The bus clunked and rattled down the twisting rural road, its old engine groaning with every turn. Light filtered through the cracked windows, casting fragmented beams across the scratched floor. The landscape outside was a muted blur of rolling meadows and sprawling fields, the fog hanging low like a damp shroud over the early morning tranquility. The air inside was heavy with the combined scents of rust, wet leather, and feathers.
Anon slouched against the cracked vinyl seat of the bus, his forehead resting on the cold window, which vibrated faintly with every bump in the road. His fingers moved idly, picking at the blood caked around his teeth and trying to clean the chunks of red meat trapped beneath his nails. He snarled under the mask that obscured most of his face, the edges of his lips curling in visible irritation. The balaclava was snug under his hoodie, its hood folding into a vague dinosaur-like shape—a non-descript reptilian design that blurred the line between intent and coincidence. It was how he blended in. Every inch of him was covered in this shoddy outfit, layers of cloth that carried the grime of long travel. But beneath it, pristine office attire clung to his frame: crisp, tailored clothes far too expensive and polished for anyone riding this rickety old bus. It was a contradiction—an almost charitable mockery of blue-collar aesthetics, worn by someone who clearly couldn't help turning heads despite his attempts at anonymity.
Anon's hood shadowed his eyes, but he could still see the reflection of the passengers behind him in the window: mostly dinosaur girls of varying shapes and sizes, their feathers ruffled and expressions a mix of tension and nervous excitement. Their conversations were hushed but animated, the distinct notes of anxiety from their first day at Dino High palpable in the air.
He could hear the faint scrape of claws tapping against metal seats, the rustle of feathers shifting with every nervous movement, and the occasional hiss of irritation as someone's tail got in the way. Anon kept his gaze fixed on the window, the blur of fog-drenched meadows outside doing little to soothe his simmering irritation. He caught a few sideways glances from the group of girls a few seats back, their voices growing louder as they clearly started gossiping about him.
The first girl—a chatty little Compsognathus, her slender body bristling with downy feathers in shades of pale green and brown—spoke up, her voice pitched high with panic. "I'm definitely gonna die! I can't believe customs at the border confiscated my basking weapons. How the fuck am I supposed to defend myself now?" Her hands fluttered in the air as she spoke, her claws curling and uncurling like she was gripping an invisible weapon.
A second girl, sitting beside her, snorted loudly. She was a Coelophysis, slightly taller and leaner, her feathers a sleek pattern of rust-red and cream. Her posture was elegant, almost regal, but her tone carried a dramatic flair. "Speak for yourself, girl. They took my armor. One hit, and I'm dead. Without it, I don't even have enough surface on my body to properly bask until my energy reserves fill up." She threw her arms out as if emphasizing the absurdity of her predicament, her tail flicking irritably against the seat.
A third girl chimed in, her voice lower and more measured, though tinged with annoyance. She was a Dilophosaurus, her twin crests barely peeking above the line of her hood. Her feathers were darker—earthy tones of brown and gray—and she exuded an air of wisdom that seemed to annoy the others. "Those fucking corrupt pigs even tried to take away our fragments," she muttered, crossing her arms as she leaned back against her seat. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Anon before darting away, a frown creasing her lips. "If it wasn't for that thing—" she jabbed a clawed thumb in his direction, her crest quivering slightly with agitation, "—we probably would've lost our one ticket into Dino High."
At that, all three girls turned to glance at him, their movements synchronized in morbid curiosity. The Compsognathus wrinkled her snout, her feathers puffing up slightly. "Seriously, who the fuck let that thing on the bus? Did you see how many bits the border guard was in? I couldn't even recognize her after…" She trailed off, shivering visibly as she tucked her claws into her lap.
The Coelophysis leaned in, lowering her voice but not nearly enough. "Yeah, skinnies are pretty scary. And the worst thing about this one is it's camouflaged. I didn't even realize it wasn't a dino—or even an archosaur—until we got a good look at it."
The Dilophosaurus coughed, her crest twitching. "Ugh, I still see the image in my head. One moment, the guard was power-tripping, asking for a bribe, and the next…" She gestured with a sharp slicing motion, her claws cutting through the air as she mimed an explosion. "Her entire upper half was riddled into chunks of charred meat. What even was that spell?"
The Coelophysis tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "It was a close-range mana obliteration spell," she said, her voice dripping with a mix of awe and fear. "Super dangerous. You have to drain your entire body of mana and shove it into someone's body faster than they can absorb it. The scary part? Most people's immune systems are built to rapidly shed mana. Most people can't even transfer theirs that fast without burning it into the atmosphere." She shuddered, pulling her feathers tight against her body. "The fact that the fucking skinny did it without verbal recital spells or hand signs? That's what terrifies me. Humans aren't even supposed to have magic."
The Dilophosaurus nodded slowly, her tone grim. "It was probably some kind of conduit spell. He had a device on his knife. I think it was a meteor blade, too. A really small one."
The Compsognathus gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "No fucking way. How does the monkey own a fragment blade?"
"Shut up!" The Coelophysis hissed, her claws curling into the seat. "It might hear you. They really hate that word."
The Compsognathus squeaked, her feathers fluffing up again. "Eep! Wait, really? But aren't humans primates? How are they offended?"
"Just shut up, okay?" The Coelophysis shot her a sharp glare, her tail thumping against the floor.
The Dilophosaurus humphed, adjusting her position and tapping her claws against her arm. "Are you two done mumbling? I'm about to forget my train of thought." She raised a hand, pointing to specific spots on her body to mimic chakra points as she continued. "The way that spell was cast… You use your fragment, charge up your energy, focus it at the tip of your blade, and stab into the opponent's mana field—usually through their body. But you have to hit a chakra point and overload it with incompatible magic. Most dino spells are from our own energy, so our mana is reusable with each other. The human probably used incompatible magic. I saw a flash of green light—looked like a healing spell. He might've overloaded her body with multiple healing spells that were incompatible, then injected raw explosive mana."
The Compsognathus blinked, her claws hovering in midair. "Yikes. Wait, is that why when someone throws a fireball at me, I feel energized… even though I get hurt?"
The Dilophosaurus nodded, smirking faintly. "Yep. Probably. They wasted a ton of energy just to carry the blast through the atmosphere without it dissipating into thin air."
"Yeah, pretty much like that," she continued, leaning forward as if explaining a grand revelation. Her claws tapped rhythmically against her knee while her crest twitched with every word. "But I think the reason the spell was so effective wasn't just the raw energy. It might also be because humans have this weird affinity for crafting shit out of meteors and other space rocks. Or maybe just rocks in general. Rock throwers love their rocks, after all. They were making spears and tools while most dinos just relied on our claws to do the job."
The Coelophysis rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "Nuh-uh! Raptors and other theropods were already using tools made of sticks, wood, and rocks to chip open clams and turtles. Humans didn't invent tools first, you know." Her tail flicked dismissively as she puffed out her feathers in defiance, clearly eager to challenge the point.
The Dilophosaurus huffed, raising a clawed hand to silence the bickering. "Okay, okay, shut up, whatever. That's not the point! My point is, human tool magic makes their tools receptive to magic types—dino or non-dino. So the blade probably multiplied the spell's effect. Or maybe it's just one of those specific weapon-type cast spells."
The Coelophysis tilted her head, curiosity replacing some of her earlier indignation. "Like spells cast from wands or staffs?"
The Compsognathus tilted her head thoughtfully, her feathers ruffling slightly as she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. "More like spells from tattoos or hand signs, right?"
"No, you're close," the Dilophosaurus corrected, wagging a claw at her, "but it's actually more like verbal spells. Specifically past-utterance verbal spells. You know, the ones where you write down a rune on a weapon to bind the spell to it?"
The Coelophysis froze mid-tail flick, her eyes narrowing. "What if… what if it's a dino bane weapon?"
A ripple of unease passed through the group. The Dilophosaurus blinked, her crest twitching as the implications sank in. "Shit. No way. That's not legal, right?"
"I mean, think about it," the Compsognathus said, her voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. Her claws fidgeted nervously as she leaned closer. "Didn't old dino families have all those banned weapons? Like anti-carnivore-bound spell weapons? Or, you know, those ones carnivores had—what were they called? Oh, yeah! Herbivore domination weapons. The ones that made herbivores feel fear and panic or just, like, submit to being eaten or captured?"
The Coelophysis shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah. Those were seriously messed up."
The Dilophosaurus's nose wrinkled in disgust, and she let out a sharp, irritated snort. "Ew, ew, icky. That was banned during the slavery ban, right? And when they outlawed eating other dinos? That stuff's so icky and evil. What kind of monster would even keep a weapon like that in the modern era? I mean, for fuck's sake! It's been sixty million years since the meteor enlightened us. We're better than that now."
The Coelophysis's expression darkened, her claws curling against the seat as her voice dropped ominously. "The elite. The elite have those types of weapons because they're evil. Do you think… that…"
"No way," the Compsognathus interjected, her voice trembling slightly as she shook her head. "That's not right."
The Dilophosaurus raised a claw to her chin, her gaze narrowing. "You're not saying… that monkey is an elite, right? No way."
A fourth voice cut in—a sharp, sardonic tone that silenced the group instantly. The Abelisaur, who had been quietly eavesdropping from a nearby seat, leaned forward, her bulky frame and bristly feathers giving her an imposing presence. "Uh, actually, you guys do realize humans were the servants of apex dino lords before, right?" she said, her voice dripping with mockery. Her claws drummed lazily against the edge of her seat as she continued. "They were pets, bodyguards, and, uh, instruments of pleasure for dino tyrants. So it's only natural for them to keep sinister, wicked weapons like that. It's in their nature. They're evil."
"Please shut up," another voice, softer and trembling, pleaded from the back. The Troodontid girl, her feathers sleek and shimmering like moonlight, hugged her bag tightly to her chest, her wide eyes darting nervously toward Anon. "He's gonna hear us. I don't want to die before I even set foot on school grounds. My sister saw a human once—eating a girl's wing off at the bus station. And I saw what that thing did to the guard. I don't want to piss it off."
The Abelisaur let out a dismissive snort, rolling her eyes as she puffed out her chest. "Pfft. You small carnivores are such wimps. I could probably take him."
Anon bit back his irritation, his teeth grinding faintly beneath the mask. He had heard enough. Silently, he rose from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. The conversations behind him died instantly, the weight of his presence silencing the group as he approached. The bus jostled with every bump and turn, but his steps were unnervingly silent on the metallic floor. One by one, the girls turned to face him, their eyes wide with a mixture of terror and morbid curiosity.
They gulped audibly, feathers bristling as they shrank back into their seats—except for the Abelisaur. She puffed herself up even more, her bristly feathers standing on end as she sneered at him. "Feeling lucky, bitch?" she taunted, her voice dripping with false bravado. Her claws flexed, and her tail lashed against the seat, but the tremor in her posture betrayed her unease.
Anon didn't answer immediately. He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. This was his first day at Dino High, and he wasn't about to let a group of gossipy kids ruin his already precarious position. He had bigger goals, more important things to worry about. But at the same time, letting them talk shit without consequence would only lead to worse problems down the line.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the knife—the same meteor blade that had turned the guard into unrecognizable chunks. The faint green glow of the embedded fragment caught the dim light, casting eerie reflections across the nervous faces of the girls. He raised it just enough for them to see, the blade glinting ominously as he turned it slightly.
The Abelisaur's bravado evaporated in an instant. She sank back into her seat, her feathers flattening as her expression turned to one of pure fear. The others stared, their mouths slightly agape, as though bracing themselves for the worst.
Anon hid his smirk behind his mask, his voice calm but firm as he spoke. "You wish to see the blade in question?" He held it up, tilting it slightly so the fragment was clearly visible. "It's an heirloom my family passed down. If you notice here—" he pointed to the groove where the fragment was embedded—"this fragment fits perfectly. It's used to cast fragment spells, as opposed to what you dinos do with your cultivation and basking."
The group remained silent, their eyes fixed on the blade. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, but there was no aggression in Anon's tone, no malice in his posture. He stood tall and steady, his movements deliberate but non-threatening. He had made his point, and now he stepped back, allowing the gravity of the moment to settle.
The girls exhaled collectively, visibly relieved that he hadn't lashed out. But their surprise at his restraint was equally palpable. He had threatened when provoked, but the moment they backed down, he had responded in kind with civility. It was unexpected, of a human...