CHAPTER 15: CRAZY TEACHER

Charon watched Emerius walk back to the line with a mixture of sympathy and terror.

He had never expected to see such a spectacle of swordsmanship, least of all from someone his age.

For that same spectacle to end in failure, regardless, was nothing short of demoralizing.

’If all the spinning and flipping wasn’t enough to beat him, what the hell am I supposed to do? Stand there and let him crack my head open like an egg?’

"Next!"

The voice sounded like an execution, the axe raised and ready to drop.

Inhaling deeply, Charon marched forward, holding his scythe out to attempt to block the first attack.

Like he had for everyone else, the professor surged forward to meet him, his speed unchanged after the recent duel. Familiar with the first strike, Charon managed to block it, sweeping his blade to the side to give himself some space to push in.

The other staff swung out to hit his head, but he had expected that as well, narrowly ducking under it and ready to finish closing the gap.

His heavy scythe, however, had a different objective, pulling him to the side and causing him to stumble to the ground. With wide eyes, he barely had time to look back at the professor before his staff connected with his shoulder.

Pain blossomed along his arm, Charon stifling a groan with a hiss as he dropped his weapon and cradled the limb. He heard a soft tutting noise from the man looming over him, but no further blows came.

Grabbing his scythe, he walked back to the row in shame, his head held dejectedly as he tried to ignore the constant aches.

’I knew I was going to get destroyed, and I still feel upset. I should’ve considered the weight of my own weapon jerking me around, how could I have been so stupid?’

Moving to stand by Emerius, he unceremoniously dropped to sit down once he reached the man’s side.

"You did better than most."

Emerius seemed like he was trying to be friendly, but his tone was unusually emotionless, not even a hint of the usual energy or confidence.

’He’s disappointed as well. Only the gods know why, he could teach this class if he wanted to! The only reason Professor Thalt beat him is because he got tired. Had his sword been sharp, he could’ve bled him out and won handily.’

Charon continued to grumble mentally, both about his fight and Emerius’s, while the rest of their class received their physical abuse. Some managed to put up a decent fight, even landing a glancing blow or two, but none compared to the show Emerius had put on.

By the end of it, everyone was either unconscious or counting the seconds until they would be allowed to leave. Professor Thalt either recognized this or didn’t care enough to prolong their torment, allowing everyone to leave the moment the final fight ended.

"Let this serve as the basis for every future lesson. This room will always be unlocked, so make sure to come here and practice. Dummies will be placed along the far wall if you sorry sacks of meat find yourselves companionship. You are all expected to have improved before we next meet. Do not fail this."

Without another word, he swiveled to face the next class of students, barking the same orders to them that he had told Charon’s group earlier.

Emerius gently grabbed Charon’s shoulder and started guiding him to the door, muttering something about how he needed to train more.

Raw from the embarrassment, Charon turned and growled at Emerius, fury fueling him.

"I know I need to train, wasn’t that obvious enough from me falling on my ass? You don’t need to rub in how your fancy father taught you how to fight like a professional; meanwhile, I had to make do with living on the street rather than a palace."

Emerius paused, his jaw dropping ever so slightly at Charon’s outburst. A flash of pain, distant and muted, crossed his eyes.

"I wasn’t talking to you."

That was all he said before he flitted away, somehow managing to make a normal walking speed take him far from the confrontation.

Charon stood there in silence for a moment, shocked by his own actions.

’I hadn’t meant to insult him, I was just upset at my loss. Did I offend him?’

Emerius stating he wasn’t talking to him also confused him.

’If it wasn’t for me, then who? Surely it couldn’t have been himself; he did better than anyone his age had any right to.’

Sighing at how baffling all of this was, he withdrew his holo-pad and flipped to his class schedule. The words "Magic Mastery" floated in the air, alongside the room number. Shifting to the map, he quickly identified where it was. His roommate had given him some pointers on how the Noctis Vrex was organized during their walk to history, making it much easier to locate things.

’Thanks, Emerius, you’re the gift that keeps on giving. When I don’t piss you off, that is.’

He replayed their final conversation and the fight with the professor over and over in his mind while he made his way through the twisting halls. He rubbed his shoulder throughout, annoyed at how long the pain was lasting.

’I wouldn’t be surprised if he had poisoned the damn staff.’

Despite his ruminations, he felt no closer to figuring out just what set Emerius off. He had said things as they were, if a little harshly.

Arriving at the classroom, Charon shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wanted to be focused for the next class, especially if it was about magic.

’Time to learn the secrets of the arcane!’

Raising his holo-pad, the door beeped and slid open, followed by a green bolt flying out and narrowly missing his head.

It zoomed over his shoulder and slammed into the wall behind him, denting it with a bang.

"Sorry! Many apologies!"

A mousy voice called from the room. To Charon’s amusement, an incredibly short man of maybe twenty years stumbled over his feet as he clambered through the doorway, smoke and ash covering his dirty brown robe. One of his eyes was a normal blue, while the other was replaced with what could only be described as a miniature telescope.

His mechanical eye extended a few more inches, pointed directly at Charon.

"My sincerest apologies! Wayward scroll, the spell escaped my control, and well..."

The man peered around Charon, wincing at the sight of the damaged wall.

"Never mind that, come in, come in. Class will begin soon!"

Suppressing a smirk and too frazzled by the experience in weapons class to care very much about the near miss of the spell, Charon followed the man into the room.

’This place keeps getting weirder.’

The classroom was larger than the lecture hall, but only half the size of the weapons room. Different arenas were set every few feet, some small and others large. Score cards hung above them, all showing a pair of zeroes.

Two dozen other students gathered around a central podium, some pointing and giggling at Charon and the professor.

"Don’t pay them much mind. They have little experience with magic. Wait until they test their elements, then it will be you laughing."

The professor’s words were intended to make Charon feel better, but he shouldn’t have bothered.

’Rich kids have laughed at me for years. I don’t see why it would affect me now. The Mistress raised me to ignore them, and her teachings hold even now.’

Charon only felt embarrassed about things he could control, not random events like dodging the spell.

Joining the group, he ignored the last few chuckles, shaking his head in disappointment at how childish they were being.

With almost comical movements, the professor waddled up the few steps to the podium, needing a box to reach the top. His telescopic eye extended and retracted as he scanned the smirking faces of the onlookers.

"As I’m sure you have all been told many times today, welcome to your first day of classes. I am your magic mastery professor, Professor De Vale. Throughout our course, I will instruct you on how your elements function, including spellwork. This instruction will be done through both theory and practice, often in the form of duels."

Professor De Vale’s eye began to elongate, stopping only when it was almost a foot away from his face.

"I will say this plainly for all to hear: there will be no lethal acts taken in this class. We are here to learn, not kill each other. That can be saved for the trials. If someone dies under my watch, their killer will be swiftly punished."

One of the students, a tall broad broad-shouldered boy with gold markings on his robe, laughed uproarously before speaking.

"Oh yeah? And why should we be afraid of what you will, Professor Eyeball?"

Professor De Vale grinned at that, tilting his head until his neck made a satisfying pop.

"I do love a willing volunteer!"

Charon watched as a small green beam shot from the professor’s metal eye, crossing the distance to the outspoken boy in a second. The moment it made contact, he collapsed, his eyes rolling back and foam building at his mouth. The air was filled with the smell of rot and lavender, a sickly sweet mixture that twisted Charon’s stomach into knots.

Those standing near him screamed and retreated away, the entire room staring in shock.

"Any other insults you would all wish to add?"

No one spoke, the class as silent as the grave.

"Very good, I am glad to see my lessons are still effective. Now, where was I?"