Nocte Yin

Chapter Six

“Heroes would, on a daily basis, risk their lives slaying dragons, dodging bullets and facing fears. They get hurt, mangled and sometimes even die. They sacrifice blood, sweat and tears to rescue damsels in distress and trapped princesses, undergoing physical pain and mental scarring all for the sake of questing,” lectured Professor Dew. “Now, I ask you, why would heroes go to such lengths to save lives?”

He paused his steps in the middle of the lecture hall, the leaves on the tiled floor sweeping aside at his abrupt stop. His students remained immobile at his question, several too distracted by the sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling to pay much attention to his words. The Herology classroom was housed in one of the Academy’s greenhouses, a self-contained ecosystem that proved useful in diverting the class’ attention elsewhere, from the birch and maples painting unique colours in the background to the robins and sparrows flying through the temperate forest in the fore. The nearby apple trees, especially, were tempting, their branches dangling (poisoned) apples for any obtuse student to pluck and consume.

Not every student of Evil Academy was particularly bright.

They were, however, rich.

Nocte doodled in the margins of her notebook, little hearts and stars, and smiled when the sun hit her face. It was so bright and airy in the greenhouse that sometimes she found herself daydreaming during lecture, which was actually quite upsetting. She wanted to pay attention, what with Herology being her favourite class and Professor Dew being her favourite professor (he was an elf!), but it was just too drowsy in the glasshouse.

Dew nodded to one of the raised hands.

“They’re driven by emotions,” a boy answered.

Nocte looked up from her notebook to focus on Dew’s response.

“Emotions are a weakness,” Dew agreed with a nod, his long hair swaying and briefly revealing his pointed ears. “And therefore, their downfall.”

Nocte frowned, but did not comment. She disagreed.

“But what say you to those that survive and succeed in saving lives?” the elf asked, leaning back against his desk.

“Luck,” someone replied.

“‘Luck?’ Or something else?” Dew posed the question, letting it fall thick and uncomfortably over his students. His eyes slid from one end of the classroom to the other, waiting patiently for an answer or speculation. He would keep them in the class all day if need be.

“We’re only referring to the average hero,” a girl commented. “And an average hero always fails.”

“That was not the question,” Dew reprimanded lightly. “I asked you how some heroes manage to actually win.”

All eyes swivelled to the professor at the word “win.” It was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was almost blasphemous. A hero could never win. A hero had no hand-eye coordination to speak of, and could barely understand the simple equation needed to avoid a moat full of piranhas. They had no mental or physical capabilities to triumph over a villain.

And yet… it was not uncommon to hear of a hero’s victory…

Nocte almost laughed at their faces. Almost.

Someday, stereotyping would end them all.

“Poor planning on the villain’s part,” Paine said, calm and cool.

Nocte turned to look at him, as did everyone, craning their necks to catch sight of his blond hair. He was sitting in the very back, at the very top of the slanted seats. It was a position befitting of a Paine, to be looking down at them, lording his superiority, both in breeding and assets, over the rest of his pauper peers. Conceitedness oozed out from him like thick, ugly and disgusting mud.