In Pihet, a man in a crisp white T-shirt and black trousers stood confidently before rows of attentive students, ruler in hand. The pupils sat in orderly pairs at wooden desks, their postures reflecting varying degrees of interest.
"Goons!" Ezekiel Lincoln declared, his voice resonating through the classroom. "Goons are terrifying monsters that devour humans to survive." He paced deliberately across the front of the room, making eye contact with several wide-eyed students. "These creatures are categorized into different species and rankings based on their abilities and hunting patterns," continued Ezekiel, the respected wand master of Kelvin's class at the prestigious wizard school in Pihet.
The students listened intently to their instructor, some folding their arms across their chests in unconscious protection against the frightening subject matter, while others placed their hands flat on their desks, fingers occasionally twitching with nervous energy. Textbooks lay open before each student, their colorful illustrations of the fearsome creatures seeming almost to move in the flickering classroom light. A few students exchanged worried glances, wondering if they might ever encounter such beasts outside the safety of their academic discussions.
"These goons fall into four categories: life goons, late goons, true goons, and peak goons—all posing significant threats to humanity," Ezekiel explained, using his long ruler to indicate each word before shifting it toward the detailed illustrations on the dark board. His voice carried a gravity that silenced even the most restless students.
"Life goons represent the first stage. They resemble dogs, cats, spiders, and various creatures, but with crucial differences." He tapped the board emphatically, his weathered fingers revealing years of magical combat. "Their bodies are covered with impenetrable scales that ordinary, non-magical weapons cannot pierce. These beasts grow substantially larger than their natural counterparts." The wand master paused, his eyes scanning the room to ensure everyone grasped the severity of his warning. "Remember this well—life goons rarely travel alone. They move in packs, so spotting one means others lurk nearby." A shudder passed through several students as they imagined encountering such creatures.
The wand master clasped his hands together, the silver rings on his fingers catching the afternoon light streaming through the windows. His expression softened slightly, though concern still lined his face. "I trust you all comprehend the gravity of this knowledge. Many of you should already know the proper response when encountering goons. Do you?"
"Yes, Wand Master!" the class responded in unison, their voices echoing through the chamber with determined confidence.
"Good, you should flee if your skill or numbers are inferior to the goons. When you return home, report immediately—this way you'll not only preserve your own life but also protect your fellow brothers and sisters and our entire..." he paused thoughtfully. "City? Village? Let's simply refer to it as we always have: Pihet," the wand master explained, his weathered face creasing with concern as he gazed at his students.
"Late goons are far more formidable and ferocious than life goons," he continued, his voice dropping to a grave tone that sent shivers through the room. "With them, the tide of battle shifts dramatically. They might appear as doglike creatures similar to life goons, or sometimes as goblins, dragons, or even ghosts. These adversaries possess greater intelligence than their lesser counterparts."
The wand master strode forward, pacing the floor with deliberate steps. "Beware," he cautioned, raising a finger for emphasis while his eyes locked with each student in turn. "After slaying a late goon, their corpse may erupt in a violent explosion, designed to claim their opponents in death as they could not in life. I've seen brave warriors fall to this final, desperate act—always maintain your distance after delivering a fatal blow."
The students gasped collectively, several of them hastily scribbling the information into their notebooks with wide eyes.
"Of course, the outcome depends entirely on which caliber of wizard confronts that particular level of goon," Mr. Lincoln explained, adjusting his spectacles. "When approached with proper caution, one's safety remains virtually guaranteed."
He paced slowly before the classroom, tapping his ruler against his palm. "As a reminder, at your current stage—essentially early star wizards whose powers have just ignited—you can only engage one-on-one with life goons. By my estimation, you should be capable of handling three simultaneously." He paused dramatically, then pointed his ruler toward the back row. "Everyone except Kelvin, that is," he added, singling out the quiet boy.
Kelvin, his shoulders slightly hunched, offered only a timid smile in return, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the corner of his textbook.
The other students erupted into laughter, exchanging knowing glances and whispering among themselves. A few cast pitying looks in Kelvin's direction while others seemed to relish his discomfort.
"No, please don't interpret my words that way," Mr. Lincoln interjected, raising his hand to quiet the class, genuine concern crossing his weathered face. "I'm merely cautioning him for his own protection. Kelvin isn't too old to become a proper wizard—he hasn't yet reached fifteen, which means ample opportunity remains for his powers to fully ignite."
"Ignition manifests in three distinct forms," he continued. "First, the transformation occurs when an ordinary individual awakens as a wizard, or when an established wizard ascends to a higher tier—such as progressing from early to middle star ranking and beyond."
"Second, the creation of an altar for rituals enables the production of potions, enchanted items, and similar artifacts. This method channels the spiritual essence flowing through the atmosphere into a concentrated area. A precise pattern must be drawn, accompanied by wax candles to facilitate the process."
"Third, a wizard may gather spiritual essence and shape it into various magical effects—whether offensive strikes, healing energies, or any of the myriad possibilities magic offers."
"True goons," he explained, his voice dropping to a grave tone, "present a far more formidable challenge than the previous varieties we discussed." He paused, allowing tension to build in the silent classroom. "When confronting these adversaries, a wizard faces a genuine threat. And when I speak of wizards," he added, eyes narrowing, "I don't refer to early or middle star practitioners, but rather late stars like myself, or even peak stars." He pursed his lips thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping across each student's apprehensive face. "These goons manipulate magical forces just as wizards do. Their intelligence far exceeds that of lesser creatures—dragons, goblins, and ferocious beasts beyond description all fall within this category of monster." His fingers tapped nervously against the lectern as he continued, clearly troubled by the mere thought of such encounters.
"And finally, peak goons represent the most formidable threat," he continued with scholarly enthusiasm. "These elite creatures can mimic human speech and command legions of lesser goons. For a city to triumph over such adversaries, they require at least one or two wizards who have ascended to beyonder status. Fortunately, Pihet boasts two such champions—Kael Zarathor, father of the two Zarathor's, and Caleb Watson, Romeo's father, who also serves as Pihet's leader."
"Cut the crap, you verbose fool," a voice whispered through the classroom like a chilling breeze. "Life goons worst, late goons worst—he keeps adding 'worst' as if we hadn't grasped the concept already."
The wand master's face flushed with indignation as his lecture was interrupted. "Who dares speak?" he demanded, eyes narrowing as they swept across the room.
The classroom plunged into profound silence. Students froze mid-sentence, their quills suspended over parchment as they exchanged nervous glances, each wondering who had been bold—or foolish—enough to provoke their instructor.
"No one wants to admit it?" the teacher's voice hardened as he scanned the silent classroom. "I will persuade you to talk while you still have a chance. Or else, if I figure it out myself, you won't like the consequences."
Tension filled the room as students avoided eye contact, their shoulders hunched with anxiety. Still, not a single student stepped forward. The teacher advanced toward the front row, his footsteps echoing in the uncomfortable silence.
"Liam, Kelvin," he said softly, crouching between their desks, "I believe you're well-behaved young men. I know you wouldn't lie to me." His gaze penetrated their nervous expressions. "Who said it?" he asked, looking directly into their eyes.
Both boys stared back at him, their throats constricting as they swallowed hard. Beads of sweat formed on Liam's forehead while Kelvin's fingers trembled against his desk. They knew exactly who had spoken those words—in fact, everyone in the class recognized the culprit, a notorious tyrant who ruled their classroom through fear and intimidation.
"Trust me," the teacher urged, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Just say the name. Don't worry about anything else. No one will dare hurt you." His reassurance hung in the air, tempting but dangerous.
Kelvin's resolve crumbled under the pressure. "Romeo!" he blurted out, immediately regretting the words that escaped his lips.
Their classmates' eyes widened in horror, a collective gasp rippling through the room. Disbelief painted their faces. Had he actually admitted it? Had Kelvin really mentioned Romeo's name? Dread settled over the classroom as a single thought crossed everyone's mind: this week would become a living hell for both Liam and Kelvin. They all recognized the gravity of what had just happened—Kelvin had made a catastrophic mistake that would haunt them both.
"What! Me?!" Romeo pointed to himself, feigning shock as if Kelvin had accused him of a heinous crime he knew nothing about. He leaped from his chair with theatrical indignation, his eyes narrowing into a venomous glare directed at his accuser. His hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from barely contained anger.
"I wouldn't call your name if it wasn't you," Kelvin replied coolly, straightening his shoulders. "Moreover, everyone here can testify to this unless they're too intimidated by your notorious temper." He lifted his gaze deliberately toward Romeo, who stood fuming at the opposite end of his left side. The tension between them crackled in the air like electricity.
"Enough!" The wand master slammed his palm against the desk, causing several students to flinch. His weathered face hardened with years of dealing with troublemakers like Romeo. "Drop the act, Romeo. Your reputation precedes you—I recognized your handiwork from the beginning."
"Move out. Come here," Mr. Lincoln commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority that brooked no argument. Romeo complied with exaggerated slowness, each step deliberate as he approached the front. His eyes never left Kelvin, burning with a promise of retribution that made the smaller boy shift uncomfortably in his seat.
"Just you wait, you will regret ever being able to speak," he growled inwardly, his thoughts seething with resentment.
Approaching the wand master with deliberate steps, Mr. Lincoln delivered a resounding slap across Romeo's face. "Return to your seat," he commanded. Romeo's eyes contorted in pain and fury, his fingers trembling as they touched his stinging cheek. This time he yearned to tear Kelvin apart, to make him suffer tenfold for the humiliation he had just endured before all his peers.
"Now my suspicion is confirmed—Kelvin has plunged himself into scalding trouble," whispered a student to his neighbor, both watching the drama unfold with widened eyes.
Meanwhile, Kelvin sat seemingly unconcerned, his posture relaxed yet alert, like a predator feigning innocence. His quill moved steadily across the parchment as he meticulously transcribed the lesson, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his inner satisfaction. The tension in the room hung thick as fog, with furtive glances darting between the two adversaries.
The closing bell finally rang, its sound cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. "Huhgh," sighed the professor, gathering his materials. "That will suffice for today. We shall continue where we left off tomorrow. Have a pleasant afternoon, everyone." He strode from the classroom. Students hastily collected their belongings, stuffing books and various items into their bags while buzzing with whispered conversations about the confrontation they had witnessed.
Romeo and his three companions stormed out of class, each casting a ferocious glare at Kelvin that promised trouble. The tension in the air was palpable, like electricity before a storm.
"You will wish you hadn't done that," Romeo hissed, slamming his hand on the desk close to Kelvin. His eyes narrowed dangerously, reflecting a barely contained anger that made the other students nearby shift uncomfortably in their seats.
Then he stalked out, his shoulders rigid with suppressed fury.
"It's okay, brother," Liam said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Kelvin's shoulder. "Trust me, those words are nothing but infant cries." His voice carried a confidence he didn't entirely feel, but he wouldn't let his twin see his concern.
"Sure, I know," Kelvin replied with a forced smile, gathering his books into his bag. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying his casual tone.
The twins then exited the school into the town, where the afternoon sun scorched mercilessly overhead. It cast their elongated shadows on the ground, making them appear like giants against the cracked pavement. Sweat beaded on their foreheads as they walked in companionable silence.
Few pedestrians traversed the alleyway. Wild weeds grew along the middle of the road while others sprouted defiantly along the edge lines, breaking through concrete in a testament to nature's persistence. The twins' footsteps echoed against the buildings flanking the narrow passage.
As they headed home, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—homework, their plans for the weekend, anything to distract from the earlier confrontation. Turning a corner into an alley, their laughter died abruptly. Four young boys waited for them, each wearing a mischievous smile that didn't reach their cold eyes. Romeo, Tulup, Philips, and Jack formed a menacing semicircle, effectively blocking the path forward.
"I'd started to think you had found another route," Romeo said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, cracking his knuckles methodically. The sound echoed ominously in the confined space of the alley.