CRITICAL POINT/ THE BLACK KING (MAGIC CHRONICLES #1)

Chapter 7:

Tuesday, 4:05 p.m.

Kaloi Institute for Advanced Studies

Iloilo, Philippines

            “You’re late.”

            Both Michelle and Veronica cringed at the voice of their teacher.

        Professor Anne Caster may look like an easy-going twenty-five year-old woman – long, brown hair left uncombed, torn jeans, and an “E=mc2” printed shirt, but she has a thing for punctuality. She hates it when people arrive or do things even a minute late.

            It just so happens that the two girls were fifteen minutes late.

            “S-sorry, Professor,” Michelle stammered, “It won’t happen again-.”

            She was about to say more when the loud snap echoed in the classroom. Their teacher just broke her wooden magic wand in half in an effort to control her anger.

            “In a real battle, there are no second chances. Miss your timing by even just a fraction of a second, and you’re dead,” Anne glared at them, “Take note of this, especially you, Miss Aquila. You’re the class president. You should be setting a good example to your classmates.””

            “Y-yes, Professor Caster,” both girls bowed their heads as they sat down.

            Anne sighed. It was a tiring day, and she was just about to start her last class. It was not normally like this, but since Jaime was not around, she had to handle some of the extra class load, particularly in the upper grades. She shook her head and faced her students.

            “All right, class,” Anne said, “today in our Theories on Basic Combat Magic, we’re going to discuss a Greek magic system that does not require spell casting. What is its name?”

            No one raised their hand. Anne sighed again. It was always like that. These kids are either shy too talk about what they know or, the worst case, they have absolutely no idea what the topic is about. Just to be sure that it was not the latter, Anne quickly chose a student.

            “All right, Miss Durand, can you answer that question?”

            “Y-yes, p-professor,” stammered a small girl with glasses, red hair tied in pigtails, who was sitting between Michelle and Veronica.

            If there is anyone who can fit the title of being “The Klutz”, then twelve year-old Aleli Durand would be it. As proof of her clumsiness, the entire contents of her school bag spilled over when she stood up to answer. Anne began to rub her temple as it took Aleli, with Veronica lending a hand, a couple of seconds to gather her things, muttering ‘hawawa’ as she does it. Readjusting her glasses, she stood up.

            “That would b-be the Classica m-magic system,” Aleli stuttered.