“Stuck-up assholes!”

  The tip of his pointer finger grew warm, increasing in intensity until sparks could be seen with the naked eye. Forming the shape of a gun and twisting his hand to the side–a bad habit he had formed since learning the spell–he fired off [Lighting Bolt] into the innocent tree beside him. The bark splintered and hissed under the electric strike, revealing a gaping hole when the smoke cleared. He pulled out his knife from his scabbard and stabbed at the insides for good measure. It was petty, it was stupid, but god damn was it cathartic.

  Eventually it dawned on Anthony that A) this wasn’t solving anything and B) he would look like an absolute lunatic if someone stumbled across this deranged scene from a late night stroll. So, he plopped his dumb ass down and muttered an apology to the abused oak. It didn’t accept the weak attempt as he stared upward past the sparse, autumn leaves that had yet to fall.

  Fireworks tore across the sky, colorful explosions dotting the otherwise empty expanse. The streaks of light drooped and fell across the black canvas, opening up like the petals of a rose over the spires of Lodestar Academy. It was ethereally beautiful, but Anthony couldn't muster up much interest in the commemorative display. That was the reason he had moved to the outskirts of the forest and away from the festivities in the first place. Back in his village he would have been teasing the elders and running around with his friends, mindful of the little kids keeping pace underfoot. The splashes of color would have washed over his parents while they reminded him to be careful.

  Here, such a happy memory felt so far away. He now had nothing to his name, except the silver dagger on his hip, a Graph, a uniform from the academy that rejected him, and a battered oak tree to his back.

  And technically those last two belonged to the school.

  He shifted to a more comfortable sitting position, the rough bark of the tree digging into his shoulders. He didn’t pay much attention to it, though, the events of the day running through his mind once again. Although, it was more apt to say the lack of events that had happened. The teachers had put on a big show of claiming everything at the academy would be earned by merit; respect, grades, and Ether would be available to anyone driven enough to grab them.

  It didn’t take them long to show the hypocrisy of that statement.

  For the first Trial, he was led away with a small group of other nervous prospects toward the training grounds. A round, squat man whose defining feature was his white moustache that hid his pudgy cheeks was to assess their performance.

  “Fire a spell at the dummy. Do not bother holding back as they are enchanted to be nigh indestructible. You will be judged on both power and casting speed. Feel free to proceed whenever you are ready.”

  Anthony hadn’t held back alright, shooting [Lighting Bolt] at the steel dummy. It pinged off of it with a dull roar and struck the ones adjacent to it with much the same force. They smoldered slightly, stained with a black mark where his spell had struck them. A great success that somehow hadn’t pleased the instructor. He let out a haughty sigh, twisted an end of his bushy moustache, and promptly tapped out a message on his Graph. The faint glow from the screen did nothing to blunt what he said next.

  “Such classless magic. Please do not waste my time any further. We have no room for inferior magicians here.”

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  The laughter of the group that could have been his classmates had stung, yet that was nothing compared to the shame welling up inside. How could he possibly go back and face his family and friends? They had pinned all their hopes and dreams on him. He was going to be the prodigy that would put Saltfair on the map: someone who didn’t use one of the main four elemental magics accepted into the prestigious ranks of Lodestar Academy.

  What a joke that had turned out to be.

  Anthony let out a hollow laugh and poked at the leather sheath before allowing his fingers to trail the hilt of the dagger. All that Ether spent on the ornate weapon, and he would return to them with nothing to show for it. How pathetic. Just imagining how they would still happily accept him back with open arms despite his failure made his stomach twist and turn. They would just talk of how ‘there was always next year’ and ‘they didn’t know what they were missing out on.’ Those comforting words would be too much to bear.

  No, he shook his head and clenched his hand into a tight fist. It didn’t have to end like this. There were other methods to becoming a Slayer outside of a traditional education. Sure, they tended to take a lot longer than the four-year program offered to become recognized as a full-fledged Slayer, but that hardly mattered. He could find someone already licensed that would be willing to take him on as an trainee or possibly even try to apply to some other academies.

  A particularly loud firework burst overhead and nearly masked the ping of his Graph. He withdrew the hollow metal rod that settled nicely in the palm of his hand. The usual blue screen emerged from it and hovered in front of his face. He reached out a shaky finger and tapped at the message that had been sent from the headmaster.

  Seriously, they were going to go out of their way to send me a rejection letter too? Can’t these people just let me wallow in self-pity in peace?

  Yet, a quick scan of the letter revealed that it was not the standard rejection which Anthony had been expecting. Rather, it looked like it was offering him a position in the academy. He rubbed at his hazel eyes to ensure this wasn’t some sort of sick joke.

  It wasn’t.

  The message had indeed come from Headmaster Felic and truly was offering him a place here if he accepted it; however, there had to be some trick to it after what that professor had said. And on a more thorough scan of the letter he found the catch-22 he had been searching for. He wasn’t sure whether it was amusing or not that whoever had penned the letter deemed it appropriate to bold the section.

  Contingent on your acceptance to Lodestar Academy, you must agree to the following: You will forfeit your status as an Apprentice and be considered an ‘Undesirable.’ As is commonplace with every student, you will be placed on a team of four. However, you will be unable to form a team with Apprentices. You will be placed on a predetermined team of Reserves. Furthermore, you will be assigned to a separate classroom and professor, which are subject to change at any time. The only facilities you will share with the other students are the lunchroom and the combat arena. Should you accept these terms and conditions, we welcome you with open arms to Lodestar Academy.

  Signature: _____________________

  “Open arms, huh?” he muttered aloud.

  Somehow, it didn’t seem like that was the case. Still, it wasn’t like there were more promising prospects on the horizon at the moment. Did he bite the metaphorical bullet and accept his lot here? Despite his lofty ambitions from moments ago, there was no guarantee other academies would view his unique magic anymore favorably and securing a position as a trainee was no small feat either. Besides, who was to say that being an Undesirable was such a big deal? He could deal with a little disrespect and the small class size seemed like it would be a net positive. Also, Anthony may not have had a Blastia to determine his exact Attributes, but he knew he wasn’t weak compared to the lackluster performances of some of the other students who were accepted. The same could have easily been true of the others that he would be forming a team with too. In fact, they very well could end up being the strongest in their entire year. Hell, why not in the entire school if they worked hard enough? Then, he could return to Saltport with the fame and riches that he had boasted he would have once he graduated.

  Under the bright, colorful lights, Anthony scrawled his signature across the line and started toward the massive building.