The classroom always felt too small for Mark. With thirty-one students crammed in, it always seemed overcrowded. Desks were barely five feet apart, yet he never felt as lonely as during lectures. He much preferred live drills and training practices; those were fun. They got to use mana enhancement skills to boost physical strength, speed, and perception.

  Mark tilted his head to the left, looking out the window as a large shadow covered the courtyard. A faint screech could be heard, and he smiled slightly. A dragon had just flown by. They did this three times a day, with intervals of three hours at most. The safety of the students here was paramount. After all, they were the cream of the nation's crop. Becoming a Dragon Rider was a noble pursuit. One became loved by little kids. He chuckled lightly, imagining himself in shining gold armor on a majestic dragon, inspiring young kids to become military officers themselves.

  That would be so lame. Mira would definitely mock me endlessly if I awakened to be a Dragon Rider, he thought, shaking his head whimsically. His white hair moved ever so slightly. Mark’s eyes still trailed the shadow as it quickly disappeared from view, his gaze abruptly interrupted by a deep, calm voice filled with fury.

  "I am fine with you barely paying attention during class, but outright ignoring my lecture is an insult to myself and the class." Mark sat upright immediately and gave an apologetic bow, his head almost touching his desk.

  "Please accept my deepest apologies, Professor Faust." Professor Faust, a decorated war hero of the Holy-Knight class, was not a man to be disrespected. He had retired after losing a hand during combat in the last war.

  Faust looked at the young man intently, his eyes betraying no emotion, his face stoic with a scar running down his left eye making him menacing to look at. Faust walked towards Mark, and the whole class began to murmur. Whispers of Mark finally biting off more than he could chew could be heard. His male classmates eagerly awaited the punishment Mark would receive—a pound of flesh for the beatings he gave them during training and combat drills.

  "You wish to become a Dragon Rider?" Faust studied the young man. He could see the fear now subsiding as the boy slowly stood straight but resisted the urge to take a step back. Mark stood at a decent six-foot-two, yet his head was just at the same height as Professor Faust’s chest.

  "No, not really, sir." Faust sighed, leaning against a desk opposite Mark. The student sitting there made a slight noise; whether from surprise or fright, Faust didn’t care. He studied the young man intensely. He had seen his type before: young, gifted, aloof, and a tad bit too arrogant. The talented ones were always like that. He would know; he had been like that once before pain and loss humbled him.

  "Do you know how I lost my hand and got this scar?" he asked, raising his left arm, which was missing a hand. He watched Mark look nervously at the appendage.

  "Go on, you are free to ask me. I know what you want to ask," Faust urged. Reading the emotions and thoughts of children was child’s play to him. Four decades of combat experience granted certain skills.

  "Does it still hurt?"

  Faust stood straight up, staring at Mark for a second before walking back to the front of the class. He could feel the eyes of all the students on him. The sound of his footsteps was louder than the students' breathing.

  Taking a deep breath, Faust suddenly felt his age.

  Maybe teaching isn’t for me. I should say something that will inspire them, but perhaps the truth will do that as well, he thought while leaning against his desk and facing the class. Every student focused on him.

  "Today we were learning about the enhancement class, why they are dangerous, their strategic use in battle, and how to quickly spot and eliminate them." He paused, making sure they were following.

  "I lost my hand in a hell-level gate. My team of four was exploring the gate that had recently spawned in the city of Quantic. It was a new, undocumented gate, so my squad was asked to explore and not engage. We encountered a group of Dark Elves. They had to be at least level 40. We weren’t too worried; we were at least level 45. We were confident in our abilities—too confident." Faust paused, a solemn look coming over his face. His right hand gripped his desk tightly. It was clear that speaking about this affected him immensely.

  "Suddenly our rear support, who was the healer of the team, was struck down by a lightning-infused arrow. Before we could react, ten more arrows pierced her. She died before she hit the ground. More arrows came in, but we were alert. Immediately, we engaged the enemy. It seemed a few Dark Elves were camouflaged with the walls. They had ambushed us. The battle was long. We defeated all the elves except two: one wielded an elven blade and the other appeared to be a mage type."

  "The elven swordsman lunged at me with a power strike. I stepped forward with the intention of blocking him with my shield and utilizing my skill Quick Draw to finish the fight. But I’d made a mistake. It turned out that one of them was a mage, and he’d cast an enhancer skill on the blade of my opponent, adding a wind element to improve its cutting ability."

  To Faust, it was clear the students all understood what had happened. He wondered if they needed to hear the rest and decided they didn’t. His point was made clear enough; there was no need to traumatize them.

  "Learning about mana types," he continued, bringing the story to an abrupt end and turning the conversation to something more fitting for the class, "the various classes and how they utilize mana is of utmost importance. I am alive today because my comrade recognized the skill and pulled me back. What we teach you here might seem like mundane knowledge, but believe me, it could one day save your life. Class dismissed."

  Mark watched his classmates get up and begin to leave. He stared down at his book. Perhaps more research wouldn’t be too bad. He very much liked having two hands, he mused to himself as he left his desk and joined the queue to exit the class.

  A soft female voice interrupted his thoughts.

  "I was sure he was going to knock some sense into you or maybe knock what remains of your brain cells out," she whispered, her lips close to his ear as she tiptoed. She could tell he rolled his eyes at her, prompting her to thump the back of his head with her finger.

  "Maybe if he did, we would become intellectual equals then, Annabeth."

  She frowned lightly at the name and moved to his side as they exited the classroom.

  "That’s Anna to you. Also, your shirt is rough. Truly, bowing doesn’t suit you. Try to pay attention so you wouldn’t have to do it so often," she teased, watching a smile tug at his lips. He was her best friend. She knew how to cheer him up.

  "We only have a week left. Can you ease off on the teasing?"

  She absolutely enjoyed teasing. He used to be the one doing the teasing, calling her a big baby when they were younger. That had quickly stopped when she became more feminine. There was nothing babyish about her anymore. He knew it, and she knew he knew it.

  "You pay for my meals till the end of the week, and you have yourself a vow." Anna interweaved her fingers with his as they walked through the large marble-floored halls. Their next class wouldn’t be until an hour later, so they had time.

  "Are you hoping to become a Dragon Rider?" Anna asked. He had never truly shared his preferred class with her. No matter how much she asked, his response was always vague and aloof.

  The pair walking together drew the attention of other students. His white hair was a sharp contrast to her ruby-red locks. Rumors had always persisted about them, saying they were a couple. Annabeth never denied those rumors. If it kept other females away from Mark, she would never correct them.

  "We’ll both find out together. It’s just a week left. You’ve waited three years. What’s a week compared to that?"

  "Too long! That’s what a week is!" she replied, sticking her finger in his rib lightly. All she got was a slight grunt for her effort, which made her pout. They continued to walk in comfortable silence, her fingers never leaving his.

  The silence did not last long as Mark spun her to face him and held her in place, his hands on her shoulders, his brown eyes staring directly into her black ones. She looked away, but a gentle palm on her cheek brought her face to face with him.

  "Is he going to..." she thought to herself, only for her thoughts to be interrupted by his next words.

  "I know you want to know which class I want so you can spend all your school points on that class as well. But I don’t want that. I want you to make the decision solely for yourself." Annabeth was taken aback by how serious his tone was. This wasn’t the first time he had said this, but never had he spoken so seriously. She clenched her fists tightly, her lips forming a thin line. All traces of a smile vanished, her eyes becoming icy cold.

  "It is my decision what path I decide to take, not yours. You don’t get to push me away. We have been through life together, cried together, and hurt together. I don’t want that to ever end." She paused, saying far more than she planned to, far more than she ever did.

  "You are everything to me." Annabeth saw him flinch as he took a step back. A frown now marred her face. She knew he didn’t like being reminded of that fact. It had been three years since the S-rank gate disaster occurred. They had lost everything except each other and family knowledge and wealth.

  "I shouldn’t be. Every day since that day has been a struggle for me. It’s been years and the nightmares won’t stop. The path I want to take is the path of vengeance. Something is causing the gates to appear. My goal is to close them all forever."

  With that, the pair trudged on, the mood significantly less cheerful than it was mere moments ago. They made their way to the cafeteria. As usual, it was filled mostly with first years who immediately approached them with excitement. They were considered the best students the academy had produced in a decade.

  "Annabeth! Annabeth! Could you assist me with my mana control? Please, I can’t seem to improve it at all." Annabeth almost squealed. Sure, the first years were at least fifteen years old, but a lot of them looked younger. She was sure the whole school knew of her weakness for cute things. That would explain why this first year was looking as adorable as a sleeping baby. She had her hair in two pigtails, was dressed in a uniform three times her size, and was holding a stuffed dragon plushie.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "This is ridiculous," Mark muttered.

  "You’re just jealous," she retorted.

  Mark cocked a brow. "Of?"

  "I don’t know, but you are."

  "If you keep encouraging this, one day a boy in a diaper will ask you for help, and you won’t be able to say no."

  Annabeth grimaced at that. That wouldn’t be pleasant—funny, yes, but far from pleasant.

  Annabeth returned her attention to her fan and gave her a few pointers and methods she had used when she was younger and still untrained in mana manipulation.

  Mana had two classes: positive and negative mana, with the latter being what everyone utilized for spell casting and profession-related abilities. Negative mana at this point had become a myth to the larger public.

  Annabeth, an expert user of mana with control that even Tier B professionals would be impressed by, was constantly sought out for this purpose. She gently patted the girl and waved her goodbye. The first year was quickly surrounded by other students trying to get access to the advice as well.

  "What do you think today’s lunch surprise is?" Annabeth asked Mark, hoping for a change to a lighter conversation. They had a week before their lives would be changed forever.

  Annabeth shook her head back and forth as if to clear those thoughts from her mind, which caused Mark to look at her with a slightly raised eyebrow, but she waved him off.

  The pair soon found themselves seated with their lunch, about to have a peaceful meal, just the two of them as Annabeth would prefer until…

  "Mark! Annabeth! You guys always seem to vanish just after class. You should have gotten the sandwich today. I heard it is simply perfection."

  Annabeth resisted the urge to frown. Newt was a good friend of theirs, albeit a clingy one, to put it lightly.

  "Sorry, Newt, we didn’t mean to disappear on you like that," she heard Mark reply and almost said he should speak for himself.

  "Hi, Ann, looking good as always."

  "Thank you, Newt."

  "Ann, we only have a week left. What do you say you and I this weekend we go and see the Blue Orchard play?" Annabeth resisted the urge to sigh; he did this every other week.

  "That won't be possible, Newt. We have a lot to prepare for this weekend."

  "Oh, please, both of you are the very best the school has produced in a long time. You’re certain to awaken fantastic professions."

  "Academic excellence doesn’t guarantee a great profession skill, Newt." She replied with a slight shake of her head.

  "Statistically, it does, and that chance goes up by 30% when one has great skill in mana control and quantity."

  "There’s still a 30% chance of getting a profession like a musician."

  "If that happens, you will be the most powerful musician this world has ever seen." She couldn’t help but smile at that, which led to her huffing slightly as he smiled in victory. Newt has always been quick-witted.

  "What about you, Mark, a Dragon Rider? A most noble dream, saving damsels and bringing joy to younglings everywhere." Annabeth turned sharply, facing Mark. She knew he would probably be tight-lipped as he always was, but maybe, just maybe…

  "The Gods will decide…" She almost face-palmed.

  A bell suddenly rang, causing all the students in the commissary to make their way back to class in a hurry, except the trio; they were, after all, seniors in their last days of school.

  Joining the workforce had two major paths for students who attended prestigious training schools like these; a large aspect of that decision is influenced by the abilities one awakens during the profession awakening ritual.

  Those who awakened very powerful professions were considered above such restraints. On the other hand, those who awakened average skills, which were less suited to direct combat and direct combat support, were more likely to join state-owned military bodies due to the significantly lower risks involved and the job security that came with it.

  For Mark, the option was clear. He was going to join the private sector, organizations that could promise him the most freedom, which would allow him to challenge as many dungeons and relic sites as possible. His quest for knowledge was his priority. Although Mark hoped for a profession that was designated S-rank, he understood that the ritual was influenced by factors that not even the priests and trainers knew.

  The group had made their way to their next class, which, as it turned out, was an open field with several straw dummies arranged all around. The trainer stood facing the final years. She was dressed in a white T-shirt which had a drawing of a blue fish on it and a pair of black shorts.

  "Beautiful, beautiful students." Mark couldn’t help but smile. She greeted them this way from the very first day till now and never stopped.

  "Being our last class for the session before you all go off to bring glory to your names, we will simply be doing tag practice today. The goal is to hit as many dummies strictly using only four mana shots and no more! This will be fun!" she exclaimed with a high-pitched voice, simultaneously fist-pumping and striking a pose.

  "Yes, Mrs. Grimwolf!" They responded in unison; they had to, or she would go into a depressed state, claiming her students hated her.

  The first student to step up was Collins Griffith. He was of average height with purple hair and black eyes. No one was really sure if he dyed his hair or if it was natural. Regardless, he was known for having quite a temper and being the best student in hand-to-hand combat.

  Collins stood facing the targets; everyone else had left the target zone. He raised his left arm to his lips, his fingers completely clenched tightly whilst his right hand was extended toward the target, then he began to chant.

  "Focus vision, straight arrow—pierce!"

  A beam of blue mana shot forth from his palm at blitzing speed, piercing through five targets while taking the head off a sixth one before the mana smashed into the seventh one and dissipated.

  "He has improved." Mark nodded in agreement with Annabeth. Collins had been a late bloomer when it came to mana techniques, especially channeling and controlling after release. Less than a year ago, he couldn’t pierce through more than five targets.

  Mark watched Collins make his way back to the group, gave him a slight nod, to which he smiled slightly and nodded back. The two, although not friends, shared a mutual respect for one another.

  "Newton Bridge, please proceed."

  "Anything for you, teach. Do you want me to show off or keep it PG, you know, so I don’t discourage the kids?" Newt asked with a confident smirk as he strolled up with both hands in his pockets.

  Mark shook his head at his best friend’s antics. Newt always had something to say, always. It was who he was. Mark sighed once more when Newt blew a kiss at a female student who just rolled her eyes and adjusted her glasses.

  Newt was the first son of the king’s third brother. His father inherited a wine estate from the late king, but that was pretty much it from what Mark heard Newt say. He was royalty in blood and name only, not wealth or status.

  "Give it your very best; this would be the last time, after all," was the response from Grimwolf. She was a bit too excited for Kei.

  Newt, now in front of his target, channeled his mana. His blue eyes turned a bright yellow. Mana, the color of the sun, leaked out of him in a gentle wisp. He stretched his arms wide to either side, his dark hair covering his face as he looked to the ground in concentration.

  Shred He called out a single instruction. His mana quickly gathered into his palms, his fingers cradling the energy as it took the form of spinning yellow saws, which promptly flew out of his hands at breakneck speed. Each target was nearly bisected as the saws carved their way through. The other students weren’t sure which was more impressive, the cutting power of the mana technique or the speed they moved with.

  It was notoriously difficult for cutting objects to maintain speed and still cut efficiently for long periods of time without a constant application of mana.

  On the seventh target, the saws ripped through it and then dissipated, the mana entering the great mana cycle.

  "Wonderful! Oh, so wonderful! It fills me with joy and pride that my students have grown to the point of shape manipulation with mana!" Mark nodded in agreement. It would seem his classmates have been improving in the shadows as well. He thought to himself before taking a glance at Annabeth, who looked rather serious. He wondered what she might be thinking but thought better than to ask her.

  "Of course, Teach, and that is but a sliver of my might. I had to tone it down, you know. Wouldn’t want the rest to be discouraged."

  "Show off!" a student yelled out.

  To which Newton ignored. There was no need to respond to someone yelling the obvious.

  His blue eyes met Mark’s; the unspoken challenge had been made. Mark wondered if Newton truly thought he could not do better. He had to admit the shape manipulation was very impressive; most experienced combatants did not have such fine control.

  Mark stepped forward; his name wasn’t called, but everyone knew he was next. The unspoken challenge had been witnessed by most of the students who were paying attention. Grimwolf was unusually quiet, a rare look of absolute concentration on her face, her brows furrowed tightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

  The #1 student in this year’s graduating class; this would be his last chance to show superiority in her class above everyone else.

  The grading system in the school was done by both faculty and students. At the end of the day, practical examinations carried 70 percent of the educational value; the position of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd were decided by students’ votes and also confirmation by the professor.

  This was done to create a system of checks and data gathering for the professors, as there have been times when students who didn’t stand out in class were voted very high.

  Mark now stood at the very same spot his friend stood. He brought his right hand towards his mouth and chanted one word.

  "Ash"

  A red orb manifested in front of him and seemed to be vibrating violently.

  Mark shot the orb into the sky above them. Some seconds later, the orb exploded outwards, and projectiles flew at the targets, blasting through them and burning holes in the ground behind them.

  Once the orb was done spewing projectiles, it seemed to change shape, slowly morphing into a bolt, which flew into a target and obliterated it. The heat from the explosion had everyone closing their eyes and taking steps back.

  Dust filled the whole area. The dust was heated; everyone could feel it. Even those who could use mana as a form of defense could feel it as well. As seconds passed and the dust cleared, Mark stood looking at the practice field, unbothered by the destruction he brought.

  "Amazing! A mana attack with a two-stage activation, cast with one hand seal and just one incantation! You continue to surprise me, Mr. Number 1." Mark nodded his thanks and made his way back, the training dummies already repairing themselves swiftly.

  Mark took his place beside Annabeth. He could feel her eyes on him and knew that if he faced her, she would ask a lot of questions he wasn’t willing to answer right now.

  "Next will be…Annabeth!" Grimwolf yelled excitedly, the training course already fully restored.

  Annabeth took her position, then she clasped her hands together in a praying position and called out.

  "Sanctum"

  Suddenly, her mana rushed forth, and a transparent dome enclosed herself and the targets. The very next second, the targets had huge holes punched through their chests…all at the same time.

  Concluding her test as soon as it began, cheers and applause rang out.

  Mark watched her take a bow whilst he clapped lightly. She was the only student capable of using a mana domain; most never awakened the ability. Only the best of the best ever did, and she just showed once again that she had the potential to grow even more powerful in the future.

  "That was very impressive…Eliminating all the targets at once is nothing short of amazing." Mark complimented with a smile and gentle pat on the shoulder. She never failed to impress, ever.

  When it came to mana manipulation, Annabeth was considered a prodigy—a talent only seen every century, they would say. Her skill level was comparable to the rune queen herself. Mark involuntarily shuddered at the idea of Annabeth becoming a rune user of sorts after the profession awakening ritual.

  "The weather too cold for you?" Mark shook his head lightly at the jab. Newton rarely missed a chance to say something slick; sometimes he wondered how much focus the other boy used in studying his every move.

  This was one of the few courses he didn’t particularly like. He opened his palm and lightly shut it again. He had a near-bottomless pool of mana, which made intricacies such as mana manipulation very difficult for him. The skill was akin to molding air for most, but for him, it was like trying to tame a raging twister.

  For him to tame his mana, he used his will as a kind of force to keep it under control, while Annabeth was able to control her mana so finely that she could manifest it as a thread and pass it several times through a needle without ever touching the sides of the needle.

  That was the gap between them, one he had surmised he simply would never be able to close unless his awakened profession somehow offered a solution.

  Other students soon made their way forward, showcasing the progress they had made on their mana manipulation. One particular student caught Mark’s attention. She had utilized a full chant with seven hand signs to summon what was basically an imitation of his technique. Hers didn’t float in the air but formed in her palm; it shot out several rounds of bullet-like projectiles that did significant damage to the training dummies.

  "Reyna Rivers; she is in the top 10 of the class. Rumor has it that her red hair comes from a curse in her family for being traitors to their liege lord, so every generation, a red-haired child is born in their home. They say those children, no matter what, never made it past the age of twenty." Mark nodded, thankful to his personal encyclopedia.

  "Do you believe that’s the truth?" Mark asked, and a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders was the reply he got from Newton. Which was surprising; Newton was usually aware of such things since he had access to the royal libraries in the capital city of Vosh.

  "I don’t think the curse is real. The school would not have let her in unless they destroyed the curse first," Annabeth chimed in, standing beside Mark on the other side of Newton.

  "There are talismans and counter-spell techniques they could give her as well. Dispelling such a curse would have dire consequences for those who try to do such things."

  "So you are saying she’s not cursed?" Mark looked at Newton and nodded affirmatively while thinking.

  "Sometimes the idea of being cursed does harm like a curse would if one allowed it."

  An hour more had passed, the sun had left its peak, and the last student had just finished their presentation. Much to Mark’s happiness, there were no chairs in this class; Professor Grimwolf claimed it was safer to stand in a test area than to be caught sitting and flat-footed.

  "Thank you, thank you, thank you, my beautiful class, fantastic! You have all grown significantly. As this will be our last time together as students and teacher, allow me to convey one final lesson." Mark noted her mood had changed, and the seriousness in her eyes and the pressure that suddenly appeared as she released a bit of her mana had everyone’s attention.

  "A time will come when you will be forced to make a decision on leaving a comrade or trying to save them…" She paused.

  "Ask yourself this simple question quickly: if they were in my shoes…would they try to save me?"

  Mark was surprised by her words; that had to be the darkest thing she ever said to them. It was a statement that was meant to make one question the value of their friends and weigh it against their lives.

  "Think deeply on what I just said. Nobody can ever give you the answer. Perhaps you would use it in critical moments going forward, perhaps you never will, but regardless, actions have consequences. Once again, congratulations, you may all leave." She paused and gave them all a proud smile.

  "I wish you the best in your awakening. May Mana favor you."

  Soft thank-yous filled the air as the class filed out.

  Annabeth frowned, her teacher’s words still on her mind, as they made their way to their next class. She looked at Mark, who glanced at her before gently nudging her with his elbow, causing her to let out a quick "hey" in annoyance.

  Annabeth knew he was trying to shake her out of sad thinking, but she could not help but dwell on Grimwolf’s advice. The mortality rate of those who joined guilds and the state army was 25% and 38%, respectively.

  Either way, there was always a chance that things would not pan out the way one hoped for. From the last graduating class, 5 were already dead, and 4 could no longer be active anymore for one reason or another.

  It was not a glorious life. No matter how powerful one got, you could not protect everyone. She shook her head lightly. They would be fine, she thought to herself. Her, Mark, and Newt. They would make it and laugh about all their adventures when they were old