Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

Everyone remained completely fixated on me as I marched back toward my seat with loud, unwieldy steps. Each clack of unyielding metal on hardened granite resonated across a room that seemed purposefully made to amplify every sound within it. I could practically hear the micro servos and actuators as they whirred and whizzed, accompanying each and every one of my steps. It felt like the entire world had paused just so that everyone could gawk as I retook my seat, and carefully shuffled back into place.

Indeed, it was only after I’d sat back down did Mal’tory continue his announcements, his words however falling on deaf ears, as not a single soul wished to remove their piercing gazes from my suited form.

While everyone might’ve seen a stoic, unflinching, unmoving hulk of a being, completely unbothered and unfazed by the events that had just transpired, things actually couldn’t be any further from the truth. I was practically melting inside of the suit. Even with the coolant systems on full blast, even with my rear-facing and side-view cameras turned off, I still couldn’t shake that gut churning feeling of being the unwanted center of attention. My whole body shook with the same feeling you’d get after completely making an ass of yourself at some important social function. It was maddening and all-consuming, my spiral into the pits of utter dread was just about to take another leap… if it wasn’t for a rogue sensation on my hand. It was the unmistakable feeling of another person’s touch being transmitted via my gloves and into the undersuit beneath it. I could feel a reassuring squeeze, and the slightest bit of tickling from the feather covered appendage, which immediately clued me in to just exactly who it was that’d extended this gesture of solidarity. A gesture so sorely needed when the entire world seemed more than willing to distance itself from me.

“Emma, don’t focus on anything else, just look at me alright?” Thacea whispered softly, which was more than enough for my audio suite to enhance and isolate, as I dulled out all other sounds around the room to zero in on this one, single, point of focus.

I could only nod in response as my two opaque lenses stared back at the avian unflinchingly.

Yet despite what most would’ve seen as the unfeeling eyes of a suit of armor, as Ilunor had pointed out, it was clear that she saw something else. It almost felt as if she was actually looking at me, making actual eye contact, rather than just seeing me for the helmet and lenses which would’ve been a far easier thing to do.

It was then that I wished I could’ve de-tinted the damned lenses, to actually make eye contact. I knew that it felt like I was doing just that, but I wasn’t, and worse of all… I couldn’t. All Thacea could see right now were two unfeeling lenses, and I hated that.

Despite all the training I received, and the trial runs they’d put me through, nothing could have prepared me for what was effectively a new life in an entirely alien skin. A skin that had everything I needed to survive, and then some, but one that brought with it unforeseen limitations that were only now being felt.

“It’s over now.” Thacea continued, her hand squeezing my own once again, as I suddenly felt a strange warmth flooding over me.

LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

“And from what I can tell, you… somehow managed to survive the binding ceremony. I… I’m relieved Emma, I really am.” Her voice sounded genuine, and for the briefest of moments I could swear I could see her royal facade yielding, even if it was just for those precious few seconds.

A quick glance from Thalmin however seemed to have shifted the mood once more, as the princess slowly pulled her hands away from me, managing to maintain that warm avian smile that slowly but surely transitioned back into the reserved, polite facade from just moments prior. “I’m just… very glad to see you’re alright, Emma.”

“Thank you.” I finally managed out through my vocoder, as the princess tilted her head forward in response, in a way that only a royal could.

“Any time.” She whispered back, before the next roster of names were called up in a group of twenty students, with Ilunor being the last on the list.

The Grand Reception Hall

Ilunor

There wasn’t much that the diminutive lizard could do now to prepare for what was inevitable. No amount of searching, rummaging, and double-checking could help, not when he knew when and where exactly his amulet had gone missing.

I shouldn’t have gone to that infernal servant’s hideaway, sneaking off to watch the Earthrealmer’s arrival wasn’t worth it.

Begging wouldn’t do him any favors either, as it was clear that those that weren’t prepared for the ceremony were all unceremoniously brought up like lambs to the slaughter, regardless of their rank and station.

It was the Earthrealmer’s fault… he knew it. It was because of her that their year had been singled out like this.

Yet despite being new, despite not knowing the ways of the academy, she’d still managed to evade being bound. This fact infuriated him far more than he would ever be willing to admit.

With his fate now uncertain, Ilunor could only look on as his time as a free soul whittled away, as he saw student after student consumed one after another by the book. That damned infernal artifact finally getting its fill, with his soul next in line for the chopping block.

“Lord Ilunor.” An expressionless voice echoed around the Vunerian, causing him to flick his head around in an attempt to determine its source. “You are to make your way to the coat room immediately. There, you will find what you seek. The faculty will not interfere with your temporary absence for this short duration, but you must make haste, lest you miss this golden opportunity.” The voice warned, prompting the Vunerien to turn around to everyone at the table. Not a single soul present seemed to have reacted to that voice, indicating to him that it was, indeed, the telepathic voice of some third party. A third party that had some serious sway given the magic involved in direct mental communication.

“I’ll be back. I just need to use the washroom.” Ilunor scooted backwards, promptly excusing himself much to the confused expressions of everyone at the table.

“Can he do that?” Emma inquired, with the only response from the table being Thalmin’s disinterested shrug.

The Coat Room

Ilunor

Everyone knew where it was, everyone used its services, but no magic user: student, faculty, staff, or otherwise, would ever stoop to such a low as to enter its doors to muddy themselves with the servants that lie therein. The room was just adjacent to the Grand Hall, across in a small unmarked corridor and rarely trafficked by anyone that didn’t explicitly require the services of a servant.

The air inside was hot, heavy, and humid. The acrid smells of harsh alchemical cleaning potions and artificed steam implements dominated the air, all byproducts of an unwavering need for coats and cloaks to be made wrinkle-free in between classes and scheduled activities. Ilunor could see several of the lesser elven slaves as they marched back and forth, lugging cartload after cartload of supplies and cloaks alike, the sight alone made him gag in disgust.

He stood there for a good minute, waiting, and panting in place as the heat slowly got to him. Whoever this other person was, they were making it clear just who was in control here. It was a power move to make him wait in a place like this, even more so with time rapidly running out in the Grand Hall.

Yet just as he felt his time dwindling into nothing, and just as his anxieties were ready to peak, he heard a muffled, purposeful cough. One that beckoned him forwards toward an empty clearing in a sea of moving cloths, meeting face to face with the last person he expected to be behind all of this.

A lowly lesser elf.

A creature that, despite the Vunerian’s own height-challenged stature, was barely able his waist. Dressed in nothing but what amounted to a worn-out potato sack, draping and concealing a frail emaciated body, the lesser elf looked as if he could be blown away by the smallest gust of wind.

“What is the meaning of-”

“Master Ilunor Rularia.” The lesser elf slave spoke, cutting the Vunerian off in his tracks. “I have what you seek.” The slave quickly rummaged through his hole-ridden rucksack, producing an item that was probably worth a hundred, maybe even a thousand of his kin; a medallion encrusted with diamond and sapphire that formed the centerpiece of a dazzling gold and silver bracelet.

The Vunerian reached for it instinctively, only to have the object of his desires pulled away from him. Holding onto the amulet with a vice grip, the slave shot him a glare that could only be described as predatory in nature. This completely threw Ilunor off guard, as the slave took the opportunity to continue unchallenged.

“Patience, master. A Vunerien of your caliber should understand that every exchange is a transaction is it not?” The slave shot back with the slightest hint of a cocky, confident inflection, clashing harshly with an otherwise submissive, disheveled appearance.

“Are you trying to extort me with my own possessions, slave?” Ilunor finally shot back, a hiss present in his voice as he stepped forward, attempting to reassert himself in the conversation.

“Of course not master. I am simply an arbitrator returning a misplaced item. It is not I who wishes for this transaction.” The slave retorted, standing perfectly still with his back completely straight, a rare if not entirely unheard of sight which sent shivers down the Vunerian’s back.

“Then who? Who in the name of the Gods and Goddesses is your puppet-master? I demand to know.” Ilunor managed out, in between a nervous tic and an enraged hiss.

“I am not privy to disclose that information, master. I am however pressed to inform you that you have less than one minute to agree to the terms set forth.”

A quick glance to the mana-based timepiece within Ilunor’s coat pocket confirmed this as he dipped his head down for the briefest of moments. “What do you want?” Ilunor sighed in defeat.

“There will be no need for any monetary or physical transactions. Merely… an agreement. One that you must accept prior to the return of your amulet.” The elf produced another object from his rucksack, a small letter sealed with a magical aura. One that, to the elf’s credit, could not be opened except for the intended receiver.

“Is this a letter of binding?” Ilunor hissed out, as the elf merely smiled in response.

“No it is not. It is merely a letter with terms and agreements you must agree to if you wish to regain possession of this amulet-”

“Enough with the games, slave, I accept!” Ilunor reached out to snatch both the letter and the amulet from his hands. He expected a wave of magic to wash over him, for the telltale signs of some binding spell to take hold of him… but nothing came. All he felt was the slight aura of a spell of discretion. What was unnerving however was how it had been penned and sealed to him so quickly. These things usually took hours, if not a full day to complete…

The spell of discretion meant that the contents of this letter was squarely between him and this mysterious benefactor. At least he had the comfort of knowing that this literal blackmail was a confidential matter.

He would worry about it later however, for now he was satisfied, relieved by the fact that he would be spared the loss of his soul to that damned artifact. He tucked the letter into one of his pockets, and secured the amulet and its chain to his wrist.

Without even glancing back to the slave, he began taking his leave, only for the slave to leave him with a few parting words that echoed throughout the coat room. “I suggest you read that letter post-haste, but should you fail to do so, just know that your most critical task is to keep an eye on the Earthrealmer. My master shall be in touch, Lord Ilunor.”

Ilunor didn’t wish to pay the slave any more attention than had already been given as he stormed out of the coat room, sprinting his way back to the Grand Hall as he tried his very best not to overthink whatever backhanded game he was being forcefully thrust into.

The Grand Reception Hall

Emma Booker

“Right, but what I don’t understand is how my resistance to the soul binding ceremony is any different from your methods-”

“Because you didn’t dispel the binding spell, you resisted it. You resisted it even when it climbed all the way up to tier 19, something that shouldn’t be possible. Mana resistance at such a state is unheard of. Everyone else here has amulets of dispelling, it dispels spells in their tracks before it reaches a high enough level to have an effect, while you just ignored it. That’s it.” Thalmin responded with a rough whisper, something that I was surprised he was able to do. The man was blunt, and clearly didn’t mince his words, but I found that spoke more to his good character than anything. I’d rather have a candid and rude partner, than a polite but deceptive one any day of the week.

What little conversation we did have was cut short by Ilunor’s return. His scurrying and scampering made for a welcome break from what was becoming a depressing, morbid repetition of callousness and cruelty. Seventeen students so far had been ‘processed’ by this ceremony, and only half of them seemed to have survived ‘intact’. I tried prying more out of Thacea and Thalmin, but the pair made it clear that talking during the ceremony, especially one that was uncharacteristically timed and aggressive, wasn’t the best idea.

Ilunor’s timely arrival was quickly interrupted however by his name being called, as the Vunerian made his way up onto the stage with a renewed sense of confidence that was lacking before his trip to the washroom. Perhaps he took a swig of liquid courage, or perhaps he found whatever it was he was looking for. My scanners didn’t detect anything new about him however, but then again, it seemed to have difficulty picking up the magical artifacts that Qiv, Thacea, and Thalmin seemed to have on them; these so-called ‘amulets of dispelling’.

I knew however, that it would only be a matter of time before I’d be able to sniff out these artifacts more effectively than an e-hound tracking down cargo at a spaceport. It was just a waiting game now, of exposing my EVI to more and more datasets to aggregate and analyze. The intricacies behind the program was way above my paygrade, but the EVI was described to me as a ‘mobile lab’, a program whose sole purpose was to make sense of the fantasy around me. It was to constantly monitor, running idly in the background of my suit’s systems like some creepy UNCIA-grade software constantly monitoring every little sensor module the team had tacked onto my suit, as it carved out its observations of the world around me in a way that I just wasn’t qualified enough to do.

At least that’s what the eggheads back at the IAS told me. Indeed, they had entire lectures on how the suit’s deep-learning program worked, but a lot of the stuff just flew over my head. I wasn’t a computer engineering prodigy after all, let alone a leading AI specialist.

Regardless, what they taught me was at least enough to grasp the basics of it, enough that I would be able to troubleshoot it if anything went wrong. Couple this with the manuals and instruction booklets they downloaded to my local library, and I was confident that when the time did come, I would be able to use this overly engineered program to the best of my abilities. Especially when it came to the potential for sciencing the shit out of this magic business.

They explicitly went out of their way to remind me that it wasn’t a true AI however. An understandable distinction to make given how almost everyone was still uneasy about the topic, especially after what happened during the Charon Innovations incident.

AI or not, I was glad that there was at least a backup in case a proper line of communication back home wasn’t viable. At least this way there was still some way to scientifically break down the mysteries of this place.

I tapped my head a few times to see if the program was running, which of course, it was. It’d been gathering data from before I even entered the portal. I made sure it was paying close attention now as I watched Ilunor’s ceremony commence, and I once again settled into that anxious anticipation to see if we’d be spending the rest of the year with a zombie, or the same rude lizard that I’d come to resent.

Come to think of it, maybe a soulbound zombie would be a marginal improvement for the Vunerian…

The seconds ticked by as Mal’tory repeated the exact same words he had done for the past half hour or so now. The real test however was when Ilunor reached for the quill and…

Found it basically impossible to lift.

A wave of relief washed over me, but I knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The diminutive lizard took a few good minutes to slowly lift the quill into the ink bottle, repeating the same scene as Qiv and the other amulet-wielding students had done before finally, ending it with the exact same motions. With a full five minutes of struggling just to etch his name into the paper, and a prolonged burst of mana, the lizard had completed the ritual.

Looking back towards Thacea and Thalmin, it was clear that the lizard had done it. Indeed, it became clear to me now that the rest of the ceremony would just be a repeat of the same nail-biting experiences for every student. However, because our group seemed to all have their amulets at the ready, I rested easy knowing that we were safe from this whole binding ritual.

Indeed, as the hours went by, and Thalmin’s turn was up it looked as if the whole drama with the ceremony was coming to an end. The Lupinor prince’s ceremony was practically identical to Ilunor’s, Qiv’s, and every other amulet-wielding student. There was no doubt in my mind Thacea would fall into this same pattern.

At least, that’s what I thought until the avian stepped up to the plate.

The ceremony started out simply enough, Mal’tory repeating his vows, and Thacea giving her small little speech on her place here at the academy. It was only when she knelt down to the floor however did things start to noticeably shift.

“Tainted one. Do you understand your presence here defiles the hallowed halls of this great academy? That your vessel acts as a shell for a great evil which lurks within your soul? Do you understand that as your Professors, we are obligated to act in your best interest, and should you succumb to your evils and vices, we shall have no choice but to strike you down, condemning your soul to eternal captivity within the tainted vaults of the Nexus?”

My eyes went wide at this, as I was tempted to stand up from my seat, only to have the Lupine hold me in place. The man glared at me, forcing me to relent. I could’ve easily overpowered him of course, but this entire situation was too sensitive for me to intervene with a simple wave of a pistol. I had to keep watching, but my hand never left the butt of my gun.

“I do, your grace.” Thacea dipped her head low, far lower than any other student had done thus far, so low in fact that I could’ve sworn she was kissing Maltory’s feet.

A feeling of abject disgust filled me.

“Then sign your name and be done with this ceremony. Prove to us here and now that the taint has not corrupted your soul.” Mal’tory continued, handing her another quill from within his cloak.

The avian complied unquestioningly, and as she touched the quill a surge of mana radiation bellowed out, causing my alarms to blare with an entirely new warning.

ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 593% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS… WARNING ANOMALY DETECTED… RECALIBRATING… RECALIBRATING… ERROR! DETECTING 29 + 1 DISTINCT TYPES OF MANA-RADIATION.

My eyes grew wide at that as I ripped the datapad from my backpack and began running diagnostics. I ignored the ceremony, ignored the world around me as I rushed to see if this was even possible. The error messages were popping up everywhere now, so I did the only thing I knew might just work.

A hard reboot.

REBOOTING… REINITIALIZING… SCANNING… ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 795% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS.

I ran another diagnostics check, which revealed… nothing. It was as if the error was just that, an error. There were no anomalies detected, no new mystery mana-radiation that was unaccounted for. I chalked it up to just the system being as new to this place as I was, so there were more than likely plenty of bugs to be had within the code that needed to be patched.

At least, that’s what I hoped as I continued running diagnostic after diagnostic, all reaching the same conclusion.

If it had been a new type of radiation. I’d be a pile of liquefied human now… right?

Thacea’s ceremony continued despite my panicked worries, and to my horror I also saw steam emerging from the stage. Zooming in closer, the steam seemed to have been localized to the hand she currently held the quill with.

This wouldn’t last for long however before she too managed to sign the book.

However, similar to my own ceremony, Mal’tory refused to pick up the book to display it back to the crowd. He simply kept it there, as the Dean took a good look at it and nodded in approval.

“Princess Thacea Dilani of Aetheronrealm, henceforth you shall be known as a peer and a ward of the Transgracian Academy. Welcome to our ranks, and may the divine guide your light.” The Princess nodded, her whole body shaking as she didn’t immediately leave the stage, instead being ushered towards the red-robed professor from before who casted a spell on her injured hand which glowed a brilliant green.

LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

The older woman smiled and patted the princess on the head, before wrapping her hand up in a bandage and sending her back to our table. It was clear this entire ordeal had taken a lot out of the princess. So now, it’d be my turn to be the one giving her the reassurances she sorely needed.