Ignatius woke to the soft light filtering through the curtains, the excitement of his first day at the Tribunal Academy bubbling within him. But as he glanced over at his mother, he noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. Concern etched across his face, he approached her slowly.
"Mom, why are you crying?" Ignatius asked gently, his voice filled with innocence and curiosity.
Amara smiled weakly, wiping away a stray tear before turning to face her son. "Oh, Ignatius, it's nothing to worry about," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
But Ignatius could sense that something was amiss. "But you're crying, Mom. Is something wrong?"
Amara took a deep breath, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "No, nothing's wrong, my dear. I'm just... happy," she said, her voice catching on the words.
Confusion furrowed Ignatius's brow. "Happy? But why are you crying if you're happy?"
Amara chuckled softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "Sometimes, Ignatius, tears can be a funny thing. They can come when we're feeling a lot of different emotions all at once."
Ignatius nodded slowly, trying to understand. "So, why are you feeling so many emotions, Mom?"
Amara took her son's hands in hers, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm feeling happy because you're starting school today, Ignatius. I'm so proud of you and all that you've accomplished," she explained, her voice trembling slightly.
"But..." Ignatius trailed off, sensing that there was more to his mother's tears than just happiness.
Amara's smile faltered, her gaze drifting to the window as she fought to compose herself. "But sometimes, when we're feeling happy, we also feel a little sad," she admitted softly. "I was just thinking about your father and how much he would have loved to see you off on your first day of school."
Ignatius's heart twinged with sympathy for his mother as he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. "I miss him too, Mom," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amara Dressed Ignatius and they went with the old Monk for the Academy.
Ignatius sat silently in the back seat of the car, his mind swirling with questions about his father. It was the first time he had ever heard his mother speak of him, and he couldn't shake the feeling of confusion that washed over him. But as he glanced over at his mother, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, he knew that now wasn't the time to ask.
The car ride to the Tribunal Academy was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Amara. Ignatius couldn't bring himself to engage in conversation with the old man, his thoughts consumed by the mystery of his father's absence.
The old monk glanced at Ignatius in the rearview mirror, concern etched across his weathered features. He knew that the young boy must be nervous about his first day of school, but he also sensed that there was something more weighing on his mind. Deciding to give Ignatius some space, he remained silent, allowing the boy to sort through his thoughts in peace.
As they pulled up to the majestic gates of the Tribunal Academy, Ignatius's heart raced with anticipation. But as he stepped out of the car and followed the old man towards the enrollment hall, his mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of his father. He couldn't shake the feeling of sadness that lingered in the air, even amidst the excitement of his first day at school.
Ignatius stood nervously beside the old man as they entered the bustling classroom. The other children turned to look at them, their curious eyes sizing up the new arrival. Ignatius felt a pang of anxiety ripple through him as he realized all eyes were on him.
The teacher stepped forward, a warm smile on her face as she welcomed Ignatius to the class. She introduced him to the other students, explaining that he would be joining them from today onwards. Ignatius forced a small smile, trying to hide his nerves as he glanced around at his new classmates.
The children greeted Ignatius with friendly smiles and waves, some even offering him a seat next to them. Ignatius felt a sense of relief wash over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all.
After sometime, Ignatius couldn't help but feel a little awestruck as he glanced around the classroom. The girls in his class were unlike anyone he had ever seen before. Their laughter was like music to his ears, and their smiles seemed to light up the entire room.
Back at the headquarters, Ignatius was surrounded by adults—powerful leaders and esteemed members of the Tribunal. There was never anyone his age to play with or talk to. But here, in this classroom filled with vibrant young minds, Ignatius felt a sense of excitement bubbling within him.
As he stole glances at the pretty girls in his class, Ignatius felt a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He had never experienced anything like this before. It was as if a whole new world had opened up before him, full of endless possibilities and adventures.
Ignatius, eager to make new friends, approached the group of girls with a friendly smile. He was naturally social and felt more comfortable reaching out to them first. As he walked over, he noticed a few boys shooting hoops nearby, but he decided to focus his attention on the girls for now.
"Hi there!" Ignatius greeted them warmly, his voice filled with genuine friendliness. "I'm Ignatius. It's nice to meet you all."
The girls turned to him, their eyes bright with curiosity. They exchanged glances and then smiled back at Ignatius.
"Hi, Ignatius!" one of the girls replied cheerfully. "I'm Emily. This is Lily, Sophia, and Sarah."
Ignatius nodded, committing their names to memory. "Nice to meet you, Emily, Lily, Sophia, and Sarah," he said. "Do you mind if I join you for recess?"
The girls exchanged another glance before Emily spoke up. "Of course not! We'd love to have you join us," she said with a smile.
Ignatius felt a surge of happiness as he joined the girls for recess. He was excited to start building new friendships and explore all the adventures that awaited him at the academy.
**SMACK**
Suddenly someone punched Ignatius,
The unexpected blow caught Ignatius completely off guard, sending him stumbling backward across the classroom. His vision blurred momentarily as he struggled to regain his balance, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
As he steadied himself, Ignatius looked up to see a boy standing before him, his fists clenched and a defiant expression on his face. The sudden attack had taken him by surprise, and he couldn't fathom why this boy would want to harm him.
Confusion quickly turned to indignation as Ignatius felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He clenched his jaw, his resolve hardening as he faced his assailant.
"Hey, what's your problem?" Ignatius demanded, his voice tinged with anger. "Why would you just punch me like that?"
The boy glared back at him, his gaze unwavering. "You think you can just come in here and act all friendly?" he spat. "You don't belong here."
Ignatius scanned the classroom frantically, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and confusion. Where was the teacher? Why hadn't anyone intervened to stop the altercation?
As he searched for some sign of authority, Ignatius realized that he was alone in his distress. The other students watched in silence, their eyes darting between him and the boy who had attacked him.
As Ignatius closed the distance between himself and Tim, a surge of determination coursed through him. He was eager to prove himself, especially in front of the girls who were watching with wide-eyed curiosity.
But as he reached Tim, Ignatius felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. Tim stood tall and confident, his stance betraying a sense of superiority that Ignatius couldn't ignore. It was clear that Tim was no ordinary student—he was the son of the headmaster, a position that afforded him certain privileges and powers.
Ignatius couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as he realized the power gap between himself and Tim. Despite his best efforts, he knew that he couldn't match Tim's strength or influence, at least not yet.
For a moment, Ignatius hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He glanced back at the girls, hoping to find some encouragement or support, but their expressions were unreadable. It was clear that they were waiting to see what would happen next.
As Ignatius landed his punch on Tim's face, a surge of adrenaline fueled his movements. But his victory was short-lived, as Tim retaliated with a barrage of powerful blows that left Ignatius reeling.
Frustrated and angry, Ignatius decided to unleash his magical powers. With a fierce determination, he channeled his energy, hoping to impress his classmates with his abilities. However, to his dismay, his powers proved to be woefully inadequate. Instead of awe, Ignatius was met with mocking laughter from his peers.
Tim, in particular, found Ignatius's display amusing. With a smug grin, he demonstrated his own formidable powers, leaving Ignatius feeling small and insignificant in comparison. It was a harsh reminder of his place in the hierarchy of the academy.
As Ignatius struggled to summon his magical powers, the ring on his finger began to glow with a faint, ethereal light. Tim's eyes narrowed as he noticed the shimmering glow, and a smirk played across his lips.
"Look at that," Tim sneered, pointing at Ignatius's ring. "He's using an artifact, and he still can't manage to muster any real power. Pathetic."
The other students snickered and exchanged knowing glances, reveling in Ignatius's humiliation. Ignatius felt a surge of frustration and embarrassment wash over him. He had hoped that the ring would grant him the strength he needed to stand up to Tim, but instead, it only seemed to highlight his weakness.
Despite Tim's taunts, Ignatius refused to back down. With a determined expression, he continued to focus his energy, willing his powers to manifest. But try as he might, he could only summon a feeble spark of magic, barely noticeable against the backdrop of Tim's impressive display.
As Tim cast his spell, Ignatius found himself ensnared by writhing tentacles that erupted from the ground. Try as he might, Ignatius was unable to break free from their grasp. With a final blow, Tim knocked Ignatius unconscious, leaving him bruised and defeated on the ground.
But the humiliation didn't end there. As Ignatius lay unconscious, Tim took the opportunity to brand him with a cruel reminder of his failure. Using his fire powers, Tim burned a tattoo onto Ignatius's neck, labeling him as a "loser" for all to see.
--
In the Infirmary,
As Ignatius slowly blinked his eyes open, he found himself lying on a small cot in the nurse's office. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the soft murmur of voices drifted in from the hallway outside.
Rubbing his throbbing head, Ignatius sat up groggily, trying to piece together what had happened. His memory was hazy, blurred by the fog of pain and confusion. He remembered the confrontation with Tim, the mocking laughter of his classmates, and then... darkness.
Glancing around the room, Ignatius noticed the nurse bustling about, checking on other students and tending to their injuries. She looked up as she noticed him stirring, her expression softening with concern.
"Ah, you're awake," she said kindly, approaching Ignatius with a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?"
Ignatius winced as he gingerly touched the tender bruise forming on his cheek. "Sore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
The nurse nodded sympathetically, reaching for a cold compress to place against his swelling eye. "You took quite a tumble out there," she remarked, her tone filled with genuine empathy. "But you'll be alright. Just take it easy for now."
As Ignatius lay back against the pillow, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat that gnawed at his insides. He had been humiliated in front of his peers, his lack of magical prowess laid bare for all to see. But deep down, beneath the pain and embarrassment, a flicker of determination burned within him.
As Ignatius slowly regained consciousness in the nurse's office, he found himself surrounded by the gentle glow of healing magic emanating from the nurse's hands. The pain that had engulfed him moments ago began to subside, replaced by a soothing sensation that washed over his body. Ignatius blinked groggily, his mind still foggy from the ordeal he had endured.
"Easy now, young one," the nurse murmured, her voice carrying a tone of warmth and reassurance. "You took quite a tumble back there, but you're going to be just fine."
As the healing magic worked its restorative wonders, Ignatius felt his strength returning, though the memory of his encounter with Tim lingered in his mind like a stubborn shadow. He couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment and frustration that gnawed at him from within.
Once the nurse had finished her ministrations, Ignatius rose slowly from the bed, his limbs feeling slightly wobbly but much improved. He offered the nurse a grateful smile before making his way back to the classroom.
As Ignatius reentered the classroom, he couldn't help but notice the way his classmates averted their gazes, their whispers fading into silence as he took his seat. It was as though he had become invisible, a mere afterthought in their eyes.
As the School was over, Ignatius couldn't shake off the humiliation he faced earlier. He glanced around the classroom, noticing the subtle sneers and whispers from his classmates, except for one - Shikoyo, the son of Blackbeard 2, whose demeanor radiated satisfaction at Ignatius's misfortune. Ignatius couldn't understand why Shikoyo seemed pleased by his suffering.