Oliver Ashford
Just as I grabbed my bag, ready to leave homeroom for my first class, Miss Avonhart's voice halted me. "Before you go, class," she began, capturing everyone's attention—everyone, that is, except Emilia, who exited the room without a second glance, as indifferent as always.
"I would like to announce that tomorrow, we'll be welcoming a new student to the class." My attention snapped back to the front of the classroom, just barely catching her words.
"A transfer student?" I asked, my brows rising in surprise. My question apparently echoing the thoughts of the entire class, as a wave of nods rippled after it.
"Well, yes, actually." she answered, a bit surprised herself, "It's Mythoria's first transfer acceptance since its founding, so it's something new even to me." She explained, her soft smile still glowing through the shade of her own confusion.
The classroom erupted into a cacophony of excited chatter, my classmates apparently forgetting we still had class. Did I blame them? Of course not! Even Miss Avonhart, the legendary S-Class healer herself, seemed at a loss for words. Mythoria's first ever transfer, and our class had won the fortune of receiving them as a classmate!
"Yo, Oliver!" Cassian, one of my classmates shouted, freeing me from my stupor. "I bet you're going to introduce yourself straight away, right?" He asked, cracking a smile.
"Of course! It'll be the first thing I do after their introduction!" I exclaimed, bouncing out of my seat and pumping my fist into the air.
"God, I wish I had a social battery like yours..." A classmate teased, earning laughs from the group that had gathered around my desk. "What will you do if it's a girl?" Another classmate spoke, prompting a round of collective nods.
"I'd still do the exact same thing." I replied with a confident nod. "Their gender doesn't matter as long as we can be good friends." My words were met with a few adoring squeals from some girls and a couple of jealous grumbles from the guys.
"It's not fair when this is the competition..." a boy, not part of the group surrounding me, murmured just under his breath. It would've gone completely unnoticed if my senses weren't enhanced by my regalia.
"Do you think they'll be strong, Oliver?" A female classmate asked, her voice a hushed whisper as she held a book up to her face, nervously covering her mouth.
"Hmm, I can't be entirely sure, but considering they're the first transfer, there must be something special about them." I explained, carefully wording my thoughts on the matter.
"What if they're just some talentless, loaded kid?!" a different classmate shouted, 'Everyone here is rich in someway...?' I thought.
"I doubt that's the case, Mythoria is the highest-ranking regalia school; they wouldn't need to admit someone just because they're in need of money," I replied, taking a moment to organise my thoughts, "Also, I don't think Mr. Knight would be willing to accept someone like that, especially considering they applied a week late."
An air of agreement settled over the class as they began to murmur about the terrifyingly intimidating head of the school. The image of Mr. Knight's speech on the entrance ceremony creeped into my mind, sending a cold shiver down my spine. Back then, despite it being our first day, he spoke his speech while unleashing the pressure of his regalia onto all one hundred students... Truly nightmare fuel...
"Miss Avonhart?" I called out, "Do you know anything about the new student?" Seeing her personal confusion and surprise when she first announced the transfer had dissuaded the class from asking her what she knew about the new student. Just because she was surprised doesn't mean she knows nothing.
Her attention jumped away from the paperwork she had been focusing on, locking onto me through the group of students between us. "You're quite keen, Oliver. Yes, I do know some titbits of information." She replied, her focused gaze softening into a warm, caring smile.
The class exploded into a fiery storm of eager questions, quickly overwhelming the poor teacher. "Calm down a little, everyone," I called out. "If we overwhelm her, we wont get any answers, now, will we?" The classrooms shouts quickly died down and Miss Avonhart shot me a soft gaze as if saying, 'Thank you... I thought I was going to drown...' or something like that.
"I'm not actually too deep into the know, apparently it was extremely short notice, like even Damien only found out about it yesterday!" She explained, hands gesturing as she spoke, excitedly detailing the situation. Miss Avonhart is kind—extremely so—but, she always falls victim to gossip.
"Do you know anything about his regalia, Miss Avonhart!?" A female student shouted, her hand raised in the air as she bounced on the edge of her seat. The entire class collectively leaned in, burning to hear what Miss Avonhart had to say.
"Damien said he's in my class because our regalia fall into similar categories..." she answered, prompting the class once more to erupt into various branches of chatter and debate.
"A support-type regalia, and a guy?!" I heard, as a group of girls squealed, fanatically trying to picture how 'cute' he would be.
"Do you have any idea what his name is?" I asked, my question acting like a muffler, silencing the room as my classmates—specifically the girls—breathlessly awaited Miss Avonhart's answer.
"His name... It's—no, you'll have to wait until the introductions tomorrow." she denied, closing her eyes and crossing her arms sternly. Seemed like we weren't going to know until tomorrow—
"Please, Miss Avonhart! We'll make sure to tell you all our gossip every lunch break!" a girl shouted, cutting off my train of thought.
"Gossip, every lunch?" Miss Avonhart's crossed arms fell to her sides, and her eyes snapped open.
"His name is Caelus..."
'Have some self-control woman!' I screamed in my mind, as Miss Avonhart's one weakness once again became tool for the students to get the information they wanted.