The orb itself convulsed inside Suryaa's booming, timeless presence. He twirled the sphere, slinging it towards Khonsu, the latter seizing the relic.

"What's this?" Khonsu blankly murmured; flummoxed. He inspected the crimson-striped shape, identifying a fragmented sector on its material. "Ah, you want for me to heal this?"

"Yep! It got all splintered." Suryaa care-freely riposted, reposing himself atop the fire-brick patterned throne. He brushed his silky fingers across its arm-rests; humming. "Why are you in this palace? This dimension's dead."

"I want to stop a mistake."

I strolled by myself through one of the uncountable corridors in spectral-academy. Vasura and Karasuu both scattered for their own problems and tasks.

The former, being my good-buddy Vasura, was at the library, fossicking for information about the Expany-dimension. Our history-professor was assigning us some mundane and bothersome homework.

Huh, one week back from a grandiose festival and our teachers were granting us no time to repose. I unclicked the door to my divided dormitories open, detecting a lack of another individual's mana.

Still, I was pretty elated to be given back my cabinet-cushion. The bunk-bed at the Screwy-Kingdom was satiny or silken - but the cushion in my cupboard was mine to utilize; by sleeping.

I slithered through the living-room carpet and ambled towards the cabinet-door. I opened it, glancing over at the uncountable weapons settled atop our shelves.

I bounded onto the timeless fabric of my cushion, sinking into its gentle, ageless material. I seized a knife from the lower-sections of the shelves, lacerating the terrain of my cupboard-room.

Karasuu was the one who garnered a flood of weapons into my cabinet - for he was a philosopher of battling-tools or something. I never complained - while he allowed me to keep all of the knives and a few of his blades.

I slung my inner-self forward into waking up. Groaning to myself, I crawled out of my tensile, stretched cushion, checking the time at the alarm-clock on my shelf.

5:00 PM.

I stepped through the carpet of the gargantuan-cupboard, sailing the door open. I sauntered over to the Kitchen, as I rummaged three fingers into the fridge - powered by an external source of mana.

I grappled onto my personal carton of chocolate-milk, seizing a cup from the Kitchen table. I rotated it at the top, watching the liquid coasting itself into my mug.

Stepping back out of the Kitchen, I strolled towards the living-room - a sector carrying two sofas, one for sitting and another for the lazy Karasuu - and sank into the crimson-striped and sapphire-patterned sofa.

Still, I was bemused about graduating from spectral-academy. The principal was being given innumerable admissions for people wanting their kids to amalgamate into this school.

The graduators - my class-mates and another flood of school-mates - were allowed to keep our school-given residences, if we paid a monthly rent - or we could move out of the dormitories.

Vasura, Karasuu, and I were planning on renting out a different apartment at one of the uncountable kingdoms in the Expany-dimension, identification was going to be bothersome - oh, and the mage I.Ds.

I gulped in another ripple of chocolate-milk, sauntering back into the Kitchen - until seizing a sponge and sailing my cleaning-tool through the mug's insides - using the mana-powered sink.

"Yo, Wukong." A signature, bland, and monotonous soprano grouched. Vasura lounged on top of the azure-decorated sofa, slipping his fingers through a novel's page. "You good?"

"Yep." I languidly mumbled back, sweeping a towel through my wettened hands. I strode over to the entertainment-crystal; tapping it as one of its programmes bombinated. "When is graduation?"

"Hm? One week."

"Huh, elating." I lazily chuckled to myself, calling into my pocket-dimension of a centre. I summoned my signature-weapon - Horuss - and shrunk its either growing or contorting proportions. "What of the-"

"Aparment complex we're renting?" Vasura wanly groaned; unbothered. He flicked one finger at the pages of his book, inspecting its written-illustrations. "Karasuu's taking care of the paper-work and logistics."

"Indeed, I am." Karasuu lackadaisically interrupted, unstrapping some type of letter from his pouch. He hauled the letter onto one of the living-room desks, settling into his own sofa. "Wukong, your stipend was helpful."

"You thieves!"

Ah, morning. It was one of my least favourite times of the week. I stretched my flesh and body itself, striding towards the bath-room; seizing my tooth-brush from the cup.

Still, 4 years at school and learning magic, different types of fighting-styles, or mana-control were fun for me - and perhaps it was elating for Vasura and Karasuu. I yawned, rolling water over my ageless visage. Hah.

I sauntered out of the bath-room, and grappled onto my staff. Professor Solea - our combat-teacher - was retiring and desired to give his students a few sessions of brawling.

I favoured of keeping my staff in this realm and not the pocket-dimension. The centre was its own realm, where individuals could transport some of their accessories in it for storage.

Hooking my staff onto my shoulder-blade, I converged my mana into it - sticking the weapon onto the back of my body. I groaned to myself in detestation, school would never be an entertaining edifice.

Vasura and Karasuu were both striding out of the dormitory's door. The former clipped his daggers onto the hooks on his belt and sauntered into the corridor; humming. "Wukong, you coming?"

"Yep." I listlessly riposted, another throaty, rippling yawn dancing from my tongue. I tapped my neck; disgruntled, as we all sauntered through the stairs of our residence. "School still sucks, eh?"

"Indeed." Vasura lamely grouched back; groaning. He slithered his hands inside his ebony-trousers' pockets, ambling over to the steps of our edifice. "Karasuu must be elated."

"Not this time, no." Karasuu wanly yawned, brushing three fingers across his back. He tapped his glaive, strapping the weapon onto the belt of his azure-slacks. "I was giving some messages to my family in my home-dimension."

"Death-Seekers? Hah, you haughty noble." I cheekily mocked, striding onto the last of the sections inside our dormitory. We sauntered into a flood of our own school-mates: who all coasted onto the path. "Damn."

"Haughty noble?" Karasuu blandly riposted; unimpressed. He stepped across the pavement and the lanes, sailing towards spectral-academy's main corridors and sector. "Your vocabulary leaves much to desire."

"Heh..." Vasura dryly mumbled to himself, his soprano entertained and unperturbed. We all slipped into professor Krwn's class-room - our mentor inspecting one of his innumerable files. "Morning, professor."

"Hm? Oh, morning brats." Professor Krwn lackadaisically retorted, swiping a charcoal-striped pen through his scriptures of furtive information. He tapped the pen at the desk; humming. "Please, onto your chairs."

I elongated my staff into its natural-proportions, settling onto the top of my flinty desk. I rifled my sanguine gaze across my class-room - identifying the individuals who were my fellow students. "Okay, class."

"Professor Solea shall be coming for his combat-teachings." Krwn listlessly murmured, brushing his coal-patterned pen onto his silky visage. My professor suspired to himself, sinking into his signature chair. "Oh, and be good."

Professor Solea was a blunt, yet easy-going individual. His hair was a smooth, glassy white - while his ageless irises were an over-spilling and eternal yellow - similar to Suryaa, my missing mentor.

We all strolled through the uncountable corridors of spectral-academy, sauntering into the professor's personal room. This sector was engulfed by miniature arenas and carried 20 boxes of different types of weapons.

"Now, students." Solea throatily echoed, his voice gentle, sempiternal. He knocked one finger at the clip-board, coasting himself onto a sapphire chair. "Please, select the partners you want to battle for this lesson."

Vasura, Karasuu, and I chuckled to ourselves, sailing towards one of the myriads of infinitesimal arenas. Vasura twirled his purple-dagger, blurring into the miniature-stadium. "Who's fighting me?"

"Me!" I vociferously retorted; elated. My staff itself convulsed, stretching into an unnatural size. I slung myself onto the arena, shrinking it back to its innate-proportions. "Karasuu?"

"3. 2. 1-"

Vasura immediately whizzed over to me, mana coasting itself into his legs. I gyrated Horuss, parrying a laceration from Vasura: who laughed to himself; unbothered. "No magic?"

"No magic." I blithely mumbled, smacking my staff onto his abdomen. Vasura was flung back into the arena's mana-concocted barricades; groaning. "Your loss?"

"Nah."

I produced myself a frosty and glacial zephyr, pulsing the writhed-air through my sweltering flesh. Professor Qwoin flicked a cube of fire towards Saue, the latter's cloud-fingers dissolving the spell.

"Cloud magic is a special type." Professor Qwoin casually elucidated; enthused. He clicked his fingers, his mana throbbing into his hands. My teacher evaporated the heat of his sizzling flesh, chuckling. "My fire is weakened."

The victor in the brawl between Vasura and I was him. Still, I was sure he cheated - perhaps he used one of his invisible phantoms to trip me up or something crueller. "Heh, I'm stronger."

"Wukong, give me some air." Vasura blandly groused, his own flesh itself convulsing. I summoned another icy, eternal zephyr - feeling it hover over to my buddy: who sighed. "Ah, frosty."

"I never gave you permission, Helios Wukong." Qwoin care-freely interrupted, a ripple of fire dancing at the top of his immutable fingers. He tapped the flames, deliquescing them back into his body; humming. "Now, class..."

I detested my first-name being utilized by an individual. Huffing inwards to myself, I sank into my flinty-chair, shrinking Horuss and scattering it towards my centre. "Can't wait for graduation..."

Suryaa Suendra sauntered over to the entrance gates of spectral-academy. He brushed his golden, eternal irises across the innumerable edifices inside the private-sector; humming.

He casually stepped forward, strolling towards the gates until glancing at the identification-sigil. Suryaa seized his mage I.D, swiping it at the rune. Snapping his smooth fingers, he dissolved his I.D into his pocket-dimension.

The gates themselves rippled; groaning and clanking. They opened up, sprouting another rune of observation, watching Suryaa: who tapped the symbol - crumbling the infinitesimal mural.

"Huh, can't wait to take them onto my wing." Suryaa elatedly chuckled to himself, striding through the precipitous and smooth lane. He clicked his fingers, pulsing his sweltering presence and mana. "No-one's detected me, huh?"

Krwn stepped out of the doors to the guard-office's entrance. He reposed himself onto the door-frame, slinging a telekinetic boom towards Suryaa: who dissolved the magical-clang. "Krwn! My good buddy!"

"Suryaa, you little dumbass." Krwn blandly riposted; unimpressed. The professor groaned to himself, coasting over to the corridors of his institution's edifice. "You wanna call them?"

"Nah." The mage care-freely dismissed, sailing into Krwn's personal-office. Suryaa summoned himself a cup and bottle of tea from his centre, drifting the liquid into his yellow-patterned mug. "Your guesses were true."

"You're kidding." Krwn incredulously murmured back; flummoxed. He seized up the cup of coffee, gulping in an intake of the beverage; sighing. "I swear he was-"

"Kidding? Nope. Osiris' cousin is alive."

"Damn, good." Krwn dryly mumbled to himself, coasting another flood of tea back into his mug. He settled his cup of tea back onto his table; suspiring. "Still, I'd recommend informing official-sources, not the school."

"Nah." Suryaa childishly retorted, his soprano cheeky and unbothered. He dissolved his own cup into the pocket-dimension of storage, chuckling. "I'm guessing you want for me to leave?"

"Indeed."

Suryaa's mana converged into his body - while he blurred through existence itself, scattering his physical-form. He lounged atop Karasuu's sapphire-patterned sofa, laughing. "What's up?!"

"Oh, what the hell?!" Wukong vociferously mumbled back, shrinking his signature, grown staff. He settled into one of his own crimson chairs, groaning. "You weren't missing?"

"Nope!"

Vasura, himself, sauntered into the Kitchen, snatching a carton of frosty-flavoured milk from his mana-powered fridge. Wukong flicked a zephyr at the entertainment-crystal, clicking onto a programme. "Mr. Gloomy!"

"Oh, the elated one."

Suryaa pulsated another ripple of his sweltering magic. He smacked it towards the entertainment-crystal, tapping onto another programme. "You all got the residence sorted?"

"Karasuu." Wukong blithely grouched, garnering his distortive and writhing mana. He dissolved his presence itself, lounging onto his sanguine sofa. "He's sorting the logistics."

"Good!"

Krwn sauntered out of his own office. He seized one of his sigil-decorated packages, brushing the symbols themselves. He twirled his knife, discarding the fragments of the box.

Keen eyes watched.