Chapter 183

Vyrrak’s large Dragonkin frame shakes with visible anger as he walks toward his next Class. Rivulets of smoke come out of his nostril—something shameful and impolite for a Dragonkin.

“Why am I being dragged into this every other day?” he mutters to himself.

The reason he’s so mad is that he’s heading toward Professor Caradoc’s Class—well, to be precise,

Vice Principal

Caradoc’s Class, Fire Manipulation 201.

Everyone else has been failed out or has bailed out of the Class.

Vice Principal Caradoc, the only human who can probably contend with Dragonkin Royalty and perhaps more in terms of Fire Magic, is among the most exacting teachers in the school. It is his belief that only the best of the best should be groomed by him personally—and since he’s the only one teaching such a thorough Class on Fire Magic, he’s also one of the most coveted teachers. That is, until the students find out just the sheer insanity of the man whose enemies dubbed him

the Flaming Tyrant

.

Since the Class is elective, something everyone covets but no one actually needs to pass the year, Vice Principal Caradoc is extremely severe in his assessments. That’s why Vyrrak is currently the only person attending the Class—the only one who hasn’t failed or hasn’t just given up.

But

, if this had been up to Vyrrak, he would have simply left the Class on the first day. He had known that his father would have interfered, but he had

not

imagined the lengths to which such interference would have gone.

Vyrrak is currently being blackmailed into attending the Class.

And the blackmail is… pretty heavy.

Either he attends or Vice Principal Caradoc is going to expel him.

Sadly, that’s how far his own father’s influence has gone.

All this power—all this

blood

…

Vyrrak clenches a hand, making his joints pop and then grabs the handle of the door leading to Vice Principal Caradoc’s Class. It’s in a central part of the Academy and yet it’s a giant, single-classroom building.

He’s expecting to see the man himself, the Flaming Tyrant.

Yet, when he opens, he sees a familiar face—but a different one.

“Jacob?” Vyrrak asks, raising his eyebrow. “What—”

Then, behind Jacob, peeks the head of the Flaming Tyrant.

“Vyrrak, you’re

late

,” the Flaming Tyrant, a four-feet-tall old human with a meek voice and a shiny bald head says.

“Professor,” Vyrrak starts, but then Jacob interrupts.

“It’s actually noon right now,” the Guide of the Champions points at a clock in the Class. “Vyrrak’s

perfectly

on time, Vice Principal.”

Don’t call him that in Class

, Vyrrak flinches.

“I’m a Professor

here,” the short man says sweetly, walking around the desk at the forefront of the classroom and climbing a ladder to reach an elevated podium. “You shall address me as such as long as you’re in this Class, Jacob Cloud.”

“Sure, Professor,” Jacob shrugs.

“Now, you two, take your seats and wait for a moment.”

Vice Principal Caradoc opens a notebook and starts reading in silence, reviewing some notes.

“What are you doing here?” Vyrrak asks Jacob.

“I was told to come here,” Jacob sighs. “I’m not really into the whole Fire Magic shtick, but I need it right now. I did sign up to the Class when things start—well, I was signed up for it by Elder… anyway, it doesn’t matter. At least you got some company now.”

“Jacob,” Vyrrak palms his scaly face. Vyrrak had been happy so far that no else had been attending the Class alongside him because of the embarrassment he felt for himself every time he had to perform for the Professor. Now, though…

“I don’t think you understand what you just got yourself into. Pray that you get kicked out of this before the end of the day,” Vyrrak says.

But then, the Dragonkin sees a flash of seriousness cross the usual cheery guy.

“I don’t think so. I have business to finish with the Vice Principal.”

“So,” Vice Principal Caradoc lifts his eyes from the notebook. “Jacob Cloud has apologized profusely about his attendance. Since today is quite a special day, I’ve decided to give him a shot at the Class. Anything you’d like to add, Jacob Cloud?”

“I thank you for the opportunity, Professor, sir. I would like to ask some very specific questions, though… I have a problem only you can help with.”

Vice Principal Caradoc tilts his shiny bald head, “well, isn’t that what Professors are here for? I’d love to hear you out, Jacob. Could you patiently wait for the end of class, first?”

Vyrrak sees Jacob nod eagerly.

Whatever Jacob needs, he shouldn’t have come to this man

, the Dragonkin thinks.

“This crook has failed or had quit everyone, Jacob,” Vyrrak says out loud. “Don’t fooled by his manners.”

Jacob is surprised at how Vyrrak addresses a

Vice Principal

.

“I fear our dear Vyrrak has quite the enmity with me because I won’t allow him to waste his talents,” Vice Principal Caradoc sighs and spreads his hands apologetically, turning toward Jacob. “A special clause has been made for him under special circumstances. If he were to fail my Class or refuse to attend, he’d be expelled.”

“What?” Jacob’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “Isn’t this an elective course?”

“Well, sometimes things like this happen,” Vice Principal Caradoc says with a sad visage. “You see, Jacob, Vyrrak, being a Dragonkin, is bound to different rules than you. Not

that

different, but mandatory courses change based on your… attitudes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Jacob says, confused. “I imagined everyone just got the same courses. Is this true for Highbloods and Infernals?”

“On paper,” Vyrrak says with smoke coming out of his bared teeth.

“Well, not just on paper. Iskara Drazhal and Asterion Doryphoros have mandatory courses that differ from everybody else. One of these courses, to the best of my knowledge, many Champions attend—you too, Jacob Cloud. It’s Professor Veythra Drazhal’s course. It’s mandatory for Iskara Drazhal. Failure would imply expulsion.”

“Oh,” Jacob is taken aback.

“Different races have different mandatory courses—it’s not just the Three Great Races. Elves, Minotaurs… but let’s not focus on this right now. Let’s go back to the lesson.”

Vice Principal Caradoc taps his lips a few times and then says, “you were not here for the introduction and I don’t mind going over it again. So I’ll briefly explain what the Fire Manipulation course covers.”

“Torture,” Vyrrak spits.

“Only on the better days,” Vice Principal Caradoc laughs softly. “But no. No torture, Jacob. I promise. I lead all the Fire Manipulation Courses from 101 to 701, which is a course that graduates attend. Fire Manipulation 101 is the basics—I’m quite lenient in the way I treat it. It’s a general introduction to Fire Magic that I give to the best of my abilities. It’s kept

very

general so that I can give the foundation upon which other Professor of more specific courses will expand on.

But.

”

Vice Principal Caradoc clears his voice.

“Ahem, starting from Fire Manipulation 201, I teach a

very specific

Fire Manipulation technique.”

“Oh, just one?” Jacob asks, surprised.

“The man is very capable, Jacob,” Vyrrak says, not prying his eyes away from Vice Principal Caradoc. “His competence is almost unrivaled—perhaps not almost. But it stands as tall as his fastidious and irritant ways.”

“What a compliment,” Vice Principal Caradoc smiles at Vyrrak like a parent would with an unruly child.

“He just wants to teach me alone, Jacob,” Vyrrak adds. “I believe that to be the reason why he failed everybody else this year. The class is usually tough, but not

this

tough. He’s got a personal bone to pick with me. Just giving you a heads up.”

“Do not listen to Vyrrak,” Vice Principal Caradoc sighs. “I’m very, very demanding, Jacob. But I’m not

unfair

. In fact, I’m

very

happy that someone is here as witness to day. It’s but a serendipitous coincidence that you, Jacob, ended up here today of all days.”

“How so?” Jacob asks.

“I called someone to the Academy since Vyrrak refuses to heed any instruction and follow my lessons properly despite what’s at stake for him. I just want him to learn, but he’s been making this an impossible endeavor.”

Jacob turns quizzically toward Vyrrak but the Dragonkin just narrows his eyes at Vice Principal Caradoc.

“If I could, old man, I would tear you and my father apart, burn you in the same fire that you worship.”

“How lucky that you can’t, then,” the short, shiny-headed man smiles at Vyrrak. “Now, though. Guinevere, please, come forward.”

A most beautiful woman steps forward, tall, but not with the demeanor of royalty. She has a beaming smile on her face that hides none of her emotions as her green eyes land on Vyrrak with unbound joy. She has simple clothing and her brown hair is gathered in a long braid that stretches down to her waist.

“Guinevere!” Vyrrak jumps off the seat.

“Husband,” Guinevere smiles.

“Husband?” Jacob echoes.