The pages were sprawled over the floor, like vomit from an origami creature.
They splayed like a makeshift blanket, pooling onto the surface, lying in subtle, unlevelled clumps where pages overlapped.
A feathered figure, dressed in a respectable waistcoat, stood with widened eyes of breath-discarded astonishment.
His wide eyes were like a rich syrup, swirling around as if they were a drink recipe for intellectual acquisition.
In front of Mr Wickerson, standing in front of the fallen sheets, was Julius Sparrow's desk with a single green sheet dressed in lines of dried black ink.
Beside the sheet was a long, handheld stem, made from something transparent, with a thin tube filled with something black running through the centre all the way to the end of the object.
A black cap fixed onto the peak, covering the smell of something almost metallic.
The pen lay uselessly, forgotten, on the desk beside a pale green sheet.
The sheet was anything but blank, the faded bamboo colour now blackened with indescribable amounts of perfect black lines intertwining through each other.
Mr Wickerson's gaze swelled helplessly, the rich colour freezing as Mr Wickerson failed to perceive two displays drawn meticulously on the page.
The two shapes were unusual; what would've looked like art without purpose was actually the work of a genius.
Mr Wickerson finally blinked, his eyes glinting with consciousness once his brown eyelids opened.
The depiction was impossible to figure out for two major reasons.
The first one was that the estranged pattern was drawn with a ballpoint pen.
This meant that every overlapping of pen line was not immediately apparent to anyone, except the creator themselves.
The crystal devices normally used, like magic pens, were used to negate this drawback.
Mana was infused into the crystal, then faintly projected from a glossy metallic dome at the end of the device, transmitting the mana to hover over the page.
Another reason to consider was the student's first-time writing magic theory, which often ended in tragic failure.
Controlling the mana precisely, through the crystal and onto the page as intended, was a very delicate process that required sharp concentration.
When also needing to understand the language of magic theory and the intended purpose of every written line, the process would be akin to learning French with an unexpectedly developed sixth sense.
The glowing lines, floating over the surface of the page, were what allowed the understanding of perceptible overlapping as if looking at a grid of a three-dimensional game of tic-tac-toe.
The feature of depth allowed the perceptible understanding of mana stacking, which depicted the process of how mana multiplies with each other when a sorcerer undergoes the process of manipulating mana, also known as "magic."
Another added variable that was unfamiliar to first-time writers was being able to move the lines, for example, by willing so with the use of the crystal device.
Yet, none of such things applied to this written theory on Julius Sparrow's desk.
The written lines, a second-dimensional display, made it impossible to perceive the use of overlapping lines.
How can one detect glass lines placed over a screen of glass?
The same applied to the written formula on this almost blackened sheet.
The only way the overlapping could be perceived is when the writer themself consciously overlapped the lines.
Yet looking at these two perfectly drawn patterns, like black spiderwebs resembling an irregular star, how could one even as Knowledgeable as Mr Wickerson ever comprehend the depiction?
"Even I, with the use of my rank five scholar magic, can't understand the theory..." Mr Wickerson theorised with a puzzled look.
His eyes widened with thought, behind his tiny, framed glasses.
The tip of one dark feathered wing hovered at the teacher's chin, where it poked free through his white shirt sleeve.
Mr Wickerson had a peculiar type of magic; regardless rank five magic was still rank five magic.
Understanding magic theory for rank five magic was definitely something Mr Wickerson was capable of.
Conceptualising rank 6 magic wasn't impossible to him either, even if using it was an entirely different matter altogether.
"Even if not written with a normal pen, it might still be too complex. Which means..."
The teacher hesitantly concluded, with a helpless guess.
"...These could very well be a magic formula of rank 7."
…
Julius lagged behind Thurid, reluctantly following in a plain stroll with his hands tucked neatly into his pocket.
His gaze reflected calmly as he had now accepted his fate and followed Thurid down the hall in an orderly manner.
Thurid had released Julius a moment earlier, since realising he would be cooperative.
Her expression was warm, like a stove gently charging a steel pan.
Thurid neared the end of the hall, closing in on two plain grey double doors opposing the two.
A faint bustling sound of laughter was humming against the door, faintly audible to the two through the door.
Thurid glanced over her shoulder, making sure Julius was still present, her smile then widening as she confirmed his presence.
She faced ahead again and stepped forward, reaching for the doors before easily pulling them open.
At once, noise burst into the halls, filling the empty halls with chaotic shouts and laughs, as if the two were in the middle of a town square in Nioavolier.
Ahead was a massive room, with grey octagon tables dotted over glossy brown floors like a chessboard.
The walls were a painted eggshell white, wide and surrounding the chaotic frivolities.
Students packed the room, each student having their own distinct look.
Some students were winged, some were gilled or fanged, all sitting in mixed crowds around each table.
One table in particular, toward the far corner of the room, contained a batch of human-looking students.
One wore pink wispy hair that fell to hover over her shoulders, another had black fabric fingerless gloves and had snowy hair that hung in a thick, messy fringe.
Thurid's face immediately lit up at the familiar sight, her entire posture lifting an inch like a massive pressure eased on a coiled spring by a small bit.
Her hand found Julius's bicep behind her again, without thought, dragging the boy behind her toward the far table.
Thurid called out cheerfully as she took bouncy stomps toward the table, alerting not just the corner table but the whole room.
"Hey, guys, look what I got!"
Julius was unfortunately dragged along behind her, his expression still plain as every student's gaze reflexively shot toward him.
Now that Julius was passing the centre of the floor, he was exposed to a new angle of the room.
In another corner of the room, opposite the table Thurid headed to, Julius could see a student with volatile, coloured hair.
Coincidentally, the corner these students sat at had the poorest lighting, the corner draped with faint shadows as if reality itself was ominously warning others.
Julius only had a minuscule time to observe the table during his few seconds of passing, making out a sinister smirk and a flash of long, bright purple hair before Thurid yanked him to their destination.
The table sat in front of Julius, with his side of the octagon-shaped table completely blank where he stood at the front.
On his right side sat a boy with a bowl of tussled snow-white hair, with black fingerless gloves pulled over where he rested his chin on his knuckles.
His mouth curved softly into a warm smile, his skin was pale like moonlight, with bold bone-white eyes covered by stripes of a white fringe.
He was one of the few students in the room not wearing a cream uniform blazer, his arms covered by long white shirt sleeves.
The girl with pink hair on the left was Nagiri; her gaze was an extravagant burning pink that immediately flickered away upon grazing Julius's dark amber-tinted gaze.
Across from Julius was a thin student with greyish-brown hair with a short fringe that flowed to the side of their forehead.
He held the same type of concerned gaze, one of the many types of glances that students had passed toward Julius in the halls earlier.
They were abnormally quiet, with pale skin that trembled with worry at the sight of Julius.
When the white-haired child spoke, the brown-haired student silently got up and left toward the table in the darker corner.
"Hey, you were in my class today. Mana is life, right?" The white-haired student questioned casually, quoting Julius, their voice friendly and warm with effortless familiarity.
Julius stood silently, his ghost-like gaze silently analysing the boy with calm pupils.
Nagiri sat silently, her eyes dropping to the table as her hands nervously planted either side of her lap on the bench beneath her.
The tension from Julius's lack of sociability was like a foul odour souring the mood.
SMACK!
The sound of a well-placed slap caused the whole room to turn toward Julius, whose entire body was trembling from head to toe as if suddenly containing unimaginable pressure.
The entire room collectively winced.
"That got to have hurt..."
"BHUAHAHAHA!" The sound that erupted next was not from the Julius, straining to stay in place like a withering beanstalk, but from Thurid behind him.
The sound was like the laugh of a bellowing giant, her entire mouth gaping open to heartily chuckle as she finally pulled her palm away from Julius's back.
"Julius! Don't just stand there, take a seat." Thurid goaded cluelessly as she rounded the table and sank into the seat.
The white-haired boy stared wide-eyed in astonishment; he should be used to Thurid's carelessness, and to a degree he was.
What was more remarkable was how Julius was still standing, never mind the fact that he hadn't made a single noise.
The boy sat there with visible awe.
How could someone endure an attack from Thurid?
The boy suddenly had flashbacks as he had this thought, recalling how he had cried back when Thurid flicked his forehead in the past.
Even Nagiri had immediately pulled her gaze up from the desk to find the source of the loud sound, her perceptive pink eyes trembling in horror at the sight of Julius's body subtly vibrating with tension.
"That one there is Gyasi, the timid one is Nagiri." Thurid explained casually, hopelessly unaware of Julius's current severe pain.
Thurid was like an infant with unimaginable power, barely able to understand the fragility of most people compared to her.
Meanwhile, Julius barely stood in place, even whilst able to keep a straight face, he still struggled internally to endure the pain, slightly trembling as his body struggled to withstand the damage.
"That meathead! If she had slapped me even a tiny bit harder, she would've snapped my spine." Julius seethed internally.
Yet Julius made no sound, paling involuntarily, even as his face stretched blankly like a sheet of paper.
Thurid had godly amounts of unmatched strength; compared to Julius, being struck by Thurid was like being hit with a wrecking ball.
Of course, the only reason Julius was still alive was that Thurid had fortunately kept her strength in check.
She barely used an ounce of strength, for the sake of only slapping her friend lightly as a gesture of friendship.
If she had really put her back into it, her hand would've swept straight through Julius as if his body was built of papier-mache.
Such strength, even when controlled to a minimum, when afflicted against a human body with not even a hint of mana to their name...
"Endure. Endure." Julius chanted like a mantra in his mind, feeling the shakes in his body barely begin to ease.
Even as he felt tension strain his back, his mind still whirred around himself, aware of the gazes burning into him from around the room.
This, to Julius, was the perfect moment to build a reputation.
The more unaffected he seemed, the greater impression the students would have of Julius.
Similar to how Gyasi, the snow-haired boy, had been impressed by his resistance, Julius wanted the rest of the academy to all share the same collective reputation.
This was because the students would naturally assume his toughness came from a magical ability, as barely anyone knew about Julius's status as a mortal, meaning that students would fear his strength, which Julius would prefer to have in case he needed that leverage.
Julius's eyes flicked down to the seat in front of him, a green bench that ran around in the same octagon shape as the rest of the table.
He wanted to take the seat, but he felt as though his body would collapse if he took another step.
All the eyes in the room were still waiting on Julius, like fishhooks sinking into him with curiosity.
His body began to shake again, nearing its limit even as Julius strained to stay upright.
In terms of pain, the injury Julius sustained to his hand when he struck Adrian was far greater than Thurid's slap.
Though in terms of damage, Julius's entire core had been shaken heavily.
The difference was like two wooden pallets with different broken features; one had a snapped plank among many unbroken planks, whilst the other pallet was still intact but had cracks running through the entire build.
The pallet with the snapped plank can still be used, the missing plank barely affects the weight that the pallet can tolerate.
Meanwhile the pallet with cracks can fall apart at any time, the increased instability means that the amount of weight necessary for it to fall apart is unpredictable, making it unreliable.
Julius's body right now was like the cracked pallet, his body's foundation had been temporality damaged, and he was about to break at any moment.
To keep his reputation, or rather to maximise it, he needed to look as unfazed as possible by seemingly perfectly calm.
Though right now that reputation would fall apart if Julius dropped to the floor, such a reaction would even give away how incredibly fragile his mortal body was.
He had to get to a seat!
Just one step, then he would be in the clear, then his body would naturally recover itself after a moments rest.
"Go!" Julius commanded his body, forcing his shaking leg to rise and extend forward.
His torso followed, leaning forward as he pressed his trembling foot down and set his weight upon it.
His torso continued, the current air around him containing the same pressure as ocean depths as he passed through.
His torso passed his leg, weakly leaning further forward to take another step as his body threatened to give way at any moment.
His torso swayed forward, swaying off centre as he prepared to reach for the table whilst taking another step.
His torso shook abruptly, locking up and fizzling away any last control Julius had over his body!
CLICK!
Julius felt his legs give way.
end of chapter 16