disliked when people did that to you. Letting the last person go through the door, you get up and follow, and observe the room from the back. On a cart that lay on the side of the mostly empty car, were several objects, weapons, to be exact. Emboldened, you move forward and grab the first one you can a pistol. Etched into its side were runic patterns, its silvery surface almost glittering with with arcane lattice. It was a mage pistol, a gun that fired spells. Just think of the spell, pull the trigger, and blam, spell fired. It helped give civvies that edge they needed in home defense against marauders and other nare-do-wells. It was also use-full for getting a mage out of a sticky situation. You look up at Wylander, who is already setting you with his smug gaze.
“Ah, I see you’re already accustomed to these weapons, no?” You shake your head.
“Uncle was a blacksmith, he didn’t like firearms.” You explain. “Didn’t have one around the house, we were more of a swords household.”
“Ah,” He says, nonchalantly. “Anyway, if you look at your commiclet, you’ll see a map, and on that map, there are several marked locations.” He motions to his wrist, where his bracelet sits.
You do so, and are met with, as Wylander said, a map of the current local. There you were, marked against the black of the map and the white of the buildings as a green dot. Flicking the map, you let it glide and you see one of the starred locations, in red amongst the black and white lines.
“What is this? Some kind of game?” You mutter under your breath. Unfortunately, Wylander heard you, his ear flicking in your direction.
“Kinda,” he begins picking up and examining one of the pistols. “Its a game, except the loser gets shamed for their entire schooling career. Pretty high stakes if you ask me.” He said with a grin.
You frown, wondering what on earth this mangy mutt could possibly be talking about. As if he was reading your thoughts, his devilishly annoying grin widens.
“You’ve got an hour, starting in 2 minutes, to get to the center of the city, where the school main building is. As long as you make it in the allotted time, you made it, you’re safe from elimination. But, those who are looking for extra credit, go and grab one of those flags from around the city. It won’t be easy, because they’re going to be guarded by some of our golems, and we have golems wandering the streets. They won’t kill ya, but they’ll make your life a living hell if you get stuck fighting them. Well, I’ve taken enough time explaining stuff, any questions?” A lot of hands raise. “I don’t give a shit. Load up, don’t kill each other, and most importantly, have fun!”
There was a mad scramble for the table, but there were enough weapons for everyone. Some small stick like objects you recognized as the handle of mage swords, weapons that used your mana to create a blade, two of those, you grabbed, as well as a pistol. A door on the side of the car opened, and thoroughly satisfied with you weapon selection, you leap out of the door, and into the ruins outside.


--Time Elapsed: 15 Minutes

You were power. A golem fell, a sizzling hole through its crystal eye. You were magic unleashed. A student fled in fear, you smell their desperation in the air. You were Ivan Nash. And you hated this silly game they had you on. You walk through the ruins of the dirty, decrepit, city, eyes scanning for another attacker. You see a glint in a smashed in window, a golem’s eye. Without hesitation you aim your hand and the building is reduced to rubble. You smile. Your new spell, /Starslinger/ was working perfectly. Twenty golden stars floated above you and around you, your personal nebula. You would have made more, but you needed to save mana for your ace spell, but you didn’t think you truly needed it, you thought. The golems, in a word, were pathetic, and no one here seemed to want to challenge you. 	Your thoughts suddenly shifted, there was an attacker approaching. Ten stars to blade formation, the other ten remain in aura formation. CLANG! The blades of the attacker met yours, and you grin at the new arrival. A cat boy. You were a lynx, of course, but they were a simple house cat. Not worthy of royalty of prestige. They swipe at you, but you bat away their attack, and grab their throat with your free hand. You sweep their legs out from under them, and land on top of them, slamming them to the ground by their throat. For added measure, you plunge your blade into their palm, pinning them to the ground by their hand. They scream out in pain, something that disgusts and annoys you.
You snarl in their face and reaching back the hand that’s on their throat, you bring it down on their head, cold cocking them. They slump over, unconscious. Pathetic, another loser attempting to slow you down. You channel a little magic, and send up a help flare. The professors would find him. Your blade separates back into the blade-motes and float back into the defensive aura formation. This was power. This was The Nash Legacy.
 Your sister was making short work of the rest of city, she had likely claimed one of the treasures and was on her way to the castle. You check your bracelet. Only seventeen minutes had passed; it was a shame your little trial run with the spell slinger had to come to an end so soon. You were closing in on one of the treasures, and you would soon be headed to the castle. Hmm, you had an idea. No one ever said you couldn’t take your time, did they? Have some fun, shake things up? You grin. Now this was starting to be fun. You pick up the pace, almost marching towards the plaza where the map said the treasure was located. Three….two…one…here it was!
The Plaza was empty, no chairs or anything, it looked like an open area for a fight. In the center was a crown, simple and elegant, black with gold trim, you were beginning to fall for the cliche motif. Some movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you leap to the side, narrowly avoiding some object smashing the ground where you stood mere seconds ago.
Rising from the crater that was almost you, a kangaroo anthro stood tall. She gave you a maliciously kind grin.
“Say…you one of those Nash kids? Boy I’m lucky I got you. I’ve had to fight nothing but punks and greenhorns. What say we duke it out for this here crown?” She said, pointing at your chest. You give a grin yourself.
Someone eager to challenge you? Confident in their skills enough to talk down to you? Your grin turns maniacal. Maybe this wasn’t going to be an ordeal of boredom, after all.

--Elapsed Time: 30 Minutes
You had been making great time when the first skyscraper fell. You’d been taking a break, getting out of the now falling snow and into the protection of the long looted and smashed convenience store when you saw it. There was a crack like thunder, making you look up. The tower shattered like glass in some sections, and blew out like someone had detonated a plastic explosive from others. The entire thing tilted, leaning from an entire chunk blown out at its base. The building, pitched forward, and fell, blanketing the area in dust. You climb to the roof of the store to get a better view of the action. Seeing that you couldn’t make out anymore than vague flashes of light, you cast an Eagle-Eye spell to assist you.
The first thing you noticed was the kangaroo. Stark white hair and beige fur, she stood against a lynx anthro. The lynx himself looked rather…out of place. Wearing a royal blue shirt and pants, along with a white cloak that bore the blue lotus. The Praetorian’s sigil! It marked you as a future prospect of the Praetorian legions. How he had acquired one, was something that made you narrow your eyes. That could be none other than one of the lynx twins, but you couldn’t tell their gender from this far out. You caught a brief glimpse of both of them, standing still. On the ruins of the collapsed building. The appeared to be chatting, wide grins on each of their faces. That was a fight you’d rather not fall into the crossfire of.
Checking your map, you realize that there were only a few treasures left. All the others were moving, albiet slowly. It appeared that most in your area had been snatched. This was not good. You either had to make a mad dash for the next to last one, in the big arena area across town, or try and fight someone for theirs. You had a decision to make, and quickly. One of the treasures was approaching you, and fast.
‘Let’s make this fun.’ You thought.
You pull the pistol out of its holster and mutter the incantation for a binding spell, ducking down under the lip of the roof. You check your map again, and line up a shot against the driving snow. The figure is sprinting in the street, probably attempting to get to the caste before someone stronger than them takes their treasure. That person was you. You’re about to pull trigger when they stop suddenly, making your shot bounce in front of them, the chains that sprouted from the end of your pistol bouncing harmlessly on the street. You holster the pistol, glaring down at the carrier of the treasure. There it was, on their head, a crown of gold and black coloration. Your target. The wearer grinned, happy that they had tricked you. Your blood boiled. People looking down on you…disrespectful. You leap off the building, drawing your mana-blades. You land as you slash, trying to cleave the crown from their fucking head. They duck away, and draw their own blade. One, CLASH, two your blades met theirs.
They were a dog, the same one from the train car earlier. They sprang back, a crimson magic circle appearing in front of their mouth. Fire! You roll to the left as a pillar of flame spawns to life where you were standing. You threw up a barrier in the nick of time to catch another blast of fire, this one nearly liquefying the ground around you. You let the barrier down and throw one on your blades like a spear toward the source of the flame. It caught them in the shoulder, the dog letting out a howl of pain. The blade winked out of existence without your mana to power it, the handle clattering to the ground. The dog backed up, again, readying another spell, but this time, you knew why. They weren’t good at close combat, and would be toast if you got in close. This was why they were so confident when you’d missed that first shot. The next shot wouldn’t be a miss. You rush forward, ducking under the barage of fire, and landing a solid uppercut into the dog’s solar plexus. They stumble back, and you drop your blade, jumping into a grapple with the with the the canine. You roll around in the snow, both of you fighting for the top of the pile. With some effort you manage to get on top and wrestled the crown off the dog’s head. You land a good punch on his nose, blood spraying your face. They whimpered, and when you got off them, they stayed down. Tiredly, an with ragged breaths, you grab your hard won crown.

--Time Elapsed: 45 Minutes, 15 minutes remain.
You were Ivan Nash. You were born the son of Keillor Nash and Savada Nash, both praetorians. Both of their parents were praetorians, and both of their parents. You were born to become a fighting machine, bred to raze cities in the name of the Praetorian guard. You were the strongest wizard on the face of the planet.
And you were having fun.
The kangaroo girl had proven to be an excellent combatant. You had bee fighting for a whole thirty minutes and both of you were nearing your limits, but you just wanted to keep going. Your face hurt, from you grinning the entire time. She was frentic, smashing through your defenses with solid punches and kicks. FOr your part, you had done your best to avoid getting walloped while you both danced, one with blade, and one with claw. You loved every second of it. In your battle she had wounded you thrice, and you her an innumerable amount of times. Her fur was burnt and charred in some places, and she bore many wounds that would stop a lesser being. But she was no lesser being. And you liked that. But alas, time was ticking, and all good things must come to and end.
You muttered the incantation aloud, throwing up an iron wall barrier to keep out the meddling marsupial. As you chanted, you could hear her pounding on the barrier, it wouldn’t hold against her for long. Your Star Slinger Spell winked out, and you concentrated on casting your new spell, your ace in your sleeve, or however those degenerate gamblers say it. /Splash King/ you called it. It was the perfect spell, designed by the perfect being. You of course. You didn’t the chance to finish the spell, however, as the increasingly intimidating thuds of fists on steel was replaced by silence, and the polite knocks. Hesitantly, you open the barrier, and come face to face with another lynx. Dressed torn jeans and a flannel shirt, she looked as if she was going shopping at the mall back home, rather than in a combat zone. On one wrist was the standard black and gold communiclet of King’s Academy, and on the other, the white and blue bracelet marked with a blue lotus, the praetorian’s logo. Your sister, Ibacca.
“Dear brother, please explain to me why you felt it nessesary to destroy half the city in your little brawl with this kangaroo girl?” She asked, her annoyed tone mismatched with the dazzling smile on her face. You waved the question off with a shrug.
“It matters not, we were having fun.” Ibacca rolled her eyes, whatever. I got this trinket for you, I nabbed it from the arena when you were ‘having fun with little miss hoppity-hop over here. Suddenly remembering his opponent, you looked around your sister at the marsupial. She looked….dazed, standing in place like a statue with her eyes glazed like emerald donuts.
“What did you do to her?” You ask, concerned your sister, the ever powerful illusionist, had made your only worthy opponent comatose.
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s only in my /Dazzling Dimension/, she’ll wake up in five minutes.” Ibacca said, grinning. “That means we have about sixty seconds to run before she gains on us, and beats you to a pulp.”
“As IF! I was about to win.” You say with a huff Ibacca only snickers.
“Oh please, you were about to unleash /Splash King/ she had you in a corner and you know it.” Your face twitches, but you decide to drop the subject. Segueing, you ask,
“What about that trinket, the one that you mentioned earlier?” Ibacca’s eyes light up at that, and she hands you a crown, black and gold, the one you were fighting for.
“I even nicked this other one off some plebeian anthro hiding in a grocery store.” she says, pulling another out of her hammer space. You give her a flat look
“So you were going to keep two for yourself, you avaricious girl?”
“Eh, they’re nice, and they’d totally go with my spring outfits.” You roll your eyes at that.
“Give that one to the kangaroo girl, she deserves it for being such a worthy challenge to me.” Ibacca does as you say, placing the crown upon her head.
“Wake her up too, we don’t want some plebeian taking it from her.”
A quick smack later, and the kangaroo was shaking her head, and the twins were nowhere in sight.



-- Elapsed time: 55 minutes.

You shiver as the snow falls, your light jacket doing nothing to protect you from the cold of winter. The crown you wore rested heavily on your head, and you wondered who was watching you as you jogged through the city proper. The thunderous booms from deep within the city had quieted, and the blanketing snow stifled the ambient noise to an eerie silence. You swallow, checking your map again, anxiety rising as you could see the other held crowns were fast approaching. You were fairly certain that someone had set a trap ahead of you, but your scuffle with the dog anthro had pushed you back a fair ways. There was only one option if you wanted to make it to the school on time. And you fucking legged it. Hand on holster and blade in hand, you spent your time checking surroundings, and checking corners as fast as you possibly could. You check your map again. The other crowns are right on your heals, and you can begin to hear the sounds of spells being cast as they battled it out behind you. You, as best you could put your head down and kept running. You didn’t know what sort of prize there was for winning, but you were certainly not going to find out what losing meant. You were so busy worrying that you didn’t notice the mine-spell until it was too late, the bomb clicking as your foot mashed down on it. You barely had time to throw up a shield between you and the mine before it detonated, sending you sprawling into a snowdrift. The world spun, your vision swimming in and out, and your head reeled. You check your brow, pleased that your crown hadn’t come flying off in the explosion.
 ‘Wasn’t that lethal force?’ You thought as the world continued to carousel around you. With no small effort you haul yourself to your feet, and you force yourself to keep running. Even though your head was spinning, you checked your map, zooming in on yourself as far as you could. The nearest crown was 40 meters away, and closing in fast. Explosions, the whistle of spells and the whoosh of flames sounded behind you. The battle was close, and if you didn’t move fast enough, it was going to catch up to you. You needed to move. Move DAMNIT! Your ankle screamed in protest every step; you had likely twisted it in the landing from the explosion. You pressed on, ignoring the pain. The gates were right there! You could see them in the distance, and you turned on the heat, full on sprinting towards safety. Your heart pounded in your ears, and the icy cold was working your lungs to death, you chest felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny knives. You were almost there, just a few more steps…! Keep going! You were just outside the gate, and with explosions at your back and pain shooting up and down your leg, you made it. Or…you would have, if you hadn’t tripped going into the gate, where you fell face first into the threshold of King’s Academy.


Act 1, Chapter 2: Low Stakes

Dirt in your face. That’s what you got for all your effort. Well, that and the crown, which sat proudly on your head as if it wasn’t just I the middle of a warzone five minutes ago. You wanted nothing more than to sit down, and maybe have a little tea, but the faculty had other ideas. The robed staff herded you into the school like magically talented cattle, and you were forced to gimp your way through the vaulted halls of the aft castle. The more you limped the more you wondered if you had gotten the crown for nothing. That was until a tall wolf anthro flagged you down. You were lead away from the safety of the main herd and dragged down another hall entirely. Down the main hall you went, until you came to a stop at a wide double door, each flanked by a lion statue wearing the same crown you had upon your head.
The wolf motioned you forward, and you hobble over. There’ a grating, grinding sound as the two statues turned their heads to regard you. You squirm in place nervously as they stare you down, one on each side. The one on the right nods slightly and the doors between them open up, revealing a staircase covered in a plush red carpet. You look back at the wolf, who as remained in place, and they give you a simple ‘well go on’ gesture with their hand. You didn’t really want to, but you ascended the stairs, the door closing behind you. Wait, did it just lock? You turn back, but its too late, the door is sealed. Whatever is in here, you’re trapped in with. The staircase rose into a wide open room, with a cluttered table being in the center. Seven, at least seven by your count, bags rested on the table, along with an assortment of other items.
On one side of the room there was a fireplace, with four plush chairs in a loos semi circle around it. The entire place was coated in the amber glow of the fire. THe burgandy carpet underneath your feet was thick, almost impossibly so, and your footsteps were muffled, even with your boots on. The more interesting thing in the room, rather than the objects, were the people. Six others were already here, and when you entered, they were either ignorant of you or chose to ignore you. By the fire sat a saber tooth cat, given the glint of her teeth in the flames, and a seal girl. Side by side, they held a conversation in hushed whispers. The saber toothed cat kept looking over her shoulder as if anyone was paying them any attention. Sitting at the head of the table was a lynx, male, his short hair and glower made that very apparent. He was holding a heated argument with what to be a female version of him, his face seemed to twitch around a scar that ran over his face, across his right eye. The female he was arguing held a smug smile, which irked you slightly. You sincerely disliked that type of person, something about that personality trait bothered you to no end. Both wore the mark of the praetorian. The Nash twins. You swallow. If they were here, who else was waiting in the wings? The fifth and sixth were at the table, and seemingly ignoring each other. One was a female kangaroo anthro, who had elected to spend her time glaring at the Nash twins, and a male spider anthro, who was asleep with his feet kicked up on the table. Everyone here had won a crown. That means everyone here was on the same level or at least as competitive as the Nashes. You were just a boy from the sticks. You had no business being here, and you intended to make sure they didn’t know until you did have some business here, challenging them at the throne. The Nash at the head of the table’s ear flicked when you reached your bag, and absentmindedly unzipped it, looking about the contents that you already knew were there.
“Ah!” He said, perking up. “It appears everyone has come around. I’m tired, so let’s get this little ice breaker underway shall we.” You took your seat across from the female lynx, placing you bag under your chair so you could see. Everyone else gathered at their own pace, the last person to be attending was the spider, who was awoken when Ivan slapped the table with his palm.
“Huh? Wuzzat?” he muttered in confusion. Ivan gave him a glare.
“Well, eight-legger, we are here to introduce ourselves to the group.” You groan, along with a few others.
“Groan all you want, but we are gonna be doing this.” Ivan said, standing.
“If you don’t already somehow know, I’m Ivan Nash…and my specialty is combative magic.” He motioned to his sister, who stood up.
“I am Ibacca Nash, and my specialty is illusions. It is a pleasure to meet you all.” Her eyelids were droopy, half lidded, giving her a constantly smug expression. Perhaps, she had some form of condition?
The person on her left, the kangaroo anthro, opens her mouth to speak.
“Cleopatra Bledsoe, but you can call me Cleo.My speciality is combative magic as well, and I intend to be a praetorian.” She sits, huffing. “Next.”
The spider anthro doesn’t skip a beat, despite his napping earlier.
“Yo, I’m Voight.” he says, grinning. “Speciality…poisons and acids…I guess, also, don’t uh, touch the spines on my back, they’re venomous.” When he sat back down, Ibacca scooted her seat away from him, ever so slightly. The next person, the seal, elected to remain seated. It was the seal anthro, with pretty blonde hair that fell in curly waves around her face.
“Celeste…” She paused, quirking an eyebrow at the sabertooth. “I’m good at ice magic.”The cat-woman from before stood up, her face alight with anxiety. With some hesitation and a shifty glance around, she bowed so deeply it seemed she might fall over.
“I-I’m Kala, I’m majoring in psyonics and I’m very good at divinations!” she nearly shouted. You all simply stared at her in the shocked silence, and she stood there, with an embarrassed look on her face. About thirty seconds of awkward staring commenced before she sat down, looking as if she was going to cry. You watch as Celeste leans over, and pats her on the back, whispering something in her ear. You decided to take the heat off her. You decide to take the heat off her, and stand up to introduce yourself.
“I’m Anson Lee, and my speciality is…” You stop, thinking. “I…don’t really know, honestly.” Your face twitches, and you sit down, thoroughly assuming the stares of the rest of the group. Your face burns, but you smile, breathing out a sigh.
“Well! Now, that we have settled introductions, I think it would be wise if we settled into our rooms for now, and reconvened at a later time.” He said, rising from the table. Everyone follows, desperate to get away from the miasma of awkwardness that the introductions had left.
“Ah, that’s going to be a problem. You’ve got stuff to do.” Came a voice from the door. As if you all were geese chasing a piece of thrown bread, you simultaneously turn you heads. Standing there was a pronghorn man. He cut a sharper line in the wall than the doorf rame that surrounded him, his slender and tall form sporting an expensive and finely tailored suit.
“I see you’ve all gotten acquainted, and I shall make mine. I am Professor Irons, and I will be your combat instructor. Please, follow me.”


Plink-P-plink! The clatter of mana cubes sounded in your ear as you stood in the assessment room. Truth be told, it was less of a room and more of an arena. The expansive, circular floor was covered in sand and a vaulted glass dome ceiling was high above, through which you could see the cloudy sky.
“Good, good, Ibacca, full marks. Seventy five-seventy-five.” Professor Irons said. You stomach knotted. Even though you weren’t in any danger, you could feel droplets of anxious sweat creep down your face and neck. This was the next test. Simple, but at the same time, one of the basic benchmark mana tests. Make some cubes. It was as easy as that. It tested for two of three arcane numbers. First was mana velocity, or how fast you can summon, channel, and mold mana into a spell. The second was mana endurance, which is a measured in the amount of ten cubic inch squares you could make before their size started deviating. Once the size of the spell starts to deviate, it is a sign of lack of control, and thus, the end of your stamina.
 Ibacca’s double seventy five proved she was of praetorian rank, or at least had the raw talent of one. Ivan had scored a double ninety, popping off cubes at a rate that your eyes could barely follow. It was only natural, given their lineage. Ivan had looked like a smug prick when his score got rattled off, the face of someone who knew he was superior. The professor went down the line, scoring each student. Cleo, a fifty-ninety. Celeste, double sixty-nines. Voight had gotten a double fifty, which he seemed perfectly fine with. Kala looked like she was going to faint when she got her score back; a thirty-fifty. And there were you, at the bottom, with your measly twenty-twenty. Irons didn’t even blink when he read your score, but the rest of the class felt it felt it prudent to express their reactions.
Ivan looked even more smug than he already was, as if he was vindicated by your poor performance. Ibacca looked offended, as if Professor Irons had called you a skinnigger, or some other slur. Cleo wasn’t really paying attention, as she was glaring at Ivan again. Celeste was quietly talking to Kala, who was looking like she was gonna melt down from embarrassment. Voight, at least was honest.
	“Holy shit, dude you suck!” He said between laughs.
“At least he knows he sucks, therefore he can improve.” Came a voice. Irons grinned.
“Headmaster Chalice, how wonderful for you to come to meet the new Crowns.” He said. The new arrival was a wiry man, cloaked in black, his hands swathed in gold rings. A gruff grey beard hung from his face, and his magenta eyes sparked mischievously. “I was planning on sending them to you, but here you are!” He continued.
“Indeed, I wanted to stretch my legs. The new Crowns look promising, even Young Master Lee. If you obtained a crown during the initiation test, you deserve to be here, so do not lose heart.” Headmaster Chalice said, looking you straight in the eyes.
“In fact, I believe that all of you will become great students, and even greater mages. There is a lot of potential here, and I wish to see it fulfilled. Just because you start at the bottom, doesn’t mean you cannot reach the top. And I do hope that our young praetorians in training will be willing to help those who need it.” At that, Ivan looked shocked, and Ibacca smiled widely, her half lidded eyes seeming to pierce yours.
You felt a little odd, as if the world was spinning for a second, but her smile brought you back into reality. Weird. Perhaps you were more tired than you thought, you had been straining yourself a lot today. You look to the sky, where the sun was now setting. Of course the test had taken a while, Irons had to examine each student one by one, and the Nashes had a LOT of mana to burn.
“I do apologize for dropping in unannounced, but I just simply had to meet you all. Please, feel free to take the rest of the day off, not that there’s much of it left.” He said, glancing to the sky. “If you need me, just come down to my office, my door is always open.” Then you blink, and hes gone. No POP, or fancy lighting, he simply vanished, as if he was never there in the first place.
“Teleporting, fancy.” Professor Irons said, stepping into the place, where the robed human once stood. “Welp, you heard the Headmaster, go back to your dorms, get some rest. Tommorow, meet me at room eight oh three, in the west wing.” The pronghorn gave a shooing motion.
“Now off you go.”



Chapter 3: Get Creative

You woke with the sun. An old habit of when you used to work with your uncle in his store. It was a dreamless night; sleep without a visit from the liquid man were a rarity for you. You roll out of bed, and look out of your dorm window; every “crow” as they called it got their own room. The rising sun was a blindingly blissful orange, casting long shadows over the castle’s sloped walls.
You stretch, letting your joints talk to each other in pained clicks and pops. Your ankle was sore, but it was nothing you couldn’t block out. You dress quickly, t-shirt and jeans, nothing special. You wanted to go for one of your own shirts, but opt for one in the closet, one bearing the gold four pointed star of the of the school. Before you leave, however, you grab a mana blade, one of the ones you snatched during the trail yesterday. Something in your gut, some base feeling, told you that you were going to need it today. Besides, you felt safer just holding it, the innocent looking bit of metal.
Exiting the room, you find the table packed, with six of the seven seats filled. You were the last one out.
Dammit.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Came Ibacca’s strangely cheerful voice. It was…almost too cheerful. OR, maybe you were just a grouch that woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Yea, that was it.
“Morning all, then” You say, somewhat annoyed that all the attention of the group is now on you.
“We have no time for greetings, human,” Says Ivan, glaring at you. “We’re almost late for class, waiting for you.” You feel now is a good tie, if any to speak up.
“Well, why did you wait up for me?” You ask, giving a glare back to the angry lynx. “Don’t blame me, you could have just left.”
“Tch. It was my sister’s suggestion.” He says tersely. “Just ask-”
“Are you two done bickering?” Interjects Cleo, who had been waiting on the sidelines the entire time. “We’ve got a class to attend.”
You give Ivan one last look of annoyance, before nodding at the kangaroo. But before you can say anything to her, Voight speaks up.
“So does anyone know what we’re actually going to be doing today?”
Everyone looks at each other as if someone else knew the answer, even the ever haughty Ivan giving off come confused vibes.
“Well, we’re not going to find out by stand around,” Cleo says, annoyed.

“I don’t like to waste time, so I’m going to get down to brass tacks here. This class isn’t for those who like to study more than they practice. If you’re one of those types, you might as well turn in your crown now, do I make myself clear?” No one spoke. “Good. Secondly, you are all going to either hate me, or love me, and if you don’t by the end of the first week, I’m not doing my job. Any questions?” Not a single hand raised. “Good. Lets begin.”
“Magus mode.” Professor Irons said. “It is the most important thing I will teach you. It is the only think I will directly teach you. You will utilize it for a infinite plethora of things, but the most popular thing students use it for is for dueling.”
 A black board, old and caked with the chalk dust of an uncountable number of lessons, lay behind him. He ignored it, at least for now.
“Magus Mode is simple really, so I’ll only explain it once. Imagine taking your brain, and putting it into a dummy made of mana.” He stopped abruptly, raising an eyebrow. No one said a word, whether in confusion at the surprise analogy or not, you didn’t know. “That’s it. Its just a second body that you can use for dueling purposes. Nothing much more, really. That being said, its not a perfect copy. While there are internal organs and what-not, its just a temporary body, and will die and disappear after a time period.”
Ibacca raises her hand, a worried look on her face.
“Professor, if these are bodies made of mana, will illusions work on them the same?”
“Excellent question, Ibacca.” The pronghorn began pacing. “You see, though these bodies are mere copies of your own, they still operate the same.”
Irons began weaving a spell, his fingers working the air like he was playing invisible harps. The air around his hands shimmered slightly, and he slumped over. You and a few others gasped. Was he okay? Then, next to him, the air began to become...visible. It crunched in on itself, folding, and shaping. With a pop, there stood another Professor Irons, eye cuttingly sharp suit and all. He gave a little flourish with his hands.
“Tada~!” A few students clapped one sarcastically, the other more enthused, Celeste and Kala, ever the duo. You watched in rapt fascination, your eyes drinking in the sight of new magic. Irons smiled.
“Magus mode is quite the interesting bit of magic work, it allows you to take damage that would be considered extremely hazardous to a normal body, lost extremities, torso damage, a magus husk body lets a mage take more punishment than normal. That’s why we use it here, so students can practice their magic and duel without us getting sued by parents when little Maggie Mage gets torched by a flame spell.”
He paused lifting his..own head up by the chin.
“Just be aware that your normal bodies are completely vulnerable while you are in this state, so its not a free pass. Other than that, it is rather a rather complex spell to cast,but all you need to do is just follow my lead...”
The rest of the class passed in a blur, an hour at best, you imagined, with you and your fellow classmates attempting to cast the spell, with varying degrees of success. The Nash twins had casted it perfectly on their first attempt, Cleo got it working after one failed attempt, Voight, Celeste and Kala all managed to get it together after three, four, and five times respectively. Your self learned casting being your greatest hindrance, rather than any physical shortcomings. Every time you casted, the air would crackle and pop, but the spell would fizzle out before anything occurred. After eight tries, you finally got the spell up and running.
The sensation of switching bodies was unlike anything you’d ever felt, as if your brain was being funneled through a tiny tube, a similar feeling to teleporting, or so you’ve read. But your new body felt…normal, as if it was your normal body. Your old aches and pains followed over too, like the dull throb of your ankle. Irons remained silent, watching you all work for yourselves, before he stood, clapping his hands.
“Cease!”
 With a pop like the opening of a soda can, you were back in your old body,
“As you can see, once casted, you consciousness transfers bodies, allowing you to control your new husk. Unfortunately, time is of the essence, for I have a meeting with Professor Albridge in…” he pauses to check his watch. “Five minutes, so I must be off. We shall reconvene at room seven oh seven in 3 hours, so look alive.” He began to leave but stopped halfway out the door.
“And wear something you can get dirty!”
The rest of the class filed out the door, likely to get breakfast. It was only eight o’clock, after all. You stayed put, opening your spell weaving manual. It was a light, sandy colored book, its pages worn from years of use. Leafing through, like you did thousands of times before, you flip to the section labeled ‘casting’. What had you done wrong? You had followed the book to the letter. What could possibly be off by your spell casting. You buried your nose in the enchiridion, looking for the answer for your apparent lack of proficiency. Was your form off? Were your finger rhythms out of sync? There had to be something- something that was holding you back.
“You know that book is horribly outdated, correct?” Came a voice from behind you. Feminine, and full of a knowing smugness that made you clench your teeth. Turning around in your seat, you came face to face with yourself, blinking in surprise, you lean back, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. Your reflection grinned, giving you a half-lidded smile, before shattering like glass, the fragments blowing away on an invisible wind. An illusion. Your mind worked quickly, remembering the arrogant lynx that asked about that certain form of magic in class: Ibacca. The Nash girl stood before you, smiling with only half her eyes down at you. She wore a denim jacket with white fleece, which not only matched with the shirt she was wearing, but it contrasted with her grey fur and the black pants she had on. Her hair was a mpo of wavy strands, pulled together into a lazy bun, held together by two chopsticks. You decide to humor her instead of trying to continue your searching of the book.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” She stated, a frown forming on her face. “That specific manual is good if some housewife wants to learn how to cast a fireball for cooking, or a wind spell for laundry, but for anything more complex than that, its not going to teach you proper form for magic. The fact that you could even cast the husk body is rather peculiar. You must have quite the tenacious attitude of you could do that.” What was she getting at? Your face twist into a grin, letting yourself appear confident under her praise.
“Well, I see you have an eye for talent.” Its Ibacca’s turn to grin.
“I do, I am a Nash, after all.” She says. “Perhaps…” she trails off, looking thoughtful.
“What?” You ask.
“Perhaps we can make a deal.” She says, smiling. “No, do not mind my absent minded musings.” You frown, what was she angling for? Your mind was racing, but there was nothing that popped up.
“I have some studying to do, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to keep working.” You state, turning back. You feel a soft hand on your shoulder.
“Walk with me.” It was spoken in an equally soft tone, but you could tell it wasn’t a request. Perhaps you could get some useful information out of the Nash girl. You stand, slipping your book into your satchel.
“Alright, we have a few hours, so where to?” You say as you stand.
“The library.” The lynx replies. You nod in response.
The two of you walk the halls in silence, with Ibacca leading the way. She walked with a grace that you were unaccustomed to, she almost seemed to glide over the marble floor. The castle proper was sparsely decorated, the interior designer most likely deciding the best use of the space to be open air. Her dark hair seemed to glow in the light of the morning sun through the windows. You felt yourself strangely enthralled by her presence, as if she herself was warping the world around you to be occupied by her and only her.
“I’m aware that I am quite the fetching being, but you need not stare at me.” She said, suddenly. You felt your cheeks tingle slightly. How rude of you.
“Sorry…I’m not used to anthros, is all.” You say, counting the speckles on the marbled floor in shame. It wasn’t untrue, the Podunk donklet- a place bigger than a hamlet but smaller than a an actual town- you hailed from was not the most popular in the nation for anthros, with only two percent of the population being of the anthric disposition.
“It’s fine, I am quite familiar with being undressed with other’s eyes.” Ibacca tittered, looking over her shoulder. Now that made your cheeks burn hotly.
“I-I, was not!” You protested.
“No, no, by all means, its fine. I dress to impress regardless.” You didn’t say much after that, letting your eyes wander to anything but the the lynx that led you down the corridors of the school, though you couldn’t help but take peeks at her when her tail began flicking with amusement. Looking at the castle in earnest, you noticed a lot about how it was designed to look like a school. It was decorated to look like a school, with posters regarding upcoming events -homecoming, spirit week, and the like. Unlike most classical castles, this was was quite linear, with multiple floors, allowing for straight traversal of the of the halls. However, you still didn’t know your way around, and while you were provided with a map of the school via the bracelet, you opted to follow Ibacca, who mysteriously seemed to know which way to go.
“So…how do you know where to go?” You ask.
“I practically lived here during the summers of my childhood with my brother, I know this place like the back of my paw.” She explained.
“Sounds...nice.” You say, nonchalantly.
“It was, we learned a lot our skills here. Ivan in particular loved it here.” She added, wistfully.
The rest of the tripped passed in silence, and you both reached your destination of the library. It was a wide open space, with wide and tall windows letting in tons of sunlight. Organizing a stack of books in the middle was a gharial girl, dressed in a typical librarian fashion of a yellow button-down shirt that was tucked down into black suitpants.
“Hi Ms. Alice!” Ibacca said cheerfully.
“Hello Ibacca, its lovely to see you again!” The girl said, nodding her head. “And who is this?” She asked, nodding at you.
	“This is Anson, my classmate in the Crowns class.”
“Oh, really? Its a pleasure to meet you, Anson.” She said, extending her hand in greeting. You clasp it, shaking it firmly.
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.” You say. “I have to thank Ibacca for introducing us, though why were are here is still not exactly clear to me.”
Ibacca gives a snort, whether its one of annoyance or amusement you can’t tell, she’s not facing you.
“We’re just here to get some books.” She says, looking at Alice.
“Well, what exactly are you looking for?”
“Can you get ‘The Full Casting Manual’ from the Nash library” Ibacca says. “Version fourteen point five, of course.” she adds, hastily.
“Of course, just a moment.” the gharial says, as she begins to weave a spell, her hands criss-crossing and then separating, the air in between them snapping and twisting into a magic circle. From deep within the library, there came a sound like a thunderbolt striking the ground, and in an instant, a bolt of energy bounced out from between the bookshelves and into the gharial’s hands, forming into a book. With a thump, the thick tome lay on the desk, ready to be opened and read.
“Quite the show-off, hmm?” Ibacca teased. “You claim to be shy, but then you pull stuff like this...” She trailed off.
The gharial blushed.
“W-well, its just how the magic looks, its not like I meant it to be that startling…or loud.”
“Either way, I’m appreciative that you’re here to organize these books for us idiot students. So when is this due back?” the lynx asked.
“In two weeks. Three if you ask for an extension and no one else is looking for it.” Ibacca clapped her hands together in apparent excitement.
“Excellent! That’s plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?”
“For me to tutor you, of course!”

It’s only been a since you’ve arrived at Kings’s academy, and you’ve learned so much. You’ve learned how much you suck at magic, about magus mode, and now, you’re learning how utterly humiliating it is to learn magic.
“Are you sure you have to hold me like this?” you whine, as Ibacca the lynx guides your hands through the moitions of a spell. The lynx was currently sitting in front of you, holding your hands like you were a toddler. Your cheeks burned, as this was actually…kind of embarrassing for you. Disregarding your embarrassment, you realized that you didn’t know what spell she was making you cast, but when a piece of chalk weaved itself into existence between your hands, you realized what she was doing was actually helping.
Another piece of chalk fell from the air in front of you. “In fact, that’s probably why you are so low on magic endurance, you have to cast in the most ineffective manner possible. Mana velocity is another matter entirely, but this will definitely help you.”
The bell rung, meaning you had 5 minutes to get to to the room before you were late, it had been a few hours since you had checked out the book. As you walked back to the classroom, you decided to ask a question that had been at the back of your mind since this whole thing began.
“Why are you helping me?”
Ibacca looks surprised, but gives an answer.
“Boredom. Don’t look too far into it, my family isn’t fond of humans.”
“...oh” Is all you say. Not that you had been expecting much…right?
“So I wonder what it is we’re going to be doing that we need to ‘wear something we can get dirty.” Ibacca wondered aloud.
“Probably something interesting, like dueling, or something similar.” You answer. “Well, it looks like we’re gonna find out.” You add as you approach the group of gathered students and the sharply dressed pronghorn.

Gardening. That’s what you were doing. Not studying advanced magic, or practicing magic theory, nope. Gardening was the fate of your class. They even had mana blades shaped like shovels and spades.
“So! Today class, we’re going to do an exercise in teamwork. As a praetorian, you will be expected to work with a team, there are no lone wolves in this profession. A lone mage is a dead mage.” Irons said as he fiddled with a lock on a door marked ‘707’. “So, dang this thing is sticky, you’re going to do some weeding. See, our resident horticulturalist got sick a few days ago and no one attended to his garden, so now you have to! Also learn some lessons about teamwork…or something. I hope I can leave you here to clear it out for me….Just kill anything that moves…and don’t die.”
Irons opened up the door, to reveal what looked like a jungle. There was something of a glass ceiling, but it was choked by vines and other plant matter. It was almost sickening how much green was in front of you. The door opened into a wide atrium with three branching paths, and you vaguely suspected that the interior was bigger than the exterior. You didn’t have much time to think about it before you were shoved through, and the door slammed shut behind you.
“So…” Celeste began. “What are the teams?”
It was decided. Celeste, Kala, Ibacca would be a team, Cleo and Voight would be another…leaving you and Ivan together as a team. You had decided to not argue, because objecting to it would probably offend the arrogant lynx more than not saying anything. Both of you felt some tension as you hacked your way through the greenhouse, clearing away greenery and weeds. The floor was dirty, and covered in vines that seemed to enjoy tripping you. It seemed, the deeper you got, the more exotic and strange the vegetation became. Moss that glowed, trees with faces that sang in eerie caliopic tones when you passed by, and you swore that wooden deer moved. It was rough going once you got deeper into the thick growth, and you both were getting annoyed, but there was a silent agreement that you would do your best to not interact with each other. That is, until you heard him yelling.
“Back you fucking mongrel herb! STAR SLINGER!”
There was a flash of light, followed by the hum of magic being channeled, forcing you to look up from where you were cutting some vinage off of the window. If your eyes could get any wider, they would have torn skin. There he stood in his finery, surrounded by dragons. Or…dragons, if they were made of plants, and all green.
“Wait! Don’t attack those!” You cry out, but its too late, the whirling starfield hummed in apparent anger, and lashed out, severing several heads from their stems. Green ichor sprayed the air; the damage was done. The heads fell to the ground, slain, but you already knew what was coming next.
“Ha-hA! Did you see that, human? That overgrown fern was nothing! You could learn a thing or two from a Nash.” He boasted, puffing out his chest. You say nothing and roll your eyes, readying a volley of mana bolts waylay the already regrowing flowers. “What? Nothing? Are you seriously going to say that wasn’t impressive? I got like…7 heads in one move!” He prattled on.
You weren’t paying him any mind, too busy aiming at the angry plant. The moment they began sprouting heads you fired, the spells lancing out with a crack like thunder. Another spray of green blood, this time covering Ivan in its sticky explosion.
“Really?” He said, glaring at you. “I cut down the beast and you spray me with plant jizz? The nerve of you humans.”
The head was already regrowing, his aggression seemingly feeding the plant. He took notice, and in a single swipe, removed it from the stalk.
“How annoying.” He frowned at the fallen maw.
“Stop. That.” You say, face screwing into an annoyed mask.
“Stop what?” He replies, absentmindedly cutting off another head.
“That’s a hydra-hydrenga, cut off the head and two more grow back.” You explain. Thank god you studied that book of magical plant life and fauna.
“And?” Ivan says tilting his head in a surprisingly genuine show of confusion.
“It doesn’t matter now, the damage is done, now we have to kill every single head that pops up, until it runs out of energy to make more.” You huff.
“Whatever, I can handle this, stand back human.”
You sigh and draw your mana blade, your one piece of sanity in this jungle. This was gonna be a long day.

Chapter 4: Opening Doors

“See, that manual is about force, telling you to simply hold out your hands, and will the magic to happen, which works, but is extremely inefficient. This,” she says, waving your hands about in a wide circle, “this is much easier to cast magic with.” Another piece of chalk fell from the air in front of you. She stands up, brushing dust off the red dress she decided to wear today. Class had been canceled for the day, so Ibacca had decided to give you an “extended tutor session” in its place. You had been disappointed in that decision; you’d rather spend the free day resting.
“Keep doing that spell. I want one hundred pieces of chalk before the end of the hour.” You look at the clock on the wall. 11:45.
“I only have 15 minutes to make a hundred pieces?!” You exclaim.
“Fourteen and a half now.” Ibacca says without blinking.
Your eyes dropped to your hands, focused on your task. Your hands worked at lightning speed, weaving piece after piece of chalk. You weren’t nearly fast enough. Each time you cast the spell, your hands felt number and number. Then began the tingling. You tried to tell Ibacca, but she shushed you with a hiss. Fifty pieces of chalk, the tingling was unbearable, as if you had slept on your hands for a century. Sixty, it was starting to hurt. Eighty, it was actually painful. When you hit a ninety, your hands were trembling, and you were fighting back tears. Your hands were screaming bloody rage, and your had probably sweated so much your shirt was ruined. Ninety nine came, and that was the end of it. As suddenly as it had began it stopped. You blinked in confusion. What just happened? Had you imagined the entire thing? You went to cast the last spell, to wrap up this strangely painful exercise up. Your hands worked the air, whorling and twisting, but the chalk didn’t appear. Eh, you had probably just messed up a step.
Redoubling your efforts, you went to work again, weaving the air into magic. Again, the tingling came, but you ignored it, focusing on casting this last spell. But instead of chalk, outforth poured lighting, mere inches from your nose. The smell of ozone was thick in the air, and the crackling sound that followed was near deafening.
Ibacca smiled like a predator that had found its next meal.
“Excellent.”
The air in front of you was still smoking when she strode up to you, offering you her hand. You grab it, and she shakes it vigorusly.
“You’re welcome, humie.”
“For what?”
“For doing in a few weeks, what you couldn’t do in a few years. I made you actually learn magic.”
You sigh, Ibacca was a good teacher, but she was a bit full of herself, much like her brother. You have to give it to her, however, she was a better teacher for you than you were for yourself. Without her help, you would probably be stuck struggling to summon chalk.
“Thnks!” You say. Bowing your head slightly. You don’t see it, but you hear her harumph in amusement.
“It was nothing, just don’t get used to it. My brother doesn’t like me being here with you as it is.” Her face changed, dropping back into that half lidded grin of smug pleasure. “Not that I care what he thinks…”
“So what now?” You ask, tilting your head forward. Ibacca smiles widely, opening up her satchel and withdrawing a thick tome. With one hand she casted a spell, levitating the book in front of her, and with the other, she flicked you on the nose.
“Now…we have to convert whatever spells you have crammed in that flat-faced head of yours into its lightning equivilant.” She says shoving the book into your face. “Now get reading, humie.”
With a smug smile of your own, you hand her back the book.
“Oh please, if you think I’ve not already memorized every spell in here in my off time, you’re sorely underestimating me.” Flexing your fingers, you watch as sparks fly off of them, streams of electricity bouncing between your digits. “In fact, it would be more fun for me to flex my new muscles and see what I can do, no?”
Ibacca’s eyes flash dangerously. “ I thought you would never ask.”

The air smelled like ozone, and every hair on your arms were raised. Your palms felt numb, and your fingers were shaking. One leg had a nasty cut, and was leaking blood onto the floor. And there was Ibacca, just across the way, with a smug smile and a sanguine knife. You slap your hands together, casting another spell. A spark formed between your hands, which you draw apart, shaping the lightning into something resembling a crackling spear. You grab it with a huff of pain, your leg again. Bracing yourself you hurl your lighting spear, with sounds off with a CRACK. Ibacca’s smile doesn’t falter as she waves her knife in the air, a translucent blue barrier forming between her and the bolt. It doesn’t falter when the bolt pierces through the barrier with ease, striking her in the chest. And it doesn’t falter when the lynx shattered into a million pieces, like living glass.
You feel something cold and sharp press into your throat.
“Third time you’ve hit an illusion, Anson. I thought you were learning…?” You can hear the smug in her voice, its sing-song nature. You were in a training session with Ibacca, learning to use your combative magic. It wasn’t going well.
“I-” You try to speak as the blade slides across your throat. There’s a gushing noise, and you feel like you’ve suddenly swallowed a mouthfull of water. Your hands rush to staunch the bleeding, but its too late. Your brain feels slow, and your lungs ache. You can’t breathe. Everything goes black.
You’re in your own body again. Its a sudden feeling, as if your entire body was being squeezed through the barrel of a pistol, rifling and all. You’re on your knees, the position your body slumped to when you cast the spell. Ibacca was standing over you, grinning down at you with that trademarked smile of hers.
“Good of you to break my shield, but you can’t keep chasing illusions.”
“Its not my fault they’re so damn hard to tell apart from the real you.”
“You’ll get there, don’t worry.” She said, quietly. Dusting yourself off, you climb to your feet. You huff, giving Ibacca a cross look.
“Do you have to kill my husk body every time? Its…really damn traumatic.”
She shrugs. “Better to get you used to it now rather than later. Besides, you have to memorize that feeling, to make sure it doesn’t happening for real.” Ibacca looks herself over, her loose red dress swaying around her knees. She smirks. “And to think I beat you in this dress. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”
You sigh, shoulders slumping and hands lifting to cast the husk spell again, but Ibacca shakes her head.
“No need to keep going today, you should get some rest. Pushing yourself beyond your limits is good, but sometimes you need to take a break.” She smiles suddenly. “Its about three now, how about we go get lunch?” At your raised eyebrow, she adds. “My treat, for kicking your ass so thoroughly back there.”
You would protest, but hey, free lunch. “That would be pretty alright. You know I thought you were stuck up, but, you’re actually kinda nice.” You say without thinking. Your eyes widen in surprise at the obtrusive thought spoken aloud, but Ibacca just smiles.
“Thanks, that means a lot.” Her face twists suddenly, contorting into a look of quiet anger. “Not a lot of people give me that chance.”
“Well, I will, cause you’ve been nothin but nice to me.” You say, more confidently than one who just got their throat slit for the 5th time that day.

--

The two of you ate in relative silence, two chicken salads, picked by Ibacca from the one of the vendors that occupied the food court of the school. While the silence was not awkward, you relished the quiet, a break from the crackling and sizzling air that came with spell casting. The food court was rather empty, as it was after the traditional lunch time, leaving you and Ibacca and sorrounded by a herd of lonely tables. You munched happily on the grilled chicken, savorying the juicy flavor. Though you were content, there was something bothering you that you had to ask Ibacca. Putting down your fork, you finish off a bite before beginning to speak.
“So what’s with the speciest stuff you were saying earlier?” You ask, giving her what you hoped was a disarming smile. Ibacca’s face twitched, her visage moving from neutral to confused.
“I…I don’t know what you mean.”
“’Humie’ is an offensive term, Ibacca.” You say, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“Isn’t it just a term for humans?” She said, her eyes getting wide. You shake your head laughing.
“No, its slang, used by anthros against humans, how could you not know this?” You respond, tilting your head.
“I-I didn’t know, honest!” Ibacca said suddenly, much louder than she probably intended. If you knew anything about anthros, she was probably blushing under her fur.
“Hey, don’t fret, I’m not one of those yuppies that minds it, I was just curious is all.” You say. Noticing that she was done with her meal, you stand. “You want me to take this trash? Just my saying there’s no hard feelings for the specieism.”
Ibacca looks perplexed, but hands you her plate after no small hesitation, which you take and stack on top of yours, before walking away. Honestly, you grew up in one of the most podunk places on the planet, getting called a humie-boy by the locals on the daily was something that numbed you towards that sort of stuff. Especially when it was coming from a seemingly unaware girl. She didn’t appear sheltered, but you weren’t exactly familiar with the rich and wealthy types. Besides, she looked like she was gonna cry, you couldn’t stay mad at her, after all she’s done for you.
Thinking about it, as you scraped the remanants of your lunch into the garbage can, you realized that again, you didn’t know what her end goal with training you was. With someone like here, there was no way she didn’t have an ulterior motive. There was something there, but you didn’t know what, and it bothered you. But hey, she was helping you so far, so if you happen to be a pawn in her game, you might as well enjoy the ride. She was kinda pretty too, so that was a bonus. Not that you were…into anthros, of course. But a man knew when a woman was attractive, and you had to say, she was attractive.
Ibacca was delicate, but durable, if that made sense. Probably didn’t to anyone who wasn’t you. She was lithe and powerful, her body covered in well sculpted musculature. Obviously from her physical training, you saw her running the halls every morning, much to the annoyance of the staff and teachers.
You could tell she was wealthy from her outfits, you haven’t seen her wear the same thing twice yet. Always at the cutting edge of fashion, hair always styled to perfection. She mostly wore it in a bun, but sometimes she wore it in a pony tail, or a braid. You wondered how long it took for her to get ready in the morning.
Your thought were interrupted by the sound of someone speaking. Placing the plates down on the tray by the trash can where they belonged, you turned to see a new figure in the room. An anthro, or more specifically, a jackal, black furred and robed in red standing beside Ibacca. She- you assumed from the way she stood, was seemingly arguing with the lynx. Approaching you watch silently as they converse. Neither seemed to notice as you approached.
“You know how your family feels about humans, if Ivan found out you’ve been training one behind his back, he’d have an seizure!” She said, giving Ibacca a deadly stare. Ibacca huffed, looking away.
“I know, but I can’t bear the idea of someone with his potential being wasted. You know how I am, Sasha.”
Sasha the jackal looked stumped, but continued anyway.
“You can’t expect me to sit by while this while this humie charms you with his wiles. Besides, you know how I feel about you dating others…” She trailed off.
“Sasha, we’re not dating, and I already told you, I’m straight.”
The jackal gives Ibacca a smug look. “So is spaghetti until it gets wet!”
At that line, you chuckle, drawing the attention of both the lynx and the jackal. Ibacca shoots you a pleading look, one full of regret, as if this situation was going to end badly for you. The jackal elected to glare at you, her face a cauldron of molten anger.
“So you’re the one that’s been taking my Ibacca’s precious time. Finally, we meet.” You didn’t really know what to do with her anger, so you do the one thing you could think of, extend your hand in greeting.
“Hi, I’m Anson.Nice to meet you, Ms. Sasha.”
The jackals face twitched, green eyes narrowing. “Its Sa’Sheer. Only friends are allowed to call me Sasha, and you are no friend of mine.”
You gulp. This was going downhill fast. Try to save it, your mind says. “I’m sorry if I offended you or anything, but Ibacca and I are simply friends, and she’s helping me with my magic.” You say, before chuckling. “I don’t plan on stealing your girl.” Opting for a comedic diffusal, smart.
This seems to do the opposite, and Sa’Sheer’s glare turned into a deep scowl.
“You think this is funny? This is a matter of honor and the heart and you laugh? How detestable. Hmph, no matter. I request, no I demand that you refrain from contacting Ibacca henceforth. Go find some other woman to charm, man-floozy.”
 	At that unequally insane request, you had to throw out your best unamused expression, your eyes almost glazed over with annoyance.
“I can’t just stop training with Ibacca. Cmon, that’s not right.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ibacca perk up.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you two duel? This could solve our little…problem.
“Duel?” You ask, confused.
“Yup!” The lynx responds, smiling. “If you win, you get to keep practicing under me, and if you lose, you have to go your own route. Simple.”
“Hmph, if Lady Nash thinks it prudent I fight someone of your nature, then so be it. Bring your best, human, I want to have a little fun while I’m defending Ibacca’s honor.” The jackal said.
“Then its settled. Sa’Sheer versus Anson. Duel for the right to be my student.” Ibacca said, her eyes flashing mischievously.
“...I didn’t agree to this.”