Time: 7:30 PM
Mason had finally reached his destination. The classroom was tucked away farther than most, and the chilly night air combined with the room's secluded location created an ominous, almost unnerving atmosphere. Shadows twisted and writhed in the dim light, as if alive.
As he walked through the room, the occasional chirping of crickets was the only sound. Mason couldn't help but think that some parts of the Academy were truly unsettling at night.
He looked around and realized he was the only one there. Wild theories began creeping into his mind, each more ridiculous than the last. The lights flickered, sending a shiver down his spine. He shook his head.
Chill, Mason. It's just bad lighting. Ghosts don't exist.
Peering out the window, he wondered where the other students could be. He sighed, turning back to the room and taking a seat. With a bored expression, he drummed a monotonous beat on the desk.
So this is how it feels to wait for someone who doesn't show up… now I understand why Professor Ripley was annoyed with me.
The door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman peeking in. He appeared to be in his sixties, with white hair, black eyes, and a face that could have belonged to anyone—ordinary, unassuming. He stood around 180 cm, and yet something about his presence screamed unorganized mischief, a hint of perversion hidden behind a playful grin.
"Matthew Kristen Griffin!" the man bellowed.
"Excuse me?" Mason exclaimed, confused.
"Hiccup… Matthew, my boy, come closer!"
"Sir… you smell of liquor," Mason muttered.
"Shhh, dear Matthew… the Methodists will hear you," the man rambled on a tangent.
"With all due respect, sir, my name is Mason Christian Grey," Mason said, growing more agitated.
"Oh… really? My bad, Matthew," the man replied, hiccuping.
"Are you even listening, sir?" Mason snapped.
"Of course I am, my dear Matthew," came the cheerful reply.
Mason facepalmed. IT'S MASON CHRISTIAN GREY!!!
"Okay, okay… hiccup," the man mumbled.
He stumbled to his desk, pressing something on a holographic display before slumping over and knocking himself out. Instantly, the display flickered to life, showing the man fully sober—a far more competent version of the drunkard sprawled on the desk. Three stars on his chest marked him as an elite-rank charismatic.
"Ah, welcome, young Atlans! My name is Professor Richard Chestnut, and I will be taking you for Essential Survival class. The fact you're watching this must mean it's an evening class, and… well, I may have had a bit too much to drink earlier," the professor began.
"The purpose of this class is to arm you with knowledge that might one day save your life, whether in this world or the Darklands. I don't conform to normal teaching standards here at the Academy. I prefer an unconventional approach to keep students on their toes."
He waved a hand. "Please forgive my current state—I'm under a lot of stress, and this is my only way of coping. But I hope you come to appreciate my unique style and, above all, learn as much as you can."
"Oh, by the way, this message will self-destruct in… three, two, one—"
"Kiiidddddinnnng!" Professor Chestnut exclaimed, grinning.
Mason sat stunned. Great… I've got a Nutty Professor.
He turned to the prerecorded lessons. Topics ranged from purifying water to starting a fire using special tree residue. There was even an entire section on which mushrooms and berries were safe to eat.
His head spun—not because the information was hard to comprehend, but because it all came at him at once. Mason forced himself to organize and categorize the flood of knowledge.
Despite Professor Chestnut's… colorful habits, he's actually quite good at teaching. Clear, concise… though that smell of liquor is distracting, and he still keeps getting my name wrong.
The lesson continued.
"Now, young Atlans, this section is dedicated to a place wrapped in mystery and danger—the Darklands. Only the bravest dare to enter. Before we explore, a bit of history."
He leaned forward, voice solemn. "The Darklands are another realm altogether. Its first recorded interaction with our world was about four hundred years ago. Some argue this event sparked the evolution of humans into the supernatural beings we now call charismatics. Strange creatures—Darkspawn—began bleeding through our reality. They killed indiscriminately, without mercy. At the time, humanity was too ignorant to respond. Kings, queens, knights… they thought it was the end of days, or the dawn of a new era. Many perished."
"Fast forward to the modern era, about twenty years ago, the largest ever Reality Fracture occurred. Humanity teetered on the brink of extinction, but charismatics emerged as heroes. Expeditions into the Darklands revealed a world unlike ours—dangerous, yet strangely beautiful. A paradise, in a twisted sense. Many charismatics lost their lives, either to Darkspawn or to misunderstanding the environment. But knowledge was gained, and that's why you are in this class: to survive where others perished."
Mason muttered to himself, This guy calls it a paradise… yeah, like the untamed Amazon, but he barely scratched the surface. UGHH! Focus, Mason. Learn the skills, ace the exams, awaken… and then my true work begins. Just hope I last that long.
The lesson ended in what felt like an instant. Professor Chestnut was still passed out. Mason tried waking him, but the man showed no signs of stirring.
Guess I'll leave him be… what a strange man, Mason muttered.
The walk back was as creepy as the walk in. Pulling out his phone, Mason found it flooded with texts from Travis and Emily.
Travis: "Dude! You missed out! Epic fight in the mess hall—two awakened charismatics duking it out. Shit was insane!"
Emily: "Those idiots ruined the whole vibe. Ugh."
Mason replied with his own tale of the Nutty Professor and his antics.
Travis responded almost immediately: "WOAH dude… a professor arriving drunk? That's a first!"
Emily texted: "Nutty Professor, I see what you did there."
Mason, mock serious: "Guys, this is serious. I fear for my safety—who knows what that crazy drunkard will do next?"
Travis: "Be strong, dude. You've got this. Not trolling."
Mason: "You slick bastard, I know you are."
Travis: "LOL!!!"
Emily: "Come on, you two, play nice."