I stood and dusted off my clothes—or tried to. Mud caked everything: tunic, pants, shoes, even my face probably streaked with dirt and dried blood. No chance to clean up in the forest without getting jumped again. I'd have to enter the city looking like I'd crawled out of a grave and pray the quest reward covered a bath.
I glanced at the soldiers. They moved with the easy confidence of people who'd seen this kind of night too many times—experienced, no panic. Maybe they knew something about the floating boxes I kept seeing? Long shot, but worth asking.
"Hey," I started. "Do you… know anything about floating boxes? Like system interference, or whatever?"
"What is that?" the healer asked, eyes still on the distant fire.
They didn't know. Figures.
"Never mind," I muttered.
I turned back to the forest. Flames lit the horizon orange, smoke rising in thick pillars.
"The elf that attacked me… he was persistent," I said.
"Of course he was," the commander replied. "Like the Queen says: 'They are the plague on this land. We are going to rid them all.'"
"Hmm."
I watched the fire a moment longer, then looked at the healer.
"What's 'S-class students' mean?"
She gave me a look like I'd asked what one plus one was. "It means exactly what it says. They're the best at what they do—magic. If we want to extinguish this fire before it reaches the farms, we need their help."
"Ah… got it."
"Which class are you in?" another guard asked me.
"I'm not… attending an academy yet, sir."
"You should be," he said flatly. "Magic without knowledge is dangerous."
"Yes, I'll… do that after I set some things right."
The commander nodded once. "Get to the western gate. Report to the watch captain if anyone asks why you look like you crawled out of hell. And citizen—stay out of the woods at night from now on."
I gave a tired nod. "Understood."
They turned back to the fire, already coordinating. I started walking toward the distant glow of the city walls, legs heavy but steady. The Niakrandra blossoms were still safe in my pocket—five delicate stems, glowing faintly against the fabric.
Quest almost done. Bath, bed, answers. One step at a time.
I started walking toward the western gate—the closest one, thank god. My legs felt like lead, but the healer's magic had done its job: ribs steady, arm usable, head clearer. The Niakrandra blossoms in my pocket brushed against my side with every step, fragile and faintly warm.
The farmhouse lights had dimmed to soft amber pinpricks in the distance—families inside shuttered for the night, probably unaware of the inferno raging just beyond the treeline. Fireflies drifted low over the fields, tiny green-gold sparks winking in and out like living stars. They gave the dark grass a gentle, almost magical glow that felt out of place after everything I'd just seen.
A few travelers passed on horseback—three riders, maybe merchants or late couriers—trotting slowly along the safe, well-trodden road. Their lanterns swayed from saddlebags, casting long, swaying shadows. One tipped his wide-brimmed hat in silent greeting as he went by. I nodded back, too tired to speak.
The slope up to the city walls came into view soon enough—gentle at first, then steeper, cobblestones replacing dirt. Torchlight flickered along the battlements above, and the faint clatter of guards changing shift carried down.
Then I saw them.
At least ten students were already descending the slope toward me, moving in a loose, confident group as the gate above creaked wider to let them pass.
They wore academy uniforms—clean, crisp, obviously expensive, the kind that screamed privilege and never having to scrub blood or mud out of fabric.
The boys had high-collared tunics in deep midnight blue, the material catching torchlight in subtle silver embroidery that shifted like liquid moonlight with every step. Loose trousers tucked neatly into polished knee-high boots, short capes draped over one shoulder and fastened with small crystal clasps that glowed faintly, as if holding trapped starlight. Their hair was neatly bound or pinned back, and several carried slender staves or slim leather-bound tomes tucked under their arms.
The girls wore layered robes of the same midnight blue, flowing outer garments over lighter underskirts that rippled softly like water when they moved. Wide, bell-like sleeves ended in silver-threaded cuffs; high sashes cinched at the waist were embroidered with delicate vine motifs that seemed to shimmer and breathe in the flickering light. Some had their hair arranged in elegant half-up styles, thin silver chains woven through the strands, small pendant earrings glinting as they turned their heads.
Then they noticed me trudging up toward them.
Heads turned. One girl wrinkled her nose immediately.
"Ugh… what is that smell?"
"Gods, look at him," a boy muttered, not bothering to lower his voice. "Covered in mud… and is that blood? He is... ugh. What a guy..."
"Think I'm gonna go now..."
"Who even let him wander around like that?" another girl whispered, clutching her book tighter to her chest. "He reeks like a swamp."
Soft, cutting laughter rippled through the group—careless, entitled, the sound of people who'd never had to fight for their lives or scrape mud off their boots.
I kept my eyes forward, jaw clenched. Shook my head once.
"Well…" I muttered under my breath as I passed them, boots scraping cobblestone while they glided downward without breaking stride. "That was embarrassing…"
The gate loomed at the top of the slope—iron-banded wood creaking slowly open under steady torchlight. The guards on duty gave my state a quick once-over—mud, blood, singed tunic—but waved me through without a word. They'd probably seen worse after nights like this.
One step at a time.
Guildhouse next. Turn in the flowers. Get paid. Find a bath—preferably one hot enough to scald the smell of smoke and death off my skin. Then maybe—maaaybe—I'd figure out how to spend those points and what the hell an academy actually meant in this place.
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