Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker Chapter 9

The phone felt good in his hands. It wasn't uncomfortably big, and the material felt sturdy. It had to be unless they wanted to replace them every couple of months as the ambient magic fried them.

Software wise, the ones they'd stolen must have been bricked because it felt dated. The user interface was clunky and unintuitive; it made the whole thing feel sluggish. He needed to go through several nus before being able to access the small group of apps and find the map function the man had talked about.

Calling it a function was generous; it was just a static map you could zoom into. No 'you are here' or other interactive functions. It did serve its purpose and after figuring out he was in one of the fourth-year's buildings, he was able to find a path to field F.

Figuring he was most likely already late, he walked with haste. While the written exam had been unexpected, with how obsessed the Empire was with personal strength, he wasn't caught too off guard by having to do a practical.

A warning from Alice would have been nice, but at least she was going to help him in this next part. Their 'fight' did more than loosen him up a bit; it let him experience what level of skill could be expected from an Academy student. Coupled with the casual use of augntation Lily showed, he had a good idea of what was normal.

It was a little scary—how strong these noble brats were. He'd often heard that the Federation went for quantity while the Empire went for quality. Seeing the casual strength thrown about was another matter entirely. Against Kevin's team, sure, the man would put her down, but not without so casualties.

The scenery transitioned to a more forest-like atmosphere as he went deeper into the depths of the Academy. Eventually, he reached a worn, almost dilapidated structure. The box-shaped entrance protruded out while walls built with rusted sheet tal reached in either direction behind it. He reached the door, and finding it a little stuck, he pushed his shoulder into it, forcing it open. The interior looked to be a locker room, though there were signs that wasn't how it began. Sprawled on one of the benches was a bald man snoring away.

There was no way he was that late.

He approached him, noting the sll of booze and the flask still clutched in a hand hanging off the side.

He kicked the bench.

No response.

He kicked again.

Still nothing.

He kicked it harder.

The iron support snapped, and the man crumbled to the floor. Still asleep. Still clutching his flask.

Was this guy asleep or properly passed out?

A thought ca to him, and he reached for the flask. As his fingers neared it, the man's eyes shot open, and he scrambled back, colliding with a set of lockers while clutching his flask like a newborn.

His eyes darted everywhere before settling on Cal, looking relieved. "Ah, just a brat. Thought it was the devil herself co for my spirits."

The man wobbled to his feet, beer belly bouncing with him. Once steady, his first action was to take a swig from his flask; it wasn't well aid as alcohol dripped down his long gray beard.

Cal was beginning to think all the teachers in the Academy were famous for the wrong reasons.

"You're late, I think. Grab your weapon and let's get this over with." He slurred his words while banging his fist on one of the lockers, knocking it open to reveal a spear.

Cal recognized it; it was the one he picked out from the Ardere storehouse. Claire had been insistent he pick one out, saying it would look poor of them if they sent him without a weapon. He'd accepted the offer, recognizing the need to look like he needed a focus. The selection offered to him was...poor, or maybe he was just spoiled.

All cold weapons, which was fine as they tended to outperform firearms at the higher levels, but the materials seed suspect and the focus themselves subpar. It was just a prop in the end, so he chose the spear.

The man led him out another door, through a tunnel, and into an open space. His previous suspicions were proved correct, and an open-air stadium revealed itself to him. The space was empty except for a single figure swinging a shining blade. He'd not sensed him before, so despite the look of this place, the dampening wards were still functional.

"Boy! What are yer doing out here? This is my napping grounds!" The man yelled shalessly.

The figure, a young man, stopped what he was doing and approached.

"Well, that's a pity." He flashed his phone. "I did book it."

"You know I don't use that. Everyone knows this is my here spot."

"With that attitude, the tis are going to leave you behind, Ferg."

"Let them. I'm too old to be worrying about it."

There wasn't any heat in their words. The exchange resembled family bickering more than anything else. Though family, they were surely not. The young man could have been a sculpture co to life. He'd clearly been practicing, with the sweat making his clothes stick to his body. It only highlighted his inhuman perfection, sohow having not a single silver hair out of place.

He flashed Cal a friendly smile. "And who's this?"

Cal didn't have a chance to respond.

"This is a new student for the practical." The newly dubbed Ferg reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of papers. Flipping through them. "I'm supposed to run him through so manifestations and then slap him around a bit." Ferg looked back to the young man and tossed the papers to the wind. "Er, all that matters is if he can fight. So do the slapping bit for ."

That sounded good to Cal. The manifestation part, not the slapping around. He knew a scant few advanced manifestations; none of them were fire-based. The more advanced manifestations did give you more utility; however, more often than not, he could kill whatever he needed faster by just overcharging a basic one. He'd found better uses of his ti than training with them.

"Well, alright, I'll try not to rough him up too much." The young man gave him another easygoing smile.

Cal didn't like it.

He took his spear and got into position a dozen ters away. His opponent lounged without a stance, his rapier pointed in Cal's direction.

Neither moved. The man gave a roll of his eyes and took the initiative.

Slow, was all Cal thought as the man approached. Slower than Alice, slower than Lily, and of course slower than him.

While his skill in manifestation, the usage of magic externally, might be lacking, he more than made up for in augntation, and that was what mattered in a fight. It's why he was confident Alice could take out so of Kevin's n.

All the magically infused bullets in the world ant nothing if your opponent moved faster than you could aim. Such a powerful ability did co with drawbacks, mainly that it was slow to progress. Over ti, anyone who regularly used it would find their body more easily accepting of magic flowing within itself.

The key problem is that it wasn't enough. Not if you wanted to reach the top. To accomplish that, you needed to forcefully run the magic through yourself. If the user lapsed in concentration while doing this, they could end up hurting themselves more than their opponent would have. It also had its natural limits, points where you'd start to break yourself regardless of skill.

If soone was dumb enough to push past that? There wouldn't be a body to bury.

Cal used his right hand to thrust his spear past his opponent's guard and towards his throat. The man's eyes widened and, in a burst of movent, angled his rapier to nudge Cal's spear, making it go wide and then resting his blade on Cal's throat.

"Was almost a bit careless, my mistake," the man said with a wink, withdrawing his blade and stepping back a couple of steps.

Cal was rather proud of his restraint, being able to stop himself from instinctively pushing his augntation enough to avoid the attack.

They sized each other up anew. Cal understood he wasn't ant to win this. He was just going to show basic competence and call it a day. Alice wanted him to restrain himself, and while that was all well and good, he couldn't be shown to be too weak. Otherwise, he could picture these noble types trying to take advantage of him.

"You just gonna stand there staring all lovey-dovey or fight?" Ferg heckled from the sideline.

Cal took the lead this ti, closing the gap and sweeping his spear low towards the man's legs. He simply hopped over before making a stabbing motion towards Cal. He made to block only to once again find the man's blade on his throat and that irkso smile.

They separated again. Cal shifted the spear in his grip, getting a better feel for its weight.

He went in again, opting for a forward thrust. Before their weapons clashed, he attempted to pull back and change angles. He proved too slow, and the man used his rapier to hook around Cal's spear tip and pull it forward. Cal stumbled a step and found the blade on his neck again. That damn smile shone in his direction.

They retook their positions.

This wasn't working. The man's augntation was higher than his current self-imposed limit.

New plan.

His spear erupted in fla, and he stabbed it forward, the fire shooting out.

Affinities, the world seed partly obsessed with them. It wasn't a complicated concept; having an affinity just ant that your usage of the elent would produce stronger results than soone without. Those with stronger affinities also tended to have more magic in general. That ant stronger magic shells and augntation.

None of that mattered when he could just shove magic down the throat of anything he wanted and mostly couldn't die. He didn't even bother using the one affinity he did have. As for now?

Given his 'family' he'd be playing with fire.

The man sidestepped the fla and Cal swung the spear in a wide arc, sending more fire his way. It failed to hinder the man as he ducked before reaching lee range again. Another exchange of weapons. Another blade on his throat. Another smile.

They took a healthy distance again without a word. Cal didn't hesitate and launched a new barrage of fla. Not as stupidly excessive as Alice had, but either way it ended the sa as hers. With his opponent avoiding the attack, none the worse for wear.

Cal frowned. Was this how she felt? Maybe he should apologize.

They closed in, and the dance played out again.

A brief exchange and a blade on his throat, a smile on his opponent's face.

Frustration was starting to bubble up within him. He was starting to look like a chump.

"Bwahahaha, what's the matter, brat? First ti you ever held a spear?"

It was, and the peanut gallery was not helping.

Cal didn't know how to use a spear. Scratch that; he didn't even know how to fight. His modus operandi was to bully with his superior speed, cram an unreasonable amount of magic into a wind manifestation concentrated over a small area, wait for an opening, and then shove said manifestation into vitals.

It worked; it worked fantastically. Sotis, he didn't even have to wait for an opening. Other tis he could give himself one by letting them kill him. It's amazing how fast things let their guard down when the thing they were fighting was in pieces.

It was a great strategy. One that served him well and one that fell apart when he had to fight soone near or beyond him in physical abilities. Case in point, Millie could and had beat him like a drum whenever she felt up for a spar. Even accounting for the magic it had been saturated with, his body was still comparatively young. He just couldn't push it to the sa limits she could. That didn't an he'd lose to her in an actual fight. Humans had stupidly exposed vitals and shell or not, he just needed one shot to end it. That and she'd eventually run out of gas.

Hmm, in reality, it was difficult to see her losing. It was a good thing they got along now.

Their weapons crossed again; this ti Cal's was flung from his hand.

He retrieved it.

This was very irritating. This guy was more than a bit stronger than Alice, so his self-imposed limit was worthless. Did he misjudge her? Was she actually on the weaker end of the students?

That sounded right.

She might have lied, and the real reason she didn't want him to show off was to avoid the embarrassnt of being upstaged. It made sense why House Ardere was in such dire straits with her as heir.

In that case. He gripped his spear, sliding his taphorical notch up a couple of places—just enough to match the man, maybe just a hair over.

He didn't want to go overboard.

Less than a breath and he was on him. Spear flashing out in a barrage hits, the man frantically backpedaled while parrying each away.

Cal maintained the pressure. A flash of light and Cal's spear struck an incorporeal barrier.

He slamd it with a glut of fire, and it shattered. However, its purpose had been served, and when their weapons found each other again, the man had regained the upper hand. It wasn't a rout, not like before. But Cal was losing ground; it was only a matter of ti.

The man was already smiling. That sa fucking smile. Suddenly, it dawned on him. Why he found it so annoying.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

It was the sa smile the Second Seat liked to wear. The narcissistic prick. That wasn't fair; the man had helped him out in the end. Either that or his reputation was vastly overblown. Cal doubted that; the Constellation was filled with freaks.

Still, a colossal prick who tried to give him the nickna 'the strongest roach'.

One step back.

Two steps.

Three.

His stance was unsteady.

He could feel it. Any mont now.

The spear flew from his hands.

The blade flew towards his throat.

That sa fucking smile.

Cal blinked. Wondering what that crunch was.

"Ah shit!" Ferg yelled, dashing over.

Cal could agree.

"Rolland! Shit! Wake yer ass up!" Ferg kneeled by the man who was now so distance away and on his back after being rag-dolled.

Cal stared at his bloody fist and felt he should be fleeing the scene of a cri.

Rolland's head shook, and he pushed Ferg back. "I-I'm fine Ferguson, just let my guard down. Again."

So not dead, good. Getting hit by a murder charge this early? Olivia would be less than pleased.

"Ya blistering idiot, letting your shell down!" Ferguson banged on Rolland's chest, earning a groan.

It was an unwarranted rebuke; Cal had simply shattered the shell.

"If you hadn't gotten it up in ti, I'd be running!"

Rolland….why did that na sound a little familiar?

"Father woul- might, understand," Rolland said with bloodstained teeth while rising to his feet.

Seeing that broken nose gave Cal so satisfaction. Even if it was healing faster than he'd liked.

Well, he'd still have to wash the blood out of his shirt.

"Like hells he would," Ferguson rose as well, erupting in a full belly laughter. "Bwahaha, as much as a scare that gave . Aint every day you see the Crown Prince get his face caved in."

The what?

Oh. OH. That's why he recognized the na.

Shit.

Assaulting a future head of state may not have been on his bucket list, but it sure was now.

Rolland approached.

"I hope you realize your actions have grave consequences." The usual smile was gone, replaced by a grim expression. "An attack of that caliber on my person can be t with decades of imprisonnt."

Rolland looked serious; Ferguson too had lost his cheer and looked to finally be sober.

Cal shifted uncomfortably in place. Damn Empire with its draconian laws and social structure.

This was not ideal. Any warhawk worth their salt would be crying for Federation blood if they found out the agent they let in attacked the crown prince shortly after eting him. 'Practical Exam' or not, Cal knew how those people twisted things.

This couldn't get out. It needed to die here on this field. His fist clenched and his eyes hardened; he could do it quickly and burn the remains. Scatter the ashes. With the wards, no one would have noticed the fight.

He was a killer. There was no changing that, nor would he want to. But this? It was cold. They'd done nothing to him. At the sa ti, how many would die if this reached the wrong people's ears?

His rambling thoughts slowed as he recalled key details. They'd know he was scheduled with Ferguson to be tested and that Rolland had booked this place.

Unprovoked murder was off the table. His fist loosened. That made him feel better, but still left the question.

How in the hells did he salvage this situation?

Rolland turned to Ferguson, pointing at Cal with his thumb. "Did he just contemplate killing us both?"

Ferguson nodded sagely. "Aye, been on the other end of that look enough tis to tell."

Rolland laughed, "Amusing, well, don't worry. This will be our little secret, but I do want sothing in return." He wrapped an arm around Cal. "Don't you worry, it's nothing big; I'd just like to know the na of the person I'll have to ask for a rematch."

Cal responded promptly.

"It's Kevin."

If the gods still lived, he'd curse their humor. Since they didn't, he just cursed his luck as one of the previously discarded papers fluttered to the floor in front of them. One that had the na Callum prominently printed on the top.

Cal shoved him off. He'd already punched the dude after all.

Rolland took it in stride and laughed. "Well, I should go get washed up. Be seeing you around, Callum."

He was going to end up punching that guy again, Cal decided. It was just going to happen, like Mask committing culinary war cris or actual war cris.

Speaking of which, he was hungry. He was accustod to sotis forgetting to eat, but today had been a long day, and he needed so comfort food. Fortunately, there were several dining options. He picked the most central, wanting to check it out even if it was a bit of a walk back.

Crossing the campus, he found it a lot more busy than before, with students walking all around. Judging by their appearance, they were Juniors. He hadn't seen them before, and it was the weekend; maybe they were at so orientation? None of them paid him any attention.

He found his destination, just another large, ostentatious building like the many he passed before. Going inside, he rembered the lack of cash on him. Maybe there was a al plan? He'd never thought to ask, being unused to paying for things.

The cafeteria, because whatever fancy na they gave it didn't change what it was, reminded him of the Federation's ss hall in terms of activity. The energy? That was vastly different. Whereas the diners in the Federation spoke in soft and taciturn voices, everyone here seed to try and talk over the next table. He felt he should find it unpleasant, especially with the occasional high-pitched screech thrown in. Strangely, he couldn't find any distaste in himself.

He found a staff mber and approached them. The man ended up being very helpful, informing him that the new cufflinks he'd worn had a certain magical signature that determined what al plan you were on. His was good enough for here, as it lit up the small podium at the entrance to one of the lines. He'd have to ask Alice for the details later. He piled up so food and found an empty corner to sit at.

As he ate, he admired the newest addition to his uniform. Ferguson had thrown them to him, giving so abbreviated speech that he thought was supposed to officially welco him to the Academy. It was hard to tell as the man had needed to go take a piss. At least he was nice enough to get his spear sent to his official locker, wherever that was.

The cufflinks themselves were about the size of a nickel and made of so silver alloy. They looked rather nice, with the emblem of the Academy carved on them. It did look a bit different from the ones he'd seen Alice wear—just another add to his list of questions.

Life's funny; he was originally planning to ignore her upon arriving here, but now he found himself relying on her a little. Well, he could always try plan A again once he got the info he needed.

A hand grabbed his collar and yanked him out of his chair, dragging him along. He kept eating his burrito, recognizing the combusting hair.

She dragged him into so type of supply closet, slamming the door shut.

He took another bite.

Her eye twitched.

He tried another bite and tasted ash.

Very rude.

He let what remained of his al scatter as he wiped the remaining ash on his uniform. This ended up not being the reaction she wished for because she grabbed his shirt and threw him against the wall, pinning him and causing the structure to shudder.

"What. Did. You. Do." Her face was inches apart from his. Her breath wafted over.

His nose wrinkled.

"Eat? What did I pick the wrong thing, I see you had the tuna."

His joke did nothing to alleviate the situation.

"How. When. No, WHY did you assault the Crown Prince!" She exclaid, rather frantic.

He wiped the spit from his face, still suspended against the wall.

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I?" A look of outrage ca over her. "It's all over the Academy, a new student assaulted THE Crown Prince."

"And how do you know that's ?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I-it's... not?" She dropped him, stepping back with relief and embarrassnt intermingling on her face. "Apologies, I shoul-"

"I an, it is, but how do you know that?"

And he was against the wall again.

"Explain, how after telling you to avoid conflict." She gritted out, "You managed to accomplish this feat."

"I had to. He was my spar partner in my practical."

Her grip tightened, but it didn't seem to be out of anger anymore.

"You speak truth? You swear it? It was no duel or ambush?" He detected a hint of desperation in her voice.

He thought of ssing with her further, but seeing how distraught she was, "Yeah, I swear."

She let him go again, taking so shaky steps back.

"Ancestor's blessings, this situation is still grim but not as dire as I once believed." She held her hand to her chest as she steadied her breathing. "How did you even find yourself with the Crown Prince himself as your sparring partner?"

Good question. One he'd been asking himself. Was it truly a coincidence? Soone in the royal family knew what identity he'd been slipped in. If that person was the prince or soone close to him, they could have been trying to test him. He didn't know, and he wasn't too interested in finding out either.

He kept his suspicions to himself.

"Not sure. He seed chummy with the teacher. Ferguson?"

"Ferguson? Ferguson The Tremor was the proctor?" He nodded. "The situation improves. He may be of questionable character, but his status as a forr mber of the Fingers ans his testimony, should it be required, would be irrefutable."

That drunk used to be one of the Fingers? Cal knew them only by reputation; they were an analog to the Federation's Constellation.

Sort of.

The comnts he'd heard from his colleagues suggested they were more nuisances than true threats. If Ferguson used to be one, he could see why they'd think that.

Of course, their leaders were a wholly different story.

"I apologize." Alice bowed her head. "I acted rashly and accused you without proper knowledge."

"It's fine." It wasn't but the apology looked sincere enough. "I thought you'd still be mad though?"

She blinked, considering his words.

"Is there sothing you're not telling ?" She asked with an edge to her voice.

Many things.

"No, just isn't it illegal to hit a royal?"

"In a spar?" Her voice conveyed confusion. "I should think not."

Yep, hitting him extra hard next ti.

One other thing was still bothering him, the question she hadn't answered.

"How did you find out? The prick said he'd keep quiet."

Then again, Rolland had only agreed if Cal gave him his na, which he lied about. But the whole premise of the agreent was a lie because he didn't even commit a cri...

How much does that guy need a functioning jaw?

"Please do not call our future Emperor that." She fished out her phone, showing what looked to be a forum. "A student witnessed his bloodied clothes and inquired about his health; he claid a new student struck him." Her eyes narrowed. "How did you accomplish that?"

"I punched him."

"Surely you jest," she replied with a pained expression.

"No." He shook his head. "He disard but let his guard down, so I socked him in the face. Was pretty funny in hindsight." He ended with a chuckle; she wasn't laughing.

"Please never do such an underhanded thing again." She rubbed her forehead "Even so, I find this all hard to believe." She saw his confusion. "The prince is ranked strongest in the Academy, even off guard, you should not have been able to land a blow."

He might have misread the situation.

"I, myself, rank seventh and do not believe I could do the sa. Provided I willingly stooped so low," she said with so perplexity.

Good news, the Federation doesn't have to worry about an army of superpowered Noble brats.

Bad news, he might have just overplayed his hand a little.

"I was an unknown, and you've seen yourself how light on my feet I can be. He was also taking it easy to begin with; I just surprised him." All very true and valid points; he just left out the part about his own sandbagging.

"I suppose that's possible," she mumbled, still deep in thought. "Even with the events as you described, it would be better if this did not get out. I would ask you to keep a low profile to better our chances."

"Low profile." He gave a wry smile. "You an like not getting dragged out of a packed cafeteria and shoved into a closet."

Her face paled. "Surely, they would not draw such a conclusion."

"I can think of a couple of other conclusions they can draw with all the banging and screaming. I wonder which one they're leaning towards." He reached for the door. "Let's ask them."

He swung it open and was t with a crowd of students. So of them had their phones out with their flashes going off. There were more than he expected. He shut the door.

"Change of plans, how much are they going to charge us for one of these walls?"