Drake was still having his lunch, with Mark opposite him, and he finally spoke up to break the silence. "Mark, there's been something tugging at my mind." Mark, in the middle of shoveling his meal into his mouth, stopped with the spoon in mid-air, resting his right arm on the table as he inclined slightly with a look like his gaze could hold firm like a mountain. "What has been bothering you? Come on, let it out.
Drake seconded the motion, his knife and fork clutched in his hands like anchors, his voice rising ever so slightly with an edge of curiosity. "As I was journeying down here, I observed some sort of sophisticated development on the carriage station. The manner by which it was constructed and projected to their well-ordered operation. Also, when I entered my room, I saw crystal lamps lighting it. What's disturbing me is from where this knowledge came."
Mark chuckled low in his throat, the sound rolling like thunder, and a soft smile spread across his lips. "I thought as much that it was something serious. That's something everybody has a rough idea about. The legend goes that there's another world out there, and the evidence is all around us in the knowledge and technologies present here, said to originate from it."
Drake's eyebrows shot up in shock, his mind racing to one possibility, Earth. "Did you mean to say a world devoid of mana, where people make their life rely on technology?
Mark's expression changed, and his features hardened, as if he were about to tell a secret that few knew. He pursed his lips and slowly shook his head like a metronome. "No, the world I am referring to is said to be filled with even stronger mages-with just a thought, they are able to call upon magic. As a matter of fact, this world is just a subordinate dimension to it."
Drake felt a chill run up his spine; his eyes were wide with surprise as the idea wrapped itself around his mind, fitting together like a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"Then why haven't people from that world and here either ascend or descend from any of these worlds?" he said, his eyes fixed keen as an eagle on Mark.
Mark swooped closer, his face painted with mystery by the shades of the dinner hall. He looked around both ways softly and covered his mouth with the back of his left hand, as if the walls had ears.
How they do not descend here is not yet known, but for people in this world, one must be at the level of Great Grandmaster with nine circle rings to have the qualification to ascend. And then, the revelation was like an unspoken truth, an invisible shroud that fell among them.
They were about to carry on with their meal when Drake suddenly remembered something; his voice cut through the silence. "Please, I need to go to the academy library, but it appears that finding my way there will not be easy. Can you help me?" he exclaimed, his tone urgent.
Mark grinned once more, this time with a tinge of mild amusement in his face. He laid his knife down softly, leaning back as if ready for a speech. "It would appear the rumors concerning you not being royalty of the Kaldris kingdom were, in fact, true."
He cleared his throat to speak in a voice commandingly similar to a teacher's. "You see, the architectural layout of this academy is well known to all noble families. So, I brought this." He passed a cardstock to Drake-the edges were a bit worn but very detailed. "This shall help. It contains the architectural layout of the academy."
Drake took it with both hands, his appreciation over-flowing like water in a brimming cup. "Really thank you for your help. You're really helpful."
Mark's face softened; a glint of sincerity danced in his eyes. "You needn't say that. What are friends for?" They exchanged a brief smile-the kind that spoke of cameraderie-and went back eating.
All the while, Griffin had been furtively edging closer to Drake, a cup of hot green tea clutched in his right hand. Suddenly, as he approached closer and closer, the steps purposeful and deliberate, he sloshed the tea toward Drake. The liquid seemed to arc through the air like a streak of green flame.
Instinctively, Drake flipped backward from his seat with an agility that belied the known laws of motion. The fork in his hand, a silver serpent, lanced toward Griffin's neck with deadly precision, halting mere inches away.
Silence as thick as held breath fell on the dining hall. Every pair of eyes was set on the scene; the students from the prominent families were dumbfounded. They could tell that there was more to Drake's fork maneuver than meets the eye-a skill beyond ordinary combat, telling of mastery beyond their comprehension.
An aura swirled around Drake, sharp and suffocating, like the edge of a blade, with beads of sweat oozing down foreheads.
Throughout the routine, Drake was not quite himself, as if his movements were guided by some unseen force. Standing at 6.1 feet and tall as a sentinel, instructor William watched over them to see the new students in action. His dark blue hair shone in the light of the room as he watched intently, noticing even the smallest detail of this little incident unfolding before him.
He caught the severity of the situation, and with that, quickly returned his food tray to the kitchen, making for a swift exit out of the dining hall as murmurs eclipsed his back. His feet moved with haste and certainty, as if needing to distance himself from the mess that he had caused.
*****
Away from the commotion of the dining hall, Drake took out the cardstock and started to study the complex design of the academy. The Diamond Mage Academy sprawled across an area of 980,000 square meters, divided into two parts.
The junior section faced west and included the administration building, an unornamented structure situated 35 degrees north. Other buildings were testaments to architectural brilliance, standing as monuments to learning and growth. The library nestled at 278 degrees northwest became his next destination.
Before them loomed the circular design of Cheth's academy library, some ancient fortress that guarded secrets beyond the imagination. Drake searched everywhere for books on mana assimilation. Inside, the lines of shelves seemed endless-a maze upon maze of wisdom. After several tries, a single book drew his attention as its title, in golden lettering across the spine, read Essence Sight Codex by Tiberius Victor.
Flipping through its pages, the silence was broken by a familiar voice. Clear and authoritative, "I bet you're looking for a book on the mana assimilation method."
Drake turned to the voice; he instantly recognized the figure. "Principal, what brings you here?"
Principal Logan strode up, commanding and yet unassuming, clapping his arms behind his back. "Just came out for a stroll," he returned, his gaze stopping at the book in Drake's hand. Something subtle twisted his expression, a faintest nostalgia joining his features. "Tiberius Victor, hmm?
The pronunciation of the name had made Drake curious; his eyebrows arched into a frown. "Do you know this scientist, I mean, the author of this book?"
Logan exhaled heavily, the air a certain weight of memories. He looked upward toward the library's vaulted ceiling as if some sort of answers rested in the carvings. "Yes, we were playmates during our academy days. But for reasons I can't share, he suddenly disappeared."
A flicker of sorrow danced in Logan's eyes, hinting at an untold story. "Sorry to dredge up your memories," he said with a gentle tone.
Logan waved his hand in the most dismissive fashion, the placidness rushing back in like a tide reclaiming the shore. "No, you haven't done anything. It's just something that crosses my mind from time to time." He turned and left, his stride measured, his pace deliberate. "You may have that book. It's lain untouched here for ages. Don't bother, I'll let the head librarian know myself. Enjoy the remainder of your day."
Drake clasped the book in his hands now more for symbolic reasons than for weight and meandered his way back to his dorm with a storm in his head-questions of a new mystery lingering.