—--------------------------------------------------------------------

  >Perspective: Michael<

  So settin’ the scene, I’m eatin’ some cereal in the dorm commons, right? Oh, crap! Never introduced myself!

  The name’s Michael Freeman. I’m about 16, older’n the rest of Squad 5. Still a junior, though. I’d rather avoid getting into my family history, and all that. Don’t remember much of it either. All you gotta know ‘bout me is that I don’t use nonna those demons, just pure sorcery n’ hands.

  So, it’s a normal Wednesday morning, but my schedule doesn’t have a class until like 11:00 on Wednesdays, because Hannya was nice to me for some reason. I’m eatin’ cereal in the dorm commons, cuz it’s like 7:00. Eating Frosted Flakes, to be more specific. So ya know I’m out here havin’ a great time, eatin’ this cereal, goin’ to town on it, when of all people, Jan walks outta their room. They’re dressed in more casual clothin’ than their usual kimono, which is ‘bout as surprising as seein’ ‘em up this early.

  “Good morning, Michael.”

  “Oh! Morning, Jan! Crazy seeing you up this early, eh?“

  They start walkin’ over to the kitchen. “It’s not surprising. I’m usually up this early to avoid being late for classes.”

  Wait, I knew I forgot somethin’! I didn’t explain how the dorms are laid out!!

  From the front door, ya got the commons on the left, with a couple couches, the coffee table(which is currently hosting my cereal), and a TV, and the kitchen on the right. It’s got a kitchen table, and all the usual kitchen furnishings. Jan and Peter brought most of the silverware and cooking supplies, and are the only two who know how to use most of ‘em. Finally, there’s a hallway with all our rooms in the back. One nice thing is that our rooms all come with mini bathrooms. Only fit toilets, sinks, and showers, but hey, that’s still crazy good. Anywho, Jan’s walkin’ over to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, but ain’t that in, like, two hours?”

  They open the fridge. “I need the time to-” They pause. “Michael. Where is the goddamn milk?”

  My eyes widen in horror.

  Fuck. I forgot to put it back in the fridge again.

  Jan closes the door, and there it is, the jug capped but perfectly left right on the counter. They immediately turn towards me. “Michael, you idiot! Do you want us to be drinking spoiled milk?!”

  I bow my head in shame. “It’s only been, like, 2 minutes since I used it…”

  This does not relent their verbal assault. “That doesn’t matter! What if I had not come out now, huh?! We could have been poisoned by your lack of foresight!!!”

  Peter sticks his head out of his room. “Hey, don’t yell. Isn’t Reid still sleeping?”

  Jan turns to Peter, still pissed. “That hardly matters! What DOES matter is that this fool nearly had us all poisoned by his idiocy!”

  I side with Peter. “Peter please help they are cruel and relentless”

  Peter stepped out of his room. “What’s even going on?”

  “This MORON wants us all dead! Look at this!” Jan gestured to the milk carton.

  “...it’s a milk carton.”

  “That he LEFT OUT! It could have SPOILED!”

  “...Michael, when did you use it?”

  “Uh, 5 minutes ago?”

  “...Stop yelling.” Now Reid was awake, on my side.

  Peter pointed at Jan. “Now it’s 2 to 1. Calm down and put the milk away!”

  Jan, still pissed, agreed. “Fine. There is no need to be rude about it.”

  “You were the one being rude!”

  “Stop. Yelling.” Reid began to frown. Any of us know that’s bad news, except Peter. Me and Jan both turn our heads to him, hopin’ he’d back off.

  “...fine.” Guess our reactions told him off. Reid goes back into her room, I’d guess to sleep. I don’t think she got any classes until like 1 on Wednesdays, since she did all her sorcery requirements the first 2 years like a sociopath. I go back to my cereal, and Jan and Peter get ready for the day.

  Jan starts the next piece of small talk. “So. Classes.”

  Peter, halfway through a sandwich made of toast, butter, and grape jam, stops surprised. “You want to talk?”

  Jan smirks, takin’ a bite of their own bread version of that sandwich and swallowin’ before speakin’. “What do you think I want to do?”

  Peter shrugs. “Honestly? Kill me.”

  “If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done so already, ” Jan counters. “But, you’re not entirely useless. You’ve got some potential, more than he does anyways.” they continue, gesturing to me.

  I cut in with “I resent that!” That was totally uncalled for. Jan totally ignores me. “So, answer the question. How are your classes?”

  “I mean, they’re alright.” I knew he had, he was in my Advanced Hand-to-Hand class. “All of them but the hand-to-hand one don’t make much sense, though.”

  “That is because you are enrolled in junior-level courses. They are designed for those who already have a baseline knowledge of sorcery and demon fighting. Something you lack entirely. I have no idea why Lucas had you enrolled in them.”

  I try to join the convo again. “He ain’t useless, though. He’s as good as me in H2H.”

  This time, Jan actually turns and acknowledges me. “True. But he has no knowledge of how sorcery actually works. As a fighter, he solely relies on his boxing skills. He should take the work to supplant them with sorcery.”

  Jan stands up and walks over to the window. They stuck their pointer finger in their mouth, said the magic words, and stuck it in the air. “Hm…about a 20 minute walk today.”

  Peter also stands up. “Is that an Incantation too?”

  “Yes, one invented by students to navigate the shifting barrier.”

  “Neat. I don’t know any of those.”

  Jan turned to him. “Then let’s get going. It’s better to be early, in any case. Then you can review notes.”

  “Oh. Alright.” Peter turned back. “Michael, you wanna join?”

  “Hell nah,” I say almost reflexively. No way in hell I’m goin’ to class 4 hours early. Barely get why Jan goes 2 hours early.

  Peter shrugs. “Alright.” He walks to the coatrack, puts on his blazer, grabs his bag and steps out. Jan looks at me before going. “Don’t be late to your class. I would rather avoid any negative Karma in the first week.”

  I walk into my room to go read manga till I have to leave for Composition and leave those two to get to their classes.

  —------------------------------------------------

  >Perspective: Peter Southpaw<

  As I walk to Anansi Hall, I take the time to observe the campus. Yesterday, most of my classes were shared with Michael or Lucas, so I didn’t get much time to myself. I mean, my class right now is shared with Jan, but they’re a while behind me, and we agreed to meet up at Anansi. The air’s not freezing cold, but it’s cooler than it will be later today. There’s not as many people as there were the last time I was out here, mainly because everyone’s probably asleep or at their dormitories. While the school has a mess hall, most people have described it to me as mediocre at its very best. Michael even spent half an hour last night describing some of Jan’s violent regurgitations of its food…before nearly getting stabbed by Jan upon them walking in. Speaking of, Michael and Jan were apparently roommates both their freshman and sophomore years, and thus know each other quite well. Michael naturally reached out first, since he’s…well, him.

  Pulling out my phone(with a replaced screen protector) and looking at my schedule, it’s not very bright. I’ve got a full roster of classes, and most of them seem incredibly boring. Running down the list, we’ve got Incantations and Techniques II; Cursed Weapon Use I; Composition; Advanced Precalculus; a single open period for lunch; Advanced Physics; Computer Science; and last, History of Sorcery III. Considering that three of the seven are all but illegible to me, and I’m fairly certain 6 of them will give homework, I’m not exactly excited for the day. But then again, I only have Composition, Physics, and Summoning II tomorrow, so maybe I can do the homework then…? Thank goodness Hand to Hand doesn’t give any homework.

  The usual whirlwind of thoughts any other student has swirl around my head as I continue the trek to Anansi Hall. I consider the fact that I haven’t really felt the fear of new things that anyone else would feel moving to a new school. I mean, it’s been irritating, sure, especially on such short notice. And the fact that I don’t get a summer break is certainly not lost on me. But, at the same time, I don’t feel that same feeling of “change”. It’s weird, now that I stop to consider it. Maybe I should feel more concerned.

  Then again, maybe people are lying about feeling all messed up when stuff like this happens. I mean, I’ve gone through bigger changes. Compared to those, a school change doesn’t feel all that bad. Besides, I wasn’t all that popular at my old school, and my closest friend from there lives nearby anyway, so I can just go hang out on weekends. I can’t tell Charlos much about the whole “I’m a demon summoner now” thing, though. He’d probably flip.

  Now that I’m listening around, it’s rather silent. Almost too silent. It’s as if the campus is entirely deserted, nothing around but the chirping of the birds and the thousand sentences inside my head. It’s eerie, but rather nice. I should come out here more often in the mornings, while it’s still nice, and just let my thoughts breathe. Hard to do in the dorm room with those two around. I’ve got no clue how Reid is so quiet all the time.

  Still though, this silence…it’s uneasy. Something is bothering me, but the thought won’t come to my head. I stop for a moment and concentrate, trying to parse out what is causing me this discomfort. After a second, it hits me. Something I learned early on in Summoning II is that your contracted demons tend to talk to you in quieter moments, but Hellhound hasn’t said anything the whole way. Maybe he’s gone, or something?

  Oh. Why’d you shut up all of a sudden, then?

  Hey, who said you were allowed to listen in on my internal soliloquy?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I call it an internal soliloquy. An internal monologue doesn’t make sense, since a monologue is just an extended dialogue to another person. Since no one else is listening, it’s a soliloquy.

  …I guess it is a monologue now, huh…?

  In any case, I’ve reached Anansi Hall. I find my classroom a lot faster than last Wednesday, and sit in the back row, as per usual. I then begin to settle into the chair I’ll be in for the next 2 hours and read over last week’s notes…

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Eventually, it reaches 9:00 AM, and the class period starts. Ms. Hannya walks in, apparently having stood outside to make sure no one was late. I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that she wasn’t waiting for me. She’s an elderly woman, small but intimidating to any student who knows her. Upon walking in, she wastes no time in insulting the entire class.

  “Alright, good morning and listen up, you dolts! Incantations and Techniques are the backbone of sorcery, and even though lectures might bore you brats out of your mind, you’ll be thanking me when you’re 4 dicks deep in a demonic disco mosh pit fighting for your life! Never forget that!”

  I lean over to the seat next to me, where Jan is sitting, and ask them why she’s so irritated already. “I’d assume that some kid insulted her class yesterday. Now pay attention.” I get back in my seat.

  “Now, where was I…Oh yeah! Notes on Incantations! Pay attention, Whittaker, I see you on your phone!” She throws a piece of chalk at Whittaker, nailing him in the head, then grabs another one. “An Incantation is a Technique any sorcerer can use. They can be specific to context or general, but most of ‘em aren’t combat oriented. At least, they won’t finish your opponents like a good hit or Technique will. Instead, think of ‘em as tools in every sorcerer’s toolbox. For example,” And with that, she…disappears in a flash of blue light.

  Murmurs almost immediately begin to spread across the classroom. “Hey, if the old bat’s gone for 15 minutes, can’t we leave?” One kid exclaims. “She won’t leave for that long,” another kid replies discontentedly. “I mean hey, what if we all left? Not like she’d find all of us!” Someone else shouts. “All of you stop. She can demerit us all, you morons,” Jan states.

  And with that, Ms. Hannya immediately returns, the same way she left, now holding a cup of coffee. “Flash Step. A technique that lets you move a short range of a few yards at light speed. So fast you can even move through solid objects. And by the WAY,” she scowls, “I was outside the classroom the entire time! I could hear you clods plotting to escape from the hallway! I’ll be taking Karma from Squads 4 and 11 for that!!!” She giggles with malevolent glee.

  The two kids who had planned to leave groan. With that, she goes back to her lecture. I nearly space out, but Jan sharply elbows me to keep me awake.

  —---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  After the lecture ends, I begin the arguably shorter walk to my next class. I don’t even have to leave the building, so making it to class is much easier. Jan leaves the building, since they have a separate schedule. Stepping out into the hall, students are chatting by their lockers. Since they’re optional, I decided not to get one to avoid tying myself to any one class building, since that’ll make preparing for classes more difficult. I figure that if you have any specific focus in your classes, though, it makes things a lot easier. Unfortunately for me, I’m just taking general classes.

  After a short walk, I arrived at my next classroom in the basement. You see, this class is a class about cursed weaponry, so it’s not a lecture-based one. Instead, there’s an array of weapons and targets for us to use. I’m not exactly sure why I was signed up for this class, though: I’m not a weapons expert. Still, at the front of the room are a suite of desks and a projector for lectures. I sit in the back of the room, and open up a game site on my computer. That is…

  “Southpaw, what did I tell you yesterday about playing games in my class?!?!” Ms. Jo practically appears behind me, yelling at the top of her (very high) lung capacity. I immediately close the website, but it’s too late. She’s already seen it. My fate is sealed. I decide the best way to handle this is to go on autopilot…

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  When I tune back in, I realize I spaced out too long. The lecture’s already started. Fortunately, my shared note document with Reid and Michael is coming in handy. I read over the notes Reid’s already taken, noting her cursor taking new ones at top speed as Ms. Jo lectures.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  >Perspective: Reid’s Notes<

  legendary blades: special cursed swords from throughout history. usually imbued with a technique.

  examples include:

  

• murakumo: japanese weapon from history. its technique can extend it. remains at its shrine
• excalibur: european blade. wielded by king arthur.
• country maker: japanese again. stewarded by the samna family.
• durendal/durandal: french one. belonged to roland, a knight in the court of charlemagne. lost to time until recently, when the morning star found it
• joyeuse: also french. belonged to charlemagne. wasn’t identified as a cursed weapon until 2001, but still remains in place at the louvre until now.
• masamune’s weapons: its been found that certain blades of the ancient swordsmith masamune have techniques within them. its unknown if they were made with the sorcery or if they had the sorcery imbued after creation. theyre held by the japanese group “angel’s heaven” currently|

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  >Perspective: Back To Peter<

  Looking at her notes, I wonder how she got them all in lowercase. I figure she must have some sort of plugin or something to disable auto-capital letters while typing. Either way, looking to my right, Michael appears to be in the same situation I am, barely able to keep up with Ms. Jo’s mad-cap speed. Guess this is why he suggested we make a notes document.

  I continue reading notes at the breakneck pace of the lecture. I can’t even keep up with Ms. Jo. I wonder how the poor kids writing the notes down are even coming close to understanding them. It’s amazing that Reid can just keep writing on.

  I decide to follow the lecture actively, focusing on the content instead of trying to take notes.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  After a bit, I’m jostled from the left. Turning, the person who elbowed me appears to be a kid with a purple mohawk. He turns and grins. “Ay. Can I borrow a pencil?”

  I reach into my bag, but I don’t have anything. I say as much.

  “Damn. Oh well.” The grin dropping from his face, Mohawk Kid turns back towards the lecture. Outside of his mohawk, he appears to have a lean build. Surprisingly skinny, for a demon hunter. He’s wearing a battle jacket with a bunch of patches I don’t have time to read, and has a nose piercing. He’s the archetypical cool anarchist type. He turns back, noticing I’m staring at him, and grins. I turn away.

  I lock in, focused on the lecture.

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  …but after class, when I leave the classroom…

  “Heya, new kid.”

  Turning to my left, the mohawk kid is leaning against the wall, cool as a cucumber. He beckons to me, and I walk over to him. Looking him down, there’s a conspicuous white stick popping out of his mouth.

  “You’re the new kid on campus, yeah? Nice to meet ya.”

  As he opens his mouth, I can see the stick belongs to a red sucker, or lollipop for those so inclined, in his mouth. Looks almost like a cigarette got censored out. Seemingly not helping this illusion, the kid takes it out to speak.

  “So, what’s your name?”

  “Peter.”

  The kid waits a second, then cocks a brow. “...? Huh?”

  I narrow my eyes. “My name’s Peter.”

  Now he looks confused. “...Just Peter?”

  My glare tightens. “What’s it to you?”

  This catches Mohawk off guard. “Nothin’, just. Not how I was expectin’ to be introduced.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  The question hits as Mohawk puts his sucker back in his mouth.

  “Nothin’ much, just lookin’ to make a new pal.”

  Now I raise a brow. “Without sharing your name?”

  “You’re not givin’ me much time to go offa’ here, pal.”

  “You’re right. I need to get to my next class.” I turn to walk away, but Mohawk follows me.

  “Chill out. You’re in my Composition class, and that’s in this buildin’. We got time.”

  Now I’m seriously getting ticked off. “Who even are you?”

  The kid grins. “Name’s Rocco, Rocco Beat. Nice to meetcha, put ‘er there!” He reaches out for a handshake, but I don’t accept it. I mean, Rocco Beat? With the punk getup? There’s no way that’s his actual name.

  “...guess you’re not a fan of handshakes?” I turn my head. Something feels off here.

  “C’mon, Petey! I’m not gonna hurt ya! Just put ‘er there!” My eyes narrow. “You’re being oddly pushy with the handshake there,” I identify. “Why’s that?”

  “Nah, it’s cool, dude. Just shake my hand.”

  Alright. I still don’t trust it, but I don’t think there’s any other way to get him off my case. I reach out…and….

  “Peter! No! Stoooopppppp!!!”

  Just as I shake hands with this Rocco guy, Michael full on body-slams me into the ground, having come in for the same Composition class I’m in. Somewhat amazingly, I fail to break any bones, but I’m definitely sore all over.

  “Dude! Are you okay? D’he hurt you anywhere?!”

  I blinked twice. “Uh, no, not counting getting tackled.”

  Rocco laughed in the background. “Hey, Freeman. Funny seein’ you here. Hell of an entrance…”

  “And it’s not funny seein’ you up to tryna hex my squadmate!” Michael retorted, nearly flying back to his feet and at Rocco’s throat. “What’s the matter with you, huh? Get a kick outta this shit?”

  Rocco just coolly sucked on his sucker. Or, at least, as cool as something described like that can be. “Nah, man. It’s cool. Not a bit of a Hex on ‘em. Just sayin’ hi to the new guy.”

  Michael squints, then turns to me. “...Peter, you sure? You don’t feel anything weird?”

  I brace my Spirit…. And nothing out of the ordinary happens. A shot of adrenaline, a bit of tension, sure; but nothing that I hadn't experienced before.

  Rocco smiles. “See? Nothin’ was goin’ on ‘tween us. Least, not yet,” muttering the last bit under his breath.

  Michael tilts his head. “Whazzat s’p’osed to mean?”

  “Nothin’. Welp, we should get to class ‘fore we’re late and Peridot takes Karma. See ‘ya round.” With that, Rocco turns and slinks off to class.

  “...you know who that guy is,” I asked as I rose from the ground.

  “Rocco Beat, same grade as us,” Michael answered. “He’s a chill dude for the most part, but he’s the kinda trickster to play pranks on new people, and a bit of a jerk sometimes. Most importantly, he’s way strong, and he’s got an annoying power, too. If you were to fight him, it’d be a total nightmare. My recommendation is just keepin’ your distance."

  So I guess his name is Rocco Beat…and he’s another seedy type.

  Whatever. You always find those types of guys at school. He probably wanted to sell me magic drugs or somethin’.

  With that whole thing settled, me and Michael mosey off to class, and continue on with a completely normal Wednesday.

  —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

  >Perspective: Lucas<

  Greetings. Before I begin this quick aside, I feel it’d only be sporting to introduce myself first, wouldn’t it?

  My name is Lucas McAcre. I’m 16 years old, same as the other juniors, and I’m also a 1st level sorcerer. Some even call me the strongest, but I wouldn’t say I’m that good. Not yet, at least.

  Either way, as of right now, I’m entering the lunch hall. It’s about 9 PM now, so I’m guessing that dinner is winding down. Still, when I get there, I find the person I’m looking for. Rocco Beat is seated in the corner of the room, typing up a journal for Composition as he finishes the dregs of a bowl of chick-pea soup. I sit down across from him, and begin to make conversation.

  “So, how’s the writing going?”

  Rocco glances up, then goes back to his laptop. “...ya know, you don’t gotta pretend to be interested in whatever I’m doin…”

  “Personally, I find small talk eases the mood.”

  He sighs. “Work’s goin’ fine, I guess. Whaddya want?”

  I groan. So focused on his goal…. Well, I’m not entirely complaining.

  “Did you do what I asked?”

  Rocco finally looks away from his computer. “‘Course I did. Got him groovin’ like ya wanted.”

  “And did you get seen?”

  “His roommate Michael saw me do it, but I don’t think he noticed nothin’.”

  I raise my finger to my chin, thinking. “Hm. Michael could have seen it, but even if he suspects you, I doubt you’d leave a trace he’d see.”

  Rocco slams his hands down on the table. “Man, no way I did! It’s totally traceless till I activate it!” I immediately hush him and check around, but none of Squad 5 is in the room. They’re probably at their dorm by now.

  “Hm. Well, as long as none of Squad 5 sees it until tomorrow.”

  Rocco takes a moment to think. “Man…is this sorta thing really what you should be doin’?”

  I’m taken aback a bit by this, I must admit. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean all this sneaky shit! Should a sorcerer like you really be sneakin’ around hirin’ Hexes on people?”

  “Machiavellian leaders must be willing to aspire to immorality in secret. Besides, it’s the best way for him to learn.”

  Rocco sighed, bending into the table. “Whatever, man. What’d you want from me tomorrow, anyways?”

  “Just mess with him a bit. Have fun with it.”

  A smirk spread across his face. “Ya sure, my man? He could get messed up. Guys like me tend to get rowdy…”

  My face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. I doubt you'd get the chance to do as much damage that Dr. Jay Jay couldn't fix it.”

  “Heh. Welp, I don’t got a lotta classes tomorrow, so I’ll mess with him all day!”

  Now, there's something that interests me.

  “Hm. You seem eager to mess with him. I wonder, did you talk to him at all?”

  “Course I did. I don't go around touching people's hands outta nowhere.”

  “...and what did you think of him?”

  Rocco's eyes dart away from me. “....eh. He's…why ask me anyways? Didn't you know the guy?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “...well, if you ask me he's…a bit boring. I couldn't figure out much about ‘im.”

  The smile drops from my face.

  “Like, he’s the white bread of sorcerers. I didn't hate talking to em, but he didn't seem like he had…goals, or like, anything he cared much for. Just the type of person floating through life, going wherever he ended up without much of a care. Not getting attached to anything or anyone. Not a bad type of person, but a totally boring type of sorcerer, right?”

  “...interesting.”

  Rocco stretches, a smile spreading across his face. “Welp, guess you've got a lotta work to do, huh?”

  “ have a lot of work to do.”

  The smile immediately falls off. “Who’s we? This ain't my problem.”

  “Didn't you just say you owed me a favor and agree to help?” And the smirk returned to me, although now it was closer to a full grin.

  “...dammit.”

  I stand up, satisfied. “Well, I'll check in tomorrow. I'd hope you two don't beat each other too badly.”

  Rocco sighs, turning back to his homework. “...ya know, normal people just say ‘goodbye'...”

  I take my leave.