Arthur Graf's journey through the labyrinthine halls of Asphalt Academy continued like a wandering knight charting a course through a world of hidden stories. Today was not just a day for his own quest—it was an unintentional exploration of the school's rich, chaotic social fabric.
"A knight must not falter." Arthur said, his voice filled with conviction. "And yet, it has been weeks since I last crossed blades with Izanagi. What foul twist of fate has kept us apart? Surely, the fates do conspire against the bonds of chivalry."
He coughed lightly into his hand, his face briefly scrunching in discomfort before he pressed on, undeterred.
Asphalt Academy was more than a school—it was a realm unto itself. The institution was steeped in history, its origins dating back over a century, and its towering gothic architecture was a testament to the wealth and prestige of its benefactors. The hallways were adorned with portraits of past valedictorians and founders, their stern faces gazing down at the bustling student body.
The private funding allowed for a dizzying array of clubs and extracurricular activities. There was the Cryptid Investigation Society, where students with an interest in the paranormal spent their evenings debating the existence of Bigfoot. The Samurai Culture Club, a favorite of Izanagi, focused on the philosophies and practices of Bushido. There was even a Greek Mythology Club, led by Arthur's younger brother, Michael Graf, who insisted on being called "Apollo" and often wore a laurel crown during meetings.
Arthur paused outside the Chivalry Club, his own creation and pride. Through the glass doors, he saw a group of underclassmen practicing their sword stances with wooden blades. One freshman fumbled and dropped his weapon, earning a sharp rebuke from Beatrice, the club's vice president.
"Hold steady!" Beatrice barked. "A knight's blade is an extension of their soul!"
Arthur smiled proudly. "Ah, Beatrice, ever the stalwart steward of chivalry." he murmured before continuing down the hall.
Arthur's quest led him to the library, a cavernous space filled with towering shelves of leather-bound books. He scanned the rows, hoping to spot Izanagi's distinctive presence.
"Excuse me, fair librarian." Arthur said, addressing Mrs. Harkwell, who was shelving books nearby. "Hast thou seen a warrior by the name of Izanagi? He carries himself with the bearing of a samurai, and his gaze is sharper than the finest katana."
Mrs. Harkwell blinked at him. "Arthur, I have no idea what you're talking about."
He sighed dramatically. "Alas, the trail grows cold." He coughed again, louder this time, and waved her concerned glance away. "Worry not for my mortal shell, dear matron of tomes. The spirit burns brighter than the frail body ever could!"
Mrs. Harkwell shook her head as Arthur left, muttering something about "those Graf boys always being eccentric."
Arthur's search brought him to the courtyard, where he found Reddick, his childhood friend, leaning against a tree with a basketball under his arm.
"Reddick, my faithful companion!" Arthur called, approaching with his arms outstretched.
Reddick raised an eyebrow. "What now, Arthur? You find a dragon to slay?"
"Not a dragon." Arthur replied, coughing lightly, "but a noble warrior who has gone astray. Have you seen Izanagi?"
Reddick shook his head. "Nah, man. Haven't seen him. But seriously, you gotta cut out the knight stuff. People are starting to think you're weird."
Arthur grinned. "Weird? Nay, I am not weird, Reddick. I am gallant. And gallantry, my dear friend, is a language the mundane cannot comprehend." He gave Reddick a hearty pat on the shoulder before departing.
Arthur eventually found himself in the school's common area, where a group of students was huddled around a television. He caught snippets of their conversation as he passed.
"Did you hear about Christian Kaiser?" one girl said. "He's a killer."
Arthur stopped in his tracks. "Pardon me." he said, stepping closer. "Who is this Christian Kaiser you speak of?"
The students exchanged glances, unsure if he was joking. "You seriously don't know?" one boy said. "He's all over the news. First Imagi Mark bearer. Killed six people."
Arthur tilted his head, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. "A killer? Surely you jest. No one who bears the name Kaiser could be so villainous."
The girl rolled her eyes. "It's true. He's got white hair and glowing eyes and everything. Total freak."
Arthur's chest tightened, and he coughed harder this time, leaning against the wall for support. "Freak?" he repeated, his voice soft but tinged with anger. "How dare you label someone so callously?"
The boy shrugged. "Just telling it like it is."
Arthur straightened up, his expression suddenly serious. "I may not know this Christian Kaiser, but I know this: A knight does not judge without seeking the truth. And if this boy is in need of a champion, then a champion he shall have."
The students stared at him as he turned and marched away, his cape-like coat billowing behind him.
Arthur returned to the Chivalry Club's training hall, where Beatrice was packing up the practice swords. She looked up as he entered, his usual whimsical demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness.
"Beatrice." he said, his voice steady. "The world has grown darker. I can feel it."
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I must find Izanagi." Arthur said. "He is searching for something—someone—and I believe our paths are intertwined. A knight is nothing without his training, but more importantly, he is nothing without his cause."
Beatrice tilted her head. "You're not making any sense."
Arthur smiled faintly, his usual theatrics tempered by a quiet resolve. "I rarely do, Beatrice. But that is the nature of a quest. One must walk the path to understand it."
He coughed once more, then adjusted his coat and left the hall, determined to find Izanagi and uncover the truth behind Christian Kaiser.