Casual Heroing

When I look the students in the eyes, I seem to be dissociating from reality. A part of me slowly leaves my body and observes it from afar. They are happy; they are mostly smiling. Even if this is a fantasy world, they are as detached from reality as only students can be. They don’t know much about taxes beside tuition. They don’t know about creating their own business, and few have ever seen how hard life can be. And I’m not bashing them. I’m simply envious.

I’m envious because I came to the Nine Towers Academy as Joey but stayed as Gioeius. Gioeius is the only one who can have a reprieve here. But not Joey! Nope, sir! Joey has to rot behind the curtain. Bah, I’m just being dramatic. Better stop thinking about this before I start listening to emo music and only wear black.

Sipping from my thermos full of coffee, I wait in line to enter some kind of auditorium where they will speak about this new semester. A new year is starting, and recruits have flocked from every part of the country and beyond. If you are a [Mage] or if you want to become one, the Nine Towers Academy is where you want to be.

And that part of me, Gioeius, is happy. He’s excited and looking forward to what’s going to happen next. It’s something new, for Christ’s sake! That’s what he’s shouting to me. Why should I ruin the experience for myself just because I want to be all broody and dark? Haven’t I always hated the edgy boys who can’t enjoy life? Have a laugh, man. Enjoy what’s in front of you. Why should you start worrying now? Worry when shit hits the fan, not before. Stressing yourself in advance is just unwise.

And every time I look at myself through this lens, I can’t help but think Gioeius is right. I can still enjoy my life. So what if I have to wear a disguise? Don’t we all, really? Don’t we all wear a mask like common impostors whenever we speak to family, friends, and the like? So, is this so wrong?

Well, Lucinda certainly saw something twisted in what I was doing. She… refused to. She doesn’t want to pretend. She doesn’t want to ‘lose her identity.’ Meh. She’s still my girlfriend, I think. But she’s not committing to an elaborate ruse to just enjoy her time at the academy with other students. She said that this was definitely a terrible, terrible place. She doesn’t care about spending more time here.

But I—see, I never had this. None of this.

So, why shouldn’t I take this opportunity? What’s wrong with it, anyway?

Could it corrupt me? HA! Yeah, sure. I’d like to see that.

“Enter and take a seat. The [Grand Magus] Ariostus will be here shortly,” a [Guard] looks at me, Anneus, and Alba. There’s no real contempt in his eyes, but there’s also a marked disinterest. This guy has seen many students come, and probably just as many go, didn’t he?

“Let’s go, boys,” I tell my new clique.

The other [Mage], the one I had talked to before, ducked out after seeing I had associated with these two. I mean, I can understand him. If high school rules apply here, I just committed social suicide, didn’t I? Well, the sooner, the better. I like being labeled as the underdog. I’d rather people not expect shit, and then it blowing up in their faces. Hell, that’s how you build a good narrative.

“Why isn’t there an [Archmage]?” I ask the silent duo; they are both silent types, albeit for different reasons. Alba is clearly properly shy, afraid of her own body. Anneus, instead, even though he is the one with a disability, gives me the impression that he simply doesn’t care; the guy is shady. He doesn’t want too many eyes on him. I mean, considering that this guy seems a bit sleazy, it makes sense.

“[Archmages] don’t waste their time with first-year students. More than seventy percent of us will fail the midterm exam and flunk out of the academy,” Alba timidly explains. “That’s an average estimate. The actual failure rate could be even higher this year. Considering all that has been happening lately, they will try to weed out as many of us as possible.”

Huh, a place where midterms are actually important? Truly a fantasy land.

“What’s so difficult about it?”

“There’s politics involved – your faction, mentor, and friends. Here, that’s almost as important as being a good [Mage]. If you don’t enter the right social circles, you are done. Only the purest talents can survive on their own. But this year, especially, it’s all about politics. The recent events have shaken the academy. They need to replenish the number of loyalists after losing two [Archmages].”

That’s Anneus. My, oh my. What a positive guy.

“And you two do not have an outstanding social credit, I believe.”

“Us three, now,” Anneus shakes his head. “You could have spared me the act, man. I’m used to that. Green leaves bear the sweetest fruit.”

“Yeah, sure, Lupin, sure. Alba, isn’t your talent supposedly incredible because of…” I’m alluding to anything that I think is public knowledge, hoping I might land something. That’s because I actually have no idea if she is supposed to have a great talent or not.

“Females have a greater inclination for magic, yes,” she says.

“Huh?”

“Female Ahali,” Anneus clarifies. “Also, she has Dragon blood mixed in her. Probably heard about Marcus getting shivved and doing a victory dance, didn’t you?”

Anneus speaks slowly but deliberately. He clearly knows how not to trip over his impaired speech too much. If it weren’t for the weird wooden crutches, the guy would look totally okay to me. Alba ducks her head at Anneus’s words.

“Yeah, because of that,” I say, ignoring the last remark.

“Her people are—”

I slap Anneus's neck and almost trip him to the ground.

“I’m talking to her, not you.”

“Please, Alba,” I say with a smile.

She nods, uncertain.

“My people, as Anneus was saying, are not well received. Even though those with Dragon blood are being shunned away from Kome, they still fear that the Ahalis will become the next Vanedenis.”

I snort before catching myself, and Alba looks at me with a curious expression.

“Sorry, Alba. I didn’t mean to sound offensive. I’m sure that the Ahalis are great. But the Vanedenis are screwed in the head. And you have to be screwed in the head to impose a tax on the entire world, don’t you? I personally don’t think that the Ahalis would bother.”

She seems relieved because of my words about her people being allegedly softer than the Vanedenis.

“Yes. My people are not interested. I think.”

“Let’s go settle down, shall we?”

I scan the place. It has an open ceiling, like an ancient Roman amphitheater. And it’s filled to the brim. I finally find three unoccupied seats and plop my ass down beside the—

“Holy shit.”

I’m not sure this is the appropriate reaction, but I had yet to see a black person since I came to this place. There’s a black woman by my side, with sharp features and a frown directed at me. Huh, that was not a good first impression, I gather.

“Oh, hello!”

Have you ever seen a cheerful smile so sweet that you instantly got diabetes? Like, a soccer mom ready to offer you cookies in exchange for a chat about why sex education should be removed from the curriculum because it incites satanic rituals involving virgins?

Yep.

That’s exactly it.

“Howdy,” I say to a woman that’s bending forward next to a black woman and smiling at me with more teeth than a shark. And no, she’s just a completely normal Elf. Or better, clearly a middle-aged Elf woman undergoing a midlife crisis.

How do I know all of this from such a brief interaction? When you work in the food business, you learn to recognize these types of people for your own survival. And then, you learn to avoid them at all costs before you could reach suicidal ideation.

“Hey, Zahra! Look, we can socialize now!” she says to the black woman. “Hi! I’m Amelia! Hi, again!”

Holy hell, I’m getting very strong suburban housewife vibes here. Even by her kind’s standards, she clearly has a very powerful aura.

“Yo, Anneus,” I whisper through my teeth. “Move your ass; we are sitting somewhere else.”

But the guy has other plans for me as he watches my suffering with maximum schadenfreude and blocks the way with his crutches. A sick smile spreads over his previously frowny face.

“Hi! My name is Gioeius!” I say with an invisible tear trickling down my face, turning back to the two older women.

“Students!”

Suddenly, the open ceiling goes dark. The air turns solemn, and everyone shuts up. God himself has intervened to help me, apparently. Or Lady Luck. But given my relationship with the latter, I’m more inclined to believe that the former did the trick.

“I am [Grand Mage] Ariostus!” the man thunders from the stage. “I am the [Dean] of the Nine Towers Academy! I welcome you to the most renowned magic institution in the whole world!”

A goddamn waterfall of claps and shouts goes off, making me momentarily deaf.

“Please! Please! The simple fact that you passed the entrance test means that your talent is enough to dream of one day owning one of the towers—”

“Yeah, sure,” I hear Anneus commenting with a grunt.

“Or maybe, you will be [Heroes], forever celebrated in the Kingdom of Lucerna!”

I guess that if you place the academy inside a nation, you kind of expect to hear some product placement, don’t you?

“The basic courses are open to anyone! The rest of you shall find a way in! Some classes, as is customary, are hidden! Some require you to possess special abilities, classes, or even particular artifacts! If you are an [Alchemist], as they say, you will burn much more gold than you will make with a philosopher’s stone!”

And laughter rains.

Why? Was it that funny? My jokes are much better. I bet that if I were the [Dean], everyone would always laugh at the stupid stuff I say.

“As you know,” the [Dean] says while the laughter subsides, “we have had some incidents involving Humans and the Vanedenis.”

Suddenly, the mood turns somber, and everyone looks left and right. No one could have anticipated such an admission.

“But I encourage students not to harass the Humans at the academy. There are no Vanedenis officially registered. But I also advise you to leave them alone if you meet any. The Nine Towers Academy must be a beacon for [Mages] of all races and species. We are no Hydras! Our higher purpose is to reach the apex of magic, not discriminate against fellow [Mages]!”

Deafening cheers thunder from the audience; even Anneus and Alba are clapping to the performance on stage. They are all standing now, even the ones with crutches. Even the black woman by my side, who looked colder than permafrost, is now up, mashing her hands together with a snap of fingers over fingers and palms over palms.

Everyone is standing.

Everyone except me.

I feel like I’m residing in a different dimension, a dark one. I can see the excitement, but I can’t feel it. Something is missing. There’s a slowly burning bridge in front of my eyes, charred and abandoned inside my soul. It slowly creates an impenetrable plume of smoke and bitterness.

Why am I not happy? And why are they so excited?

What is happening?

But just as the sensation came, it disappeared. And I found myself standing beside the others, clapping along. The smile on my face is sincere, mostly. And that’s what matters to me. It feels like I’ve finally resumed breathing, and oxygen can finally reach my blood vessels.

How long will it last, I wonder?