When Swords Turn Black

"At their core, sigils are magical letters tied to fundamental concepts. These concepts—such as time, destruction, or purification—are not abstract in our world. They are tangible forces that you, as future Slayers, will wield. A sigil allows you to call upon these forces and imbue them onto an object, person, or even the surrounding environment." A young but white-haired professor spoke. Omari sat in a lecture hall with about three hundred student slayers, all of them in the same black tight-fit tracksuits, listening to what the professor was saying. "A sigil stone is the medium through which a sigil is imprinted onto one's very soul. Once imprinted, the sigil becomes a part of you. You'll feel it within, like an extension of your own being, ready to be used as soon as you call upon its name."

"Was that so hard to say?" Omari asked Samson. Samson just kissed his teeth and continued writing something in his book.

"A human soul is resilient, but it is not infinite. Without the aid of a darkened crucifix, you may only wield a single sigil. For most of you, this will be your first and only imprint—a defining choice, so when the time comes, choose wisely. Starting tomorrow, we will start to go over the different sigils, what they can do and who holds the sigil stone. But with that, this class is concluded." Soren stretched as the bell rang. It was boring relearning things he already knew for two hours straight. He wanted to leave the class, but, even though the class had just concluded, another one just started with the same teacher in the same lecture hall. See, there were four classes: Sigil Education, Monster Physiology, Cityscape Traversal and Combat Training. Each two hours long and taught back to back in that order by one teacher with a lunch break in the middle. 

This was all explained in the first hour of the class, which at least taught Soren something he didn't know. There were two terms each, five months long. At the end of each month, there would be a test for one subject. Only if you pass half of your tests will you qualify for the end term exam. The exams will be a combination of all the subjects and being amongst the best students will determine if you proceed to the second year. Soren wasn't worried about being amongst the best. He was aiming to be the best, recovering the basics like this was holding him back, but when he looked at Omari, he understood why they had to be taught. "Now for your first Monster Physiology class," the professor said before proceeding to talk for two grueling hours about more things Soren already knew. 

Once that class ended, Samson, Soren, and Omari were on their way to lunch when Omari asked, "Wait, so there are three types of monsters, ranked by how dark a slayer's crucifix needs to be to stand a chance of defeating one alone and it ranges from the weakest being white to the strongest being black?"

"Yeah," Samson said, still writing in his book.

"The salamander that almost killed me was only a white ranked fiery monster?"

"Yep, and, according to my dad, it was an infant."

"Soren, you're not helping." Samson said, but it was too late. Omari looked emotionally dead. He didn't care about being strong, but understood he couldn't stay that weak.

They ate lunch, and it was alright, but it was nowhere near as good as what his dad used to cook. After they went to the city centre to replicate on the school grounds, but the professor was not where to be seen. "Greetings once again, students." They all looked up to see the professor slowly descending from the sky with eight steel trunks descending with him on each side. "For your first practical, I decided to start it off with this demonstration. You see, as a controller, your movement isn't limited by what your body can do." He disappeared and silently appeared on the ground. "But your creativity will allow you to do it with your control. And for those of you without controls." The trunks fell from the sky quickly, but landed softly. "Make use of these until you have enough sigils to use those instead."

Students rushed to the trunks and opened them. In them were forearm mounted grappling guns. "This is unfair. How come they get equipment and we don't?" Someone said louder than they intended.

"I never forbade controllers from using the grappling guns, but just know that using it now will only limit you in the future." That being said, Omari still went and took a grappling gun. While putting it on, Soren grabbed him and asked, "What are you doing?"

"My control wasn't made for mobility. If I want to keep up with you, I'll need to use this."

"No control was made for anything, but if you think you need it," Soren let go and Omari put it on.

"Now, for all those who put on the grappling gun, please make your way to the library and make yourself acquainted with the instruction manual. For the rest of you, let the race begin." 

And so Soren was separated from Omari and Samson, who went to the library. After an hour of reading, Omari felt he knew everything he needed to know and, looking around, he felt that the others felt the same but Samson. Samson was constantly going back and fore between reading and writing in his book. Omari decided to do the same, but wasted an hour of his life as nothing entered his head. Frustrated, he went to the grass field where the last class would be taking place. It was as large as a soccer field but had a bunch of chalk lines dividing the field into many boxes. "Welcome back, for the last lesson of the day. When training in combat, there is no better training than practice, so every day during this class you will pair up someone of your choice and you will fight and learn from each other for the next two hours."

He continued, "On Monday, we strictly do punches, Tuesday is kicks, Wednesday grappling, Thursday sword-fighting and Friday is mixed fighting. On any day of the week, elbows, knees, headbutts and controls are allowed. Please try to refrain from instantly killing each other; however, I can heal even fatal injuries, so feel free to harm each other. You may begin." Everyone started pairing.

"It's best we don't pair with each other. We might go easy on each other." Soren said.

"I won't, but I agree we split." When he heard this, Soren glared at Samson to be met with a grin.

"You ever stop grinning?"

Samson glared back. "I can't help it." The two wanted to fight, but now was not the moment. They walked away to find partners, leaving Omari all alone. 

Omari looked around and saw a girl just sitting on the grass. He approached her and asked, "Will you be my partner?"

The girl turned her head to face Omari, then tilted it to move her ginger curls away from her golden eyes. "Aren't you the suicidal slayer?" She had a really sharp jaw and tanned skin.

Omari chuckled. "You heard about it too?"

"Who didn't? I'm surprised you didn't hear about me. I almost beat people to death without a crucifix during the exams. You still wanna be my partner?"

"A little more now. I might just learn something from you."

The girl laughed. "Maybe you are suicidal." She stood up and towered over him. She was built like she was Samson's tall older sister. Let's spar."