Woah!
Woah!
All the kids looked with glittering eyes towards their classroom. Their classroom seemed to have been renovated overnight and looked four times bigger than usual.
101 looked below. The floor seemed coated with wooden plating that shone like a newborn sun.
The whiteboards and all the professors' tools were absent from the room.
"New rooms! new rooms!" Some of the kids exclaimed excitedly.
Inside the class, two new doors were added. Some kids opened the doors and entered there; 101 followed them.
The new room seemed to be a work in progress. 101's legs could feel the stony texture of the floor in the new room.
Most kids' excitement died out when they saw the emptiness in the new rooms. Not to mention, pieces of stones were scrambled across the floor. Just walking there hurt their legs. So, they left.
101, prodded one of the walls. No doubt the room was constructed recently. But the marks on the walls looked sharp, unlike those that would get behind by the tools like shovels and spades.
"Insects?" 101 wondered.
-
Clap!
"In your seats, now." A thunderous voice came from behind, urging the kids to get in line. "*Ahem* No more speaking for a while," said a young man, about 6 feet 3 inches tall with black hair and amber eyes. "My name is Robert Borin. And I—happen to be the man supervising this class from now." He wore a black robe and an obsidian necklace, symbolizing a spider around his neck.
As Robert continued his speech. Numerous servants entered through the door, carrying bookshelves, desks, chairs, and other items.
Meanwhile, the kids found comfortable white cushions in their respective places—one for each. 101 looked at 18 as she slightly punched the ground and then cried in pain.
The floor was hard, indeed. The wooden floor before felt hollow and often creaked. But the current wooden floor seemed rock hard.
"As you all know from today, you will learn various Arts and techniques. But before all that—" He surveyed his fierce gaze throughout the room, meeting children's gazes."—Look at you all!" He roared, "You're all old. Yet still have not been weighed by any responsibilities. You all yet do not know what it means to be bound by rules and regulations. You all live ignorant of your roles—of your fates. But all shall change—" He extended his arms in the air, "—as I take the lead."
None of the kids uttered a single word. Some scratched their heads as they found the speech confusing.
More servants entered the room and filled the shelves with what looked like books.
"Now, listen carefully as I explain the jurisdictions that bind you and the instructions that shall guide you all." A small smile brewed on his face, "Bear in mind, I do not like repeating myself, and your comprehension of my ensuing words may just decide your future."
Some of the kids gulped. 101, yawned. He'd been unable to sleep thanks to the slave remedy. 18, still had teary eyes as she broke her knuckles. 71, listened with a solemn expression.
"*Ahem*" He pointed his arm towards the shelves on the right. "This is where the blank textbooks are stored. The borrowing limit for one person is exactly 24 textbooks. And they're all free for a certain period." He pointed his arms towards the shelf on the left, "This is where all the Art manuals are stored, including Dark Summoning Arts, Martial Arts, and Medicinal Arts. One person may borrow only one of those manuals. And the sharing of the borrowed manuals is strictly forbidden." His voice emphasized further on the term 'borrowed.'
"On those shelves, there are exactly 60 books. One Martial Art Manual. One Medicinal Arts Manual. And 58 Dark Summoning Arts Manual." A smile grew on his face, "Now, here's the delicate part. There are over 100 types of Summoning Arts, and each individual is compatible with only one of those Arts. Those 58 books only contain one type of art each. Furthermore, when distributing, you will all get to borrow only one book."
"What?" The kids started murmuring, and most were confused.
"That means it's all based on luck?"
"So, most of us won't get to learn anything."
"Silence," He shouted, "Also, those who cannot learn at least one of the Arts within the next month will face severe punishment."
"That's unfair," Some kid shouted.
"It's not unfair. There has to be some way around it," Number 50, who had been listening closely, whispered. He stroked his chin and thought over the rules. Suddenly his eyes lit up. "That's it!" He smiled.
-
"*Ahem* I'm not done talking." He clapped his arms, producing a thunderous sound, and regained all of the kids' attention. "Now, there are exactly 60 students in this class. Groups formed out of those students will be tasked with a certain responsibility," He continued. "The responsibilities are divided into four categories.
1st—the Disciplinary Committee—The people in this group will ensure that all the rules are followed and manage conflicts within the class.
2nd—the Chefs—The people in this group will, from now on, take lessons on herbs and be in charge of feeding the entire class.
3rd—The Organizers— The people in this group will supervise and handle various events, like tournaments or showmanship.
4th—The Dictators…." He waved his arms, "It's still too early for you all to know about the 4th responsibility." He stroked his chin, "As for the participants for those three groups. It shall be decided by voting." He laughed. "Now, good luck to you all."
-
After Robert left, 101 pondered the rules and thought of a few ways to go around them.
"Have you considered now a good time to apologize to the others?" asked 18 to 71.
"Huh, why should I?" 71 scowled.
18 pointed her arm towards the textbooks, "58 manuals. The rules say you cannot lend the original manual. But fails to mention anything about the contexts. Undoubtedly, other kids would copy their manual into an empty notebook and share it. This way, even if you're incompatible with your own manual, you can ask others for help," Her eyes turned cold. "But considering your use of violence against others, no one would be considerate enough to help you." She stated bluntly.
"I realized that right away, but you're the fool here," His expression turned indifferent. "There're over 100 types of Summoning Arts, yet only 58 types in the books, meaning even if they do share, there's no guarantee they would find the one they're compatible with."
18, expression frowned, "Still, the probability of succeeding is higher for those in a large group."
"Not true," 71 said firmly, "You base your probability on the factors you've discovered, and you fail to consider that there might be other alternatives to learn the Arts."
18 was taken aback by this, "other alternatives like?"
"That I do not know," said 71 with a blank face.
18's skin reddened, and her veins bulged. "You act arrogant even when you know nothing. Like back then, when you acted on an impulse and got into a fight without considering the drawbacks that could affect the group as a whole."
"I did what I thought was right. If you want to leave, then leave!"
"Why should I leave? You leave!"
"Argh! Have you ever considered that other kids are not smart enough to figure out ways to bend the rules? It would be days before they figure out they can share the contents," retorted 71.
18 pointed her arm towards the left. 71 turned his head and saw Number 50 grinning at him. No doubt Number 50 also figured it out.
"We might have a slight problem." 71 finally admitted.
"We? No, you have a problem. No one hates me, and you don't belong in this group from now on."
"You don't get to decide that!"
Clap!
The sound of a loud clap attracted both of their attention. "I advise both of you to calm down," said 101. As a 200-year-old, the last thing he wanted to hear was two kids bickering. "As for leaving, we're a group of 3. It doesn't matter if anyone leaves. But—" He stood up, "—If you decide to stay, I have a plan to obtain manuals that all of us are compatible with."
"Huh," 71 blinked rapidly, "How can you make a plan? You're not even in the top 10 in the results."
101 ignored that statement, "Now, listen up, first of all—" He pointed towards 18, "You seem afraid of violence, nothing more."
"Wha…" She blinked rapidly.
Then 101 turned his head towards 71, "Nearly everyone hates you. And your judgment is hindered by your unwillingness to realize your childishness."
"That's not true!" 71 stood up. But after a moment sat down again and dwelled on his behaviour. He had read many books, and one lesson in every one of those books was that the actions taken during an irrational state, like when filled with anger, always lead to disastrous consequences. "Why did I hit him?" He pondered. The fake smile of Number 50 flashed in his mind. Suddenly he wanted to hit Number 50 again. But then he wondered, even when he realized the consequences might be troublesome, he still wanted to hit him. "How childish." He whispered as he shook his head.
He met 101's eyes, swallowed his pride, and asked, "What's..the plan?"