"That may have been one of the most useful classes this year," Logan said, pacing across one of the school hallways. "Having learned how to increase my mana stores, I think I may have sped up the completion of my contract with the succubus considerably."
That was right. When he made the deal with her, the main condition was that he would return her form, and due to her spiritual nature, that meant accruing enough mana for her to absorb.
Though, on second thought, Logan didn't quite understand how he was going to give the mana to her, it was obvious that it would have to come from him, otherwise, she would've gone to suck off some other, stronger guy by now.
"Though, I wonder if I could complete the steps now..." Logan looked to his chest, blocking out the crowd of murmurs and groans. Solemnly, he recognized one of the speakers at the top of the hallway, resounding its typical midday rings.
For a moment, his vision flickered to purple, revealing the motes of mana floating out and about, but once he attempted to hone in his vision to review a particular particle vested just beneath his skin but not yet absorbed in his core, fast images played through his mind.
Of Selene; the way her outpouring blood pulsed in synchronization with her heart; how her breath was jagged; how her skin went blue and eyes, white.
Then, another flicker—this time, of her as a child. When she'd been holding onto him, looking down as his skin went blue instead, shouting, "brother, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me!"
"Ugh!" he groaned, falling to his knees. His heart was racing, skin wet with sweat.
He could hardly make out his surroundings through the intense battlefield of thought engulfing his mind, each fighting to assert dominance over his main train of thought.
He had to slam his fist into the ground once to leave huge blotches of purple along his knuckles, frying his brain from the intense pain. That was the intention—keeping himself grounded in reality through sensation.
"Damn, that hurts," he bit, helping himself up from the floor. After taking a moment to lean on the wall for support, he blinked once—reestablishing how little purple there was in the air.
The mana he poured into his vision dispersed into the open air, leaving him nothing but the confused looks of his peers. Then, he remembered. It was lunchtime, and he needed an area to eat.
Grumpy and hurt, he turned to one of the opened classrooms reading, '1-B.'
This was the first floor. Though he'd only gone to class on the third floor—where all the F classes from year 1 through 6 and some of the D classes presided—his body instinctively dragged him to the lower level, the place reserved for the true elite of the school.
Despite being terrified of simply stepping on such highly acclaimed grounds during school hours when he was an Ungifted, now, he didn't feel quite the rush that came with being near a great number of prodigies.
The room was filled only by the ceiling fan's slow whirs, every desk—which, just for the record, were far more conditioned and refurbished than the Class F desks—topped with a single textbook titled, "Team Combat."
Taking up one desk in the corner, Logan sighed at the prospect of sitting directly in a B classroom. Never before would he have been this presumptuous.
Shaking his head, he forgot about his sudden pang of trauma. Selene wouldn't want him lingering on such memories for so long.
"I wonder what Selene's cooked up this time," he mused to himself, resisting the urge to squeal from the excitement. "It's always a surprise, eating her cooking. Can't say it's ever been a miss, though."
Slowly, he zipped open his backpack to pull out...
Nothing. There was no lunch inside.
"Damn, that's right. She was so tired last night that she didn't have time to make me lunch. How could I forget?" as his eyes shone with realization, another feeling settled into his heart—one that he couldn't avoid. Memories struck his mind again, punching his chest to the point that his breathing became frantic.
The school had a cafeteria that offered free lunch, but nobody bothered to go below a classification of 'B' lest they wished to end up with a large fist imprint in their cheek.
Logan made this mistake his first year, losing a couple teeth in the process. It was a painful memory, and what made it worse is that that event was the first done by who would go on to be his most persistent bully—Zach.
Feeling his stomach grumble, he recalled how he hadn't gotten the chance to eat, even yesterday after all the crazy that occurred. 'At this rate, my stomach will take up all the space in my head.'
Carefully, he skirted just behind a corner that lead into one of the two hallways in the cafeteria's direction. The halls were noticeably empty, filled only by a couple groups of clean-shaven, strong-postured students. Watching how each vibrated with so much life, Logan felt almost invited to join in, but once he looked down at himself—how he wasn't wearing any dress pants, tying his hair back with a hair tie, or standing with nearly as much pride as the others, he hesitated.
Then, another stomach grumble, profound in its volume and length.
"Damn it, I don't care anymore!"
Almost stomping, he made his way to the cafeteria, clenching his fists to protect himself from the anxiety. 'In this moment, since I can't control my mana, I'm essentially defenseless if someone attacked me.'
As the two cafeteria gates—guarded by metallic bulks as doors—invited him in, he witnessed the inside for the first time in years. Round tables scattered all throughout the huge room; a single panel of food accompanied by cafeteria workers; golden embroideries and trophies hanging about every wall; it was every bit as Buford as he'd imagined, with the typical rich decor to match.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't who I think it is," a voice echoed, coming from his right. Enacting fight or flight, Logan's fists jumped in front of him. But as the girl only smiled back, he felt his heart come at ease.
It was Sabrina. Zack's girlfriend.