Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (123/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note 1: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 123 I hope you guys enjoy! :D The revised version for Chapter 122 will be released tomorrow before the full release of Chapter 122! I do apologize for the delay, the earthquake here really caught me off guard since we never experience those here and especially not one this destructive, so things are now pretty busy now at the hospital 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! However, I’ve been in contact with their help desk, and they’ve informed me that they’re now on the case!

I counted about twenty or so hands raised, with at least ten more coming in painfully late. 

Those latter hands started awkwardly shuffling down following the frustrating realization of their failed gambits.

However, a handful remained up, as if in some vain hope that Belnor would’ve granted them clemency out of desperation and tenacity.

Though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit nervous about the turnout.

To her credit, Belnor was speedy in her delivery of the results in question, wasting little time in laying everything out for the entire class.

Moreover, she even read out the names for each group, much to the giddiness of those who’d won a place at… whatever this quest even was. 

“Lord Qiv’Ratom!” She declared first, garnering a series of claps not only from his group, but the classroom at large.

“Lord Auris Ping!” She continued, this time garnering an even louder and more vibrant series of cheers, but with a distinct lack of numbers that Qiv commanded.

It seemed to be a battle of quantity over intensity of followers between the two.

And I was glad I wasn’t competing in whatever race it was they were competing in.

The next series of names didn’t really garner too much in the way of attention, save for some polite claps by Qiv, who seemed to be playing the role of the ‘noble sportsman’ in his acknowledgement of what would presumably become his direct competition.

We were down a solid five more names before I started feeling the heat, as the next few names didn’t really inspire confidence in my chances at getting the quest…

“Lord Gumigo!” Belnor continued, sparking barely any applause now…

Until it suddenly roused back up without warning.

“Lady Cynthis!” 

The leopard-like humanoid garnered the cheers of her entire peer group, and a few other all-girl groups much to Thalmin’s visible dismay, as they formed what I could only describe was a homogenous band of harmonized cheers that reminded me of one of those unnerving fraternity house greetings.

It was at the height of those cheers however that Cynthis shot Thalmin an overly friendly wink. One that seemed genuine… but to a degree that I felt was just a little bit ‘too much’.

The prince, to his credit, remained perfectly still throughout that uncomfortable exchange.

Though the look in his eyes as he turned towards me was more than evidence enough of the discomfort welling within.

It was at that point however that I soon realized we were at the tenth and final name.

Though strangely, unlike the rest, the professor seemed to take her time with this one. As she quickly wrote out two names on the chalkboard as opposed to the one for each row.

The reason why, would quickly become apparent.

“It’s not every year that we have a tie.” The professor began, placing her chin atop a balled fist. “Cadet Emma Booker…” My heart swelled in excitement— “... and Lord Etholin Esila.” —before sinking right back down into the abyssal depths.

I reflexively shot Etholin a worried look, a sentiment that was reflected in his features, but completely undermined by the sheer frustrations of the rest of his peer group.

The snake-like Ilphius especially, shooting me one of the nastiest glares I’d experienced to date… which was saying a lot.

“Now, there are a multitude of ways in which we may resolve this conflict.” Belnor continued on politely, placing both of her hands together in a diplomatic gesture. “However, I would like to start with the simplest and most straightforward. Do either of you wish to declare a forfeiture to your right to quest?” 

“No, professor.” We both spoke quite literally at the same time without a second’s hesitation, Etholin’s higher-pitched tones clashing with the EVI’s interpretation of my natural voice.

“I see.” The elderly elf responded, shrugging in the process. “It was worth a try, even if there were only five instances of willing forfeitures over my entire tenure.”

With a sigh, she moved towards one of the many books in that recessed lab of hers, scrolling through the pages with the aid of some magical spell; helping to find the exact passage she needed for this eventuality.

“Right then. Given that neither party yields, and when taking into consideration the Academy’s respect for the rights of each student, both earned and inherited, a resolution can only be made by arbitration.” She paused, leveling her eyes on the both of us. “Now, the form which this arbitration takes, is dependent on the circumstances involved. However, given the particularities of this tie, tradition demands arbitration via challenge.” A frustrated smirk soon formed at the edges of the woman’s face. “A challenge which specifically entails a one-on-one duel, of either the physical or magical variety, to be overseen by the next class period.” 

Etholin’s features dropped, as despite being unable to see the color draining from his face due to his fur, his eyes gave practically everything away. 

Moreover, it was his body language that spoke leagues.

The man… simply slunk back into his seat, a hand nervously tapping on the table in front of him as he turned every which way before raising his other free and shaking hand.

“P-professor. If I may inquire, exactly why are we forced into arbitration via challenge? E-especially one of the dueling variety?”

“I’m afraid it’s a matter of circumstance, my dear.” The elf responded in as empathetic a tone as she could muster. “You see, there is a time limit imposed on my filing of the ten prospective quest-takers; this being by the end of the school week. This requires an expedient arbitration process, of which dueling is notably suited for. Beyond this, a professor is required to oversee a challenge and duel, and what better professor is suited for this than tomorrow’s incumbent physical education professor?” The professor’s warm grandmotherly persona soon shifted to something more bordering on the sly and lackadaisical grandmother, one that seemed adamant on pushing her students out of her comfort zone. 

“However, I am nothing if not fair.” She quickly added. “I would be remiss if I did not mention the various clauses involved in such a challenge, and your various rights to augment and remedy your circumstances.” She paused once more, her eyes darting back and forth between us two. “I can most certainly empathize with your reluctance on this matter, Lord Esila. In which case, as group leader, you may choose a champion to replace yourself in this challenge. The same goes for your group as well, Cadet Emma Booker.” She shot me a glance, and yet another curious smile.

“I will allow you five minutes to discuss amongst yourselves, and not a second more.”