23Note: Oh. Here comes the big bad wolf….maybe… anyway…
There was no way in hell or heaven that he could overpower Terce and his gang, and besides… killing someone… wasn't that a bit… drastic? No, he couldn't. Striker sighed as he and the others followed Devron through the hallways. No point in becoming apart of Blade's Monastery if he couldn't even pass the entrance exam.
"Devron, that is a stupid test," Striker said softly.
"It is a prestigious institute, Stahn," Devron replied.
Striker made a face. "Oh, yeah, really prestigious. What kind of prestigious school asks for that?" he answered.
"The kind that requires the most mental and physical preparation and challenge," Devron said impassively. He stopped before a door and knocked. "The headmaster's office is in this room."
Striker made a face and was silent, but the other boys except Velan were enthusiastic.
"I wonder what he looks like," one asked.
"Who cares," Velan answered.
"Come in," a voice said from the other side of the door. Everyone stopped talking.
Devron opened the door and showed the boys in. There was a desk, full of many exotic curios. The headmaster's nameplate sat on the desk among the other items. It didn't strike a ring in anyone's head. William deSythe.
A tall man with dark brown hair and strangely blue eyes sat at the desk signing a piece of paper of some sort. He looked up after a moment of scribbling and smiled. "Well, greetings. Thank you, Devron." The man stood up and nodded. Devron bowed, walked out, and closed the door.
The boys didn't notice. They just stared at the headmaster.
"Well, it's not polite to stare," the headmaster commented.
There came a slew of apologies as some of the boys averted their gazes.
The headmaster chuckled. "Well, this is Blade's Monastery, as I'm sure you've noticed. The gentleman who escorted you here is one of the top instructors in this rigorous institution."
"Rigorous…" Velan muttered softly. Striker only heard him because he was next to him.
"Yes, it is quite rigorous," the headmaster confirmed.
Velan stared at the headmaster. "You heard me?"
The headmaster nodded with a small smile. "Not much escapes me."
Velan's face hardened. "What about your students becoming an entirely different person?"
"What about them?"
"Do you notice?"
"Of course. It is up to them to continue their studies or not. Your brother chose to continue," the headmaster simply replied.
Velan frowned. "Or did you make him?" He stalked out and slammed the door.
Striker blinked, and Terce sighed. "I'll talk to him." The leader opened the door just in time to be nailed with a fierce punch.
"What the hell?" Terce coughed. His face was bleeding.
Velan stood on the other side of the door with an angry expression. "None of you understand!" He slammed the door shut, and they heard running footsteps.
"What was that for?" Terce yelled angrily.
Striker blinked. "Guess he doesn't like you, Terce." He managed a small giggle, but stopped when Terce glared at him. "Uh, I don't know." Striker shrugged.
The headmaster sighed as the door opened yet again. "I'll have Annie take you back to your town." A young lady with reddish hair had entered the room. He nodded at her.
She grinned mischievously and nodded. "Yup! Follow me!" She headed out with everyone following except Striker.
When they had left and Striker couldn't hear them anywhere, he turned to the headmaster. "Why the task? Isn't it a little extreme?"
"It prepares you for the training," the headmaster answered curtly.
"What is so great about Blade's monastery anyway?" Striker asked suspiciously.
"You know about the reputation of training fighters. Students that graduate tend to be very adept in mental and physical defense and offense." The headmaster continued before Striker could ask his question. "You would benefit by improving your physical fitness and by learning more. You will come close to being fearless."
Striker blinked. "What do you mean by close?"
"No one is entirely fearless. There is always something someone is afraid of. Just as how most people have strengths, people also have weaknesses."
"What are you afraid of?" Striker asked.
The headmaster grinned. "Nothing you would understand at the moment."
Striker frowned. "What? Tell me!"
The headmaster chuckled. "That is not a question you would expect to be answered. As I said before, you wouldn't understand either way." He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some business to attend to." He opened a compartment in the wall, which Striker had not even noticed existed. The headmaster grabbed a long pole with a silver blade attached to the top sideways. It hit Striker. Although he had never actually seen one, he had read about them. The object was a scythe. Ironically, the weapon fit the Headmaster deSythe. The headmaster looked at Striker. "You're staring."
"Oh…umm…" Striker looked away.
"No, it's quite alright. You have never seen one of these before, have you? It is not uncommon. These types of weapons are never seen that often, and in actuality, it suits the world well. People would rather not see them." The headmaster showed Striker out and they converse as they walked.
"Why? It's a weapon. I see people with swords and other weapons."
The headmaster sighed. "Yes. The scythe is not welcomed though. Have you ever heard the term 'grim reaper' mentioned?"
"Well, yes," Striker admitted. "It's someone who is associated with death."
"Exactly. The scythe is a symbol of the grim reaper, a bringer of death. The common people are afraid of the concept of death, and they stray away from it. For that reason, they do not welcome the scythe."
"So, why do you have one?" Striker asked as he eyed the strange weapon.
"It's a weapon, Striker, and it's not forbidden. For me, it's just more convenient for my own reasons. It is the same reason why certain people choose their main weapon to be either a spear, a sword, or some other weapon," the headmaster answered. "Devron has a sword. Velan's brother has a double headed axe. Velan's choice is a spear."
Striker blinked. "Velan has a weapon?"
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"But you did." They approached the gates.
"I'm aware of that. Let us speak no more. Besides, we are at the gates. Come back if you'd like later."
"But…alright. Well, thanks for showing me."
"Farewell."
"Yeah." Striker sighed and trudged away from the monastery. He turned back to look at the monastery, but to his surprised, found nothing. The monastery had seemingly vanished. Deciding that perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him due to his lack of sleep, he returned home.
Rusr's knees hit the dirt, and he slammed his sword into the ground and sobbed. "Why me?" he screamed. "What's happening?" He had gone through more doors, met more strange creatures, and had somehow survived only to find more doors and open areas.
Zane sat on another rock sighing. "Well. The invitation is still extended."
"I don't care about your stupid invitation. I just want to go back to where I'm supposed to be! DEAD!"
"Dead?" Zane raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked you weren't dead."
"You know what I mean, you bastard. You obviously know more than you're letting out!" Rusr glared at Zane with eyes full of hatred.
"Kill me then… if you can." Zane smiled.
"I'm not that stupid. I can't learn anything if you're dead," Rusr retorted. "What do you take me for?...an idiot?" Rusr noticed Zane mouthing his words as he spoke. "What the hell are you?"
"Your conscience?" Zane suggested.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Rusr spat.
"Whatever you suppose it to mean," Zane answered. He stood up and unsheathed a sword. "If you can defeat me, I will tell you some of what you would like to know."
"Hmph." Rusr stood up and pulled his sword out of the ground. "Well, then. Prepare yourself then. I will find out what I want to know."
"You will discover yourself at a loss if you're heated," Zane mumbled. He grinned and raised his sword.
Rusr tumbled to the ground, his sword flying off to wedge itself in a cavern wall some distance away. "The hell? I timed it correctly too…"
Zane yawned. "You've never met somehow you couldn't defeat, hmm? Well, the world is different now. You're in a maze of caverns, stuck with an annoying person named Zane, who just somehow seems to be able to unarm you easily."
"Way to make it blunt," Rusr hissed. "Why am I losing to you?"
"And so the training begins," Zane whispered softly.
"What training?" Rusr asked.
Zane raised an eyebrow. "You heard that?"
"Well, I'm not as deaf as I look," Rusr replied with a grin.
"Well, that's good to know. Are you as blind as you look then?" Zane grinned back. He raised his arm in the direction of Rusr's sword. It pulled itself out of the cavern wall and flew to Zane's hand. He caught it and threw it at Rusr, who caught it with a stupefied look.
"You're a mage?" Rusr's mouth dropped. "But they were all killed…"
"Not quite a mage, and yes, they were almost all killed…"
"Almost?"
"Yes, almost. You did not know your sister was a mage?"
"WHAT?!"
"Well, let's spar again and see how you fare."
"My sister's a mage?"
"If you defeat me, I will tell you about it."
"Fine." Rusr grumbled to himself. It was extremely annoying…this process of getting answers to his thoughts and questions.