The Sixth School

Author's note.

1). Feedback from my readers is my fuel to keep writing. If you enjoy my work, please take the time to let me know in the comments. It does wonders for my motivation to write. Without it, my pacing usually suffers a lot.

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All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...

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Chapter Fourteen: The Second Step...

Alena moved through the hallway with the young girl holding a small tray beside her. Looking at the healer's calm expression, one wouldn't be able to tell the storm of emotions going through her. The young man was going to leave the infirmary today. And while that was a good thing, she couldn't get herself to feel happy about it. He was the only link that she had to that mysterious entity that had visited his room a few nights before, and he was about to slip out of her grasp. After the boy had become aware of just how disfigured his face was and found that not even Alena could heal him, he had completely withdrawn into himself. He barely looked in her direction let alone talked to her when she visited. Even his arousal during his daily evening wipe-downs had faded. If he left the infirmary today with this awkward air between them, she would have no way of getting close to him and perhaps through him come into contact with that mysterious power behind him.

With her injuries, Alena wouldn't dare to try and force the information about that power out of him. If she provoked an entity of that kind of power, then she wouldn't even be left with a corpse to bury. Forget force, the healer hadn't even tried to reinstall the surveillance balls that had been destroyed by that entity. This was part of the reason that she was hitting such a dead end with the boy. That entity had made it quite clear that it didn't wish to be spied on. And Alena wasn't willing to test just how much spying would be allowed before that entity was pissed. She hadn't even been willing to send her magical senses anywhere close to the room. But, without an indirect way of obtaining information from the boy, only the direct one was left and she was about to lose that also. It left her feeling frustrated and a bit helpless at the whole situation.

Alena pushed open the door to the boy's room to find him on the floor. Alena, however, didn't panic as this wasn't the first time that she had found him in this position. Alena and the girl beside her holding the tray, watched as the boy rapidly pushed himself up from the floor and then lowered himself down until his body was once again close to the floor. Push-ups, the boy called it. According to him, it was a way to help him to regain his strength. Having relied on magic all her life, Alena had never really bothered to find out how mundane humans gained strength. His mother had brought the boy some clothes on the evening of the first day that they were allowed to visit him. As such, his younger sister was spared the sight of her older brother's sweaty naked body as he exercised. The boy had pants covering his lower body, leaving only his upper body exposed.

Alena's eyes were on the boy's back as he continued to rise and fall with every push-up. She couldn't help but feel that the mystery around this boy was continuing to deepen. It had faded to an almost imperceptible level by now, but to someone who knew what they were looking for, it was still just barely detectable. Two days ago, when she came back for her midday visit to the boy, his room had been full of the unique aura of faith magic. With how strong the aura had been at the time, Alena had immediately ruled out boons and hexes. Whatever faith magic it was that had been cast, it was far too powerful to be short-term or weak in its effects. From her experiences with trying to cure curses, Alena knew that curses almost always leave a baleful and somewhat malignant air around their target. She couldn't sense any of that around the boy. And seeing as he didn't seem to have suffered any negative effects, Alena was almost ninety percent certain that the boy had received a powerful blessing. But to cast this kind of blessing, one would have to be at least a sixth or seventh-tier priest or sorcerer. However, even if she wasn't spying on the boy, there's no way that Alena would have missed it if a seventh-tier mage had come to the infirmary, even if just for a second. And yet, none had come! So where did this blessing come from?

And even more importantly for Alena, how was she going to maintain continued contact with the boy?

***

"Brother," A young girl's voice, full of concern, reached Greg's ears. "You should still be in bed recovering," She declared in a slightly admonishing tone.

Greg had been so engrossed in his morning exercise that he barely noticed it when the door opened and the healer came in along with his sister. There was nothing intensive about his exercises. Greg was just doing ten push-ups, and ten sit-ups with long bouts of stretching in between. From the way the girl spoke, however, one could be forgiven for thinking that he was doing powerlifting. Greg wasn't bothered by this, however. He could hear the concern in his sister's tone of voice and it filled him with warmth. Smiling, he pushed up off the floor and rose to a standing position. He noted the way the girl winced slightly at the sight of his disfigured face, he, however, didn't care. If anything, this was an improvement. When his little sister first caught sight of him two days prior, she had screamed in horror, the tray slipping from her hands. Had the healer not reacted quickly the vegetable soup and fruits on the tray would have spilled everywhere on the floor. With a wave of her hand, however, the tray had stopped an inch away from the floor and all the things on top had settled as if they were placed on a flat surface.

Looking at the girl, one could easily see that she took after their mother in terms of looks. Both were brunettes with caramel brown eyes that exuded warmth even without them trying. By Greg's estimate, the girl was probably two years younger than he was. She had a shy temperament which paired with her looks, left Greg wondering just how many boys her age were pining after her. As had been the case with his mother, Greg had immediately felt a connection to this girl the minute he saw her. Despite never having seen her before, he had felt like she'd always been his little sister and he, her older brother. As such, Greg felt the instinct all big brothers have to protect their younger sister.

When the girl had first visited him two days ago, she had been really quiet, barely speaking at all. Greg knew that as the new head of the house, she was required to behave herself around him and not be overly emotional. Greg, however, had struggled out of his bed and onto his feet before pulling her into a tight hug. "I know that you're in pain," He had said softly. "You don't have to hide it, or pretend when you are before me," He had continued. "It's okay to feel the way you feel. Just let it all out," He'd said, his voice barely above a whisper. The girl broke down and cried for almost half an hour in his arms. By the time she could compose herself once more, the food had already gone cold. Greg, however, hadn't cared in the least. Instead, he had spent the next hour talking to her about how she was coping with the death of their father. All through the conversation, Greg had made sure to repeatedly inform her that she could always come to him if she ever felt overwhelmed. Greg knew that it wouldn't magically cure the girl of her grief or rid her of the pain of loss. Still, it seemed to have helped her a little bit, and that was enough for Greg.

"Sister," Greg called out in response. "You needn't have brought food," He said as he looked down at the bowl of porridge she had brought on a tray. "I'll be leaving with you shortly," He said with a calm smile.

"Mother said that you should have it while it's still warm. It'll help you regain your strength," She declared stubbornly.

Greg rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips as he chose not to argue with the girl. Walking over to where she stood, Greg placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Both you and Mother need to stop worrying," He gently admonished. "The healer has already repeatedly told you that I am no longer in danger," He added.

"Stop that," his sister said with an annoyed huff. With the tray in her hands, however, she was powerless to stop him. She couldn't even move her head as swaying too much would spill the porridge.

Taking pity on the girl, Greg stopped and picked up the bowl of porridge from the tray. This allowed the girl to lower the tray and hold it with one hand to her side. Her other hand rose to smooth out the hair that Greg had messed up. Greg took a sip of the porridge before letting out a contented sigh. He then turned to his younger sister and asked. "Did you bring it?"

Tayani, his little sister, paused in her attempts to fix her hair. Her gaze dropped to the floor with a mix of shame and guilt. Still, she nodded in assent. "Yes, brother," She answered. Holding the bowl in his left hand, Greg held out his right hand to her. Reaching into a small bag that she had attached to her waist, Tayani pulled out a plain-looking wooden mask. Greg had asked the girl to go to the town's carpenter and promise some meat in exchange for making this mask. Greg had learned from Olivia that there was currency in this world, however, in this remote village out in the middle of nowhere, where everyone was just trying to survive, food was the currency with the most value. Greg knew that the reason that the carpenter was willing to indulge his request wasn't because he trusted Greg's hunting skills. Apart from the fact that the mask itself was a small object that wouldn't inconvenience them too much, there was also the fact that his father had always tried to forge friendly relations with everyone around them. In all likelihood, it was because of the memory of his father that the carpenter had been willing to make the mask for him.

Tayani had held out the mask to Greg, but when he tried to take it from her, she still clung to it. "Y... you don't have to wear this," She declared her guilt clear to be heard in her tone of voice. Greg could already imagine what the young girl was thinking. She probably thought that her poor reaction every time she saw her brother was the reason Greg had chosen to hide his face in shame.

A sigh left Greg as he pulled the mask from his sister's hands. The smile on his face straightened a bit as he answered in a slightly sad tone. "We both know that I do," He said.

His sister's head hang low, almost as if she was unwilling to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking slightly. Guilt and shame were coming off the poor girl in waves and Greg could tell that she was fighting back the urge to cry.

Greg couldn't help but feel like an asshole for putting his sister through such a hard time for something he didn't even care about. Unfortunately, this was the last act in the second part of his plan. For the past two days, after the healer failed to rid him of his scars, Greg had been pretending to be depressed over the issue. He'd been playing the part of the brave son and big brother putting on a strong front for his family whenever either his mother or his younger sister came along. But immediately after they left, he'd withdraw into a depressed, barely talking, and self-pitying version of himself. Her evening visits when she came to wipe him down had been particularly hard for Greg to pull off as he'd have to summon every ounce of will to keep himself from getting hard at her almost sinfully sexy body. Greg had probably thought of every disgusting thing he could twice over just to get through the sessions. On the second day, Greg had even suggested that he could wipe himself down, but the healer would have none of it. All of it was building up to this moment.

"Hey," Greg spoke up with a smile that looked a little forced even as he placed a finger under his sister's chin and turned her face back up to face him. "Keep your chin up," He encouraged, not sure if the expression would translate over to this world. "I may look like this right now, but it won't be permanent," He declared with what, to his sister, would have sounded like complete confidence. But to someone more experienced with the world, it would have sounded like Greg was trying to convince himself just as much as he was his little sister.

"Y... you won't?" his sister asked with a slightly hopeful tone of voice.

Rather than answer her, Greg turned to the healer, this time, with a slightly nervous look on his face. "Y... You said that there were potions out there that could heal me," He stated. "I know that I can't ask you to go find them for me," He continued. "But can you at least teach me?" He asked. "Teach me what I'd need to know to find that potion, or if I can't find it, how to find its ingredients so I can make it myself," He went on. Olivia had already mentioned to Greg that knowledge of potion-making is a lot more valuable than being given a potion. Greg, however, pretended to not know this and acted like the potion was much more important to him.

Greg didn't consider himself a genius by any stretch of the imagination. But by the same measure, he wasn't an idiot either. Even without Olivia hinting at the fact that the healer had some secrets, Greg had picked up on some clues himself. The earliest clue that Greg had picked up on, was the fact that the healer seemed to be struggling with her magic. The pain that she carefully hid whenever she pushed her magic use past a certain point, didn't strike Greg as normal. Next, the system came along and told him that the woman posed the highest danger grading it could assign which was the suicidal danger grading. Essentially, the system declared that, despite whatever struggles with magic the woman had, Greg was no more than a lamb awaiting slaughter if she ever desired to harm him. Olivia next came along and reinforced this assessment from the system by revealing that the healer was a seventh-tier mage. A tier that, according to Olivia, could kill just by their aura alone if they weren't careful to rein it in. The final piece to the puzzle that brought the whole picture together was the fact that the healer had been in the town for the past six years. In other words, a seventh-tier mage, who seemed hurt bad enough to struggle with magic hadn't tried to go to places where she could get magical help but instead chose to stay in a town with no magic for six years.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was probably hiding from something.

Given her injuries and the fact that she seemed to have enemies powerful enough that even she was hiding from, Greg had been afraid that if he came out and directly asked her to teach him magic, she wouldn't be willing to accept him as her student. This was the reason Greg had chosen to take the indirect route. The first step had been to pretend that he really cared about being disfigured. Enough so that he became depressed when she failed to heal the damage to his face. The second part was to leverage this to get her to take him as another healing apprentice. He needed her to believe that he was obsessed with finding a remedy for his disfigurement. And that, this was the reason he was interested in learning about healing and potion-making. This would be his way of getting his foot in the door. Once they were in a master and apprentice relationship, Greg could slowly earn her trust and slowly shift from just learning about healing and potion making from her to actually learning magic. After all, Greg had at least two years of setting up his foundation by reinforcing his core and mana pathways before he could actually start to learn magic. Greg believed that this would be enough time for him to win enough of the healer's trust for her to take him as her student of magic.

Looking at the healer, Greg couldn't help the slight surprise he felt at the smile that had crossed her face. It was almost as if, rather than making a request of her, he had done her a favor. Was this what Olivia had meant when she said that the healer would probably agree to take him as a student of magic if he asked her? Greg found himself wondering. The healer was currently looking at him as if he'd offered up on a silver platter the solution to a problem she'd been trying to solve. "Go home," The healer said, catching Greg off guard. "Rest, recover, and spend some time with your family," She advised. "You have lost your father and almost died yourself. You need to grieve with your family. Allow them and yourself to adjust to the new reality you find yourself in," She said. "You are their new support. You need to make sure that you are in the right headspace before you take up that responsibility. Take a week or two if you need to," She offered. "When you feel you are ready, come to me and we'll begin your apprenticeship," She instructed. Greg couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when she got to this point. At the start, he'd almost thought that she would reject him with a smile. Turns out she was just worried about his mental state.

Greg offered a bow to the healer, a smile now on his lips. In this town, this was how an apprentice showed respect to their master...

***

When Greg stepped out of the infirmary, the wooden mask his sister had brought him was on his face. Greg had to give it to the carpenter that made it. He was good at his craft. The mask was smooth to the touch and wouldn't chafe at his skin. The eyeholes were just right, not big enough to show the damage around his eyes, and not small enough to obstruct his vision. The air holes were positioned just right to allow him to breathe with ease and even the strap that ran around his head to hold the mask in place wasn't too tight. The only shortcoming, as far as Greg could tell, was the fact that it only covered his face. The sides of Greg's head remained visible to anyone who took the time to look at him closely. But then again, in its own way, this was also a good thing as it would make him way less suspicious than if he was completely covered. Now, anyone that looked at him would easily understand why he was covering up. This would spare him having to repeatedly explain himself.

It was an odd feeling for Greg to look at the town around him. Greg was seeing the houses and streets all around him for the first time ever. At the same time, however, Roka had moved through these same streets and seen these houses for his whole life. As such, Greg simultaneously felt like he'd known these same streets and houses for his whole life. Back on earth, these houses would be called log cabins, seeing as they were made entirely of cleverly interlocked logs. A fact that came as no surprise to Greg seeing as they were a town in the middle of the forest in the mountains. The roofs on the houses, however, curved inwards, with corners that jutted upwards much like the traditional Japanese architecture back on earth.

There wasn't even the slightest hesitation in Greg's steps as he moved towards his home. Given the abundance of trees all around them, even the poorest members of the town had good houses. As such, rather than the quality of the house, it was usually the positioning of their house in the town that spoke to how well off those living inside were. At the center of the town, was the town head's home. The largest residential building in the whole town and the only one that had a first floor to it. Every other house in the town only had the ground floor. Around the town head's home were the homes of the three most powerful families in the town. These three families represented the upper class in the town. Around these three families, are the homes that represented the middle class of the town, and right at the edge of the town were the poorest members of the town. This arrangement is crucial as, on the mountain that the town was on, there were annual beast migrations. The whole town usually came together to try and repel the beasts when they came too close to the town. However, the first ones to suffer losses whenever a beast managed to breach their defenses, were the unfortunate individuals that lived right at the edge of the town.