On our way to the last class of the day, we were unexpectedly interrupted by a certain asshole and his lackeys. There's something that's been bugging me—what is it with these lackeys? I just can't seem to understand them. Do they simply revel in bootlicking, or do they thrive on someone bossing them around? 'Yeab maybe it's a fetish' I thought.
"Hey, Owen, what made you duck combat class?" asked the red-haired bastard. "Oh, you see, Victor—I just happened to be in the infirmary for too long because I was waiting for the patient you injured to fully recover."
"Well, you should be glad he was able to heal this time. Who knows? Next time there might be nothing left to mend." The bastard threw a cold glance in my direction—a subtle threat that resonated with the unspoken rules of the academy, where even if killing is forbidden, you can get away with it if you're careful. Even as a suspect, provided no evidence links you directly, you are virtually untouchable.
"Well, I dare you, Victor," Owen retorted, his smile fading as his voice turned icy.
"No need to get all worked up, Owen. Only time will tell what happens. Let's go," Victor said to his lackeys, whose silence was unusually pronounced. I had assumed that lackeys were supposed to be aggressive and overly eager to back their leader—only for him to then command them to back off.
Yet, as the red-haired bastard had asserted, only time would tell what might happen.
"Don't mind that bas... *ahem* that guy; he can't do a damn thing. Forget what he said. He's just bluffing," Owen tried to reassure me. His efforts were for naught—since I wasn't truly scared or alarmed—but I still appreciated the gesture.
"Thanks," I said.
"What are you thanking me for? That's what friends are for. Now, let's get to class," he replied with a smile.
Before long, we arrived at class, and every eye in the room fell on us, accompanied by whispered comments. I ignored the murmurs (not that I would ever engage with them) and went straight to my seat, while Owen chose a seat at the front. It wasn't long after my settling down that the instructor arrived. He was exceptionally young for an instructor—even younger than Instructor Cornwell. With flowing blue hair, golden eyes, and a face carved in a distinctly masculine style by a chiseled jawline and defined features, he commanded attention.
I noticed many girls ogling him, whispering and giggling among themselves. They had every reason to, as I too found myself nearly mesmerized. Even the two most handsome cadets in class, Quinn Darkheart and Damien Ashbourne, were almost overshadowed by this instructor. I considered myself fairly handsome, especially with my almost androgynous features, but in this class, Damien and Quinn were in a league of their own.
And yet the instructor rivaled them in allure. The only discernible difference between him and the others was that Damien's face was perpetually stone-cold, while Quinn maintained an unreadable expression. Meanwhile, the instructor flashed a dazzling smile that made me want to shout, "Damn this bastard, at least give us less good-looking people a chance." I glanced at Owen, who smirked knowingly; he realized I hadn't seen the instructor before and was eagerly awaiting my reaction.
I shifted my gaze to Aurora, and even though I was standing behind her, the faint profile I caught revealed her expression remained as inscrutable as ever. At least, there was someone in class who looked normal. Ashley too sported a simple smile, as did Lily Greatwoods.
"Hello, class," the instructor said, his dazzling smile lighting up the room. "I hope you had a wonderful weekend." Then he continued, "I see we have a new arrival today." My heart sank as I thought, 'Don't you dare—don't you dare, don't you dare.'
"Could you please introduce yourself?" he demanded. With a resigned sigh, I rose and introduced myself: "My name is Adam Walker, my academy rank is 178." I assumed he already knew of me.
"Oh, now I remember—you're that kid who was in a coma two weeks ago," he said thoughtfully. "I heard about it from Instructor Cornwell. How are you feeling now?" he asked with a smile that gradually started to unsettle me.
"I'm fine now, thank you," I replied.
"Glad to hear it," he said, motioning for me to resume my seat.
"Can someone remind me of the topic we discussed last class?" he inquired.
Many cadets raised their hands, mostly females. He eventually pointed to a purple-haired guy, visibly causing many girls to deflate with disappointment at not being chosen. 'Can they be any more obvious?' I thought, the side of my mouth twitching slightly. I already didn't like this guy—first, because his dazzling smile set me on edge, and second, because he had inadvertently drawn even more attention to me by demanding that I introduce myself (as if I didn't already attract enough attention).
The purple-haired cadet stood up and began, "Last class, we just started discussing the samdals—a beast-man-like race inhabiting the Fray system. The most notable among them are the Condors, the Dracos, and the Lykos. They are technologically on par with the human race."
"That's very good," the instructor commented before awarding twenty points to the purple-haired cadet, who, surprisingly, was a De Silva.
"Today, we are going to delve into each of these three. The Condors, the Dracos, and the Lykos are the samdals' equivalent of the big seven—they are the three leading tribes of the samdals."
"Let's start with the Condors. Contrary to the concept of a condor in human terms, these Condors are humanoids endowed with falcon wings, talons, and beaks. Moreover, they possess an extraordinarily keen vision, able to see further than the human eye. However, unlike us, they lack bloodlines, instead relying on the ignition of their essence to fortify their body and spirit in unimaginable ways."
The holographic board in front of us flickered and displayed a winged humanoid with a beaked face and brown wings. The Condors were undoubtedly impressive, yet I would choose the benefits of a bloodline over mere wings and far sight any day. Next, he introduced the Dracos.
"The Dracos, in contrast, are humanoids with scales, claws, and horns reminiscent of dragons. Among them, those of pure blood sometimes even sport wings. Like the Condors, they lack traditional bloodlines; instead, they possess vast reserves of energy and stamina, which they channel to bolster their claw attacks and fortify their already tough scales. Their defensive capabilities are nearly infallible."
Once again, the holographic board displayed a red-hued, scale-covered humanoid crowned with a ring of horns—an intimidating sight, though I still preferred the heritage of bloodlines.
"And last but not least, the Lykos. The Lykos are humanoids with distinctly wolfish features: a furry body, wolf-like ears perched atop their heads, claws and fangs, and, of course, tails."
As soon as he finished explaining, a white-furred humanoid appeared on the holographic board, unmistakably matching the description he had just given. The figure, reminiscent of a child and rather endearing, prompted a sudden thought: 'How would a female of this species appear?' I couldn't help but wish that the instructor had provided an example of a female counterpart.
"There are more tribes among the samdals. For instance, the Panthers tribe is one of the largest subdivisions, itself split into smaller factions such as the Leo tribe, the Tigress, the Pardus, and the Onca."
He then proceeded to enumerate several other tribes within the samdal race. They were certainly diversified, though not as much as humans—a disparity owed to the many bloodline variations found in our race. Before I could fully absorb the information, the class had already come to a close. Despite my dislike for the instructor, his class had been engaging.
After class, I waved goodbye to Owen and started my journey back to the dorms. My uniform had already mended itself from the cut across my chest and even cleaned itself, yet I continued to feel uneasy until I had taken a shower.
As I made my way to the portal station, a sudden sensation struck me—as if I were forgetting something important—but I quickly dismissed it; whatever it was could wait. My shower, after all, was my top priority.
Before long, I arrived back at my dorm, removed my uniform, and rinsed it thoroughly with water. 'Even if it's self-cleaning, I won't feel comfortable wearing it if I know it hasn't truly been washed,' I reasoned.
After that, I took the long-overdue shower and finally felt normal again. No sooner had I stepped out of the bathroom than my door alarm started ringing. 'Who could that be?' I wondered, surprised since I wasn't expecting any visitors. 'Could it be Owen?'
When I opened the door, I found a purple-haired cadet—if memory served correctly, his name was Jared—who looked absolutely furious. "Lady Aurora demands your presence," he stated curtly. In that instant, everything clicked into place: Aurora. I had completely forgotten about Aurora and my responsibilities as her secretary.
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A/N:
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#Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Grace mi hand with them powerstones.
I appreciate any criticism and ideas.
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