In front of the mist gate, two stocky figures could be seen hugging each other. They were Sam and Mr. Pickwick, locked in a bittersweet farewell.
"Son, I'm really going to miss you," Mr. Pickwick said, his voice trembling.
Tears flowed freely from Mr. Pickwick's eyes. He clung to Sam as if they wouldn't meet again for a long, long time.
"I'll miss you too, Dad."
Sam replied, his voice thick with emotion.
Mistheaven operated under a strict boarding school system. Opportunities to leave the fifth floor were rare, and visitors were few and restricted.
Oz, standing nearby, could clearly understand why Mr. Pickwick found it so difficult to say goodbye to Sam.
"Oz, I'm trusting you with Sam."
Mr. Pickwick said, turning to Oz, his expression heavy.
"Please keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do anything foolish."
"Of course, Mr. Pickwick. You can count on me."
Oz replied with a firm nod.
Then, without warning, Mr. Pickwick pulled Oz into a hug as well, catching him off guard.
"You know," Mr. Pickwick whispered, his voice soft yet earnest.
"I already think of you as one of my own. The Pickwick family will always be ready to welcome you anytime."
"…!"
Oz was speechless.
Ever since he had left his home to venture into the big city, he had rarely seen his own family.
Moreover, after being transported to this world, it was almost impossible for him to return to Earth.
The weight of Mr. Pickwick's words settled deep within him. Without realizing it, tears welled up in Oz's eyes, slowly streaming down his face.
The warmth of Mr. Pickwick's embrace wasn't so bad. In fact, Oz realized how much he missed this kind of familial warmth, something he hadn't experienced in years.
"Thank you, Mr. Pickwick."
Oz managed to whisper, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Now go!"
Mr. Pickwick suddenly barked, his voice thick with barely concealed tears.
"You two, get going! I'm not crying. Hurry along now!"
With a swift turn, Mr. Pickwick spun away from them, his back hunched as he wept like a child abandoned by his mother.
Oz and Sam waved goodbye to him before slowly walking toward the mist gate, pushing their suitcases and other belongings along with them.
As Oz crossed the gate, a familiar sensation washed over him, the same one he had felt the first time he stepped into the mysterious mist gate.
[… I heard you got accepted into Mistheaven. Congratulations.]
The voice startled Oz. It was Lizzie, speaking in her real voice. He hadn't expected her to congratulate him, especially without using her usual robotic tone.
"Hehehe, thank you, Miss Hexam."
Oz responded, trying to mask his surprise.
[Too bad for you. It means you'll rarely be using this gate anymore, hahaha.]
"Oh? Is Miss Hexam going to miss me? Too bad, my heart already belongs to Professor Goldilock. Sorry."
Oz teased with a cheeky grin.
[…]
There was an awkward silence.
[So, are you heading to the fourth floor?]
"Eh, I was just joking, Miss Hexam. Please take me to the fifth floor, hehehe."
Oz quickly corrected himself, trying to lighten the mood.
Once again, the corridor beyond the mist became visible, its clear and fog-free corridor. Slowly, Oz began making his way down the hallway.
[Good luck. I wish you all the best.]
As he stepped deeper into the corridor, Oz's silhouette gradually disappeared from view. He had crossed over to the fifth floor.
This time, Oz passed through the mist gate not as an outsider, but as a fully-fledged Mistheaven student. The thought of being excited to enter high school for a second time was something Oz had never imagined.
"Oz, my stuff is gone again!"
Sam exclaimed, his voice resigned.
It was clear Sam had already accepted that his belongings would vanish every time they passed through the mist gate.
"Don't worry. Our belongings will be delivered to the dormitory later,"
Oz reassured him.
"It's nothing to panic about."
At that moment, Oz noticed that the birdcage he had used to carry his pet Metis had also disappeared.
"Hmm, I hope Metis doesn't cause any trouble."
Oz muttered to himself.
More new students were now emerging from the mist gate, each with a different expression on their faces.
Some were filled with awe, their eyes wide with wonder, while others were still sobbing, overwhelmed by the emotional farewells they had just endured. A few looked panicked, frantically searching for their vanished belongings.
*Clop* *Clop* *Clop*
The sound of hooves echoed across the stone ground as a horse-drawn carriage appeared near the mist gate.
Two jet-black horses stood tall, their manes sleek and glossy. But what drew the most attention was the coachman. His form was a white, transparent figure, clearly a phantom, most likely a projection created by the staff at Mistheaven.
[Please board, children. The new student ceremony will be held in the main hall.]
The phantom coachman said in a voice that resonated eerily.
Oz, Sam, and two other students who had crossed through the mist gate with them climbed into the carriage.
*Clop* *Clop* *Clop*
Several other carriages were also lined up, transporting more new students. The carriage they rode in began to move, following the one ahead of it in perfect formation.
"How about we introduce ourselves? I'll go first. My name is Augustus Snodgrass. Just call me August."
The boy, tall and handsome, with stylish clothes and an air of unshakable confidence, introduced himself out of the blue with smooth voice.
"Oh, me next! My name is Samuel Pickwick, but just call me Sam."
Sam's excitement was obvious, his smile wide as he eagerly followed August's lead.
He was bursting with energy, and after introducing himself, he looked directly at Oz, raising his eyebrows in anticipation, signaling that it was Oz's turn.
"Oliver Twist. Just call me Oz."
"Oz? Where does that nickname come from?"
August leaned forward, genuinely intrigued, his curiosity piqued by the unusual nickname that didn't seem to match the formal-sounding name Oliver.
"Whatever. You can call me Twist, that's fine. You can call me Oliver too, no problem. If you're feeling lazy, just call me Oz."
Oz casually shrugged as he rattled off a list of names. He didn't care much what people called him, so long as they didn't ask too many questions about his past.
"Hmm, in that case, I'll just call you Oz. It's shorter and rolls in my tongue better."
August said with a smirk, opting for the easiest option.
"And what about you?"
August turned to the quiet girl who had been sitting at the edge of the carriage.
Her long, flowing hair covered most of her face, but what was visible revealed something unsettling. Bandages wrapped her hand and extended all the way up her left arm, completely concealing it.
Beneath the shadows of her hair, a burn-like scar extended from her left forehead, down her cheek, and all the way to her neck.
But it wasn't just a normal scar. It was dark, almost like bruised skin, as if charred.
Everyone knew it was a mark left by the dreaded Disease Dark Lord, a powerful illness that ravaged the body like a curse.
Her pale white skin stood in stark contrast to the blackened marks, making the scars even more noticeable.
"…"
The girl remained silent, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.
"Oh, okay. Maybe next time then."
August said, trying to stay upbeat. Even though he was easygoing, he understood that she wasn't ready to share her story.
"…Opheila Hamlet."
She finally whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Hahaha, this is a great start! At least we've broken the ice, so it won't be so awkward during the ride."
August said, laughing freely now that everyone had at least introduced themselves.
[Don't forget about me! My name is Tracy Tupman. Just call me Tracy.]
From the front of the carriage, the voice of the coachman echoed through a small gap in the front.
[Just call me Tracy. I've been working as a staff member at Mistheaven for ten years. If you have any questions, just come by my office near the stables.]
"Good morning, Mr. Tracy!"
From the small window, August called out cheerfully, waving to the phantom.
Oz had been sitting silently the whole time. Ever since he had learned the Vagabundus spell, he couldn't stop himself from using it on every phantom he encountered.
—Stay calm. You can hold it… You can hold it… No, I can't hold it anymore!
"Vagabundus!"
Oz quietly recited the spell. Invisible magic shot from his hand and traveled through the small window at the front, striking Mr. Tracy's phantom.
The effect was immediate. The phantom lost control, and the carriage suddenly swerved wildly to the side.
The carriage went off the road, crashed through a vegetable garden, and hit a small wooden shed used for storing seeds and fertilizer. The whole ride was a mess.
Thankfully, the horses reacted quickly, managing to stop the carriage before it went too far. Inside, however, the passengers had been thrown around like ragdolls.
Oz, with his superhuman reflexes, easily avoided injury, but he saw Opheila lose her balance. She was about to slam her head into the glass window.
Without thinking, Oz lunged forward and caught her, pulling her into his arms just before the impact.
*Thud!*
Oz's back hit the window instead, and the glass cracked under the force. He flinched but managed to keep Opheila safe from harm.
Across from them, August was sprawled out on the floor, groaning in pain. Sam, on the other hand, had landed directly on top of August and was sitting there, completely unbothered.
"Ouch. That really hurt. Can you get off me, Sam? You're heavy."
August groaned, trying to push him off.
"Hahaha, sorry! Here you go."
Sam quickly stood up and extended a hand to help August to his feet.
Meanwhile, Oz was still holding Opheila, his body pressed against the cracked window.
"Are you alright, Oz?"
Opheila asked softly, surprising Oz. She had spoken first, something he hadn't expected.
"Hahaha, I'm fine. My body's tough. Don't worry about me."
Oz replied with a grin, letting go of her and brushing off the whole thing like it was nothing.
Even though Oz said he was fine, a drip of fresh blood ran down from his right ear.
"Your ear is bleeding. Hold still, let me heal it. Sanuvulnera!"
Opheila casting a spell with a faint glow that gently mended the wound.
Despite the fact that Oz's body would naturally heal the injury in no time, Opheila's Medical Magic sped up the process considerably.
"Uh, oh. Thanks."
Oz muttered. His gratitude was sincere but awkward.
"Oi, Mr. Tracy! What's wrong with the carriage?"
August shouted, panic creeping into his voice as he looked around for the coachman. But the phantom of Mr. Tracy had already disappeared without a trace.
"The phantom probably disappeared after the crash."
Oz said confidently, trying to sound calm. He knew the real Mr. Tracy was likely wandering aimlessly somewhere because of the effects of the Vagabundus spell.
"Well, guess we're walking to the main hall then. The academy's entrance is nearby anyway. Hahaha,"
Oz added, forcing a laugh.
— If anyone figures this out, I'm done for.
As the group stepped outside the now-derailed carriage, the scene before them was chaotic.
Other carriages were in worse conditions. One hung on a branches of a massive tree, another had crashed into a pond, and a third had wedged itself into a drainage ditch.
"…"
— Well, at least it's their problem and not mine.
*****
The recent carriage accidents quickly became a hot topic around the academy. Five different carriages had been involved in bizarre accidents, each one more ridiculous than the last.
The official explanation from Mistheaven's administration was that it had been a technical issue. But internally, the academy was on high alert, fearing that this accidents could be the work of followers of the Ensnaring Dark Lord, a notorious figure known for causing mental disturbances.
No one had been apprehended, and no further incidents occurred, so the academy proceeded with the welcome ceremony for the new students.
Inside the Main Hall, the new students were gathered for the event. The hall was an impressive structure, able to hold up to 2,500 people, though only 400 new students were present, making the space feel vast. They sat in perfectly aligned rows, each seat carefully numbered, designating where each student was supposed to sit.
The hall's walls were lined with stunning murals, each telling a different story. Some depicted the founding of Mistheaven, the rise and fall of the Dark Lord, and other tales so old that their original meanings had long been lost, now left to interpretation by each viewer.
The domed ceiling was adorned with celestial bodies that shifted gently in the air above them, creating a mesmerizing atmosphere. The stars and planets seemed to move in harmony with the dome's rotation, reflecting the real sky outside.
At the front of the hall, the professors sat behind a long table. In the center of the stage stood an enormous orrery model made from brass and iron. Its gears clicked and whirred as planetary spheres moved in perfect, synchronized motion around a central Earth, with the Sun and Moon circling it, creating a stunning geocentric display. (Here the illustration.)
At the podium stood the headmaster of Mistheaven, Professor Goldilock, a woman who had terrified many of the students during their entrance exams. However, her demeanor was noticeably different this time. She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she addressed the students.
[Hello everyone, are you excited to officially become Mistheaven students?]
Her voice ringing with enthusiasm.
*Murmurs*
"Yes!"
Excited responses rippled through the crowd as the new students eagerly shouted their agreement.
[First, let me congratulate you all. You are now officially students of Mistheaven. Give yourselves a round of applause.]
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
Thunderous applause filled the hall, with some students shouting and cheering even louder than before. Energy buzzed in the air.
While most of the students were caught up in the excitement, Oz sat quietly, observing the scene from his seat in the second row. He grumbled to himself, dissatisfied with his placement.
—Ugh! Why did I have to rank 21st? If only I had ranked 20th, I could've been in the front row.
He thought with frustration.
Professor Goldilock seemed to be in a particularly good mood, likely because she didn't have to make eye contact with Oz, who was seated just out of her line of sight.
[For the first event, we'll witness a performance by your seniors. Let's welcome a play that will tell the story of Mistheaven's founding and the history of Stellarkeep!]
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
With that, the lights in the Main Hall dimmed until the room was almost pitch black. Then, a beam of light focused on the stage, illuminating the actors.
Everyone's attention was drawn to the performance. Two figures took the stage: one was a man with a fake beard and flowing robes, and the other was a woman with a silver wig, dressed in an elaborate blue and white gown.
"Morgan, oh Morgan, gaze upon it! The stars falling from the heavens. Witness the victims that have fallen to the Earth as well."
The bearded actor proclaimed dramatically, his voice booming across the hall.
"Oh Merlin. How tragic they are, how fragile they are. All I can do is weep for them, all I can do is reflect on their misfortune."
The actress playing Morgan responded, her voice filled with melodrama, matching Merlin's exaggerated tone.
"To whom can we cry for help? To whom can we ask for assistance?"
The actor playing Merlin delivered his line with a theatrical flourish, dramatically scanning the stage as he looked left and right.
"Hahaha, you two will never stop me. My falling stars can't be stopped!"
The deep voice echoed through the hall, and from above, a figure dressed in an ominous black robe floated down.
"Saint Germain!"
Merlin and Morgan shouted in unison, their voices trembling as the cloaked villain touched down lightly on the stage.
"The world must end. Humanity must end. And I also must end!"
Germain's actor let out a maniacal laugh that reverberated through the hall.
"Hahaha!"
As he spoke, the lights dimmed further, casting flickering shadows.
Suddenly, Merlin and Morgan raised their arms toward Germain, shooting bright beams of magical light from their hands.
"Begone, Dark Lord!"
Their voices echoed as one, full of desperation and hope, as their energy collided with Germain's.
For a moment, it seemed as though the dark lord was vanquished, his body trembling as the magical light washed over him.
"As long as the world hasn't ended, neither have I! Wait for my return. Aaaaah!"
In a puff of smoke, Germain disappeared, his voice fading into an eerie echo.
"Morgan! This is the end for me too. Build a safe haven for humanity… to prevent the end of the days..."
Merlin's voice faltered as he clutched his chest.
"Ugh!"
Merlin's actor gave a dramatic death performance, collapsing in slow motion. His tongue hung out comically, eliciting a burst of laughter from the audience, their tension broken.
"Hahaha."
Two actors in black robes hurried from the side of the stage, dragging Merlin's limp body behind them. His legs dragged humorously, and the audience roared with laughter.
"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin."
Morgan's actor lamented, now alone on stage, her voice filled with mock sorrow.
"I will never forget your sacrifice!"
The backdrop shifted once again, this time revealing a dense, shadowy forest.
"I will build a fortress here… but how? With whom? And with what? Oh, I'm so confused."
The actor portraying Morgan muttered, their hand to their forehead in a classic gesture of puzzlement.
Still, nothing happened on stage.
"I said I'm confused!"
Morgan's actor repeated, this time louder, with more frustration.
Suddenly, from the side of the stage, seven figures appeared, each wearing costumes resembling stone statues.
"Oh great wizard, oh powerful magus, you have freed us from the dark lord. We will help you build the fortress."
They began to carry large, white marble-like props. Pieces of the fortress were assembled one by one into a crude structure, symbolizing the creation of Stellarkeep.
"Finally! The fortress is complete,"
Morgan's actor exclaimed, watching as the last piece was placed.
"At last, we have a safe place. Thank you, stone masons."
"Oh great wizard, oh mighty Morgan."
One of the stone statues called out.
"Now that the fortress is complete, we ask to also live in it."
"Very well. As per our agreement, the 9th floor is yours. You may reside There. Sleep there. Eat there."
The backdrop once again changed, this time transforming into a grand castle with towering spires—Mistheaven Academy.
The audience recognized it immediately, its iconic design illuminated on stage.
"Oh, now I am old."
Morgan's actor said with exaggerated weariness, hunching over as if weighed down by old ages.
"I can no longer pursue my dreams. But I will create an academy so that future generations may have the knowledge and preparation to face the coming days… Oh. I die."
With a theatrical sigh, Morgan's actor fell to the ground. The same two actors in black robes from earlier rushed out, hauling the lifeless form the stage, causing another wave of laughter to ripple through the audience.
[That concludes the performance by the drama club! We hope you were entertained. Let's give them a round of applause.]
As the hall lights brightened, the applause erupted, even louder than before, accompanied by whistles and cheers from the impressed audience.
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
[And now, for the moment you've all been eagerly awaiting—the sorting ceremony of the 8 houses!]