Aisenhower 13 A.W (13 Years After War)

In the new age of Ethos, trumpets play the annual significance of the change in tomorrow, despite the town of Waldenstead being known for its unrivaled peace; going as far as to pivot its community upon it, Zenith Academy hosts its freshmen orientation opening its doors for all from across the lands to enroll. The trumpets play a sweet tune, a tune as sweet as honey, while the suspense leaves a sour aftertaste in one's mouth, as sour as an oxalis. The bewildering harmony of these two opposites causes the critters and passive beasts to dance and play as this event induces hundreds of families to converge, not only in this town but many others surrounding Zenith. 

A smear of blue moves effortlessly amongst the rooftops of Waldenstead, fleeting in and out of sight too rapidly for most to notice. “Damn it! I'm so late. Kara’s gonna give me an earful for this!” he wails traveling at break-neck speeds. 

This is Lizen Ishakura, the last of his bloodline, the orphan child pitied by the kingdom of Aisenhower. Quite privileged he is. His long braids glide along the winds as his Zenith Academy badge glimmers along with his mocha skin, both reflecting the light from the sun. His confident smirk is said to mimic that of the mischievous king himself. His mind continued to trail off on the limitless possibilities of going to Zenith Academy, submerged in thought he was helpless to react to a large bird crashing into him with a pained Squak*. And with a Thwack * The two are sent crashing to the ground landing in a pile of trash. Groans of pain leave Lizen’s body as he pulls himself from the grimy street floor.

He winces in pain, “S-stupid bird… Oh, my head. That sure is one way to start the day” Lizen springs upwards as if never touched at all. Zipping from the Alleyway he begins dusting his clothes, taking the comical banana peel from his shoulder and tossing it to the side.

He reaches for his pocket before pulling out a small, hexagonal object that shimmers with a blue light. It's a mana crystal, a device that serves as a communication tool between friends, students, and even coworkers; many mages have been seen adapting to use such technology. With a flick of his wrist, Lizen activates it, and a holographic screen materializes in front of him. 

“Hey, looks like I'm gonna be on time after all.” He braces his body readying to move only to hear his stomach growl, the rumble catches him off guard. “Woah,” he says, “I guess I’m hungrier than I thought,” he laughs wearily to himself as he plants his feet into the ground readying himself to zip away once more when the magical space around him begins to shift. Lizen whips his head around and slips to his side as a ball of mana nibbles at his clothes barely scraping by. 

Lizen detects the five boys walk toward him, they stride disgustingly in sync and he shudders a little from it. “Not you guys again” He cried tossing his arms into the air.

One of the boys steps forward, like the others he sports a burgundy suit with ebony slacks and brown polished oxfords. He speaks like silk as he runs his hand through his hair, whipping his arm down, a blue ball of magical energy forming in his palm. “That is such  hideous garb, allow me to help with that.”

“Edwin, always one for theatrics, “ Lizen thought to himself

“You ruined my hair the last time we fought! Do you know how long it takes, How delicate of a procedure it is!” He cried as the others began forming orbs of magical energy in their palms and around their fists with one of the boys being the exception, comprising flame around one of his arms. They did this in sync as well, and if it had not been for Lizen’s history with the bunch, he too would have been impressed. Sadly he was already drawing a bore struggling to focus on their clearly rehearsed introductions. That was until one of the boys dove upon him, in one lone stride he broke the distance between himself and Lizen, and much to Lizen’s surprise the boy was faster than he had been a week ago. The boy's name is Donnis, he was the largest in the group and with that came his quick temper, he was known for it. He swings his arm in a long arc striking like that of an amateur, Lizen ever so quickly had already moved from his position safely away and out of sight. This is how the fights would usually go except that no teasing had taken place yet. Lizen usually reveled in the Goading of others as he mocked whoever seemed fit for mocking. It was within his nature to do so. Many would say it's quite a damning trait but he never saw it as so. For you see, this was always fun for him and this time he had good reason. Weeks without fail Lizen stayed in Waldenstead and specifically chose this group of boys to torment for he had seen them torment someone once before. An eye for an eye.

Lizen who quickly realizes this shift in dynamic yearns for complacency and normality so now perched atop a building he declares snarky to the boys down below, “You guys aiming for me?” He leaped from the corner of the building in typical showboating fashion showcasing his acrobatic capabilities before disappearing and reappearing, his black boot landing on the face of Donnis. The attack happened in an instant, jerking the boy’s head back.

The others race to Lizen, each one hoping to be the first to strike. One by one Lizen meticulously analyzes them, darting his eyes between the four as they glow a dark blue hue. He teleports to the closest boy, the one with fire draped along his arm. His name was Purris and he is known for his ability to manipulate mana into flame, though he isn’t very good at it for all he could do was cloak his body with it. 

Lizen stares for a moment before laughing at the flame, “Don't tell me that's the best you got, aren’t you a third year?” The boy, who was initially startled, swipes his fist in the air preparing to end the conflict as quickly as it had started. But Lizen was gone and Purris’ fist continued to crash into the ground. Much to his surprise, Lizen’s leg found comfort in his neck as his neck had already wrapped around it with finesse and ease like a scarf or a collar. The kick sent him reeling and bouncing a few times before crashing into the flower shop across the street. 

In Ethos, those who manage to understand the core values of magic grow to a substantial degree, and most scholars are praised for their theories and advancements in magic due to it being the foundation of their society. Lizen, though skilled in his magical abilities and combat, was far from anything near worthwhile. He was quite weak actually but, to be fair, most people were.

In the same fashion Lizen zips by striking the other three not so much as to harm them but to prove he can. As they stand battered and bruised, Lizen takes a deep breath and crouches low, a smirk painted along his face.

 “Spatial technique: Omnidirectional Overflow” Lizen’s body glows blue as mana flows around him. He teleports around the first boy, Odri, hitting him into and throughout the air like a ping-pong ball before slamming him into the ground. The other two notice but it's too late. Macey and Hadai were the closest of the bunch doing most things together, it just so happens that today both will be handed their arses on a platter. 

Macey in a frenzied panic swings his sword with agitation guiding its arc, and had it not been for Lizen’s uncanny reaction speed he would have possibly lost his head. Lizen swiftly unsheathes half of his blade blocking the attack and as shifty as a snake, he slips past Macey’s defense. He slides behind him spinning on his heel and grabs Macey’s face with the grip of a man hanging for dear life. By this point, Hadai could only bring himself to watch, only moving forward once Macey’s face had already been slammed into the ground. Hadai raises his sword only for Lizen to kick him in his chest. An anticlimactic end to a fight, sure but, nothing else came to his mind.

Lizen had put them in a pile and sat on the backs of them. Not that it was comfortable, but only because he knew just how much it would anger them. After taking a few pictures he grew bored of them and stood abruptly stretching his back and legs before teleporting atop the roofs of Waldenstead.

Lizen yawns and shakes his body, “That was one heck of a warmup, off to Zenith-” A fireball slams into his back forcing a yelp to escape him. “Who the hell– Do you dumbasses ever quit?” He shouts. He turns his head to see a wave of these students each wearing the same burgundy suit, the same black slacks, and the same brown polished oxfords. And oh it pleased him to see so many. For, Lizen had already made his name clear to those who attended school in Waldenstead, and whether it had been due to his attendance to another school or the shame of losing to a False Royal, the students in Waldenstead all shared a common loathing. 

Lizen begins bouncing on one leg before he leaps into the fray with a vicarious warcry. He zipped and dashed through the crowd as magical abilities were set off, exploding and knocking back anyone unlucky enough. He uses his legs, arms, elbows, and sword hilt as a weapon, and without ever unsheathing his sword, he knocks back two maybe three of them at a time. Just when he seemed overpowered by them he lept up with something new and innovative.

Witnessing the event playout was a woman in black roper boots, she steps out of a dance from around the corner. Her brown duster coat barely falling short of her hips conceals a whip to her side. Her gaze locks onto Lizen followed by a smile, both equally ominous as they follow him. She takes her mana crystal causing a holographic screen to emerge as she begins filtering through contacts. Finally landing on one in particular labeled “Client.”

“Hey sugar, I’ve just arrived at Waldenstead” A clear drawl in her voice.

 The mysterious man on the other side of the call begins to speak, “Go to the location tonight, you and Mushuko will receive your IDs for this mission. Remember, you get paid after the job, so you better make sure to get it done-.”  

Shelly cuts the man off, “Oh, sugar we never screw up a mission. Why dontcha calm your evil little head and let us do our job.”  The lady hangs up abruptly and satisfied with her behavior, begins to cackle, “Was that good Mumu?” She aspiringly calls out. A man much smaller than her steps from the shadows. His rugged black hair and large scarf dance in the wind before his keen and dreadful eyes glare at her momentarily. He disappointingly shakes his head walking away.

Mushuko reprimands Shelly, his hatred for the nickname apparent in his voice, as it’s laced with cold intension. His slow speech patterns cause each syllable to creep out and threaten. However, Shelly rushes from behind practically falling on him. Her wild laugh consumes her, causing Mushuko to scoff at her unpleasantness.