The moment Mark stepped into the classroom, it took barely three strides before his feet slid out from under him, sending him crashing hard to the floor with a loud, echoing bang. He looked around, quickly realizing he had slipped on some slick, slimy liquid deliberately spilled across the path he had just walked.
Jack let out a mocking whistle from his seat, feigning complete ignorance about what had just happened. Then his eyes met Mark’s sharp green gaze, and for a long moment, neither of them looked away.
"Oops." A smirk spread slowly across his lips before he burst into loud laughter, clutching his stomach dramatically. A handful of students joined in, genuinely amused, while a few others barely managed to hold back their own laughter.
Even though Mark was no longer the mundy he once was, the old perception of him still lingered stubbornly in people’s minds, etched in as deeply as words carved into solid stone, nearly impossible to erase. Still, perhaps, given enough time, he could wear it down. That was, of course, assuming it was even possible at all.
Mark simply closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, steadying breath before opening them again. He rose to his feet, peeled off his stained jacket, and folded it neatly before stepping clear of the slippery trap altogether. That was when his gaze happened to land on Mia’s.
Mia licked her glossy lips slowly, making a small, deliberate gesture with her hand, as though crushing something tightly within her grip. The sight sent a sickening chill crawling down Mark’s spine, the memory of their earlier encounter back in the library resurfacing sharply in his mind.
Still, he steadied himself and made his way directly toward his usual seat by the window, the one overlooking the grounds outside. The seat beside him remained empty, and he found himself wondering what was taking Hermione so long to arrive.
He didn’t have to wonder for much longer, as the classroom soon began to buzz with whispers the moment Hermione finally stepped through the door. Notably, she carried no books at all, despite having claimed earlier that retrieving them was the reason for her delay. A small, ginger furred cat with a bushy, kite shaped tail curled comfortably around her neck like some soft, living collar.
Hermione moved carefully, deliberately avoiding the trap Jack had set for Mark, and potentially anyone else unlucky enough to walk the same path. A smile crossed her lips the moment she spotted Mark already waiting for her by the window.
Mia’s sharp gaze tracked her every step, eyes gleaming faintly as her jaw tightened. Victor tried to ease her mood, reaching out to pat her shoulder gently, but the gesture only made things worse, prompting her to shove his hand away with visible irritation.
The moment Hermione sat down beside Mark, the small cat tilted its head curiously, studying him with wide, bright yellow eyes. The gesture drew an easy smile from Mark as he glanced its way, and the cat responded by gently patting his cheek with one soft paw.
"I think he’s already taken a liking to you," Hermione chirped happily. "He’s usually pretty guarded around strangers, but you seem to be the exception."
At that moment, the cat unfurled itself from around Hermione’s neck and drifted playfully toward Mark, weaving happily around him. Mark reached out to feel its fur, surprised by just how light and soft it felt beneath his fingers, almost like touching a gentle scrap of fabric rather than an actual animal.
"His name’s Crookshanks. He absolutely loves chocolate with a hint of vanilla flavor. He’s not much of a carnivore either, unlike most of his kind, which honestly makes him even more special to me." Hermione gently patted his head as he purred contentedly, tail swaying with obvious delight.
"Crockshanks?" Mark repeated, already fond of the sound of the name.
"No, you’ve got it a little wrong. It’s CrOOkshanks," Hermione corrected gently, clearly amused by his attempt. Mark accepted the correction with an easy, good natured nod.
But the moment Mark’s hand brushed against the cat’s back, something shifted instantly. Crookshanks went rigid, freezing entirely as though gripped by some deep, primal instinct. It was as though his touch alone carried a silent warning of danger. The fur along its neck bristled sharply upright as it let out a sudden, sharp hiss.
A moment later, it dissolved into a swirl of shimmering, sparkling energy as Hermione quickly drew it back into her own soul space. She had clearly sensed that Crookshanks felt genuinely intimidated by him, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
Hermione sighed quietly to herself. She had originally hoped bringing Crookshanks along would help steer Mark’s questions away from the whole missing books excuse, giving him something else to focus on instead. But it seemed Crookshanks hadn’t been willing to stick around long enough to fully serve that purpose.
Mark paused, his hand still hovering in the air where the cat had vanished moments earlier. "Wait, so that’s another one of your summons?"
"Yeah, and funnily enough, he was actually my very first summon, even before I got my signature Phoenix. We spent a lot of time together growing up, honestly made up for a good chunk of my childhood." Hermione smiled, fingers laced together thoughtfully, though her eyes soon drifted, tracing carefully over the details of his face.
She reached out gently, fingertips brushing lightly against his skin as she studied him more closely. "Wait, are those actual bruises? And swelling too? You didn’t look like this back at the school entrance earlier. What happened after you got here?"
Mark let out a small chuckle, wincing slightly at her touch against the tender bruising. She seemed genuinely affectionate, concerned enough to check on his condition without hesitation. Just who exactly was this girl, someone so unlike anyone else he had ever encountered before?
Olivia strode into the classroom with her usual easy confidence, making her way toward the lectern. She smoothed down her pencil skirt before leaning forward against the stand and clearing her throat.
Every student’s attention shifted instantly away from whatever they had been doing before. Olivia offered a brief, approving smile at their prompt focus before continuing.
"We’re now four days out from the competition that determines both class ranking and valedictorian potential. This event exists to help us better understand the true strength and power of your summons, particularly how they perform and interact during actual combat scenarios. So get ready and prepare accordingly. The top three finishers will each receive a special reward directly from the school’s administration."
Her gaze swept thoughtfully across the room. "That covers today’s announcement. Now, moving on to today’s lesson, we’ll be covering polymers. These are summons that carry three or more distinct variants across class or role. For example, a summon might function as a striker, a tank, and a supporter all at once, or perhaps as a vanguard, a commander, and a specialist simultaneously. So with that in mind..."
***
Williams sat behind his polished desk, Mary standing composed at his side. Across from them sat a man with a neatly trimmed goatee and a bald patch running down the center of his hair, an appearance that, despite looking somewhat older, actually ran in his genes rather than reflecting his true age.
The man wore a plain T shirt, a wristwatch, blue trousers, and polished shoes, seated beside his son, whose arm was wrapped tightly in bandages. His expression carried a furious, barely contained solemnity as he stared directly into the headmaster’s eyes, jaw clenched tight against the anger clearly straining to break free.
Mary, doing her best to maintain a formal, composed appearance despite the mounting tension in the room, glanced toward Williams, who let out a slow, measured breath.
"Look, I understand you’re upset about what happened to your son. But plenty of others were also present in that hall the day it happened. This isn’t something centered entirely around your family alone. I need you to try and stay calm."
Williams’s words only seemed to agitate the father further, his fists clenching tight before slamming down hard against the desk, his expression twisting with barely restrained fury.
"I’m not like the other parents who just sit back and say nothing! This is exactly the problem I’m talking about! This academy carries plenty of fame and prestige in the public eye, but underneath all that, it’s nothing but a fraud. Your school management clearly isn’t doing its job properly. This place is practically a zoo full of untamed beasts." The man spat out his words furiously, eyes flashing sharply.
"And I want the person responsible for this handed directly over to me. I’ll deal with them myself, severely."
"And exactly how do you plan on doing that, sir? You can’t simply walk in here and start ordering the school administration around, criticizing our management like this. Frankly, it reflects poorly on your own son’s conduct, mister." Mary finally lost her composure entirely, unable to tolerate the blatant disrespect being aimed at her headmaster any longer.
The man’s eyes flashed toward Mary with open rage. His son, meanwhile, wore a nervous, uncertain expression, clutching tightly at his bandaged arm. He had been among the students caught in the devastating collapse of the Grand Hall, a direct result of Mark’s summon, the accident having severely fractured his right arm, leaving him now reliant almost entirely on his left.
Some might have quietly dismissed the inconvenience of relying on one’s non dominant hand, but in situations like his, forced entirely by circumstance rather than choice, it was hardly something to be taken lightly.
Williams glanced briefly toward the injured student. The school administration had worked hard to downplay or minimize the severity of the incident, hoping to avoid drawing further attention from the authorities or government officials, careful not to reveal their internal findings regarding Mark’s classification as a Monarch Tier summoner.
Whenever matters like this touched too closely on that particular discovery, things became considerably more difficult to manage, tightening around them like a closing vice, threatening real damage to the school’s public reputation.
Somehow, though, this particular student had already disclosed the full details of the event to his father, a man who apparently held a fairly high position within a government office, which likely explained the harsh, entitled attitude currently being directed at the headmaster.
"I said, who did this!" The man slammed both hands down against the desk once more, sending several objects tumbling off the edge. Williams regarded him calmly over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows raised slightly.
Just then, a man with a thick, dark beard stepped into the office, dressed in the standard attire of an electrician, complete with a plastic safety vest, rubber gloves, and heavy work boots. He carried a small equipment box at his side, a light smile playing across his lips as he strode in. His eyes settled almost immediately on the visibly agitated father seated nearby.
Mary’s expression brightened the moment she spotted him. "Carlo, finally. Perfect timing. I’ll show you exactly where that electrical fault is coming from."
"Hey now, old man. I wouldn’t be too hard on the headmaster here, government position or not." The technician shook his head slowly, unbothered.
The angry father paused mid breath, turning to face the technician, who met his gaze with firm, unwavering steadiness. The freshman beside him visibly shrank in his seat, clearly wishing he could disappear from the growing scene entirely.
"And who exactly do you think you are? Wait, don’t tell me you’re the one responsible for what happened to my son." The father shot to his feet, shoving his chair back hard enough to send it screeching across the floor.
"Head on back to where you came from, and everything’s going to be just fine," Carlo, the technician, said calmly. His eyes gleamed with something dark and unreadable as he held the father’s gaze, sending a wave of cold, creeping dread crawling over the man’s entire body. It felt almost as though some invisible, overwhelming force had settled over him, silently compelling him to submit before the man standing calmly in front of him.
His freshman son whimpered softly, like a frightened puppy, his whole body trembling uncontrollably in his seat.
-----
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