Chương 10: Day one jitters

The children led the way back towards the elevator, with the Headmaster and me lagging a little behind. The scraps of my cloak were draped over one arm, and my gladius clattered reassuringly against my thigh armour.

"You shouldn't lie like that," he said softly.

"It wasn't a lie. The stronger or smarter a child is when they get to pick a class changes what they get offered. I'm sure you're aware that the more intellectually gifted children tend to get magical classes, and if they are fit and strong as well, then they'll often get a spellsword-type hybrid class."

"It doesn't work that way."

"But it does." How to explain that I'd seen their system from the outside?

"IMPS is quite… adaptive? The goal of the system is never entirely clear; sometimes it's just out for laughs as far as I can tell, but on this world, it has a purpose."

"Nobody refers to it as IMPS these days. That is a very old name for it."

"I've spent a fair bit of time dead. You get to see some shit," I said confidently.

"Yet another reason necromancers are reviled. We don't need ancient poison in Nadrack." I kept silent. They clearly did, otherwise Abarama wouldn't have consigned me to this life. The children formed a neat queue next to the magic elevator, and the headmaster stayed quiet as we joined them. A few moments later, the doors opened, and Greebus swept out like he was a diva setting foot on the stage. He made a show of counting off the children.

"I'm surprised you're all still alive. Please come with me, your next class is art. The Gallery of Souls awaits." The doors closed, and the Headmaster put a hand on my bony shoulder to hold me in place. I was painfully aware that if he chose to squeeze with his inflated strength stat, I'd need to spend a lot of time reattaching my arm.

"You seem like a decent fellow." The bushy moustache wriggled.

"It would be a shame if I found out my trust was misplaced." Lie, obfuscate, or tell the truth? He would be a useful ally, and a worryingly tough enemy.

"I was sent here to help Bork fulfil his destiny, whatever it might be."

"Divine fuckery?"

"Sort of. You understand the concept of pattern gods?"

"Local expressions of wider constants. Life, Death, Laughter, Indigestion, that kind of thing. Forces that are true wherever what passes for intelligence manages to coalesce." He knew more than I would have expected.

"Yes. There are layers of deific bureaucracy above the pattern gods. I work for them." His hand snapped away from my bony pauldron as though it had suddenly superheated.

"And Bork?"

"Is just a kid with a role to play in whatever is coming. I don't know what will happen, only that he has to succeed." His bright green eyes blinked owlishly as the doors opened.

"I would like to speak to you again tomorrow morning. First thing, please, Instructor Dusty. A colleague of mine will be present. Mistress Parlthrop has some experience in these matters." I didn't breathe, so I couldn't really sigh. This was the least bad option. He'd already demonstrated he was far too perspicacious to be casually lied to. His knowledge of the forms of the Sword suggested a deep education, and his gift with magic told me he was a smart bastard who needed to be treated with appropriate respect.

I had no idea who this Parlthrop might be.

"Of course, sir." We stepped inside, his fingers curled and twisted, and the door opened onto a new space. I couldn't smell, but I would bet that this place had the whiff of antiseptic, bleach and chalk. Stark grey walls stretched away in either direction, with heavy oak doors set every twenty metres or so.

"That way, second door on your left." The Headmaster stepped back, and the doors closed between us. It could have gone worse. I'd gotten myself accepted by the only member of the faculty that really mattered, albeit my approval was pending an interview with someone who was currently an unknown quantity. Now I had to enter an entirely new hellscape: a classroom populated by teenagers. Three knocks, my knuckles bouncing from the wood.

"Enter." The voice was melodious, graceful, and feminine in a way that made me miss my genitals. Stepping inside, I ignored the hisses, gasps and quiet curses from the children.

"Madam. A pleasure to meet you. The Headmaster has sent me to rejoin my summoner now that my class has finished." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Purple eyes. They were rare even in a multiverse populated by millions of species with completely different phenotypes. Usually, it meant one thing, and one thing only. Midnight hair spilled down to her shoulder blades, pushed back behind her ears, and her silver dress clung to her figure in all the right places.

"You… are a teacher here?" she asked. I pulled the instructor badge I'd been given from my breastplate and moved forward with it held out before me like Van Helsing approaching Count Vlad. How any of the teenage boys managed to learn anything from this woman escaped me.

"Physical education and swordsmanship." My lack of fleshy parts precluded a cheeky joke, but if I had them in this life, I'd have indulged the opportunity.

"Who…"

"Bork von Heffleslump summoned me last night, Lady." Her head swiveled like a tank turret locating a target; meanwhile, Bork did his best to meld with his chair and hide behind his desk.

"Is this true, Bork?"

"Yes, miss."

"Sometimes you don't get a succubus, eh Heffle?" said a quiet voice from the back of the class. Low snickers followed, and I found it was my turn to track my head around like I was seeking a target. Tall, judging from how small he made the desk look, with blond hair and brown eyes. Heavily built for a sixteen-year-old with broad shoulders. Bork's cheeks glowed a bright crimson.

"Nomin de Bulshack, you will mind your manners or be removed from my class," the teacher intoned. Her voice held a gentle finality that suggested she knew how to wrangle difficult teenagers, and the giggles died away immediately. Nomin de Bulshack Shadow Squire Level 6 STR 11 AGI 15 MAG 8 ARM 10 Enough for Bork, who lacked access to Identify, to think the kid was a problem.

To be fair, without me interceding, Nomin could probably slap Bork around as he liked; his agility stat would make him hard for my clumsy apprentice to touch. Amanda Gailspire Manavating Manipulator Level 16 STR 9 AGI 12 MAG 31 ARM 15"Madam Gailspire, I have been told to attend to my master during his classes by the Head. With your permission, I will fall in and avoid intruding further on your time." I nodded my bony head politely.

"Of course. How did you know my name?"

"I have an Identify skill." Her eyes widened slightly, but I turned smoothly and walked over to Bork, taking up station between him and Nomin.

"Well, perhaps we can get back to the subject at hand. Mr Varlyump, what are the three elements of any spell?"

"The fundamentus, miss."

"Thank you, Mr Varlyump. But now perhaps you could answer my question and tell me what they are?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Mana Evocare, Ducta Potentia, and Artis Sigilum, miss," he added hurriedly.

"Correct. Summoning mana, channelling mana, and shaping mana. The amount of mana you can summon is dependent on what, Miss von Planeslakker?"

"Your magic stat."

"Not quite, Gangle. A fuller answer is required." I glanced across. So this was the focus of Bork's teenage desires. Gangle was an appropriate name for her. The girl had all the teenage gawkiness I had imagined Bork would be drawn to, a fellow creature of bones and awkward angles. But she had sharp, intelligent eyes set above a hawkish nose that promised that while she might never grow up to be classically beautiful, she would be striking.

"Your magic stat and… your adeptness?"

"Proficiency might have been a better word to use, but the concept is the same. As I'm sure Mr Crackslast must be aware of all this because he appears to be talking to Mr de Bulshack." The pair behind me fell silent.

"Mr Crackslast, perhaps you could inform us of the widely used methods of improving one's proficiency at channelling mana?" She crossed her arms and glared past my shoulder. If it had been flesh and not bone, I suspect my arm would have burst into flame at the intensity of her look.

"Er… I don't know, miss." It was good to know that Nomin's mate was a meathead. I didn't move, and I was stuck smiling at all times anyway, so nothing changed in my appearance, but I'd like to think I radiated an aura of smug amusement. Bork made the noobie mistake of chuckling at the idiot's failure.

"Mr von Heffleslump?" Miss Gailspire said sharply.

"You have something to add?"

"Meditation and channelling rituals, miss," he said quickly. Good save, kid, but that was at best half the correct answer.

"Correct. What is involved in meditation?"

"Er… r-relaxing in a mana-rich environment?" he stammered.

"That is not a good use of your time, Bork. You should not be relaxing; you should be focusing on developing your perception of mana. Spells are not the only way to do magic." She held up a porcelain hand, and a ball of blue fire sprang into existence above it.

"This is not a spell, but it is magic fire and could burn anything I threw it at." The ball of flame blinked out of existence. My sight was far more attuned than anyone less than five millennia old could hope to match, and while she was decent, I could see that her own mana channels were both clogged and slightly worn out. It was common for casters who didn't study under a prodigy. Cleansing the channels was more important than strengthening them.

Those blockages caused pressure to build up, and when it comes to a fundamental force of the multiverse capable of reshaping reality… that was generally considered a very bad thing. Adding cleansing and enhancing Bork's mana channels to my list of things to do, I settled in to tolerate the rest of the lecture. She was rehashing the basics to check if her students had been paying attention. It was a passable job. Elspeth Firklethith, a distant memory from my third life, would have been disgusted.

Elspeth had had a thing about people being gimped by subpar instruction. Heroes were a bit like that, always trying to help everyone. The rest of the lesson washed over me, as I was sure it did most of the class. Not because it was boring or badly presented, at least from my perspective. It was the kind of thing I'd learned and taught many times. I had a feeling I was going to revolutionise the local education system, as long as I could find a way to let Bork take credit for it… A bell rang.

It was almost as consistent across the multiverse as the Goddess Karen that classes were complete when a bell broke the peace. Bork ate his lunch alone, bar myself, and he wasn't talkative. The kid flinched when anyone in his year so much as looked at him. Abarama had truly screwed me. I needed to turn this kitten into a zombie-summoning lion, and I needed to do it soon because this shit was just depressing.