"You actually know every answer in our Yesteryear class and every combat strategy in the course?" Art asked, cracking his knuckles as the duo stood by the sparring-field after class, watching two of their classmates circling each other. All of them were roughly equal size, but obviously some had more experience in magic than others. "How good was your old school?"

  "Not that good," Night shrugged. "The library was good, though. Besides, I have to change the facts I know for the lie- I mean, alternative facts the teachers want." He took a peek at his clothes. Most of the other first-years - as the Professors called them - were wearing some kind of armour. Mostly light leather or chainmail, but a few of them had full breastplates and the likes. "How do those kids move around wearing those things?"

  "Enchants." Art nudged him with a elbow. "See the glow on that guy's breastplate? Weightlessness enchant, I'm guessing."

  Night looked to the side where the others had left their own sets of armour. Looks like it'd be worth quite a bit... But where would I sell it? "Are they good?"

  Art raised a brow. "What do you mean by good?" He had decided to wear a chain shirt under his coat. Not enough to deflect a longsword, but it'd hold up against a cut.

  "Are you two waiting till the exams to use your magic?" Professor Riding shouted across the field, watching two of their classmates. "Or are you just too scared to use it?" The amount of magic the kids were using was surprisingly low. Good. Fighting with no armour's a big-ass risk. But can't put any on when I can see my own damn ribcage.

  "Are they actually useful?" Night nodded towards the pair circling each other. "Or is the effect negligible?"

  The one wearing the breastplate dashed towards the fire-user, brandishing a longsword, but the robed-kid ducked, waving their hands and sending a small wave of flames towards the one with the breastplate. They barely had time to brace themselves before the flames licked them.

  "Keep the flames low, Azar!" Professor Riding called out. "Don't want to give the healers a hard time on their first week back!" Night could see his grip on the war-hammer the teacher wielded had tightened. Why do they all carry weapons?

  Azar scowled in response, making the flames die down just in time to dodge a vertical slash from the breast-plate kid. The longsword emitted a small boom as it hit the ground.

  "A smite!" Art's eyes widened. "Been a while since I've seen one of those." He turned to Night. "I think you can see the enchants work."

  Night nodded. "Still, looks expensive..." He said as the breast-plate kid charged at Azar with enough speed to send the hood of Night's hoodie flapping. "I'm already dead."

  Azar pulled back, before spraying out a cone of fire that engulfed his opponent entirely. The longsword hit the floor as the breast-plate kid tried to extinguish the flames.

  "You learned how to teleport, right?" Art said, rubbing his mouth. It's obvious he doesn't like watching people burn. "As long as you got that, you can pretty much cheese people."

  "Cheese my ass." Replied Night. "Teleporting once was draining. Best I could do is, what, two?" He winced as Azar strode towards the burning classmate. He could already smell the burnt hair. "Is he-"

  "Enough!" Professor Riding called.

  Azar grumbled as he waved a hand, and the flames disappeared. The breast-plate must have had more than one enchant, because the kid wearing it was a bright shade of red, but otherwise alright. The main victim was the hair. The acrid smell drifted by the watching students, and a few of them held their noses in disgust. Night had smelt worse things before.

  "Help take him off the mat," Riding shouted. A few of the senior students helped the boy in the breastplate up as he stumbled off the arena.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  "Can you make swords yet? Bows?" Night swallowed as the Azar flexed his fingers. The winner stays on, loser goes off. Teacher chooses who's next. Shoot. Might be Art.

  Art shrugged, rolling a metal medium-length metal staff in his hands. "Well, kind of. More like batons with fancy handles. But nothing worth making mid-combat." He smiled. "Now, the walls will be something else."

  "Walls?" He can make walls? "How much energy-"

  "Notale!" Everyone looked in his direction as Professor Riding bellowed. "You're up!"

  Fuck.

  Night eyed up Azar. His magic was powerful, obviously. The robes must have some magic in them to give him more power. But they also slowed him down.

  Can I go faster than fire? Maybe he isn't as strong up-close...

  A lethal grin crossed Azar's face as Night stepped onto the arena. "Void-user. About time I met you."

  "Likewise," Night said, half sighing. God's sake. "Mind going easy?"

  "Easy?" Azar nearly choked on his laughter. "You're the first Void-user in the last few hundred years! I thought I'd have to go hard!"

  "...Nah." Night handled a dagger in the pocket of his hoodie. Always use what you know best. "Does everyone know me around here?"

  "You're the only purple-eyed bastard in the class." Azar smirked. "Why wouldn't we?"

  Purple eyes? I thought I'm brown... Night nodded. Must be an insult. "So, how does this-"

  "Ready?" Professor Riding shouted. "BEGIN!"

  Crap. Crap- Night sidestepped as Azar flayed his arms forward, cones of fire scorching the spot Night was in a moment prior. I'll keep the dagger quiet for now. Running forward, he dashed and Night's foot flied towards Azar's head. He dodged, but as he retreated, launched a man-sized ball of fire forwards.

  Guess I have to. Night sidestepped again, before disappearing in a blur and reappearing ten feet to the side, falling over with a thud. A few murmurs spread from the sides of the arena as he got back up. Momentum carries. Noted.

  "Night falls!" Someone shouted. The murmurs turned into a roar of laughter as flames danced about Azar's hands.

  "Silence!" Professor Riding called, again. He made a cut in the air with his hand. "Continue!"

  As soon as the hand went down, another bolt of fire shot in Night's direction.

  Azar's trying to kill me.

  Night spun and skirted around the flame, but another one nicked his sleeve. Slapping the flames out, Night ran forward, but moved sideways as another ball of fire was hurled in his direction.

  "Again?" Night scowled. If I get close he'll burn me. If I keep this up, I'll burn out. He smiled at his own thought, shaked his head. Momentum carries, which means I have to stop before-

  ...Momentum. And I can teleport mid-air.

  "You have to make an attack, Night!" Professor Riding ordered.

  Night easily ducked as several more bolts of flames flew past his head. Azar was slowly closing in. I only have enough in the tank for one more teleport. I'll probably black out if I do two. One, then.

  Night ran forward like he did before, and a growl rose in Azar's throat as another ball of fire rolled in his direction. But this one was smaller. He's almost out. Night didn't stop. Azar grinned with incredulousness as Night jumped into the fire. But of course, he didn't.

  Night reappeared directly in front of Azar, mid-air, one boot already halfway to his groin.

  His eyes met Night's as the blow connected, forcing him off the floor into the air, before the two landed on their feet again.

  "Alright, so," Night muttered. How does this work? I wasn't paying enough attention earlier. "Do you yield?"

  Azar's blank expression twisted itself into one of immense discomfort as the flames faded to wisps of smoke. "Ugh..." He tried his best to raise one hand.

  Night wasn't having any of it. Lunging forward, he spun in his spot, sending a foot flying at Azar's head. In his crouched position, it was an easy target, and Azar was sent tumbling on the floor. Night made good of his chance, unsheathing his dagger before landing on the Fire-user's stomach, knee first, pressing the blade against Azar's neck.

  "Yield!" The blade's edge was turning red. "If you don't yield," Night growled, "I'll cut open an artery and send your blood flying to the other side of the arena."

  "NOTALE!" Professor Riding stormed over from his spot. "HE YIELDED!"

  "Hm? Oh, cool." Night was about to step back when Riding grabbed him on the shoulder. "HE YIELDED A MINUTE AGO!"

  "What?" Hold up. "But he didn't-"

  "Two fingers!" Professor Riding shoved two up in front of him. "That means STOP! You don't know!?"

  Oooh, that's what that hand was! Okay. "Sorry, sir, I didn't-"

  "You don't know?" Professor Riding bellowed. "This is assumed knowledge!"

  "Well..." Night glanced back at his opponent. A few students were helping to pull Azar, still groaning, off the arena. "I beat him, didn't I?"

  "..." Professor Riding stopped. "I'll ask for Minano. He'll teach you the proper way of fighting." He went back to the side. "Go to his office."

  "What?" Night wiped the blood off the knife with his hoodie. Wait- Crap. Hope they have laundry facilities here. "Where is he-"

  "GO!"

  "Okay, okay."