The hollow clang of Khonsu's time-rippling presence frolicked across the painting's runic-design. He channelled his mana into his fingers, flicking the picture of a pale, sempiternal visage until it crumbled.

"I give up his painting to you, Sowl." Khonsu gently murmured to himself, dissolving the magical-energy dancing atop his hands. He felt the time inside his purlieu writhe, sighing. "The dead-dimension."

Professor Solea perambulated out of the arena-sector's class-room - while the third class' bell itself clanged. Suspiring outwards, I slipped my hands into my slacks' pockets; sauntering into the student-flooded corridor.

I ambled through the crowd of my fellow school-mates, disregarding their vehement and raucous voices. I stepped into my third-class' environs, sinking into the sanguine-painted chair.

This was professor Qwoin's class about the utilization of mana - Mana-Studies. I yawned to myself in a fatigued and monotonous soprano, ignoring or listening to the innumerable discussions of my colleagues.

I flittered a vibration of [Lifeless-Magic] onto the top of my silky hand, conducting my magical-power into the flesh of my fingers. I snapped them, descrying the flecks of mana dancing from my [Mana-Currents].

The class-room's mahogany-door immediately opened itself up - Qwoin stepped into the sector, lounging on his signature, office-chair. "Welcome back, my students!"

What a dramatic individual. I lazily pedalled my sapphire irises over the murals all of Spectral-Academy's class-rooms carried; bemused. "Maybe for decorations?"

"Saue! What's the meaning of dimensional-mana!" Professor Qwoin ardently vociferated, stretching a slim and taunt finger towards the slouched entity. Qwoin groaned, settling onto the top of his ebony-desk. "Come on!"

"Dimensional-mana is the eternal energy all of the infinite realms accommodate." Saue blandly elucidated, flicking his cloud-grown pencil across his sketch-pad. He slumped into his seat, sighing. "This class sucks."

"Vague! No?" Qwoin dramatically chuckled, flinging himself back atop his mahogany, office-chair. He twirled over to his desk, sipping in a flood of his after-noon coffee. "Okay, kids! Listen up!"

"Dimensional-mana is born from the realm itself. Similar to us, for our bodies grow back our depleted mana, a dimension can regrow its own mana back from its inhabitants."

"Oh, and it's used for connectors or connector platforms!"

I channelled an echo of lifeless-mana into my fingers, inspecting the flecks of a purple-energy. I shrunk the shroud of purple-mana into a serrated-form - similar to the crimson warmth of [Fire-Magic.]

Still, the reminder of dimensional-mana stimulated me into remembering about the unused [Connector] inside my unshackled [Centre]. The only realm I was capable of visiting was the Srooa-Kingdom's dimension. Damn.

It was an internally stressful and arduous festival for the students who were leaving the school - either entering Upper-Schools or procuring the legal-identification of a mage.

Some students weren't planning on entering Upper-Schools - or becoming official-mages. Some individuals amalgamated themselves into Spectral-Academy for its gargantuan amounts of education.

Spectral-Academy was listed as one of the meager academies for studying the infamous, innumerable crafts of mana. There were multifarious schools granting people education and training, mine was no exception.

I peered towards the sanguine, white symbol of fire on the collar of my obsidian school-uniform. I suspired to myself, stepping into the crowd of my school-mates: who all settled onto the platform's fire-brick chairs.

Principal Heana was an obscured, obfuscated individual at the academy. If my sources were accurate - Karasuu was my source - principal-Heana was a billionaire and successful merchant until becoming head-master.

"Speech-time, kids." She blankly grouched to herself, her falsetto mellifluous and grandiloquent. The principal brushed a pale finger onto her mana-powered micro-phone; sighing. "Still, good work. All of you."

"Some, if not most of you, studied at this school for over 5-years." Henea canarously echoed, her gentle and monotonous soprano itself booming. She tapped its buttons; humming. "And, it's my pleasure to reward you all!"

"You all succeeded in graduating. Some are going to Upper-Schools, planning on becoming full-time mages, or still scheming on your career. And I'm elated all of you disgruntling children selected our school!"

I immediately felt the familiar strum of professor Krwn's telekinetic mana-signature. I watched as an innumerable amount of cards and files flicked themselves onto our laps - the mage-identification and official-scriptures.

I ignored all of the ecstatic, sonorous, cacophonous chuckles or voices of my school-mates, peering towards the sapphire-irises of my own picture; sighing. "The angles of this picture are trash..."

"Your one's better than mine!" Wukong's vociferous, immature soprano interrupted. He gyrated his identification-card, swiping his smooth fingers onto the image of his childish visage. "I'm Section-B Mage: 23?"

"I'm Section-C Mage: 6." I lackadaisically retorted, slinging the identification-card into my storage-dimension of a [Centre]. Stretching my legs and mana, I stepped from the crimson-chairs; suspiring. "Rank 1."

"Same, I'm rank-1! Unfair!"

"And I'm rank 2." Karasuu acerbically chuckled, sinking into the sanguine-decorated fabric of the podium's chair. He flung his own Mage-I.D into his pocket-realm for storage, humming. "Are you all packed?"

"Yep." I cryptically smirked back, striding onto the steps of the podium's purlieu. I slipped my hands into my slacks' pockets, glancing towards the deluge of my class-mates all flourishing their cards. "Our apartment set up, now?"

"Indeed, who are you taking me for?"

"A dumbass!" Wukong blithely intervened, balancing the infinitesimal-form of Horuss atop his silky, calloused fingers. He flicked his staff into frolicking molecules of mana, huffing. "I could beat the crap out of you."

Ah. It was time for Karasuu's and Wukong's eternal argument. Damn it all.

Wukong, Karasuu, and I all scattered the last of our personal-boxes into the ageless gulf of our [Centre]s. I stepped into the sector of my own bed-room, tracing my pulseless-hand across the frame of my desk's chair.

7 years. I was enrolled in Spectral-Academy by an anonymous individual: who selected an innumerable number of children into studying at this school - for its original-purpose was to be an orphanage.

I reminded myself of Saue's little interrogation of my career-plan. What was I planning for post-graduation? I intended to retrieve something crucial to me; something stolen from the shackles of my head.

I sauntered into my bed-room's isolated bath-room, peering at the azure irises of my bland and fatigued gaze. My plan? My plan was to retrieve my stolen memories - memories robbed from my seven-year-old self.

No-one would stop me from stealing back my memories.

"Saue..." I lazily mumbled to myself, swiping the irrigated towel through my coarse, smooth features. I wrung the water from its material, settling it onto a hook inside the bath-room. "That's my career-plan."

Professor Krwn and Solea both stepped onto the hovering platform of Spectral-Academy's [Connector]. The former stretched his unutilized arms, clipping an ebony-decorated satchel over his shoulder.

"This is it, then, Krwn." Solea casually murmured, unperturbed. He brushed his rough and athletic fingers onto the stubble of his shaven-beard, chuckling. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"It wasn't a pleasure meeting you, geezer." Krwn listlessly riposted, fossicking for a lollipop inside his obsidian-bag. He unravelled the wrapper from its infinitesimal stick, flicking the lollipop into his languid-lips. "Hm..."

"Where are you going?" The aged-professor courtly retorted, descrying the dimensional-layer of the [Connector]'s mana flooding over their forms. Solea tapped his stubble; humming. "Your home-dimension?"

"Perhaps." Krwn languidly shrugged, writhing the telekinetic-ripple of his mana into floating the wrapper of his lollipop back inside his satchel. He perused the layer of magic, humoured. "This reminds me of something."

"Oh?"

"Two of my students flung themselves out of the platform." He pitilessly laughed, his soprano entertained and raucous. Krwn licked his lollipop, swiping his hand through the platform's mana-layer. "Dumbasses, I swear."

"If I remember, Gaia Hell stole your connector and retrieved them?" 

"Yep." Krwn lackadaisically grouched to himself, flicking the splintered lollipop from his disgruntled lips. The professor strummed his mana into the little snack, flinging it through the connector's mana-layer. "That was fun."

"Your sarcasm is one of your greatest traits." Solea immaturely mocked, a childish, immutable grin decorating itself over his wrinkled-visage. He snapped his fingers, summoning a bottle of water. "Are you retiring?"

"I ain't retiring." The professor incredulously refuted, dissolving the throb of telekinetic-mana pulsing in his body. Krwn felt the [Connector] itself vibrate - as the golden-layer evaporated. "This is my stop. See ya never, geezer."

Krwn stepped out of the transportation-platform - watching Solea's own body dissolve back into the layer of magical-flecks. He groaned to himself, sauntering into the mage-station's line of individuals.

"Professor Krwn?"

"Huh?"

The vacated-professor immediately peered over to the creature - identifying one of his old, innumerable students; Osiris: who was flicking his novel onto another page. "You're visiting the Winuo dimension?"

"Osiris, good to see ya. And I am." Krwn bemusedly murmured back, shunting himself forward in the flood of entities. He slipped his hands into his pockets, perusing the mage-station's workers. "Wait a second..."

"I swear you were returning to Heaying."

"I'm settled back in my mansion, indeed." Osiris casually riposted, flinging his book into the shackles of his crimson-pouch. The Osail gyrated some type of ring, brushing its sanguine-gem. "This is a vacation, if you would."

"Heh, my teachings traumatized you?"

"No, never." He incredulously suspired, swiping his three, smooth fingers across the material of his fire-brick ring. Osiris clutched back his book, pedalling onto the 45th page of his thriller-novel. "Your work wasn't difficult at all."

"Damn, my ego." Krwn sardonically groused, entertained. The professor stepped over to the front-desk of the mage-station, coasting his Mage-I.D onto the table. "Krwn. Section-W: Mage 1."

"Hm, welcome to the capital of the Winuo realm, mage Krwn." The receptionist dismissively retorted, slinging her ebony-pen onto one of the scriptures - as she illustrated Krwn's identity. "You can leave, now."

"Thanks." He casually rumbled, sauntering through the corridor of the mage-station. Krwn stepped into the capital empire of the Winuo dimension - named the Licin-Kingdom. "Where's the hotel..."

Krwn instantly pulsated a throb of telekinetic-mana into his feet and hands. He hovered himself into the empyrean, inspecting the gargantuan-lanes of the empire, impressed. "This is bigger than Srooa."

He floated across the aerosphere of the welkin itself, settling onto the concrete of a local shop called [Ya New? Buy Our Products!], intending to purchase some tools and a map. "Oh, sick! A customer!"

Krwn disregarded the baffled, elated soprano of the teenage cashier, pedalling his obsidian-irises across the multifarious items on the shelves, sighing. "Books, weapons, rune-brushes, and maps."

He unclipped the map strapped onto the shelf's hook, strolling up to the cashier: who gyrated their pen created from fire. Krwn flicked the map atop the front-desk, watching the teenager dissolve his sizzling, pale flames.

"Impressive mana control." Krwn lazily murmured to himself, disconnecting the thread of his ebony-satchel from his shoulder. He seized a roll of cash worth 40-Erais, flinging them onto the table. "Keep the change, kid."

"Damn! Thanks for the tip!"

Krwn sauntered back into the individual-swallowed path of the Licin-Empire, ignoring all of the merchants, mages, civilians, and children bounding across the sector. "Ah. Hotel-Mahogany."

Suspiring outwards, he channelled a ripple of natural-mana into his veined-legs. Krwn blurred forward, whizzing through the crowds of individuals and creatures, unperturbed. "The population is large, eh?"

He flittered onto the surface of Hotel-Mahogany, inspecting the map and its uncountable illustrations. Krwn slipped his hands into his obsidian-slacks' pockets, striding into the edifice's lounge. "Excuse me."

The receptionist peered over to Krwn, hefting her book onto an infinitesimal platform on the desk. She opened up the reservations-book, perusing the latter's gashed, splintered map. "Name?"

"Krwn. Surname private."

She pressed two of her fingers onto the name, creating a [Identification-Rune] from the book itself. The receptionist shunted the book towards Krwn: who clicked the mahogany-sigil. "Identified."

"Room 10. Second section." The receptionist of Hotel-Mahogany blandly grouched, flicking the key-card for Krwn's personal-room into his silky-fingers. She canted her head, tapping the wood of the desk. "Hm."

Krwn perambulated over to the second-purlieu of the hotel, swiping his mana-powered key-card into another [Identification-Rune] painted onto the beige-decorated door. "Okay. It's time to research this dimension."

Suryaa ambled onto the floating platform of a lava-engulfed dimension, flittering onto a creature's sanguine, rippling flesh. He gyrated his knife, stabbing into the entity's visage, laughing.

Keen eyes watched.