The whirring of ceiling fans filled the suffocating quiet of the classroom.
Students sat frozen, their expressions full of grim hopelessness. One name rang through the room–not in voice, but in spirit–invading the hearts of the Trailblazers and leaving them broken.
The Saviour of the East.
What the hell is that? Why's a Class IV stored so close to the freshman halls? Class IV's are for the master classes, damn it!
His table trembled beneath his hands. One of his tablemates cowered under his arms, head cradled and eyes locked on the grain of the brown wood.
A page from the textbook flashed before his mind–the diagram. The difference between Class I and II was like a chicken to a lion. But between Class II and IV? Beyond comparison.
Equivalent to four Steps down a Path.
That was the weight of Class.
Three more than me. Two more than Sid. One more than Professor Lumi.
Class IV Wraiths were reserved for the most experienced Trailblazers, only to be faced by full parties with complementary Roles and of equal Step. Preferably two frontliners–Fighters or Tanks–and two backliners–Support or Archers.
No one in the room came close.
Not even Professor Lumi, a Third Step Support of Virtue.
Even compared to Sid–a Second Step Fighter of Virtue, a so-called "Bound Fighter"–Lumi pressed an advantage.
With an advantage as a Bearer Support, she'd win a head-on fight nine times out of ten–simply due to raw strength provided by that Step.
That was the difference.
And The Saviour of the East stood a Step deeper.
In the corridors, a rustling skitter echoed..
Snapping out of her daydream, Professor Lumi stomped her feet and began barking instructions at the unmoving men and women.
"From this point on, I will be ordering you all with my authority as Professor and position of Bearer. Everyone, stand up this instant and block the doors using anything you can find! Shelves, tables, chairs, everything! We must not let The Saviour of the East even notice us! Lockdown protocol NOW!"
Instinctively, the mass of students rushed forth like a wave–as if they'd drilled daily for years–each armed with chairs, desks, and anything in between, piling them up against both entrances of the lecture hall.
Some wore hollow eyes, others a panicked expression. Only two stood out from the crowd.
Sid remained aloof, unmoving from her standing position at her seat, eyes focused at the front door. Ready to pounce like a lion.
Solus sat primly at his desk, spinning his pen around in a double-charge, his eyes focused at the back door. Coiled like a snake.
If looks could kill.
In theory, the barricade would hold until higher ranked Blazers arrived on the scene. In practice, things were not as simple.
Seeing the horde of people rush to blockade the entryways, Temp followed suit, not wanting to do less than his fellow peers. He picked up the chair he had been daydreaming on for the better part of half a day and slammed it behind the huge mound that had spawned in front of the backdoor.
The room fell silent once again. This time more in anticipation than fear.
That anticipation quickly spiralled back into its predecessor.
A boom shook the room.
The doors held.
Another boom.
They still held.
Silence.
A prayer hung in the thick, almost palpable air.
"Please don't be that water-wielding maniac, please don't be that water-wielding maniac…"
Calling The Saviour of the East a maniac…Sure, he massacred his party–but he did it to save a continent. What did you expect? A fairytale ending?
Wait, that's the guy who jinxed us the last time. Goddamnit!
Temp closed his eyes and tilted his head back, placing his hands together in prayer.
He did not have time to pray before a water puddle seeped beneath the back door.
In it, the reflection of a young man lay.
Dormant Echoes within students stirred to life, dashing across the corner of the room to the furthest possible space away from the ominous puddle. The glass of the academy was built to be as sturdy as possible, so that none could invade.
But none could get out either.
A student screamed.
Oh fu-
All hell broke loose.
The puddle manifested into its reflection, now in all its glory, the man starting a casual stroll towards the girl who screamed.
Solus pounced at it, his pen slithering up from his palms and uncoiling into its sword, its blade wavy but its tip sharp.
A kris dagger.
That was an Echo?
Several Echoes joined in the brawl, leaping back to the puddle from the edges of the room, commanded by their cowering masters.
The blade thrust straight through. No resistance. No impact. Just the sound of splashing water.
Solus caught himself on the floor, turning around and unleashing a devastating roundhouse kick upon his foe. The Echoes also finally reached their target, a market of claws, fangs and other disturbing appendages swiping at the Class IV.
All of them went right through the being.
And The Saviour…did nothing.
It simply continued on its way, wandering towards the girl who had screamed.
Now, Sid finally joined in. Dashing from her stance, she readied her Bound ability–which was unique to each person–and released a plume of ash from her hands, drowning the Wraith's liquid body in a soluble ash, hoping to turn it at least somewhat tangible to deal damage.
It reacted to this attack, at least, sidestepping the cloud at the last second with a split step, while using the momentum generated to fling itself toward Sid and ram her in the abdomen with its shoulder.
This was the only physical interaction the Savior had with anyone that day.
Sid was sent flying across the lecture hall, slamming into a cement wall a few meters away, shattering the wall and rendering her immobile. Crimson blood flowed from her mouth, as if imitating her red hair. The white skin or her face turned even paler.
She let out a weak groan, her hands struggling to push off the floor.
At least she's alive.
Then, all the students–but the one who screamed–joined the fray, unleashing a torrent of swords, arrows and mystical powers upon the creature. Professor Lumi sent a bright sword of light its way, sharper and deadlier than the most tempered steel simply because she willed it.
All of them were sent flying through it like cars at an intersection.
Professor Lumi, the tough nut that she was, broke the chaos with a strict, grounded order.
"Everyone, withdraw! Crowd around Sid! It only responded to her attack!"
In a flash, students leapt across the remaining chairs and desks like they were in a parkour course, gathering around their fallen hero. Of course, Professor Lumi was first on scene. Crouching down, she shone a brilliant green onto Sid, her breathing stabilising and face turning her usual beige colour.
"Stay down, your internal injuries have not healed. Recover first. Fight later."
Her eyes scanned the area, accounting for any missing students. The watery blob shaped as a man still stood somewhere at the back of the classroom, its shiny surface reflecting against the luminous headlights of the classroom.
Temp, too, did a headcount.
Two, Six, Ten, Fifteen…There, all are accounted for. Seventeen students enrolled in total, one of whom is absent and Solus who's still running here. Perfect…wait, there's still one…
Temp noticed the still girl at the back, her eyes glued onto the figure slowly approaching her like it was death, slow but inevitable.
No one had realised that she was still frozen, as if a curse had been placed upon her by the malignant, fluid being.
Save her? Scream for help? No time to think.
After a split second of deliberation, Temp decided to do both.
He split from the enclave of humans, rushing to the aid of the damsel in distress, yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Look at me, bitch!"
Channeling his prophetic powers, one granted to him by his Attached ability, he gained the power to see a few seconds into the future–a dim clock glowing on his iris. There, only a single motion seemed possible out of the countless predicted futures, one that was deeper in depth and clearer in picture compared to the blur of possible actions.
He would soar right through it.
As predicted, he did indeed fly through it.
Temp clicked his tongue.
I tried everything I had.
In the back of his mind, however, he knew he had more in him.
He could have tried using a sword, summoning his own Echo, however weak it was, maybe even tried crashing into the girl instead and throwing her–literally–out of danger.
He did not do any.
His "best" was not enough.
The Wraith approached the girl, not even inconvenienced by an attack by the bystanding students.
It raised a bony, translucent finger, grazing the girl's cheek and lifting her trembling chin up.
Her breath visibly quickened, eyes widening in dread. She watched as the creature moved with unnatural sloth, as if savouring the terror it induced in the girl.
Temp watched with bated breath, his mind racing but legs still at the starting line. His heart was slamming against his ribcage, lungs burning with the intensity of a star. His vision blurred, but his objective was clear.
Move, damn it. Move!
The room fell deathly silent, even the whirring ceiling fans stopped producing sound, as if their very material were scared of The Saviour. The smell of chalk still lingered, now overpowered by the smell of chlorine.
The Wraith brought its free hand up, pointing a finger in the sky, as if commanding the heavens.
It brought its finger to its lip.
A chill emanated from the Wraith, down Temp's spine, across the floor and reverberated across the hall.
The room grew colder, emptier, quieter.
The girl passed out standing.
It did not move. It did not speak. But everyone knew its meaning.
"Shush."
It then disappeared, only a puddle of mundane water left in its wake.