The gentle and sweltering foot-steps of Suryaa rippled through existence itself. He sauntered towards the steps for the Gates-Of-Demise; chuckling.

"Damn, Krwn's rumours were true." He casually murmured; baffled. Suryaa called for his centre, seizing an orb from the pocket-dimension of storage. The mage flicked his golden sphere; humming. "You're Haiyo's kid?"

"My apologies. Who?"

I suspired inwards to myself - being reposed on the top of my bunk-bed inside the Srooa-Kingdom's gaudy and decorative hotel. I tapped my stolen-axe, brushing one finger through the steep, yet gentle metal.

Norano was, indeed, a gargantuan and ardous challenge for me. He was one of the stronger mages of the Exia-dimension itself, and his weapon-utilizing abilities were allegedly higher than ruler-Scalae's personal-guards.

I chuckled in a bland, hoarse soprano to myself; bewildered. Norano was an entity who would be able to murder me in a real battle - for I relied on Karasuu's healing. 

Still, Norano wasn't disgruntled by his loss to me, despite his neck being lacerated open. And he allowed me to keep his axe - a weapon I seldom used, as it gave me memories. Memories I desired to occlude myself from.

Huffing outwards, I slithered through the ladder of my bunk-bed, noting of the lack of individuals inside my apportioned bed-room. "They still at the festival?"

I immediately heard a throaty, guttural clang from the door. Sauntering towards the entrance to my room-mates and mine personal-sector, I unclicked it open - identifying Wukong: who groaned.

"You good?" I blithely interrogated; flummoxed. Ambling back into my higher-section of the bunk-bed, I watched as Wukong grappled onto a towel - sliding into the bath-room. "Someone's moody."

"You're not the one who almost got stabbed by pitch-forks!"

"Story, please?" I blandly riposted, my falsetto hoarse and interested. I connected to my centre, summoning my teleportation-orb - or Connector. "Can't wait for dimension-hopping."

Karasuu, Osiris, Raiqen, and Saue all strode through the door-frame of our divided bed-room. Karasuu climbed over to me, reposing himself on the ladder-rungs. "You're going to use it, now?"

"Nah." I rifled my four fingers into my satchel, seizing a book on mana from my bag. Karasuu snatched my book from me, his charcoal gaze sweeping over its written-illustrations. "Book thief."

"Axe thief." Karasuu silkily retorted, humour writhing on top of his dry, sempiternal visage. He tapped my novel, flittering it onto another, smooth page of information. "Oh? You're working on spells?"

"Indeed." The battle between Norano and I gave me enough clues for me to deduce the lack of skill and creativity in my own spells and mana-utilization. "I rely on my physical abilities."

"Hm..." Karasuu lackadaisically murmured, rummaging through the flood of pages inside my novel. He slung my book back onto my pillow, hopping onto his own bunk-bed. "Oh, is Wukong-"

"He's in the bathroom." I wanly chuckled back. Glancing over to the bath-room door, Wukong stepped out - while brushing his ageless hand into his wettened shoulders and flesh. "Pitch-fork story!"

"No!" Wukong vociferously growled; disgruntled, coasting his towel onto his shoulder-blades. He wrung the collar of his crimson t-shirt, tapping his incensed features' lacerations. "Karasuu! Skin regeneration!"

"I'm good." Karasuu flippantly laughed. My scientific and clinical-old buddy smoothened out the material of his glaive's azure-striped scabbard; humming. "Perhaps flinging a pie at the ruler of this kingdom was foolish."

"I missed Wukong slinging pies? Damn." I facetiously mumbled; perturbed, hauling my sapphire-decorated blankets over my listless flesh - until a pen smacked itself into my visage. "Oh, what the hell!"

"Deserved." Wukong childishly riposted. He slung himself onto the bottom-section of our bunk, summoning his staff as he cradled his signature - and named - weapon. "Osiris give us some fire!"

"I'm good." Osiris wanly groused; unbothered. He flicked his book onto a new, flittering page - this novel was of the Srooa-Kingdom's history. Huh, he was interested in this dimension's feuds. "Use your own magic."

Wukong laughed blithely to himself - while I detected a contortion of magical-power writhing inside his mana-currents. He lifted one finger - crashing an over-spilling zephyr into my abdomen. "Good call, Osiris!"

Stimulating myself into waking up, I yawned in a guttural and sonorous alto. Perhaps a doctor's appointment was needed to be scheduled? Huffing inwards, I scanned the unconscious bodies of my room-mates.

I checked over the alarm-clock in front of Osiris' and Karasuu's bunk-bed. 4:00 AM was the time. My muscles and skin themselves groaned as I slithered through the ladder's rungs.

The principal of spectral-academy - who was a billionaire - rented out an enormous amount of the hotel rooms for us. I sighed to myself, seizing my clothes and sauntering into the bath-room.

My outfit was of a sapphire V-neck t-shirt and my slacks were a traditional ebony, decorated by the infinitesimal sigil of a crimson-flame at the belt-section of my trousers. I flicked my own fire-brick hair, sighing.

I sauntered from the bath-room, my foot-steps gentle and mute. My sapphire irises flittered towards the growls and grouches of my class-mates: who all groaned in their sleep. "Okay, they're still unconscious."

The corridor of one of the Srooa-Kingdom's innumerable hotels was empty - lacking a flood of individuals or visitors. I slipped my hands inside my pockets, stepping into the lounge for guests.

Oh, the receptionist for the front and main desk was snoring to themselves, settled atop a pillow reposed onto the table itself. I chuckled, striding into the chair-section of this sector.

I ambled towards an opened window of the hotel. Still, if this edifice carried some type of security of alarm system, I would be screwed. "Heh..."

I immediately whirled onto the smooth and steep concrete of the hotel's property. I walked into the unilluminated lanes of this ageless empire. My mana converged into my feet - as I blurred onto a roof-top.

The citizens of the kingdom were waking up for either school, morning-sprinting, or opening up their businesses. I sank into the roof-tops surface; sitting cross-legged; humming. "Are the cafes open?"

Perhaps it would be suspicious for a 14-year-old child: who lacerated the neck of Srooa's prized-mage, were to step inside a cafe and select chocolate-cake and tea in the morning. "Eh, who cares?"

I rifled through the pockets of my charcoal-patterned trousers, grappling onto the 45 Erais - the currency popularised in the uncountable dimensions. "Enough for some food."

The convulsion of mana channelled itself into my feet - while I whizzed into a maze of an intersection, scanning the flinty, azure, or crimson establishments in the paths - until I reached one of its cafes.

It carried an obsidian sign of golden-sigils - illustrating the vocable [open]. I stepped onto the smoothened and timeless path, flicking the door open. "Ah, customers in the morning? Welcome."

The waiter's visage itself was gentle - his irises were a monotonous, ageless charcoal. He wore a traditional tuxedo, white-shirt, and sapphire-slacks, an azure-striped tie ravelled on his collar.

I sauntered over to an infinitesimal table, lounging onto the silky, satiny sofa. I seized the menu from its ebony-striped box, inspecting the illustrations of drinks and food. "Chocolate-cake and your frosty-flavoured tea?"

"Coming up." The waiter sonorously riposted, brushing his pen across his personal note-book. He stepped into the kitchen - as I detected another individual's mana powering the tools for cooking. "Hm..."

I, myself, inspected the paintings and pictures of the cafe. I identified a painting of some scattered, crimson runes - spelling [N-O-O-N-E] No-one. "Must be from the museum."

The doors of the kitchen instantly opened back up. I observed the waiter: who hauled the plate and frosty-flavoured tea cup onto my table. "Your meal, child."

I seized the silky - and precipitous knife from my table. Twirling the utensil, I lacerated apart the chocolate cake, heaving it onto my appeased, hungry tongue. "Huh, pretty good."

The frosty-flavoured tea was, indeed, glacial. I grappled up the tea-cup, the liquid itself sizzling my entertained, glassy lips. I settled it back onto the plate, slicing another part of the cake. "Breakfast time is best time."

The welkin itself in the Exia dimension was a mixture of a streak of purple - amalgamated into this obfuscated type of crimson - while in Expany it was a rippling sapphire and a meager gold.

I blithely bombinated to myself - a gentle, vociferous falsetto clanking from my tongue. I converged another flood of mana into my toes, whizzing onto the balcony of an individual's residence.

I immediately blurred back onto the concrete - stepping across the innumerable lanes until I reached the Srooa-Empire's hotel. I climbed in through the window, settling onto one of the lounge's flinty chairs.

Slithering into the steps of the stairs, I sauntered onto the 4th section of the hotel. I snuck through the corridor, clicking open the door to my divided bed-room - damn, I missed my own room.

"Morning." Karasuu's listless, glossy soprano yawned. He seized a pen from one of the cabinets, illustrating something across the material of his file. "It's 5:30 AM."

Huh.

"I was out longer than I planned." I casually appeased; unbothered. Stepping towards the rungs of my bunk-bed's ladder, I crawled into my blanket and pillows. "Who woke up?"

"Raiqen's in the bath-room brushing his teeth. And Osiris left to check the hotel's library. Wukong is nocturnal and was awake for the night-time."

"Okay, pretty detailed." I grappled onto both of my pillows and the blanket, rotating the former onto my abdomen, and the latter over my head. My pillows on my stomach and blanket on top of my silky visage. "Saue?"

"Sleeping." Karasuu blandly riposted, brushing his obsidian-decorated pen through some type of file. Perhaps an assignment from Professor Krwn? Homework, maybe. "If you're puzzled about the file, it's personal."

"Oh, sorry."

"All good." He casually dismissed, reposing his ebony-striped pen into the box of tools atop our room's desk. Karasuu hauled a string across the file, coasting it through his satchel. "Where were you visiting?"

"A furtive cafe." I wanly chuckled, sinking into the silky, smooth fabric of my bed. Yep, I still favoured the pillows and mattress of my own - original - bed. "I ate some chocolate cake and tea."

"Eating tea?"

"Indeed."

"You brought some back." Wukong lazily interrupted, enlarging and shrinking Horuss' proportions. He twirled his miniature staff, hauling it onto the rungs of the bunk-bed. "I'm feeling pretty hungry."

"Buy your own food, languid-bastard." I lackadaisically groaned back; entertained. I slithered onto the railings of my bunk-bed - peering over to Wukong: who flung a pillow onto my smooth, ageless face. "Damn."

I parried another pillow from Wukong's eternal amount of pillows, crawling back onto the top-section of my own bed. Chuckling, I seized the grappled pillow - hurling it towards Karasuu, smacking it onto his abdomen.

The trip to the Exia-dimension and Srooa-Kingdom was shortened - I speculated my battle against the son of Mr. Yorano was the catalyst for this shaved-time for our little voyage.

I heaved over another flood of my clothes into my back-pack - while checking over my room-mates: who all hurled their accessories into their satchels and pouches.

"Ah, can't wait for my cushion!" Wukong vociferously laughed; stretching his skin and flesh themselves. He hooked his back-pack over his shoulders; yawning. "Back into the cabinet for weapons."

"You sleep in a cupboard?" Saue bewilderedly interrogated; flummoxed. He clicked his fingers, his cloud-hand's pale-fingers grappling onto his clothes and a towel. "Who gets the bed-room."

"Vasura! Karasuu gets the sofa."

"Okay..." My class-mate bemusedly murmured back, his soprano incredulous, suspicious. Saue dissolved his cloud-hand, strapping his satchel onto his own shoulders, humming. "You people are pretty baffling."

"Yep!" Wukong cheekily growled; entertained, a childish and elated grin decorating his features. He shrank his staff, settling it back into his centre. "We are baffling!"

"You're the baffling one." Karasuu dryly riposted, clipping the zip across his packed back-pack. Heh. He slipped his bag onto himself, stretching the blanket on top of his bed. "We all set, now?"

"Yep."

"Indeed."

"I'm kinda thirsty."

My class and I all stepped through the lanes of the Srooa-Kingdom - an individual would occasionally glance towards professor Krwn: a contortion of distrust and alarm painting itself across their visage.

The mage-station was empty of entities - excluding the mage on duty. She scanned Krwn's I.D - and flicked through mine and my class-mates' own identification, until opening up the connector-platform.

"Planning on going missing?" Gaia blithely bombinated, her soprano cheeky and casual. She tapped my cheek, snatching my connector from my fingers - while I groaned; bothered. "Sorry. Sorry."

She flung the connector-orb back to me. I seized my transportation device, distorting my teleporter towards the pocket-dimension of my centre - free storage, huh.

Karasuu's fingers rifled through his satchel, the bag being swallowed by files for his own dimension. He huffed inwards, sauntering onto the teleporter until the aerosphere itself writhed.

Keen eyes watched.