Faced with a very short dilemma, Melmarc stood where he was, looking, watching, controlling his disappointment.
This is proof enough, isn’t it? he wondered, looking at the notification. It just stood there, staring at him while Sanders and Patience exchanged words.
[Sanders Vult would like access to your mind.]
[Grant access.]
[Y/N?]
If he presented this notification the way it was to any disciplinary authority of the school, it would be all the evidence that Sanders was breaking the school rules about unlicensed telepathic attack. The punishment, if he remembered correctly, was either suspension or expulsion. But there was only one problem.
It’s asking for permission.
Melmarc stroked one strap of his backpack with his thumb, thinking. If he uses this as evidence, then Sanders would certainly be aware of it and could argue that whatever skill he was using—Melmarc was fairly certain it was a spell—sought permission, then he would navigate the story in whatever way he wanted. Yes, he would be punished, but it would at best end in a suspension at best.
There was always the other option of allowing Sanders access to his mind. Chances were that things would end the same way it ended for the therapist, with the boy trapped in his mind.
In the end, he let out a tired sigh and returned his attention to Sanders and his two lackeys. He saw it immediately on Sanders’ face. Regardless of whatever it was that he was saying to Patience, he looked confused.
I guess he’s noticed his spell isn’t working, he thought with a significant level of disinterest yet stained with a touch of amusement. It was akin to an adult who watched a child try very horribly to deceive them.
He felt Pelumi’s presence before she got to him. Her hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Eliminating the disinterest from his face, he looked down at her and smiled.
“Are you alright?” she asked, worried.
Melmarc nodded. “I’m fine. Sanders and his friends were trying to have a conversation. I have no idea what about.”
Sanders completely ignored Patience now and scowled at him.
“Surviving a portal doesn’t make you shit,” he spat. “C-rank Delvers survive portals every day.” He turned to the class, what was left of it, and spoke in a louder voice. “Do not let a B-rank [Faker] have you thinking that surviving a portal is some feat. He came back almost dead. That should tell you all what type of portal it was.”
People were looking away now, some refusing to make eye contact, others refusing to be drawn into the seeming squabble.
Melmarc would’ve been embarrassed for the boy if he could summon up enough care to give. This is my life now.
The thought made him chuckle slightly. It was amusing. Most of his life was this, and yet it felt as if his life was far beyond this. As if his life belonged in portals and fighting to keep the very air in his lungs and blood in his veins.
What was in front of him was nothing but the squabbles of children, bravado in the wrong hands.
“Sanders,” he said, voice still lacking of any interest.
Sanders stood up to him. “Fuck you, Lockwood!”
Melmarc noticed how hard the boy fought not to stand on the tip of his toes so that he could at least try to look like a threat and tried not to laugh. His pride was beginning to get the best of him.
Controlling his tone, he asked, “Are you a member of the combat team?”
“Why would a [Mage] answer the question of a [Faker]?”
Disrespectful, Melmarc thought. Untrained.
“He is,” Patience said, answering him.
Melmarc looked at her and gave her a nod. “Thank you.”
It was all he needed to know.
No, he thought, and his interface disappeared into the history of his notifications. The good thing was that he could always bring up the history of his notifications, pick out the one that he wanted and present it to whomever he needed to present it to. And everyone knew that the interface never lied.
With that, he turned and walked away.
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me!” Sanders barked.
[Sanders Vult would like access to your mind.]
[Grant access.]
[Y/N?]
Melmarc paused, looked at the notification. That’s twice, he thought, rejecting the request with a shrug of will.
Now he wondered if the boy knew a spell or if mental manipulation was somehow one of his skills as a [Mage].
“Careful,” Melmarc said not turning back to look at him. “I’m in the combat team, too.”
With that, he walked out of the room with Pelumi in tow and Sanders fuming in the classroom. He couldn’t say for certain, but he thought someone tossed things about.
Pelumi walked with him down the hallway, worry on her face. Martha followed but she hung back, giving them enough space to talk privately should they want to.
“You should be careful around Sanders,” Pelumi advised him.
It made Melmarc pause. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Sanders,” she repeated. “Everyone in class knows that he’s dangerous.”
“Has he done something dangerous?” Melmarc asked.
“Not yet,” Martha said, answering for Pelumi.
So much for the privacy to talk.
Still, Melmarc was not going to be rude to another [Invoker]. After all, he was also very aware of her and listening, even if reluctantly.
“Then how do you know that he’s dangerous?” he asked her.
“The teachers,” Martha answered. “You saw what happened with Ms. Francine this morning.”
Melmarc had seen that. “She said he was normally good, which is very different from what you all told me.”
“All the teachers treat him that way,” Pelumi said. “And if all the teachers are treating him that way, then it means that they are intentionally allowing him to be rude. They get in the way if they are present when he’s being a bully.”
“But they never give him any real punishment and always treat him as if what he’s doing isn’t normal,” Martha added.
Melmarc paused. “All the teachers?”
Martha and Pelumi took on a thoughtful expression for a moment before shaking their heads.
“The gym teacher doesn’t treat him like that,” Martha answered.
Pelumi nodded. “And he doesn’t try to bully people when he’s around.”
“The Delving ethics teacher too.”
That was something to think about. Melmarc didn’t know about the Delving ethics teacher, but their gym teacher was most likely an S-rank Gifted. What were the chances that Sanders was subtly manipulating all the teachers that caught him bullying? And why was it only the teachers he was making forget.
“What about when you report him?” he asked.
Both girls shrugged. “No one’s reported him yet,” Pelumi answered.
Melmarc blinked. “Because?”
“No one wants to be labeled a snitch?” Martha guessed.
For a second Melmarc wanted to call it the dumbest thing but stopped himself. Back in his old school he never reported his bullies. Why? He always told himself that it wasn’t that serious and reporting the people that bullied him would just bring up too much trouble that was not worth the hassle. There was also the part where it would look as if he didn’t know how to handle his problems, which he completely knew he could handle.
I guess I was quite dumb in my own way.
“Besides,” Pelumi added. “Why would the teachers help when they always think he’s not capable of doing something bad until he does it?”
That was a good take. However, Melmarc had an idea of another version of what could be happening. Perhaps Sanders was also manipulating the minds of their classmates, making it seem like reporting would be too much of a hassle, making it seem like they would not get any positive response from the teachers.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger and sighed as the hallway filled up with people going on about their business, most of them preparing to go home.
This was the problem with Gifted who affected the mind. You became very unsure around them. If not handled properly, it was possible for a person to drive themselves mad wondering if they were being controlled by the person.
“You’re a good person, Mel,” Pelumi told him, forcing him to look at her. “Sanders is not.”
“Being good is merely an option, Lu,” he told her, meaning it.
Pelumi nodded. “I know. I’ve seen what you can do when you put your mind to it. But I don’t want you to get in trouble because of him.” Worry filled her eyes. “He’s not worth it, Mel. I don’t want you to choose a different option than good because of him.” She held his face in both hands. “I like when you’re good.”
Normally, her words would’ve had an impact on him. Unfortunately, there was nothing normal about right now. Pelumi was looking him in the eyes and talking from a place of fear and worry, fear and worry most likely created by Sanders’ manipulation of her mind.
And that very thought evoked a feeling within him, a feeling that usurped his disinterest and gave it a comfortable backseat of his mind.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have refused,” he muttered.
Pelumi blinked, confused. “What? Refused what?”
“He made a request and I said no. Twice,” he answered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said no.”
“What did he want?”
“To get to know me better.” Melmarc gritted his teeth, holding his anger.
The audacity of Sanders Vult continued to offend him. Not only was the boy breaking a rule that he was supposed to follow, but he was also messing with the minds of people close to him.
The lack of respect, the absence of training. Sanders was like an animal untrained.
“Mel,” Pelumi said, voice worried. “Are you alright? Your jaw is hard.”
“I’m not,” Melmarc answered honestly.
Sanders was proving to be a human that needed to be taught a lesson. He was messing with the most intimate part of a person; their mind. He was taking the only privacy that a person was assured and guaranteed. It didn’t matter what he was doing with it, all that mattered was that he was invading it without permission for his own personal benefits.
“Mel?”
Pelumi’s voice was discarded as Veebee slipped into his mind like a toddler coming to look for the wrong thing in their parent’s room.
<> it asked.
The innocent honesty of Veebee’s request was like a calming balm on his rage. Veebee would kill the boy and care nothing for it. In fact, he would kill the boy only so that Melmarc would not commit murder.
That very innocence calmed him.
<>
Melmarc sputtered in laughter for a moment. Are you offering to kill him just so that you can eat him?
He literally felt Veebee shrug. <>
Veebee not kill and eat, he replied, smiling. It was so interesting how killing and eating was a subject Veebee handled with so much innocence, as if it did not see anything wrong in killing and eating a human being.
<> it was all Veebee had to say before going back to… Melmarc squinted as he paid actual attention to what Veebee was doing.
Vee?
<>
What are you doing?
Veebee paused what it was doing. <>
Then why are you standing next to a toilet that is not mine with a plunger? Melmarc hoped his worries were wrong. You better not be cleaning one of the public toilets.
Veebee shook its head. <>
Then what are you doing?
<> it answered enthusiastically. <
Melmarc’s eyes widened in horror.
<>
Melmarc wasn’t sure he wanted to. Yes.
A mental image slipped into his mind. Two girls sat in the corner of the room. He watched them through the restroom door. They had looks of worry, confusion, and intrigue. But for all of that, none of them looked scared.
Veebee.
<>
What have you been doing all day?
There was a pause before Veebee answered. <>
Melmarc’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he hoped it wasn’t true. Have you been going around cleaning toilets, Veebee?
<> Veebee answered. <>
Not for the first time in dealing with Veebee, Melmarc didn’t know what to do or say. In the end, he sighed and gave up. We’ll continue this conversation when I get back.
<>
Melmarc shook his head. No, Veebee can keep cleaning.
An emotion reached Melmarc through Veebee. It confused him. Was Veebee actually happy that he was allowed to continue cleaning? Knowing what Veebee was capable of doing when it put its mind to it, this was a shocker.
“Kind of creepy when he does that,” Martha muttered.
Melmarc blinked. He looked at Pelumi and the way she watched him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, shaking his head. “Was talking to Veebee.”
“I know.” Pelumi nodded in understanding. “At least I thought that’s what was happening.”
Melmarc realized that he had bent a little so that his face could be closer to Pelumi. It had probably happened when she’d taken his face in both her hands. Noting it, he rose back to his full height and looked over her. Classes were over, so Pelumi had to be heading over to her special classes.
“We’ll be going to our [Invoker] lessons now,” Martha said, taking Pelumi by the arm and guiding her away.
“Heading back to the apartment?” Pelumi asked.
Melmarc shook his head and adjusted his backpack on his back. “No, I’ve got extracurricular activities.”
“Which one?” she asked, slowing her and Martha down a little.
Melmarc did his best to hide his grin when he answered.
“Combat.”
…
“I’ll skin him alive,” Sanders growled as he walked through the school, heading for combat classes. Jon and Barry walked behind him with their heads held down.
Sanders didn’t like the two boys, but he allowed them to play the role of lackey because people of status like him always needed lackeys around, people to do the insignificant tasks.
For example, they were the ones who got information on the other students, their likes, their dislikes, who they liked and who they didn’t like. The first spell his uncle had taught him after he had finally gotten his class was a mind spell. Luckily for him, the [Mage] class was the class that worked splendidly well with making spells. Unluckily for him, the mind spell was the only spell he could learn properly. His uncle had told him to use it only in cases of emergency.
Well reminding everyone of their place is emergency enough.
Barry moved very quickly as they got to the training hall where they were combat practices took place. He opened the door and they both waited for Sanders to walk through. He did so without acknowledging their actions. It was known that praising lackeys for doing what they were supposed to do was always the first step to making them believe that they were more than what they were.
They walked into the room and came to a halt.
Fashionably late Sanders had not expected to find the boy standing right next to Diret and their instructor Mrs. Southfire. Anger threatened to twist his face and Sanders scolded himself.
Control! he barked into his mind. Control is one of the things that sets you aside from the riff raff.
Mrs. Southfire turned and looked at him where he was standing at the door.
“Sanders,” Diret called out with a that smile that Sanders hated, the smile that said his kindness was a show of benevolence. Diret waved him over. “Hurry.”
Gritting his teeth, Sanders picked up the pace but refused to run. With the room as large as a basketball court, it wasn’t long before he got to the group while his lackeys joined the others in sitting on the ground at the edge of the room.
Sanders greeted Mrs. Southfire, one of the few teachers that his mind spell did not work on, then he nodded to Diret. Finally, his eyes settled on the new addition to people that his mind spell was having issues with.
Melmarc Lockwood.
This was the downside to the mind spell, for it to work efficiently, the caster needed to either have relevant information about how the victim’s mind was working as at the time of casting or they needed to know enough about the victim to make a proper guess. Jon and Barry didn’t know this, however, they were in charge of keeping him up to date on information about their classmates and teachers through the regular school gossip.
“Ma’am,” he greeted.
Mrs. Southfire gave him a polite look. “Sanders,” she replied.
Diret smiled and waved, while Melmarc Lockwood stood in place with eyes fixed firmly on him. Sanders could see nothing in those eyes. Absolutely nothing. But it was a pretext, Sanders knew it. He wanted to look daunted, to look intimidating.
“Young Melmarc Lockwood over here,” Mrs. Southfire said gesturing to Melmarc, “claims that he has unfinished business with you and that you would not be opposed to settling it on the mat.”
Sanders looked at Melmarc. The boy’s expression hadn’t changed. Then his eyes moved over to the group, the gathering. Seated, they all watched in silence. So this was Melmarc’s plan. His size and whatever experience he had in the portal was deceiving him, leading him to believe that a [Faker] stood some modicum of a chance against a [Mage].
He seeks to embarrass me, he laughed internally. The fool digs his own grave.
Turning away from Melmarc, he looked at Mrs. Southfire. “In fact, we had an agreement to meet on the mat. I was already worried that you would not give the go ahead.”
Mrs. Southfire shrugged as if unbothered. It reminded Sanders of one of the problems with the spell. It only worked on those of equal rank or less and those with actually strong mental will or more than five points in their mental stats. Mrs. Southfire obviously had high mental stats.
“I just wanted to—”
“Dissonant,” Melmarc said simply, then stepped away, walking away, increasing the distance between them.
Diret smiled at Mrs. Southfire. “I guess that settles that.”
“I guess.” Mrs. Southfire sighed, then she turned to the group gathered. “Alright everyone. Today we will see something interesting. We will see what an inexperienced fight looks like between a [Faker] and a [Mage]. Remember, while similar in a way they are also quite vastly different.”
As she spoke, Sanders took his time to look through the crowd. From what he knew, Melmarc’s brother was in the crowd. He found him easily, a big for nothing, just like his younger brother. However, unlike his younger brother, he had a class that was daunting in its own way. [Demon Lord]. A class unheard of.
It didn’t matter. If the brother decided to come for him after this fight, then it would be a problem he would have to deal with when the time came. Until then…
He turned and faced Melmarc’s empty gaze. Let’s put the mutt down.
It was not long before he was left alone in front of the group. Diret had taken his place among the group, leaving only Sanders and Melmarc there about thirty paces away from each other with Mrs. Southfire standing between them.
She raised her hand and looked at Melmarc. “Ready?”
Melmarc nodded once, keeping up his intimidation act.
“I wonder how Pelumi will feel when she hears how I’m about to make you beg,” Sanders muttered. It was not bravado or blustering. It was a strategic statement designed to rattle his enemy as he slipped his hand into his pocket and began crafting the only spell he knew.
“I will have decorum,” Mrs. Southfire scolded him.
“You will have it,” Sanders agreed. “Also, I’m ready.”
Mrs. Southfire nodded and looked to one of the students at the front of their audience. Sanders knew her. She was a high ranked [Healer]. A-class, if he remembered correctly. She would ensure that nobody died.
“Begin!”
“Your brother will watch you cry!” Sanders barked, then concluded his spell. His interface popped up immediately.
[You have used skill Let Me Try Something]
…
[Skill Let Me Try Something has crafted spell Mind’s Visitor]
Sanders felt his mana dip a little as the spell activated. Melmarc, intimidating as he tried to look, did not even try to cut across the distance with speed of any kind. He walked instead, intimidating in his size, Sanders had to admit.
It took Sanders only a moment to realize that something was wrong. His mana was still reduced but he couldn’t feel the spell taking purchase. Melmarc was still coming, walking as if he was about to do something that he couldn’t be bothered to do, as if this entire fight was only happening because it was inevitable.
Shit!
Sanders hated it when the spell didn’t work. A B-rank [Faker] he had been certain the spell would work on Melmarc. What had happened in class was a fluke simply because he did not know enough. Now he did.
Work, God damn it!
Melmarc kept walking, seemingly bored but with a purpose he could not set aside. It made Sanders angry, to be defied by a common [Faker] was an insult to him as a person and as a [Mage].
Sanders held his hand out. “Then so be it.”
[You have used skill Let There Be Light]
A sharp blast of fire erupted from his hands, consuming everything in its path. It reached forward and swallowed Melmarc whole. Sanders did not like to use this specific skill because of its destructive capabilities, but it was better to be scolded for using it in a simple fight than to lose.
His eyes remained on the wave of fire when something pricked at his mind. Sanders frowned, his hand going to his pocket. It touched something square and solid. If his wallet was here, then what could he possibly have lost? He couldn’t think of any—
Melmarc emerged from the ball of fire. The flames licked at his skin, and he walked out unfazed wearing them about him like a mantle even as they consumed his clothes but left his flesh unharmed.
Sanders felt it then. The cold. The lack of warmth. It was an eerie feeling always depicted in stories. Sanders paled in the cold face of realization of what was happening.
Melmarc’s eyes were covered in darkness, as if the gods had fashioned the starless night sky from the blackness that consumed both eyes entirely.
Sanders watched the black eyes and the creature that would not burn and took an involuntary step away from the demon approaching him.
No! he chided himself. The elite do not run! I will not—
His words seized in his mind as the air seized in his throat. He hadn’t been fast enough.
Melmarc Lockwood had him by the neck. Black orbs for eyes looked into Sanders’ and the boy uttered a single word.
“Die.”
And the air in his lungs began to wane.