School of Creation ; SetoSolace

| 26 |

i had too many drafts for this chapter jesus

***

Brice adjusted his posture as he drew his golden sword back. Mitch snickered, a sly grin stretched from ear to ear. Jerome sat on the sidelines, silently sipping his juice box.

"You're not too bad," Mitch began, "for a rookie at least. You really need to work on stance and posture if you want to put that royal sword of yours to use."

Brice sighed, plopping onto the ground. He stared at his hands, blistering and bruised. He clenched his fist, looking up. Mitch stood ahead, the wind flowing through his locks. His diamond sword rested on his shoulder, and not a scratch was on him. He released an exasperated sigh; Mitchell was an astonishing example of how a fighter—summoner elementals to be specific—should be like. As much as he despised saying it, he wanted to have the same skills as Mitch. That's how he ended up with a /half-decently/ shitty mentor.

Brice's golden sword was rested on the dirt. It shone brightly in the high sun. It was passed down to him by his father—the king who planned to exterminate Seto's kind. It was long, thick, and had a emerald towards the tip. He wasn't sure what the emerald was for, it was an oddly specific format. Simple decoration wouldn't have made sense, his ancestors did things for certain reasons. His father used the sword but refused to tell him about what the sword's original purpose was. Strange.

It was Sunday, two days since Seto had single-handedly left the School of Creation. Isaac, Sub, Ethan, and Kyle had oddly stayed behind due to orders of the brunet—the Prince of Sorcerers. The thought of something bad happening to Seto made his stomach churn. This was Seto's brother—a male that could possibly have the power to tear the world into two parts. Brice wished he could have tagged along, he worried constantly about Seto's safety.

It was difficult keeping the secret to himself. It wasn't like Seto was a burden—he wanted to object all those who claimed Sorcerers were wicked, emotionless beings with no possible recollection of thoughts. If he did as such then people would get suspicious. A pure-blood Hybrid siding with Sorcerers would not rest well with his people, and neither would it be with his father. The chilling thought of his disappointing eyes sent waves of disparity through his mind.

By the time he finished his thoughts, Mitch had already left. Jerome was gone, too. Just a simple juice box on the grass was left behind, along with a yellow straw that was chewed on and managed to be crumpled up. The two would probably train tomorrow again, which left Brice with the remainder of the day to either worry or worry. Yes, there was no other option for him. He stood up and began his long journey back to his house.

Seto had promised he would be okay—he was just the type of person to do that. Surely enough he could have been smart enough to bring at least some type of backup, but then again he was the type to be unpredictable as well. As much as Brice wanted to be Seto's guard, he didn't know Seto's true potential. After all, Seto beat Brice two weeks ago with only 8%—the highest power he had ever seen the Sorcerer used. How could he possibly be like when using 100%? He shrugged off the thought.

Back to his original thoughts, Brice knew that Seto went alone—and he truly did want to go alone. Or, at least Brice assumed he did. Seto didn't want Brice to go with him, he didn't want Brice to get hurt. He was just that type of person who seemed like a "lone-wolf," actually "lone-sorcerer" in this case. That night where Seto was saying his goodbyes pained him. Watching someone you love easily slip away from youth fingers isn't the easiest thing to do.