The pulsating and throbbing ripple of mana danced across the aerosphere itself. Khonsu stepped into the portal of his echoing, magical-power; interested.

Khonsu channelled his mana into his legs and toes, blurring forward as he distorted his own speed. He settled onto a mahogany roof-top, inspecting the individuals strolling on their lanes or paths.

I lounged on top of my dormitory-sector's sanguine, sapphire-decorated sofa, swallowing my cup of frosty-flavoured coffee, watching a programme on the entertainment-crystal.

"Yo, Vasura." Wukong casually grinned, reposing himself onto another section of the fire-brick sofa. He flicked open a carton of chocolate-milk, gulping in an intake of his beverage. "Karasuu wants you in the arena-room."

"Hm, why?" I blandly riposted, hefting my timeless and azure mug onto the beige-table. I glanced towards Wukong: who hummed; unbothered. "It's my lazy time, Wukong."

"I'm not sure why." My aggravating, good buddy care-freely chuckled, shrugging. Wukong sank into the sofa; cross-legged, peering over at the programme bombinating. "Damn. Are they stabbing their faces?"

"Good channel." I blithely complimented, striding towards the door of our personal-residence. Stretching my flesh and muscles themselves, I sauntered into the corridor. "Okay, Karasuu, you're a bastard for wasting my time."

I clicked open the mundane and average door for Spectral-Academy's arena-room. My sapphire irises scanned the sector itself - until identifying Karasuu: who slipped a wettened clothe through his glaive's runic scabbard.

"Karasuu, you called?" My monotonous and unimpressed falsetto echoed. Huh, the room was - indeed - abandoned, lacking my fellow school-mates, excluding Karasuu and I. Still, I was unentertained. "Something wrong."

"Something is wrong." Karasuu cryptically chuckled, his soprano vociferous and mellifluous, similar to Gaia's cacophonous voice, or Wukong's. He tapped his glaive at the smoothened surface, sighing. "I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed? Wukong eat all of your salad or something?"

"He ate my salad, certainly." He humourlessly reminded himself; suspiring. Karasuu gyrated his blade, flinging his weapon towards me - while I seized the tool; baffled. "I'm disappointed in you, Vasura."

"Why?" I bemusedly interrogated, flummoxed. Twirling Karasuu's sigil-decorated glaive, I flicked it back over to him - feeling a ripple of regenerative mana. "Karasuu?"

"You relied on me in your little play-time against the one called Norano."

Mr. Yorano's kid?

"I mean, he suppressed my skill itself." I casually retorted, slithering my hands into my obsidian slack's pockets. I detected another boom of mana, as I back-flipped over Karasuu's blade. "I'm being assaulted."

"Give me a battle." Karasuu mellifluently laughed, a purple and verdant layer of healing-magic swallowing his flesh and visage. He twirled his runic-weapon, his purple irises themselves dancing. "Mana is allowed in this."

"Sure, my neck's feeling heavy." Perhaps a good and arduous battle would be able to alleviate my weekend's after-noon's monotony. I called my [Centre], summoning my stolen, ebony axe. "3. 2. 1. Action."

Karasuu immediately blurred towards my abdomen, heaving a mana-canalized laceration onto my stomach. I backtracked, settling back atop the concrete - as I bounded forward, crashing my axe into his glaive.

He laughed in a booming and gentle falsetto, swiping his blade across the rippling metal of my axe. I clicked my teeth, flying back into the fluorescent barricades of the magical-arena.

My mana - without the lifeless element - flittered through the material of my obsidian axe. I gyrated it, whizzing over to Karasuu: who parried my weapon, wheel-kicking my timeless features. "Damn."

I channelled a throb of mana into my legs, feeling their flesh and skin writhe. I tapped my axe at the terrain, blurring forward as I slashed and splintered Karasuu's sigil-painted blade.

Karasuu canted his head; impressed, his layer of regenerative-mana - [Layered-Healing] - pulsated into his fragmented weapon, stitching the laceration up. He brushed its purple scabbard, sighing. "Good slice."

I instantly canalized energy from my [Mana-Currents], sailing the magical-power into the concrete itself. I summoned my [Tendrils-Of-The-Deceased], watching Karasuu being bound by my dying-ropes.

His mana convulsed across his arms' muscles - Karasuu inspected my pulseless-tendrils, tearing through them. He seized back his glaive, his ageless gaze scanning my pitiless and bland visage. "Now-"

"What an incredible battle." A dry, entertained, and sempiternal voice echoed. Khonsu stepped onto the arena's terrain, walking through the rippling barricades; humming. "Vasura, good after-noon."

"Khonsu?" I bemusedly groused; flummoxed, scattering my ebony-axe into my storage-dimension. I dissolved my spells, glancing over to Karasuu: who bombinated. "Checking up on Osiris?"

"Indeed, my cousin is an immature one." He casually chuckled, unperturbed by the splintered terrain and shrapnel. Khonsu snapped his fingers, time pulsing as he recreated the surface. "Ah, much cleaner. No?"

"Astonishing magic." Karasuu magniloquently murmured; bewildered. He twirled his rune-decorated glaive, clicking it back into his silky, purple scabbard. "A pleasure, Khonsu. My name is Karasuu Shikyo."

"Ah, a courteous one." Khonsu dryly riposted, stretching his arm out for a marginal hand-shake. He glanced towards me - while I detected him pulsating for his [Centre], suspiring. "Vasura, a gift for you."

He hefted up a rectangular-shape, painted by innumerable, crimson symbols. Khonsu flicked it over to me, as I seized his little and grandiose prize. "A personal connector-"

"Thanks, Khonsu." I courtly smirked, slinging the rectangular-transporter towards him. Khonsu evaporated his incredible, helpful gift back into his [Centre]; bemused. "I bought another connector for myself."

"Ah, a shame." 

"Maybe you could give it to Karasuu?"

"Incredible suggestion, Vasura. Give my connector to a random individual." Khonsu hoarsely riposted; unimpressed. He flung a pale and timeless finger across his visage, inspecting Karasuu's humoured features. "Hm."

"It's fine." Karasuu grandiloquently interrupted, vaporizing his own glaive into his pocket-dimension for storage. He tapped his watch, peering at the obfuscated numbers. "He's coming-"

"Where's the time bastard?!"

"Now."

"Wukong?" I bewilderedly groused; flummoxed, sauntering out of the arena's surface. I clicked the barricades of golden mana, dissolving them - as I glanced towards Wukong: who growled. "Damn, aggressive much."

"Oh, Helios Wukong." Khonsu lazily drawled, calling into his [Centre]. My good ol' time-rippling buddy summoned himself an obsidian seat, sinking into its ebony-fabric. "I'm surmising the time-bastard is me?"

"Nah, it's Vasura!"

It was?

"Yep, it's you." Wukong sardonically retorted, his soprano vociferous and disgruntled. He grew his staff's proportions, crashing his weapon into Khonsu - whose mana danced until it stopped. "Huh?"

"I paused your weapon." Khonsu dryly elucidated, an entertained, exalted smirk swallowing his humoured and pale visage. He reclined on top of his charcoal-painted chair, sighing. "Time to knock you unconscious."

He instantly stepped forward - towards Wukong, pulsating his mana into two, ageless fingers. Khonsu brushed them through Wukong's cheek, my pal toppling onto the concrete. "Such vehemence."

"I can take care of this." Karasuu lackadaisically murmured to himself, heaving Wukong up atop his skinny, veined shoulders. He carried Wukong, striding into the gargantuan doors of the arena-sector. "See ya later."

"What a polite individual." Khonsu casually chuckled. He flourished his thin and timeless hand, creating another, sapphire chair for me. I reposed myself onto the seat, scanning his sempiternal mana. "Now, I want some help."

"Help?" I bemusedly riposted, swiping three of my own fingers through the chair's fabric arm-rests. I detected a ripple of fragmented mana, watching a plate and tea-cup grow onto my lap. "What flavour?"

"Sweltering-flavoured, sizzled from the mana of a Blisterer-Dragon." Khonsu blithely chuckled, gulping in his boiling and dancing beverage. He dissolved his tea-mug, brushing a napkin across his silky lips. "Okay, then."

"Vasura. Was Suryaa visiting you?" Khonsu nonchalantly interrogated; unperturbed. He flicked his napkin forward, crumbling its material into echoes of scattered energy. "I need his connector."

"What for?" I lazily riposted; baffled. Master Suryaa was a complicated and complex individual - still, he never helped a person without certain types of benefits. "He wouldn't give it to you."

"I want to enter a dead-dimension." Oh, a dead dimension? They were realms abandoned and discarded of all life and inhabitants. The dimensional-mana in dead-realms was meager; weak. "He's left this school?"

"Yep, sorry." I blandly retorted, my voice flummoxed and puzzled. I strode from the ebony-chair, converging mana into my feet - as I blurred across the surface, bounding out of the room. "Bye, Khonsu!"

"Indeed..."

Professor Krwn sauntered into his personal-office, coasting on one of his innumerable lab-coats. He brushed his five fingers into his tousled, coal hair, settling into his mahogany-chair; perturbed.

"Okay, time to check the graduators." He exasperatedly grouched to himself; rifling through his student's information-files. Krwn tapped his pen at the scriptures; humming. "Saue Welkine."

Saue Welkine was, indeed, a lazy and irresponsible person. His magic was the ability to control a material similar to clouds - Cloud-Magic; a fitting name for his power. "He's fine."

Krwn swiped his sapphire-decorated pen across Saue's file, illustrating his signature onto his graduation-papers. He clicked his fingers, hovering it towards his box of information. "Hm, Raiqen Soios."

This child was a baffling individual. He was regarded as a thief or robber of his classes, either stealing or punching his class-mates. His magic was fire and electricity, a dualistic type. "He's passing for sure."

"Now, for Lilih Mammon." Krwn listlessly suspired, fossicking for her mana-type and grades. She carried the ability of ice and lightning - similar to Raiqen, for she was a dualistic-mage. "Graduating."

"Gaia Hell. What a frightening surname." The professor sarcastically chuckled; unimpressed. He clicked his pen, swiping it onto his student's graduating files. "She's one of them, eh? Passing."

"Children are psychos." Krwn blandly reminded himself, floating Gaia Hell's scripture towards the mahogany box. He gyrated his pen, seizing another of his files. "Oh, Karasuu Shikyo."

Karasuu was a cryptic, flummoxing kid. His Death-Seeker lineage granted him an unrivalled magic of regeneration and healing. "You are graduating. Good, you sardonic monster."

Helios Wukong was a troubled and aggressive, yet still childish individual. His grades in academic topics were high - as Krwn tied him onto a tree to study. His magic was air-manipulation - Zephyr-Magic.

Krwn's telekinetic-mana echoed across his finger's flesh. The professor raised three of them, flying Wukong's files into the box for Spectral-Academy's principal. "Now, Osiris Osail."

Osiris' atmospheric-magic was a formidable and intimidating ability. He could control an innumerable amount of elements. Still, he couldn't comprehend all of his power. "You're gonna grow, kids. Graduating."

Krwn fossicked into another flood of files and scriptures - until reaching the last of them all. He inspected the pitiless, bland sapphire irises of Vasura Hii at the photo; bombinating. "Vasura Hii."

He remembered meeting the glacial and bland orphan - back in his first-week working at Spectral-Academy. The child's pitiless, sempiternal azure irises, his magic - Lifeless-Magic was a powerful one. "You're graduating."

"I wasted seven years in this school." Krwn hoarsely chuckled to himself, swallowing a ripple of his sweltering coffee. He tapped the box, watching the runes painting themselves across its wood. "Worth it, for sure."

Krwn unhooked his goggles from his languid, aristocratic features, seizing up the box as he stepped into the corridor. He glanced towards professor Solea: who hummed. "Morning, Krwn."

"Morning, old geezer." Krwn sardonically murmured, sailing onto the mahogany and ebony-decorated steps. He brushed his growing stubble, striding towards Heana's office. "You retiring?"

"Indeed. You're leaving this school. No?" Solea casually retorted; laughing. He swiped a hair-brush through the top of his white, pale hair, tapping his own box of files. "I'm baffled you survived this long."

"Teenagers, eh?" Krwn care-freely chuckled, a lazy and entertained smirk decorating his timeless visage. The professor raised two fingers, floating up Solea's obsidian-box. "Khonsu sneak in?"

"Ah, no. I gave him permission this time." Solea nonchalantly riposted, slithering his calloused, sizzled hands into his lab-coat's pockets; entertained. The professor glanced at the hovering box; humming. "Polite of you, Krwn."

"Your back must be in agony." Krwn sardonically interrupted; his voice unimpressed, bland. He snapped his fingers, coasting the boxes onto Solea's shoulders. "Now, to give the files to the office."

Wukong stepped into the living-room of his personal-sector; bothered. He seized himself a mug of Karasuu's tea, settling on top of the crimson sofa, sighing.

Keen eyes watched.