Making their way through the hallways, rumors of the fight had already spread like wildfire. Students whispered as they passed by, pointing with undisguised interest. Some stayed quiet and judged from afar, while others offered sympathetic looks. But one thing remained constant - everyone's attention followed them.
Whether it stemmed from Stella's shocking announcement about them being Daywalkers, only to later declare it a lie, or the fact that three newcomers dared to challenge a Nobleman - something ingrained in their society since birth - the gossip refused to die down.
Alex, taking in all the attention, couldn't help but harbor second thoughts. His mind wandered back to Merlin's office, where the Headmaster spoke of joining the Academy as if it were a simple matter of attending classes and learning magic. A straightforward goal of finding their way home. Yet now, it seemed he had signed up for far more than expected. Before Alex could sink deeper into his troubled thoughts, they arrived at the professor's office.
Walking into the professor's office, Alex studies the walls. They're fairly clean, with only a single portrait hanging - a young girl whose features bear a striking resemblance to the professor's.
Taking his seat, Alex observes Professor Bain as he pulls out a stone tablet from beneath his desk. The professor places it carefully on the worn wooden surface, then runs his fingers across it in a precise pattern, as if unlocking an ancient mechanism. Like a hologram springing to life, a two-dimensional image of the professor materializes above the tablet, accompanied by floating text to its right.
"First, let me explain who I am," the professor goes on listing the information of the hologram. "My name is Bain, Professor Bain. I will be teaching Class 1-C, where you three will be placed. While you'll take courses with other teachers, I'll serve as your homeroom instructor and guide you in the rudimentary arts."
"I was notified of your arrival at the dining hall and was already on my way to discuss your optimal course selections and academy culture," Professor Bain explains, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. "Though it seems you've already taken quite the plunge."
With a graceful motion, he swipes away the holographic information about himself, replacing it with an array of intricate icons representing various factions. Each symbol pulses with its own subtle energy, floating above the stone tablet like ethereal badges of honor.
"Dereck the fellow which you fought with is part of one of the seven main factions here at the academy." he continues, his finger tracing the air beneath each glowing icon.
"The Zenith Order the name of Dereck's faction—considers themselves the elite. They strut about, wearing their status like a crown." He pauses, his expression darkening slightly. "Now that you've put yourself on their scope it's important that you stick yourself to another faction sooner than later."
"For the order doesn't handle disrespect well they'll give face to me but you three are in trouble. To help you figure out what faction to join let me list them out for you."
"Second after the order are the Vampires, who are... well, simply put, Vampires." His eyes fix on the boys with sudden intensity. "Do you even know what Vampires are?"
"Umm yeah, we have movies and books about them." Alex says taken a little aback not expecting the professor to ask suck questions.
"Interesting." Professor Bain's eyes glint with scholarly curiosity, as if mentally cataloging this detail about their world. The holographic display shimmers slightly as he continues his explanation.
"Anyway, another notable faction is the Elemental Concord," he gestures to an icon pulsing with multicolored energy. "They're a collective of individuals who can wield elemental powers through their bloodlines." His fingers trace the shimmering symbol, causing ripples of light to dance across its surface. "Think of them as a fellowship of sorts—a place where those sharing similar bloodline abilities can gather and learn from one another's experiences."
"Then we have the Iron Resolve," Professor Bain continues, gesturing to a symbol etched with interlocking chains. "They're a brotherhood of commoners who've united to navigate academy life together." The hologram shifts, revealing another icon. "The Student Body follows—exactly what it sounds like, really. They're advocates for student interests above all else."
His finger traces to a darker symbol, one that seems to pulse with an almost militant energy. "The Umbral Veil is more selective. They only accept those who demonstrate exceptional combat potential, similar to our strike force members." His voice takes on a note of reverence. "Many students dream of joining their ranks—they handle our most challenging assignments."
The final icon materializes, its ancient scrollwork weaving patterns that seem to dance with hidden meaning. "And lastly, there's the Arcane Vanguard, my own faction." Pride resonates in Professor Bain's voice as the symbol bathes the room in scholarly radiance. "We're a collective of scholars, innovators, and kindred minds, united in our mission to push the boundaries of knowledge—propelling mankind toward a brighter future through understanding and innovation."
Professor Bain pauses, letting the holographic light cast ethereal shadows across his weathered features. "Now, I know that's quite a lot to digest, but understanding these factions is essential," he continues, each word carrying the weight of decades of accumulated wisdom.
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture that speaks of years of guiding bewildered students. "I'm aware Merlin attempted to explain things, but knowing him—" a hint of fond exasperation colors his voice, "—he likely left numerous details for your OSAIs to clarify. Allow me to fill in some of these gaps."
With another practiced motion, he swipes the hologram away. The display shimmers and transforms, materializing into three distinct documents that hover before the boys like spectral pages. Each glows with a soft luminescence, displaying detailed course listings tailored to their individual paths. The text seems to float just above the surface, creating an almost three-dimensional effect that draws their attention to specific sections marked in brighter hues.
Scanning the holographic list hovering before him, Alex's eyes dart between familiar and mystifying course titles. 'Combat Training makes sense,' he muses, mentally checking off the ones he can grasp, 'bloodline theory okay, and Monster Classification fair—' His thoughts pause at the sight of four conspicuously blank spaces on the projected schedule, their emptiness somehow more intriguing than the filled slots.
"If you're wondering about those blank spaces," Professor Bain interjects, as if reading Alex's thoughts, "they'll be filled once we determine your bloodline aptitudes." His fingers trace through the hologram.
The professor's expression grows more focused as he continues, "Which brings us to a rather pressing matter." With a gesture, the course list dissolves, replaced by an intricate hexagonal pattern that rotates slowly in the air. "Tomorrow, Merlin and I will oversee your awakening ritual. The procedure is straightforward enough—we'll need 100 milliliters of your blood placed in a central bowl." His finger traces the glowing geometric lines as he speaks. "You'll recite specific words while we pour elemental essences into the ritual points surrounding the hexagon. And if all goes as planned—" he snaps his fingers for emphasis, "—your bloodline awakens."
"And it won't hurt right?" Randy asks who even though having step into a ritual before can't help but be worried.
"Of course not," Professor Bain replies with a confident smile. "Just a slight prick for the blood, followed by minor discomfort before a euphoric rush fills you. For this process has been done many times no need to feel worry."
"Ok then." Randy says now feeling a little better about the idea.
"Now, regarding the ritual," Professor Bain continues, his tone measured, "while we expect you'll awaken due to being Descendants of this world, we must address all possibilities." He pauses, letting his words settle. "If you don't awaken, we've arranged accommodations where you can live ordinary—yet comfortable—lives here. No magic, true, but you'll have access to education, employment opportunities, and all the essentials. You'll be treated as any other citizen, with financial security befitting those displaced from their world."
His expression brightens as he shifts topics. "However, assuming your bloodlines do awaken, you'll complete your education here at the Academy. After that, depending on how events unfold during your ten-year journey with us, we'll discuss your future prospects."
"Ten years?" Alex interrupts, confusion evident in his voice. "I thought this was a four-year program, maybe with some optional college-style continuation afterward?"
"College? What's that?" Professor Bain asks, his scholarly curiosity momentarily overriding any awareness of Alex's growing concern about the lengthy commitment.
"It's like secondary school—after four years you can choose to go there to get better education," Alex explains, his tone edged with impatience. "Now, more about why it's ten years?"
"Secondary school, I see, is that like—" Professor Bain begins, his academic mind already wandering down another path of inquiry. However, he cuts himself short as he catches Alex's pointed stare, the intensity in those young eyes serving as a clear reminder to address the actual question at hand.
"Oh yes, why ten years," he course-corrects, settling back into his role as educator. "Simple really—that gives us the correct amount of time to create the strongest warriors. We do allow people to leave during the 8th year for the army, but they'll be part of the school's forces so that we can still teach."
"I understand that, but why force us to stay ten years?" Alex's voice wavers, the weight of separation crushing his practiced composure. "That's such a long time, and I'll be honest—I want to go home before then. By then, my parents won't even remember what I sound like... I'll be like a completely different person."
Desperation bleeds into his words as the reality of his situation crashes over him like a tidal wave. "My classmates, my friends, my mom, my dad—what about them? Will they even remember me?" His eyes, glistening with unshed tears, search Professor Bain's face for answers, for hope, for any sign that this nightmare might have an earlier end. "Will I just become another missing case that fades from memory?"
'I just want to go home.' The thought echoes in his mind like a prayer, and finally, the dam breaks. A single tear escapes, charting a lonely path down his cheek before landing on his pants, the dark stain spreading like an ink blot of his sorrow.
In that moment of vulnerability, Max's hand finds Alex's shoulder, the touch carrying all the warmth and understanding that words couldn't express. The gentle pressure speaks volumes—a reminder that even in this strange new world, he isn't completely alone.
"Don't worry dude, you still got me and Randy. We'll get through this together." Max forces strength into his voice, pushing his own pain aside to be the pillar his friend needs. Though his own heart aches with the same loss, the same fears, he wears a mask of certainty for Alex's sake.
Through tear-blurred vision, Alex looks up at Max, reading the depth of loyalty and support written across his friend's features. Even through his own grief, he can see the cost of Max's brave front.
"Thanks Max, I just—ah—you know," Alex manages, his words catching in his throat as he tries to stem the flow of tears. The simple phrase carries the weight of everything he can't put into words—the gratitude, the fear, the desperate need for this connection to home.
Professor Bain watches the scene unfold with growing remorse, his scholarly detachment crumbling in the face of such raw emotion. He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a crisp handkerchief and extending it with gentle urgency. "Here, take this," he offers, regret coloring his tone. "I apologize for delivering the news so callously. I should have considered your emotional well-being—it was unconscionable of me as a professor to disregard your feelings in pursuit of my academic interests."
"We can continue this conversation later—you all clearly need time to process this," Professor Bain says, his academic demeanor softening with understanding. Rising from his seat, he moves to open his office door, the ancient wood creaking softly. "But do know we can't delay the ritual. Even Merlin's schedule is inflexible on this matter. For any other questions, your OSAIs will provide guidance."
As the boys rise to leave, the professor's voice calls out once more. "Your OSAI will show you the way back, and Alex—" He pauses, shame etching deep lines across his features as he meets the young man's gaze. "I'm truly sorry for my insensitivity. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I promise to show more consideration in the classroom." The slight bow that accompanies his words carries the weight of genuine remorse.
"No, no, you're fine," Alex responds, his earlier distress giving way to a measured understanding. "I know you were just trying to help. We just need time to adjust to all of this." A weak smile crosses his face, tinged with both gratitude and lingering sadness. "Thank you, nonetheless."
"No, thank you for being kind, and may your days be well." The words carry a formal warmth, a small bridge built between student and teacher in the aftermath of emotional turbulence.
"You too, professor," Alex calls back as they step into the corridor, his voice echoing softly against the ancient stones. The heavy door closes behind them with a gentle click, sealing away the intensity of their conversation like a chapter ending in a well-worn book.