As the class drew to a close, the familiar rhythm of the day's events unfolded, mirroring the cycles of the past. I made my way to the academy gate, where the imposing figure of a Level 10 echelon hunter stood sentinel. Aware of the futility of confrontation, I knew that requesting egress was nigh impossible. Exhausting every conventional means, I recalled Vale's whispered secret: a hidden passage, a hole in the wall at the academy's rear. I found it, and with a surge of relief, confirmed the truth of his words. Slipping through the narrow aperture, I emerged into a world of contrasts, where modern edifices mingled with fantasy architecture, and horse-drawn carriages traversed streets alongside the whispers of magic.
The midnight hour lent an air of desolation to the streets, save for a cluster of patrons emerging from a nearby inn. I entered, securing a room for the night with the allowance Nolan had provided. The local currency, pounds: 1 pound equated to 20 shillings, with 1 shilling further divisible into 12 pence.
Dawn broke, and I made my way to the station, where a steam locomotive awaited departure in 30 minutes. I procured a ticket from Beryl to Aetherhaven, the humble hometown of Jangre and Nolan's currently working, where my farm awaited.
I arrived at my farm, conveyed thither by a rustic carriage, and strode towards a figure diligently tending a flock of sheep. A man, weathered by the elements, scattered feed amongst the woolly throng, his movements imbued with a quiet diligence.
"Father," I greeted, and Nolan's countenance registered shock, his response tinged with bewilderment.
"Why are you here? Why are you not at the academy?"
"The academy holds no future for me," I declared, my voice unruffled. "You may redirect the funds you borrowed from the bank; my education is a foregone investment."
"Waste, you say? I toiled tirelessly so you might grasp the opportunities afforded by that prestigious academy, and now you've cast it all aside to return here?" Nolan's voice simmered with a mix of anger and disillusionment.
"The academy exists merely to shepherd us along a predetermined path, to mould us in their image. Yet, despite a decade or more within its hallowed halls, I find myself stagnant, unyielding to their shaping. Pray, understand me, Father," I implored, my gaze locked upon his.
"Very well, Son," he said, his visage softening. "Go inside and take some sustenance." Nolan's smile, though weary, brought a measure of peace.
'I shall not permit you to fall, Nolan.'
1 year had passed.
I ventured into the forest abutting our farm, a domain where nimrods lurked, drawing hunters from Aetherhaven to test their mettle. Leo, my loyal canine companion, now two years of age and robust, paced beside me. My senses on high alert, I recoiled and lunged towards a black-skinned, serpentine nimrod. My sword arc sliced through its neck, and the creature's ebony blood splattered upon me, drenching my white shirt and brown breeches.
Unrelenting, Leo and I pressed onward, claiming the lives of numerous Level 14 echelon nimrods, and several of Level 13. Though I remained at peak Level 13 echelon, the beasts fell with relative ease beneath my blade. As dusk gathered, we concluded our hunt and returned to the farm. Leo received his due repast, the flock of sheep already tended by Nolan. I sought rest in our shed, weariness settling upon me like a shroud.
Dawn broke, and Leo and I ventured once more into the forest's depths, our blades thirsty for the hunt. We culled a fair number of nimrods, until sounds drifted upwards from the cliff's base – the clash of steel, the murmur of voices. Creeping closer, we espied four figures encircling two others, swords drawn, poised for the kill. Their words, fraught with tension, carried to our ears...
"Why were you attacking your own teammates?" the black-haired, well-built man asked, attired in black shirt and trousers.
"What do you surmise?" the bright blue-haired woman asked, her smug smile playing on lips as she addressed the man. Her attire, a mirror to his, seemed tailored for the shadows.
The two men found themselves at a disadvantage, outnumbered by their opponents – a woman and three men, each possessing a formidable physique. "You'll know, regardless; death awaits you both," the woman declared, her tone as tranquil as a summer's eve.
"The Abraham clan eliminates those with promise, harnessing their Prana to craft pills that grant swift advance. Yet, our craft demands subjects of at least Level 11 echelon for the elixir to hold true potency. You two, stagnating at Level 10, were... adequate. Our party, comprising three Level 10s and one Level 11, shall now claim your essence. The explanation ends here; your demise begins." The woman's smile broadened, a cruel gleam in her eye.
"Why would the Abraham clan deem you four unworthy of conversion into pills?" the man queried. His companion stood mute, hands resting on his sword's hilt, a silent sentinel.
"Why would they seek to slain their own kin, you simpleton?" The woman's laughter was a cold, mirthless sound as she spoke. A lightning spell coalesced in her hand, and with a swift gesture, she hurled it at the two men.
The silent man, sword in hand, cleaved the lightning bolt asunder and lunged towards the woman and her three companions. In a fleeting instant, he felled all three men – a blur of steel and motion, lost to my gaze – and trained his blade upon the woman.
"Hey, we can tal—" Thud. Before she could frame another syllable, the man severed the woman's head, his gaze flicking towards me. Our eyes locked for a fleeting moment; then, he turned away.
A presence stirred behind me. As I turned, a man with long, black hair and flowing Chinese robes met my gaze, a smile playing on his lips.
"I am Guan Yu," he declared, his smile warm and measured. "And you are...?" The other man appeared at his side, eyes watchful.
'This man is a tempest – dangerous, unpredictable.' The thought whispered through my mind.
"I am Jangre Nolan," I replied, striving for calm amidst the turmoil.