The forest had gone unnaturally still. Even the wind held its breath. He could feel it before he saw it. That pulse of corrupted mana.
Then it emerged. The centicorn. It was a rather awe inspiring creature, standing at about five meters in height with its deer-like lower body and human-like upper body. Meter long antlers with numerous branches. The book said they had fifty branches per horn. Four powerful clawed arms to match its legs. A distorted human-like face with two serpent-like eyes, slits for a nose and a large mouth filled with three rows of long serrated teeth, and it was a rather spot on description of this eldritch horror. From beside him, Ida exhaled sharply, pulling off her scarf and blouse to reveal a tight black camisole beneath. Her skin gleamed faintly with heat, her body was already warming for battle. “Better to have left those at home,” Hyperion muttered under his breath. She caught the glance. “Wouldn’t want my beautiful blouse getting torn, would I?” she teased, eyes locked on the centicorn. “Try to keep up.” Before he could respond, she vanished, leaving a burst of flame where she stood. The centicorn reared and bellowed, shaking the air with a sound that was part roar, part shriek. Ida was already upon it. Her fist, cloaked in a spiraling flame, slammed into the creature’s jaw with enough force to send its head whipping sideways. A thunderclap followed the impact. The monster stumbled, then steadied itself with a snarl. From its back unfurled thick vine-like appendages, barbed with bone. They whipped toward Ida in a blur, hissing through the air. She twisted, rolled, and flipped through the barrage, leaving trails of heat that turned the vines to ash where they came too close. Hyperion watched, eyes narrowing. "She’s faster than last time," he commented. But the centicorn was learning. It lunged forward, slamming its claws into the earth. The ground shattered, throwing dust and debris into the air. Ida darted back, a fraction too slow. One of the protrusions slashed her arm. She hissed but smiled through the pain. “Didn’t even break the skin properly,” she said, voice wild with adrenaline. The beast roared again, its body convulsing as dark energy rippled across its hide. The earth beneath its hooves blackened, and its eyes glowed crimson. It charged. Trees cracked, the earth trembled. Ida barely leapt aside in time, her hair whipping in the gust of its passing strike. The creature’s claws tore through an entire row of oaks as if they were parchment. Hyperion saw his moment. He gathered light at his fingertips, condensing magical energy until it burned white-hot. When the centicorn stumbled from its own momentum, he unleashed the energy in a blinding burst, a lance of light that seared through the air toward its heart. It hit, but the creature twisted unnaturally, avoiding the full brunt of the blast. The beam grazed its shoulder, slicing through flesh and charring its skin. It shrieked, a sound that rattled Hyperion the forest insects. Ida was already back in motion. She launched herself skyward with twin jets of flame from her feet, arcing above the creature’s reach. Fire gathered around her fists and coiled down her arms like living serpents. “Let’s see how you like this!” A volley of fireballs rained down, exploding across the centicorn’s torso. The air shook, smoke rising in thick plumes. When it cleared, the beast was still standing, but its flesh smoked, and parts of its antlers had begun to crack. The centicorn screamed. Birds burst from the forest in a frenzy, fleeing the sheer force of its voice. Its back split open, revealing a fan of tendrils, dozens this time, each writhing like independent predators. “Hyperion!” Ida shouted as they lashed toward her. He didn’t hesitate. “On your mark!” He bolted at the beast, sweeping both pairs of the creatures limb. The sheer speed disoriented the chimera. “Now!” Hyperion called. Ida ignited like a comet. She descended in a blaze of cobalt, spinning through the air before driving her heel into the centicorn’s face with an explosion of flame. The impact shattered part of its jaw. “Got you,” she whispered through gritted teeth. The creature thrashed wildly, snapping uncontrollably. Hyperion grunted, sliding back as debris tore past. Ida dropped beside him, panting. “This thing’s tougher than it looks.” “Then stop holding back,” he replied. She smirked. “You first.” They both charged. Hyperion’s beam carved into its side again, while Ida’s fire surged upward in a dragon’s roar. Together, their attacks converged—light and flame intertwining in a blinding explosion. The centicorn staggered. Its roars grew weaker, its movements sluggish. One last spark of ferocity remained in its eyes before Ida propelled herself upward one final time, her right arm engulfed in white-hot flame. With a cry that shook the clearing, she sliced through the creature’s neck in a single sweeping motion. The head fell, hitting the ground with a heavy, echoing thud. Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of fading flames. The forest, long still, began to breathe again. Ida landed gracefully, her hair fluttering, the faint glow fading from her hands. She wiped sweat from her brow and grinned. “Now, are you convinced I’m strong enough, or should I go hunt one of the Great Disasters next?” Hyperion exhaled, lowering his glowing hands. “Show-off.” She laughed, dragging the severed head by its antlers. “You love it.” *** After defeating the second class chimera, they were able to sell its corpse to the townsmen and take the reward. "Thank you for your service", the aged man behind the desk told them as they were leaving. "Perhaps you could help us with one more mission?", he asked. "No thank you", Hyperion replied hastily. “We have to leave, and I'm sure one of the huntsmen will come by soon,“ Hyperion said hoping the man didn't catch on to his lie . After the duo got home, Ida jumped onto the bed to take a nap. "Wanna join me?" she asked expectantly, but Hyperion just stared at her before going to lie in one of the other rooms. Three hours passed and Hyperion got up and went into Ida's room. "Wake up", he said as he tapped her several times. She rose up with a grumpy face. "It's the middle of the night, why are you waking me", she asked in a sleepy voice. But he just picked her from the bed and into his arms. She gasped and then proceeded to cover her face. ''The sun hasn't even completely set yet, stop overreacting". He said as he dropped her on the couch, where after an intense session of eye rubbing, she asked; "what!?". "We need to plan our journey tomorrow", I said matter of factly. "Huh, we are leaving tomorrow, I thought we would have at least a week before we left. After a moment of lingering silence, she shrugged, "I guess it's you after all. So, which one of the eight cities are we going to, she asked. "Iadica, obviously", he replied. "It is the city with the highest number of huntsman applicants and the furthest from Terra media. It has the lowest probability of us getting caught". "We are just a bunch of underage mages, not some fugitives, do we have to go to the furthest city from here just to evade the government", she asked with an exhausted look on her face. "I am just being cautious", Hyperion replied . "Well, you're the boss, now can I go back to sleep?" she asked, feigning niceness. He sighed, "sure, but we leave for Medes at the tenth hour" *** The next day, the newly reunited duo left Toa and headed to a port, where they paid for a carriage to take them to Medes. It didn't seem to bother Ida that they would be leaving a place she had been staying for years and not coming back for a while. In the carriage, Ida lay on Hyperion’s lap despite his insistence that she didn't, "Rion", she said in a sleepy tone, "is there a possibility we would die if we go on this adventure of yours?". "I told you, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Yes it will be dangerous, but I wouldn't want to go if I didn't think we could handle it". She heaved a sigh before closing her eyes. *** The journey back to Medes took eight hours, and they arrived in the evening. Out of nowhere, Corriander sprinted at them and gave Ida a hug. Hyperion recounted describing Ida to her some years back, but he didn't expect her to remember or react like this. Even Ida was surprised. "Come child, let me take those bags inside", Corriander said as she took Ida’s bags and hurried into the house. “I guess I don't require assistance,” Hyperion murmured as he got into the house. When they got into the house, Hyperion opted for sleep, while Ida decided to stay with my mother and entertain her with stories, “I probably wouldn't want my mother to hear some of these tales,” Hyperion thought, but didn't care enough to try and stop them. They spent days just living as if they were some average family, doing chores, hunting, cooking, eating and talking. Corriander seemed elated, and Hyperion was glad she was. He had no intention of keeping to the visiting quota she had set for him especially now that he was heading to one of the eight cities in the mainland. So he at least wanted her to be happy now that he was here and it seemed Ida helped him fulfill that.Latest Chapter
Draft
Emotional exhaustion from his meeting with the Wilkinsons had Hyperion drifting straight into bed the moment he returned to his dorm. He didn’t bother to change or even pull the curtains; he simply let gravity take him. Sleep claiming him almost instantly.He woke two hours later to the bell ringing in unbroken intervals. Hyperion blinked slowly, disoriented, turning his head toward his roommate. Malachi stood at the table, fastening the last button on his uniform jacket.“Can I ask…?” Hyperion muttered, still half-asleep.“There’s an assembly concerning the upcoming Ludus Gentium,” Malachi replied, knotting his tie. “The principal will be there. You might want to hurry, it starts in forty minutes.”That roused him. Hyperion sat up, shook the heaviness out of his limbs, and dressed quickly. His brain was sluggish and dry, still rattled from the conversation with the Wilkinsons.He headed toward a hall he’d never visited since his enrollment. A vast, circular hall made of whitesone. Th
The table
It was morning at Zenith Academy and it carried a quiet gloom, but with a heavier gloom than usual. Hyperion walked through the corridor with a calm stride, though the events of the previous night still pressed at the back of his mind. The memory-wipe spell around Daigan, the holes riddled in his brain, and the array of possibilities, each detail clung stubbornly, refusing to loosen its grip. He was halfway toward the central assembly hall when someone called out to him. “Mr. Hyperion.” Hyperion turned. It was a stern, stiff-backed woman, with black hair and strands of green and grey in it, wearing a navy green jumpsuit and a cape of waist length. “The principal would like a word,” she said. “Immediately.” Hyperion nodded once, offering no visible reaction, though a faint tremor of expectation rose in him. Being summoned by the principal was rare in the school as he was seldom associated with students directly. The walk to the principal’s office took only a few minutes, as
Forgotten by morning
What could possibly be serious enough to make Malachi come seeking him? Hyperion wondered as he followed the boy through the hallway. The academy always felt colder at evenings, the lamps flickering as though nervous. Malachi walked with his usual quietness, back straight, steps measured, eyes forward. But there was tension in his shoulders, something brittle and tightly wound.They reached their dorm room. Malachi slipped inside first and Hyperion locked the door. He watched him for a moment before speaking.“Well then,” Hyperion said lightly, “what, pray tell, is the problem?”“I found a corpse,” Malachi replied bluntly.The words dropped like lead. Hyperion blinked once. Twice. He had expected trouble, but this…“A corpse,” Hyperion repeated slowly. “Where?”“In one of the classes,” Malachi said. “I saw it when I was passing by. I inferred it may be connected to your… reason for being here. So I assumed it was best to alert you first.”Hyperion’s expression tightened, perplexed, fo
Ida Vs Gallagher
“Hah,” Gallagher roared. “You really think I’d stoop to holding the hands of green ears, and a woman at that?”“You’re not holding my hand,” Ida replied coolly. “It’s just a friendly spar. No need to be a misogynistic ass about it.”“You bi...”“Language! Both of you,” Mr. Thomeaux barked. “And you, Gallagher, it’s tradition. Anyone who applies has the right to pick who he or she spars against. So pick a weapon and get to the floor.”“See you on the dance floor,” Ida jeered as she walked past him.After a set of routine stretches, the two of them stood face to face. The cold wind brushed against Ida’s skin, carrying with it the briefest moment of quiet. Mr. Thomeaux shattered it.“Basic use of magical augmentation. No use of spells or magic power. Winner is the first person to force surrender or land a clean shot. And, begin!”***Ida had to admit. Gallagher was good with his sword. His opening slash came from above, sharp and forceful. She blocked by wrapping her arms in the chain, t
Practice and provocation
When the match ended, Victor Moses blew his whistle one final time.“Okay, that’s it for today’s P.E. lesson. Great game, everyone. Now wash up and get to your next class. Seriously, great game out there. You have a lot of promise,” he said, directing the last line toward Hyperion as he approached.Hyperion acknowledged the praise with a simple nod before heading toward the locker room.A loud thud cracked through the corridor behind him. One of Gallagher’s teammates collapsed to the tiled floor, clutching his jaw after receiving a punch.“Your sheepishly slow movements cost us the game, Tyrese,” Gallagher snarled, his voice low and venomous. “Because of you, I’ll never hear the end of this.”“Stop it, you babe,” Hamilton said sharply from across the room. “Perhaps we played different matches, because I don’t remember it being only Tyrese’s fault that you lost.”Gallagher scoffed. “You’re right.”He turned and walked straight toward Hyperion.“It’s more yours,” he hissed. “In all my y
Ascent of ten balls
After leaving Aurora’s office, Hyperion made his way to the venue of the next lesson. The field stretched wide before him, carpeted in low, neatly trimmed orange grass. Scattered across its expanse stood tall, pole-like platforms of varying heights and widths, each one sleek and black, their arrangement like a forest of metal trees. Around the edges of the field, the borders were marked by artificial grass dyed a deep, obsidian shade. The students gathered at the sidelines, murmuring among themselves, when a tall man in a tracksuit approached from the field. He stood nearly two meters in height, with a sharp buzz cut, a trimmed goatee, and the solid frame of someone who lived and breathed physical training. “Well, students,” he began in a voice that carried across the grounds, “I’m your P.E. teacher, Mr. Victor Moses. In standard fifth-year fashion, you shall be welcomed to physical education class with a round of Decibola Ascensio.” A collective murmur spread through the group —
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