The halls were filled with the usual midday noise—students chatting, lockers closing, and footsteps echoing against the stone floors. Mai and Iruminai moved through the crowd, walking with an easy pace, dodging the occasional rushing student.

They had settled into the rhythm of their final year, each day slipping into a familiar cycle—class, studying, training. At least, that was Iruminai’s experience. He had been pushing himself harder than ever, determined to catch up. Mai, on the other hand, coasted through it all, effortlessly ahead, as if the extra effort was something he’d never even needed.

Mai and Iruminai came to the end of the hall, pushing open two wooden doors, stepping out into the open air. The shift from the enclosed halls to the courtyard was immediate—the warmth of the sun on their skin, the scent of grass and fresh earth, and the distant hum of students chatting in small groups. A light breeze drifted through, rustling the leaves of the tall trees lining the stone pathways.

While they had known today’s lesson would be outside, neither had expected this.

Several animal cages were lined up near the professor, their reinforced metal bars glinting in the sunlight. The faint shuffle of claws and the low, restless sounds from within pressed against the silence like static. Iruminai let out a low whistle. “Well, that explains why he had us out here."

Mai’s ears flicked, his tail stiffening behind him. His movements slowed, measured, like he was deliberately keeping himself in check. His gaze swept over the cages but never lingered, shifting away the second it landed on the heavy bars. Without a word, he took a step back, positioning himself toward the rear of the group.

“Yeah...” His voice faltered, just for a second, before he forced it steady. “This should be interesting.”

A few students had already gathered, murmuring amongst themselves, some shifting on their feet, others trying to sneak a better look at the cages. Excitement and nerves tangled in their voices. Their professor stood at the front, hands clasped behind his back, giving a smile to the students as they arrived.

Once the rest of the class had gathered, the professor stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Alright everyone, settle down.” His voice carried easily across the courtyard, quickly quieting the murmurs of students. “Today, you’ll be getting firsthand experience with some Lunox Beasts.” A ripple of excitement spread through the group, but it was also accompanied by a few uneasy glances. Some students shifted where they stood, their expressions wary.

The professor caught the reaction and raised a hand. “Before anyone starts panicking—don’t worry. The ones we have today are completely non-hostile.” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “That said, non-hostile doesn’t mean harmless. Some of these creatures have properties that should be avoided, so I expect everyone to be paying attention. Understood?”

A few nervous murmurs ran through the crowd, but most students nodded, reassured by his words. Mai and Iruminai exchanged glances, their interest piqued. Despite all their studies, neither of them had ever encountered a Lunox Beast before. While they’d read plenty about them in textbooks, seeing one up close was something else entirely.

The professor turned, walking over to one of the cages. It was much smaller than the others—closer to a pet carrier than the reinforced enclosures beside it. He crouched down, gripping the handle, and with a small but deliberate motion, he lifted it up for the class to see.

The professor placed the cage on the table before lifting the latch on the small cage. Suddenly, something jumped out—a tiny blur of light blue, landing with a soft clink against the stone pathway. Mai and Iruminai leaned in, only to immediately be disappointed at the sight before them.

A golem. A very small golem.

The tiny creature, barely five inches tall, was made of translucent, crystalline shards, its body faintly glowing in the sunlight. It stood on stubby legs, its jagged arms raised in an attempt to look intimidating.

It tried to roar—or at least, that’s what it seemed to be going for. Instead of a deep, fearsome sound—soft, high-pitched chimes rang through the air, like tiny wind bells swaying in the breeze. The sound was delicate, almost pretty, at odds with the way it puffed out its chest.

A few students muffled laughs, while others just blinked, unsure how to react.

Mai’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Well, that’s... not what I was expecting.”

Iruminai scratched the back of his head, watching the tiny golem puff out its chest. “I mean, credit where it’s due—it’s trying.”

The little golem stomped its foot, letting out another fierce chime. Its glow pulsed faintly with the motion, a child’s imitation of fury.

One of the boys at the front of the class finally spoke, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this little guy’s deal?”

The professor smiled knowingly, clearly expecting this reaction. “Good question. This, class, is Chilly.” He gestured to the tiny golem, who was still chiming proudly. “This little one here is a young Ice Primordite, a subspecies of Primordites. Normally, these creatures form deep in the mountains, but this particular one—well, he appeared right here at this school.”

He gave a small chuckle before continuing. “Primordites start out small like this, but don’t be fooled—they grow over time, eventually reaching sizes even larger than us. Right now, his abilities are dormant, but mature Ice Primordites can manipulate cold and even freeze moisture in the air. While harmless at this stage, you wouldn’t want to provoke a fully grown one. That being said, young Primordites are highly adaptable and, if raised properly, can form strong bonds with people.”

As the professor finished his explanation, he bent down and gave the golem a reassuring nudge. “Alright, Chilly, go on—introduce yourself.”

Chilly waddled forward, his tiny crystalline legs making soft tink sounds against the stone ground. He chimed happily, looking around at the group of students before toddling off in no particular direction. Some students stepped back hesitantly, while others knelt down, offering their hands in greeting. The tiny golem seemed to take it all in stride, moving from one person to the next.

Mai watched the display with mild amusement, leaning back slightly. “Well, he’s got confidence, I’ll give him that.”

Iruminai, however, was less invested. He had already sunk into the bench, arms crossed as he watched the students interact with the small creature. This wasn’t exactly what he expected when he heard they’d be handling Lunox Beasts. Sure, Chilly was cute, but he wasn’t exactly impressive.

Just as he was about to turn to Mai with some remark about how this was shaping up to be another underwhelming lesson, he felt an odd chill creeping up his leg. He froze, glancing down. There, slowly climbing his pant leg, was Chilly. Iruminai blinked. “Uh... okay?”

Chilly continued his slow ascent, his tiny fingers gripping the fabric as he climbed. When he finally reached the top of Iruminai’s knee, he settled onto the edge of the bench with a triumphant little hop. Then, as if acknowledging Iruminai personally, he gave him a small, determined thumbs-up.

Mai turned just in time to see this. “Damn,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t take you for the type to win over magical creatures.”

Iruminai ignored him, still staring at the tiny golem. “...What do you want?”

Chilly tilted his head, considering the question. Then, with a small clinking sound, he extended one rocky hand—clenched into a fist. Iruminai hesitated. “You... want a fist bump?”

Chilly gave a single, enthusiastic nod.

Still confused but with no real reason to refuse, Iruminai lifted his own hand, bumping his knuckles lightly against Chilly’s. The little golem gave a content chime in response, then once again settled comfortably on the bench, as if this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Iruminai let out a small huff, shaking his head as he glanced at Mai. “Yeah, okay. This one’s kinda alright.”

Mai grinned but said nothing.

“Alright, let’s move on,” the professor said, reaching for the next cage—a delicate, bird cage-like structure. “This next one is a little different, so I’ll ask you all to remain where you are.”

The class straightened up, curiosity returning as the professor carefully lifted the cover. Inside, perched delicately on a thin branch, was a butterfly unlike any other. Its wings seemed alive with color, deep blues and purples shifting like oil across water. The light bent on their surface, hypnotic even in stillness.

“This,” the professor began, “is a Mesmerwing.” A few students leaned in for a closer look. The professor quickly raised a hand in warning. “Careful—while the Mesmerwing may be harmless, if it feels threatened, its wings can put anyone watching into a hypnotic state. Because of that, I won’t be letting it out—but if anyone wants a closer look, step up carefully.”

Most students immediately stepped back, while others exchanged glances, intrigued but wary. Some students however, stepped forward, peering inside with fascination. The Mesmerwing remained perched, its wings shifting slightly as it observed the students in return.

Unfortunately, one of the students leaned in a little too close. The Mesmerwing’s wings fluttered in response, a gentle, rippling motion—but that was all it took.

The professor’s eyes widened. “Look away!” he barked, but it was too late. The student who had gotten too close blinked, then suddenly jerked upright, his breathing quickening. His eyes darted around frantically before he clutched at his head. “Why—why am I moving so fast? What’s happening?!”

The students around him attempted to reassure him. But the student wasn’t listening. He gripped the grass beneath him, as if trying to steady himself. “No, no, no—I’m flying! The ground’s moving too fast!” His panic only escalated.

The professor moved swiftly, placing the tarp back over the Mesmerwing’s cage and placing it aside before reaching for another. “Alright, let’s fix this,” he said, his tone calm but firm. With practiced ease, he unlatched the new cage. A soft blue glow pulsed from within as a faintly luminescent orb drifted out, floating gently toward the panicked student. Its movement was slow, deliberate, as if sensing the distress in the air.

The orb hovered near the student’s head, its glow subtly intensifying. The student, still gripped by his illusion, barely seemed to notice—until a faint wave of energy rippled outward from the orb, washing over him like a soothing breeze. His breathing slowed. The tension in his shoulders eased. His wild eyes darted around before settling. A soft sigh escaped him as his eyes fluttered shut, his head dipping forward as he drifted into sleep.

The professor reached out, gently cupping the glowing orb in his hands. “Well done,” he murmured before carefully placing it back into its cage. As he latched the door, he turned back to the class. “This,” he began, his voice calm and steady, “is a Calming Echo. These creatures are naturally attuned to the emotions of those around them. When they sense distress, they emit a soothing energy that lulls the affected into a state of complete relaxation—sometimes even sleep, as you just saw.”

“I’ll take him to the medical office to make sure he’s alright. He should wake up soon, completely fine.” The professor gave a small, apologetic smile. “We’ll have to cut today’s lesson short, but we’ll pick up where we left off next week.”

The professor, already making his way toward the exit with the unconscious student slung over his shoulder, called back. “Iruminai, can you put Chilly back in his cage for me?”

Iruminai blinked, glancing down at the tiny crystalline creature still perched on the edge of the bench. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he said, giving a nod. As the professor disappeared into the school, the students began to slowly gather their belongings.

Iruminai scooped up Chilly, the tiny Primordite letting out a soft chime as he carried him to the presentation table. Kneeling, he placed him back inside the cage. But just as he started pulling his hand away, Chilly reached out, his tiny rocky fingers grasping at Iruminai’s sleeve.

The small tug barely had any force, but it made Iruminai pause. Chilly tilted his head, letting out a soft chime—just a simple hesitation, like he didn’t want the moment to end.

Iruminai exhaled through his nose, offering the little creature a half-smirk. “Sorry, little guy,” he murmured, gently prying his sleeve free. “I’ll see ya’ next class.”

Chilly hesitated for a moment, before letting out a happy chime, jumping to its feet and giving Iruminai a thumbs up. The boy just smiled as he closed the latch on the cage, giving him a thumbs up of his own.

As he turned back toward the benches, his eyes landed on Mai. He was already on his feet, standing near the edge of the courtyard, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His posture was stiff, his shoulders tense, but his gaze stayed locked on the cages as students moved around them, finishing their cleanup. For all his calm words earlier, he hadn’t looked away from the bars once.

Iruminai didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply walked past the scattered students and fell into step beside him. The two made their way toward the school doors, their usual banter absent.

Neither of them spoke as they stepped inside, the noise of the courtyard fading behind them. But as they moved down the hallway, Iruminai finally cast a glance at his friend.

“You alright?” he asked, his tone casual—offering an easy way out if Mai wanted to take it.

Mai blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out a short breath, a ghost of a smirk forming. “Yeah, just in my own head,” he said, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off.

As they walked, the echoes of their footsteps filled the quiet. The halls stretched ahead, unchanged, yet somehow heavier than before.