Wielders

Chapter 1

“...and the IW cup will be held from the 7th to the 15th of November. In other news, the official statement given…” My mind automatically tuned out the rest of the report. It’s not like anything else mattered. Having finished my toast, I tipped the waitress and headed out for my first day of school.

Less than 0.1% of the population was the official demographic for magic users, but 0.09% of 7.3 billion is still quite a lot. Magic has been around for about a hundred years now, and was recognised as a real and tangible phenomenon by the public a little less than a century ago. The term ‘magic’ is a loose term and was chosen because it was the word that represented the strange phenomenon best. On a more technical level, they are called soul weapons since that’s what they literally are. 'Wielders’ became the generalised term for those who could use soul weapons and was even officially recognised by the United Nations.

With the inception of wielders came a new form of duelling - soul duelling. Institutes that put an emphasis on nurturing and training wielders from the ages 17-19 were set up, and duelling quickly gained traction and exploded into the world’s most viewed combat sport, dwarfing all others with its superhuman battles and fast paced action - it was the gladiator age once again. These institutes eventually became some of the most prestigious schools in the world, and the most prestigious of them all was Silverhill Academy, the school I would be attending starting today.

Class 1-A itself wasn’t particularly grand and was identical to your run of the mill classroom, but the atmosphere was certainly different. They may look like normal students, but everyone here was a distinguished fighter who got through the entrance test. Few of them had named weapons, and those who got here through recommendations were fewer still, but they were doubly dangerous.

I walked to the end of the class and was about to occupy the seat in the corner - the one that’d be furthest from the teacher - except it was already taken, as evident by the khaki backpack propped on the desk. I settled for the one to its right and threw myself into the chair like a mason who had just finished his shift. Looking around, one could see several cliques being formed already. In the front of the class near the window stood a few girls, and seated in between them was a boy with short spiky brown hair. Though I could see only the back of his head, he seemed familiar for some reason. Leaning against the opposite wall and observing him with vexed eyes were three visibly peeved boys, most probably out of jealousy. They were jocks.

Several other groups could be seen scattered around but one individual, like myself, kept to herself. She was studying everyone with shrewd eyes, probably assessing her future rivals. I guess it wouldn’t be unusual for someone to be wary on the first day, given the situation. Looks like I was on her radar as well, for our sight met momentarily. She was paler than most, and had perfect, clear skin. I ought to do something. Maybe a wave or a simple nod, anything would be fine as long as I didn’t come across as creepy.

“Settle down, everyone. We will begin homeroom now,” said a voice from the front of the class. I’m not sure when he entered, but a man in formal attire stood behind the teacher’s desk. He was tall, and was built like a tank. His grizzly stubble told me he didn’t care much for shaving, but it worked well with his face, making his jaw seem even more sharp than it already was. Everyone obediently took their seats and, thanks to fate or whatever force was conspiring against me, the girl I spied earlier took the corner seat, the one I had sought before. She gave me a quick side glance before ignoring me completely and devoting her attention to the man in the white shirt.

“I’m Donovan Jefferies. I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the next three years. Now, before we do introductions I’ve been instructed to brief you on what each of you will be expected to achieve by the end of these three years. In short, you will have to try your damndest to be the best wielder out there. Becoming one of the top seven wielders in the world is a title only the best can carry, and they are granted a single wish for their valour.” He cleared his throat before he resumed.