The Sky is Dark and the Old Tree Whispers (2)
Ding-dong-dang-dong— Somewhere, a faint bell tolled.
Lying on the blue grass, just basking in the breeze and waiting for class to end, there was a brief blackout, followed by the sound of a desk being slammed.
"Constantly review what you learned today and strive diligently. That's all."
"Phew— finally over?"
It was time for everyone to grab lunch. As students rushed out in a herd, desperate not to fall behind and squeeze out even an extra minute of rest, Rupert sidled up to me.
"You awake now? You looked wiped out today."
I had no idea, but apparently I'd dozed off for a bit—my head felt fuzzy. I rubbed my stiff neck and groaned in response.
"Ah, I'm dying, seriously dying."
Whether it was the cheap plastic desks at my old elementary school or the fancy hardwood ones at Eldmier, they were equally uncomfortable. If anything, these felt a tad worse for my body?
I slung my arm over Rupert's shoulder and asked, "So, how's class treating you? You seem to be handling it fine, anyway."
And he was. Even if he came off like a mild-mannered pushover, when it came to pure talent in these joint dorm classes, he ranked in the top fingers. While most kids were like budget vacuums from some no-name brand, he and a few others were top-tier Dysons. Same appliance, different league.
What about broomsticks, then? Screw that—
"Haha, the prof's a bit scary, but... my dad's a wizard, my brother's a wizard. I've been around it forever, so it's kinda familiar."
"Makes sense. What about those kids over there? Their families are all normals, and they're the only wizards?"
Even among the brats bragging about great houses and bloodlines, tons had talent you'd trip over.
"Haha—"
Rupert just grinned innocently at my snarky jab. Nice personality plus good talent? He came off well, not grating.
"See ya next time! Different dorms make it hard to bump into each other."
At the fork where paths split by dorm, it was time to part. The trek back to Gratia Dorm would take forever, already annoying me.
"Yeah, catch you later. Linger too long, and no rest time left."
Lunch was two hours, but factoring in the commute, it barely cut it. Still, the food was killer. Maybe the long gaps were so you could empty your stomach and savor it all over again?
Thinking of today's menu lightened my heavy steps a bit.
"Hey, what're you punks up to?"
There's a saying: generosity comes from the pantry. You need physical surplus to help others.
Of course, some manage without it. But that's because they're exceptional—not because average folks are lacking.
So what about those who have plenty but act stingy? It's because they've got just enough to be middling. The terror that one slip could plunge them back into soul-crushing poverty. Gripped by scars that never fade, they're constantly checking their spot, propping up their egos moment to moment.
When nobles who've never sniffed poverty—safe behind high walls the poor can't even approach—preach magnanimity and mock the narrow-minded... Those who realize they're no longer behind those walls, or who once endured poverty's stench, shudder at the whiff. Terrified it might cling to them again, they tremble and pile higher walls.
And kids learn their parents' fears.
"Hey, kids, whatcha doing? Mind if I join?"
Spotting familiar backs, I approached the trio of brats. Sure enough, Lily stood there fidgeting, blocked by the three.
Peering nervously at them, unable to advance or retreat, she looked every bit the herbivore cornered by predators. Part of me wanted to ignore it like a proper teacher spotting bullies, but in true oblivious otaku fashion, I barked firmly, "Stop!"
"Same school, same year, same dorm—get along, yeah? Kid's uncomfortable. Or... maybe you're too young to know how to make friends?"
We're all friends! Beep-beep!
Laying it out simply and cheerfully, the kids' faces twisted oddly.
"Hah, me? Befriend this dummy-looking loser?!"
"Yeah! If you're bad at magic, at least use a good wand. We almost got hurt earlier 'cause of her."
"Look at her stuff. Total junk! She's a beggar, that's why—beggar!"
Their voices rang clear and pure, but the words spewing from those lips were sharp shards, stabbing without mercy.
"Calling a friend a beggar? Harsh words."
The kids wrinkled their noses like they'd spotted filth, pointing accusingly at Lily—it almost seemed like innocent play.
"Who asked you?!"
"Aha! You're a beggar too, huh?"
"Hmph, birds of a feather. Perfect match for her level."
Fair point... I nodded along.
"Yeah, birds of a feather—perfect match for their level."
"What?!"
Even in gibberish, kids magically catch when you're insulting them. Brains might be dumb, but instincts sharp—my echo scratched their fragile pride, faces flushing red-blue in seconds.
"Ugh, damn—my ears are ringing. Whoops, lunch'll be over. We're out. Lily, let's go."
"Uh, okay?!"
Grabbing the flustered Lily's arm, I strode off briskly.
"Hey! Stop right there?!"
A shrill screech pierced from behind, but I just lazily dug a finger in my ear and twirled.
Whew~
"Kyaack!!!!"
Glancing back at the racket, the kids charging after me had face-planted in unison. Tripped on their own feet? Or stumbled on a rock in rage-fueled haste? Not my problem.
"Pfft— you lot need to relearn walking first."
Today's Mystical Creatures class. Rumor had it some grizzled hunter dude—who looked like he'd chowed down on animal tracks—brought in a horned horse.
Naturally, not in a classroom: a wooded clearing.
As class time hit, students trickled in.
"Yo, fire hazard incoming."
"Pfft, yeah. Arsonist's with her too."
The kid deliberately slurring had a knuckle sandwich coming. Crossing the line...
Moments later, a pale, haggard man—face like he'd drowned in booze and drugs, two swords on his back, silver beast-head medal clinking—emerged.
"What a shitty sight."
The prof's weird glass vials clinked at his belt as he scanned us like prey-picking predator.
"Greetings. Name's Gerald Wolf. Lead researcher at Monad, and your prof for Mystical Creatures from today."
"Monad? What's that?"
"Dunno, some lab?"
"Quiet. Save chatter for after."
Wolf signaled; someone yanked reins, dragging a beast from the rear with heavy thuds to the clearing's center.
Neigh—!
A white silhouette glowing like dawn. Sleek silk-white coat over long, pulsing muscles etched like fine sculpture. A well-honed claymore come alive. Slender yet unbreakable steel-strong frame. No wind, yet silver mane at nape swayed like underwater fronds, scattering in air.
"Whoaaa...."
An animal born of dreams, dark desires made flesh. Against pristine white body gleamed a glassy spiral horn, sharpening to razor at tip—prickling skin just looking.
Each light step of slim legs sparked faint mana flames from hooves. It raised its head, slitting starlit eyes, unleashing aloof chill dignity that crushed the crowd.
"Looks like you've all seen it in fairy tales or whatever. Yes, it's the unicorn you know."
"Whoa— unicorn—"
Kids were hooked on its mystique.
"Creature: Unicorn. Hazard: C-rank normal, A-rank berserk. Docile usually, unstoppable when mad. Favors purity, has cleansing powers; horn's prime elixir material."
Gerald recited specs flatly, eyeing us.
"Weirdly lenient with virgins. Makes it kid-friendly despite danger and rarity."
He led it aside, nodding at us.
"Explanation over. Touch it one by one now."
"Woooah!"
"A real unicorn! First time—me first!"
Hazard ratings forgotten, kids buzzed with excitement, hands shooting up to rush forward, enchanted by its nobility.