The air was warm, sunny clear skies promising nothing but sun burns and breezy gales. He wasn't dropped at the gates of his school as it was viewed as arrogant aristocracy. Thus he was dropped at a small town connected to the school.
During weekends students would be allowed to walk outside school grounds and shop to their hearts content. But his eyes didn't focus on mindless leisure but rather the prominent school that stood above it all. Towers and spires could be seen from where he was.
Caelbridge Arcum was one of the four schools in Reuthar kingdom. Of course in terms of ranking, it came second to Sable Court, the most prestigious school not only in Reuthar kingdom but also the other human kingdoms as well. Those who attended were the elites, sons and daughters of high nobles, chancellors and the king's daughter.
The sounds of chatter an laughter echoed through the air, a collage of colors clashing. As he made his way through the town, his mind was filled with the necessary mechanics of the school.
'So Jarren Velros was a fourth year student. But his talent is nothing short of pathetic. Most second and third year students have already broken through the second rank of being a knight. As for maga, most of those in his class are in the Wrymkindled rank.'
His figure made it's way through the town and up the wide well paved cobblestone path. 'So first years are in grey, second years deep blue. Third years in hunter green while fourth years are in black and gold. Fifth year students wear to their liking.'
"Name?" The guard asked, his face blank. "Jarren Velros." His voice equally flat as he handed over a card and his malcore signature. Shortly after he was granted access to the school grounds. Now closer, the spires loomed over him like titans, the silver crest gates admirable.
The school was no joke in terms of size. The central opening was a calm and relaxing park which was flocked with students who went on in their banters, either discussing about the the four factions, romantical affairs or reminiscing about last terms events along with this one's.
'Right, this school has factions amongst the students. The most renowned one is the Aurex Sanctum. Filled to the brim with nobles dabbling in maga. Close in second is the Black Whet, this is constituted majorly of knights with a blend of nobles and commoners alike. The third being the Gravemire Fold. Made up by Alchemists and Auxiliaries and the least known or respected being the Eyrie. It's majorly constituted of outcasts.'
His figure marching with purpose as he made his way to the southern wing of the school towards the spires. The administration wing where students milled about with staff drifted with runestamps and crystal files. "Name?" The registrar lazily inquired.
"Jarren Velros." The registrar brought out a sheet. "You're here to switch your Maga classes?" He gave a nod prompting her to hand over a sheet. "Simply fill it, I'll also require your permission from your Yearly Faculty Advisor." Done filling the sheet he handed over a folder.
Her eyes scanning through the documents, she seemed content as he stored the file in her records. "Very well, Jarren Velros. You'll start tomorrow." She handed over a schedule which he took a quick look at before pocketing it.
He knew once his father came to know that he had switched classes, he wouldn't get to hear the end of it. But till then, he made his way towards the Auditorium Hall where all the students from earlier had all converged. Some could still be seen coming in to which he took his seat at the back.
First Year Students sat at the front and the Fourth year students at the back. As for fifth year, they could afford to miss it. Before taking his allotted seat, he ran into Serrant who was surrounded by friends, breaking into cackles before his sights landed on Jarren.
"Well well well, if it isn't shadow puppeteer in the flesh." His voice haughty however Jarren merely ignored him like a pestering thought a head ache to consider. "You can ignore me all you want Jarren but do know this, you're going to pay for that little scuffle from earlier." Jarren's obsidian eyes landed on Serrant's face, his thoughts already peering into fates he met his death.
Some lynched, others devoured, erased, abstracted, broken, snuffed. The list was endless in his mind but he let it slide for now as more students kept on filling the seats. With one hand supporting his head, his frame came off as mature which further agitated Serrant who felt his threat melt into nothingness.
He had already vowed that he would make Jarren pay, one way or the other regardless of the method. But of course this was school grounds and even here he had to tread carefully. Any violation of rules here was harshly punished, especially when it came to the later year students.
Once the hall was full, the head master made his appearance. He greeted his audience with a warm and gentle smile before breaking into his speech. He listened in breaks, his eyes darting all over the place. 'So many pawns, so much potential for a beautiful act.' His mind preoccupied with thoughts of his first official game.
The exchange with the assassin was short-lived and hasty, no time for him to enjoy it. The principal eventually came to an end, and from there the students were allowed to mingle and char with each other for the rest of the day. Jarren however made his way towards his dormitory room.
As a fourth year student and a noble at that, he had the luxury of having a lavish and spacious room all to himself. From his height he had a good look over the garden that festered with students, all caught up in their own worlds of chatter.
A snap of his finger was all it took to unpack and arrange his stuff. From neatly arranging his books in order of relativity rather than alphabet to folding his robes into a neat corner, for him an erasure of time was all it took.
He examined his glyph, deducing what changes to make to it before he heard a knock at his door. It was Serrant and this time his face came with purpose rather than empty threats. "A rematch. A firth year student tl watch over, it's legal. "
Jarren simply followed Serrant who seemed pleased with himself from the Western to the East Wing. The walk calming for Jarren as he watched the world around him dance with life but for Serrant a waste of his time before the two arrived. The Eastern Wing was also known as the Bastions Grounds.
Naturally a place where students came to test their prowess in the practical aspect however spars couldn't be dealt with for no good reason. A professor had to be notified and watch over the match or a fifth year student and thanks to Serrant's networks it was the latter.
He had a terrible reputation with the professor, always involved in fights and bullies which became a head ache overtime. His acts never too outlandish for an immediate expulsion but definitely enough to attract attention. Thus from this he was issued with multiple warnings, which he never heeded forcing the administration to adopt other means.
It was based off counts, if he were involved in any five indisciplinary atrocities then be would receive an expulsion with no room for negotiation. Thus rather than a silent fight he chose to call in a fifth year student. Jarren looked at the Bastions, the sounds of grunts from mana flaring and weapons clashing could be heard.
They had an arena, ample room for movement and glyphs for fatal recoveries if needed. "I'm sure you already know the rules so I won't get too deep into it." Serrant mused as a dangerous smirk flashed on his face.
Jarren on the other hand seemed bored out of his mind as Serrant cast his glyph. He never once moved from his position, never lifted a finger. Ravien the fifth year student wore a crimson stitched coat as his eyes focused more on Jarren's figure.
He had heard about his skill, puppeteering shadows and at first he didn't think much of it but hearing that he was able to beat Serrant with minimal ease, he was intrigued. Those on the sidelines were locked with flashier fights with a select few paying attention to this.
Once more his shadow raised in an attempt to mimic his figure only to fall short. "What is that?!" Some asked. "Is that a puppet? But there's no beastly aura around it?" Ripples of shock echoed through the crowd however Jarren remained aloof to it all.
"Maybe a necromancer?" Another raised to which they were corrected. "No, if it was a puppeteer then his summon would have an aura with it, it doesn't so it's clear that Jarren's using the Darkness element." Ravien mused, his eyes now locked with the fight. The Darkness element wasn't usually used for direct attack but rather aid other attacks to be executed.
Gliding through the arena with shadow step, masking one's presence or forming illusions. The Darkness element itself to be used as an attack had yet to be seen. 'It's not the shadow I'm interested in but rather that glyph he has?! I've never seen such a glyph!' Ravien thought. "You may begin!"
Without fail Serrant took the initiative as he focused on his glyph, the shadow waited till he was done. "Why's he just standing there?!" The immense draw of malcore immediately drew attention from the other spars that went on and towards the two.
More people commented about the strangeness of Jarren's glyph, some citing that the shadow seemed transcendant to look at despite it's horns and jagged maw. Jarren chose to watch, realizing what Serrant was doing.
'He's not planning on holding back with this attack now is he? Drawing attention by utilizing all the malcore in the air just for a bigger audience and for what? To see me fail?!' He let out his signature smile which unnerved those watching, even Ravien felt something ominous about it.
"You're finally done Jarren! I'm gonna melt that smirk off your fucking face!!!" Serrant's figure was surrounded by magma, each seemingly harmless as they rotated around his figure forming a shield.
And then he finally made his move, a cloud of hot magma ash rose to the sky akin to a volcano with sparkles of magma in dazzling the sky like a starry night. "Is Serrant serious right now?! He could face punishment for such an attack!" Ravien noted that never had that smirk faded off Jarren's face.