Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (124/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note 1: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 124 I hope you guys enjoy! :D I do apologize for the delay, my work schedule has kinda been crazy at the hospital following the earthquake, since we’ve had to relocate a lot of IPD patients to other buildings on the hospital grounds, as well as shifting a lot of the OPD offices over to the other buildings too. Things are kinda busy as a result haha.

Author’s Note 2: I’ve also attached the PDF and EPUB versions of the WiP, since Patreon is still working on a solution for the recent bug!

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 29, Living  Room. Local Time: 1725 Hours.

Etholin

My ears rang and my whole body tensed.

My breath heightened, as did the vertigo that threatened my balance.

My arms felt constrained, and my lungs felt constricted, as the serpent in front of me barreled insult after insult straight to my face, ignoring every word of reason and offer of reconciliation that I gave.

“I’m trying my best to—”

“NO YOU AREN’T!”

“I’m really just—”

“OH ARE YOU, REALLY?!”

“I have the group’s best interests—”

“NO, YOU DON’T!”

I eventually reached a breaking point. I couldn’t hear Ilphius anymore, just shrieking. As a sharp ringing in my ears turned her words into distant and unintelligible shouts.

She was a force of nature, and I just couldn’t—

“Ilphius, that’s enough.” The slick-scaled Teleos finally interjected, putting himself between me and the steaming serpent. 

“So you’ve finally decided to choose sides—?!”

“No, I’ve finally decided that I simply cannot stand hearing your incessant whining.” He all but hissed out. “Because despite your grandiose claims of making a positive contribution for the group, all I’ve seen you do is yap, whine, scream, shout, and complain. I’ve waited ten entire minutes to see where your yelling was headed, but instead of it leading to something profound as you’ve promised, you’ve only managed to go around in circles. If anything, you’ve proven only to be capable of venting your own frustrations, and little else.” The man was on the offensive, tearing the serpent down piece by piece, and yet throughout it all, his voice had surprisingly raised little. 

Ilphius… just stopped, suddenly going still following Teleos’ calm and controlled ‘outburst’, her eyes narrowing with her focus now squarely placed on the merfolk’s static gaze.

This didn’t dissuade the man from continuing his assault however, as he went in for a closing statement.

“So instead of actively contributing anything, you’re now actively taking away from what little our group has left.” 

“And what exactly am I taking away—”

“Cohesion, or at least, the illusion of it.” The man spoke through a gravelly, heavily accented voice. “This is not to say that I believe this group had any chance at succeeding to begin with.” He acknowledged bluntly. “Not with your hot-headed and short-fused temperament—” He began, quite literally pointing out Ilphius, before turning to me. “—your ineffectual leadership and milquetoast demeanor—” The man dug into me with the same cold vigor, before pausing and shifting his gaze towards what seemed to be an empty spot on the couch. “—and your practical nonexistence.” He seethed for a moment, letting out a sigh more directed towards himself than anything. “Pun unintended.” 

“Well… I for one appreciated the pun, Lord Teleos Lophime.” A shrill yet throaty voice echoed from the dimpled couch seat, as the perpetually ‘absent’ fourth member of our dysfunctional company finally made himself known. 

Baron Kamil Lyonn, formerly absent from most of the week’s classes, at long last became visible to the naked eye. The process of this… decloaking, was as bizarre as it was novel to most adjacent realmers, and even certain Nexians. 

It all started with his ‘outline’, as the edges and contours of his body suddenly popped from the background of wherever it was he stood or sat. From there, the effect traveled ‘inwards’ towards his core, akin to an artist coloring and shading in a silhouetted figure. To extend that metaphor further, his colors started off muted, off-palette, almost akin to an unenchanted painting that had been left exposed to the sun for far too long. Then suddenly, and without warning, this sun-bleached color palette exploded in the opposite direction. With a whole host of vibrant colors coming to dominate every exposed patch of visible skin, before finally settling into his natural green, yellow, and tan colors. 

His clothes, similarly enough, followed the same trend. This unique trait apparently being both physical and magical in nature, extending even to one’s garments if one were to enchant it correctly.

In a rare moment of group solidarity, all of us narrowed our eyes towards our peer-in-absentia, the man simply shrugging in response at all of the sudden attention.

“What? I enjoy puns. We consider it to be an extension of the oratory artform in my realm. I can’t help it if all of you are simply too savage and uncouth to appreciate such a storied—”

“That’s not the point, Baron Lyonn.” Teleos sighed out in frustration. 

“Then what is it—”

“Our group is never meant to win.” The merfolk interjected bluntly. “Given the makeup of our pod, and the dysfunctional dynamics and personalities within, we are… for all intents and purposes, meant to win what we are offered, but lose at whatever challenges we face.” 

“A self-fulfilling defeatist prophecy.” Ilphius humphed out. “Though what else could I have expected from  a noble of the lesser merfolk?” 

Teleos, thankfully, did not succumb to her goading, as he simply stood up and began walking towards one of the many windows lining the living room. 

“You should stop floundering like a fry who’s lost its shoal, Lady Ilphius. It is unbecoming of your station.” The man breathed out, adjusting his cloak in the process. “To those ends, I simply direct you to our pod.” Teleos spoke plainly. “My conclusions are founded on reality, and in acceptance of what is for all intents and purposes — an admission of our limitations.” The man’s voice grew increasingly hoarse and gravelly by the second, prompting him to make his way towards a tray of perpetually iced refreshments, drinking the whole jug in a matter of seconds. “Who among you believe yourselves to be capable of fighting that newrealmer beast, hm?”

I shuddered at that thought, whilst Lyonn merely shrugged. It was Ilphius however who seemed poised to respond, only to slink back into the couch once she actually gave it some thought.

“Precisely my point. Which leads me to the dismissal of your argument, Lady Ilphius.” The man took a seat opposite of the fuming noble. “Lord Etholin is well within his rights to move forward with this… offer from Lord Ping. It is, in every conceivable fashion, the one and only chance we have to dig ourselves out of this mess.” 

“And in so doing, we will be digging ourselves a hole of social debt to the most volatile sovereign-to-be within our year group.” Ilphius countered sharply.

“You wish to win, do you not, Lady Ilphius?” Baron Lyonn offered with a smirk. “Lord Teleos here is merely offering you a more palatable perspective on our dear Lord Esila’s actions as peer leader.”

Ilphius went silent again after that jab, prompting me to stand up, and to finally take charge.

“I… wish to make something very clear to everyone.” I began — as stoically as I could given the situation. “My decision to accept Lord Ping’s offer — nay, my decision to stand against Lord Rularia’s group — was made with all of you in mind.” I enunciated my words, steadied my cadence, and attempted to bring back order and civility to this chaos. 

“I understand that all of you have lost faith in my leadership. But let me be absolutely clear — I stand for our group, first and foremost. Every step I’ve taken, including the decision to preserve our right to quest, was a calculated one. A public statement to show that I will not allow our merited rights to be relinquished by mere request.” I paused, taking a moment to steady myself, composing myself with another deep breath. “Even if that means we must embroil ourselves in contests, duels, or whatever else is necessary to maintain our dignity.”

I puffed up my chest at the end of that speech.

Though despite my best efforts, I seemed to have only elicited a raised brow from the likes of Baron Lyonn, a dismissive cold shoulder from Ilphius, and the departure of Lord Teleos towards the front door.

“L-lord Teleos, where are you going? It isn’t dinner yet! D-did I say something to—”

“No, Lord Esila. You’ve made your stance known and I appreciate your efforts.” The man responded in a tired, yet earnest tone of voice.

“Then where are you—”

“He’s headed to the one place he truly cares about here, to probably visit the one thing that matters to him, beyond grades, beyond social standing, and yes, even beyond us — his peers.” Ilphius spat out, her features scrunching up in the process. “Go on then, be gone with you.”