Custas licked his lips as he bent forward, a hand slapped on the galbora tree trunk beside him. He hadn't kept track of how long he'd been running, just that his stomach was on fire, and his leg muscles pleaded for a reprieve with every aching pulse. Gasping for breaths, Custas wiped the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. Tired though he was, his mind raced for options.

Thanks to that no-good Professor Knight, he'd been placed in an irritating position. Now, he had a target over his back for both the Sparrows and Griffins. Fighting and dueling had never been his strong suits; it was why he'd much prefer to use his charmspeak—his words—to diffuse a situation, if nothing else. 

It was also the reason that he—and many other unsavory individuals—considered himself a great diversion, for when you could captivate someone with what you were saying, regardless of whether or not it was rubbish, you had the advantage of playing them to your rhythm.

If Luck had given him nothing else, it was that he was good with his tongue, but discounting that, what else did he have going for him now? Or, to be more specific, what did he possess in his arsenal that would make him pass this exam with an admirable grade, an even likelier possibility?

Custas smirked as he pressed his hands into his back and stretched, rising onto the tip of his toes as a satisfied groan escaped him. Back in Urista, there was a belief that the moment someone was born, their Goddess of Fortune and Promise—Maralyn—would subscribe a certain quantity of Luck to them. The more of it you were born with, the better your life would be.

Reflecting on his life, Custas felt that he had not experienced much good fortune. As a lowborn, he had been abandoned by his parents in a foreign land and ended up joining a violent gang just to survive, eventually being presented with the choice of imprisonment or training to become a Professional Sorcerer. Why?  Why had fate been so unkind to him? Why had Maralyn gifted him with so little Luck?

Sure, he had a talent for magic and was considerably skilled in the art of Summoning, but what good was any of that if he couldn't leverage them to attain his desires—wealth, recognition, a better life? Would graduating from this surging academy truly transform his prospects, or was he merely clinging to hope as insubstantial as seashells on the shore?

The prospect of leading a comfortable life was the sole source of motivation that sustained him through enduring the constant stream of challenges Glyph shoved in his face. The allure of capturing a noble status and escaping from the burdens of his current circumstances was a strong enough incentive to become a Professional Sorcerer, wasn't it? Wasn't it?!

Trudging through the dense forest, a deep, frustrated growl emanated from between his tightly pressed lips as he raked his fingers through his disheveled, dark hair. Despite the weight on his shoulders, he knew the exam took precedence over anything else. With a heavy sigh, he plunged his hands into his pockets and ambled onto the forest path. 

His gaze wandered to the left, then shifted to the right, and from first glance, both paths looked similar—almost identical—in his eyes: a winding trail of dirt enclosed by hedges of foliage and stellarium crystals poking out of the earth in clusters, and covered by the freckled shadows of the galbora trees' canopies above.

Amidst his retreat from Jesse and the other Sparrows that pursued him, he hadn't put much stock in where he was running to, just that he needed to escape his enemies before they did him in. Perhaps that was another strength Maralyn left him: knowing when to run away. As pathetic as it sounded, it kept him alive thus far.

With a furrowed brow, Custas knelt down and carefully picked up a sturdy stick from the ground. He began the intricate task of drawing a spirit circle, fully aware of its importance. Like with Enchantment, the accuracy of every detail was crucial when creating a spirit circle. Even the slightest deviation in a character or ring could render it ineffective, regardless of the amount of Essence infused or the strength of one's Bond with the spirit.

Wiping more sweat off his face with the back of his wrist, Custas paid careful attention to his craft, carving the runes between the two rims of the circle. I'll Summon Felis, Custas contemplated with an exhausted grin. He'll tell me where the least amount of sorcerers are, and I'll stick to that Path until this crazy exam is over. If I don't get eliminated by then, that oaf of a professor will have to give me a good grade. Or rather, I won't fail. That works, too!

Custas stood up once more, a satisfied smile on his face as he surveyed his handiwork. Creating a spirit circle for a Minor Spirit was less demanding in terms of Essence compared to Summoning a Major Spirit. Additionally, the circles for Minor Spirits were generally less complex, allowing Custas to replicate Felis's in just a few short minutes. The real challenge came next: successfully pulling the spirit through the Rift.

Concentration. A simple yet ever so crucial to casting a spell as it was to Summoning. Without full concentration, he wouldn't be Summoning any spirits today, and if Luck truly was on his side, then perhaps he wouldn't have to eat a faceful of smoke from an exploding spirit circle either. But Custas had Summoned spirits on countless occasions; he was confident in his strengths, and at this point, he could cross over a Minor Spirit with his eyes closed.

But a well-placed distraction was poisonous to concentration, and as the snapping broke in his ears, Custas couldn't stop himself from instinctively glancing away. Down the path to his left, he watched as a giant form crawled out of rustling hedges, its clawed paws slamming heavily onto the ground with every step.

In an instant, the being locked eyes with him, and its brilliant, icy blue gaze widened in disbelief. This was a creature of formidable power, far beyond that of any human. In mere moments, its initial astonishment turned into ravenous curiosity. As it crouched, preparing to spring, the massive feline's flared nostrils exposed its fierce hunger. Its bared teeth, including two razor-sharp canines jutting from its upper jaw like lethal curved daggers, revealed the true extent of its predatory nature.

Custas gulped. His heart sank. His rationality smoldered, burned by the flames fueling his desire to run, and Custas fully welcomed that feeling amidst his leap off the ground, disregarding his spirit circle as he quickly abandoned it. What followed him wasn't the sound of an animal in pursuit but a thunderous roar that seemed to awaken the forest from its subdued slumber.

Fritz! Fritz! Fritz! Fritz! Fritz! Custas had never felt his legs propel him forward with such speed before. As he ran, it was as if he was a fragile fawn desperately fleeing from the sharp teeth of a bush dog. He leaned his body forward, sprinting with all his might, and a shout escaped his lips. It wasn't an angry shout but one born out of the all-too-familiar frustration burning deep within him.

What the hell is a saber-tooth white tiger doing here?! Don't they live in the mountains?! Custas thought with clenched jaws. Why's one in the middle of Glyph Forest, of all places?! With a quick look over his shoulder, Custas felt a surge of dread as he saw a predator larger and faster than a bear closing in on him. The tiger's strides covered five times the ground in the time it took him to take one step, and Custas realized with a sinking feeling that he had little time before the tiger's razor-sharp claws and iron-strong teeth would reach him.

Cursing, Custas reached for his wand midjump. Sunder this! I just want to live! He let his Essence flow out of him and congeal into the wand as the name of his spell soared out of his throat, "Wind Magic: Venti Latus!" The winds around him met a different song and dance as spiraling gusts collided with him, pushing him forward and sweeping Custas off of his feet.

In the eyes of some observers, it may have appeared as if Custas was soaring through the air, but he wouldn't claim such a remarkable feat. Venti Latus was a spell that granted him the ability to control the winds in his immediate vicinity; they obediently followed the intricate patterns he envisioned in his mind. At that moment, his singular focus on escaping rendered his need to run irrelevant as the winds propelled him swiftly over the forest path, the world around him blending into a mesmerizing array of green and blue hues.

Custas glanced behind him again, thankful to see the black-streaked animal getting smaller and smaller in the distance; if he'd waited any longer, the beast would have gotten him for certain. "So long, kitty!" he shouted mockingly. "You're gonna have to find something else to fill your stomach! You won't be catching Custas Cloude! Not today!"

Running away again, huh? an annoying voice inquired. I guess some things never change.

Custas scowled. Shut up! Shut up! What good is getting mauled to death by a tiger in the woods?!

What about those kids from earlier? You ran from them, too, didn't you?

I was outnumbered!

What a lame excuse, the voice chided. Whether it'd been one sorcerer or a thousand, the result would be the same. Custas, when are you going to stop being such a coward?

"Sunder you, Fennick!" Custas yelled with his eyes closed. "I know what I'm doing! So just butt out and—" His impassioned response was abruptly interrupted as gravity forcefully pulled him downward, pressing his face into the earth and grass. The ability Venti Latus granted him was manipulation of the winds, not their creation; without preexisting air currents nearby, the spell was rendered almost entirely ineffective.

Another of the tiger's growls got Custas to push himself off the ground almost as fast as he'd fallen. In a leaping dash, the white-furred feline raced for him in greedy anticipation to dine on freshly spilled flesh. Despite how much distance Custas thought he'd put between himself and the animal, he would already be taking his last breath in another two minutes.

Swiftly rising to a one-kneed crouch, Custas shot his wand before him. "Dammit!" he yelled as his Essence whipped up inside of him. "Wind Magic: Venti Entes!" Despite gripping the handle with both hands and bracing himself firmly, he was unable to withstand the force of the spell. Custas let out a grunt as he was forcefully propelled several feet backward, landing hard on his shoulder with a resounding thud, raising a cloud of dust.

Struggling to raise his head from the earth, Custas groaned as a searing pain shot through his side. His eyes locked onto the projectile of wind slicing through the forest, the sheer force of its movement snapping branches and hurling leaves high into the sky. Even though the saber-tooth white tiger was one of the most agile predators in the animal kingdom, it stood no chance of evading the ball of condensed air hurtling toward it.

The projectile struck the massive chest of the beast with immense power, lifting it off the ground and sending it spiraling back along the path. The tiger crashed and tumbled, finally landing in a cloud of dust about fifteen meters away. Despite the pain coursing through him, Custas couldn't suppress a smile at the outcome, especially considering that he was still breathing.

He lifted himself from the ground, clutching his throbbing arm, and pivoted to launch into another rapid dash; the previous assault had only granted him a brief respite, and as the winds picked up once more, he relied on them to boost his velocity. However, as he began to move, the taunting voice resurfaced in the depths of his mind, its mocking timbre tinged with arrogance.

You playing this game of chase and pounce won't last, and you know it, Fennick's voice mockingly said. That tiger, it won't give up, not when it's got your scent in its sniffer. It'll keep pursuing you until your neck's in its jaws.

Custas glared at the ground, cursed to the heavens...but Fennick was right. White tigers were formidable predators who rarely forfeited the opportunity to snag an easy meal. He could fight with the animal all day, but unless he subdued it for good, he'd never truly escape. Even now, as he stood motionless underneath the swaying shadow of the galbora canopies, he saw the tiger recovering, swaying from side to side as it picked itself up, licking its pure white fur agitatedly.

"Dammit..." Custas uttered. "I didn't want...any of this shit..."

True, but life's always seemed to have it out for you, Fennick's voice snickered. When you enrolled in this academy, you knew from the get-go it wouldn't be as simple as snatching a purse from some no-name noble. They threw you into a Magic Zone, for Kyntho's sake. Honestly, what were you expecting?

Custas slapped a hand over his scowling face. "None of that crap matters! As long as I pass this exam, as long as I'm made a Professional Sorcerer, then I'll...I'll..." His boots shifted in the dirt as he turned to leave again. "I'm...I'm not a coward...I'm a survivor...a survivor who knows when to lie and when to run. That's who I am; that's all I ever will be."

Custas turned to bolt again, but this time, a new voice appeared inside his head. Only concerned with filling your pockets, how superficial. Custas froze midstep as a bubbling rage overcame him, turning his blood aflame within his veins. The interests of a Professional Sorcerer should be delegated to the service of his country. It isn't about tokens, sulmo.

There he went again, running his mouth like he knew all the answers, looking down on him as if he were superior in everything. That damned Fireboy! Who does he think he is?! Custas thought angrily as he broke off into a sedated sprint, one unfitting a rabbit trying to flee the dangerous clutches of a fox on its tail. So I'm striving to be a Professional Sorcerer to get rich and famous. What's so wrong with that?! After everything I've been through, I deserve a bit of happiness before I kick it! It should have reassured him, but if anything, the justification ringing in his ears caused his sprint to turn into a partially quick jog. I'm not like the others. I just don't want to be poor again. Does that really make me...such a bad person?

"What kind of sorcerer do you want to be?" Custas remembered being asked that very same question as he sat hunched on the stone floor of a windowless prison cell, void of any light except for the flickering glow of the torch hanging in the hallway. On the other side of the metal prison bars was a stranger dressed in jet-black clothing, his yellow-colored eyes beaming into him. "You've accepted my offer to enroll in Glyph Academy. Nevertheless, I'm always curious about the Essence of a man being entrusted with a wand."

Apparently, the guy was a Professional Sorcerer, though he sure didn't act like any Custas had ever seen; State Sorcerers targeted Serpent Fang all the time. Even still, this mage was an outlier, matched only by a name he'd never heard: Raze. What cruel, cynical parents would name their son "Raze," of all things?

"What does that matter?" Custas grunted, his head lowered to the floor. "You'll have one less criminal terrorizing the streets and your precious nobles, and an extra Professional Sorcerer for you to dispose of. What difference does it make about what kind of sorcerer I intend to be?"

"More than you can imagine, child," Raze answered, lowering softly into a crouch. "Others have reservations about you. I don't necessarily blame them. You'd have to be insane to admit a member of the Serpent Fang Syndicate into a prestigious academy such as Glyph, but the reason I chose you—after reading your reports and whatnot—is because I came to a realization: you remind me a lot of myself."

Custas remembered snickering at that. "How so? Were you as much of a sorry bastard like me?"

"I was," Raze replied plainly. "But then I came to serve a higher purpose. I didn't have the benefit of a name or a patron, I was only granted a single chance to become more than what I was, and I took it without hesitation. But with that choice, I committed to burying my former self in favor of blossoming into someone better. Should I have remained the same, everything would have been meaningless." Pounding footsteps behind the man had alerted Custas of the squadron of soldiers marching toward his cell. "I hate wasting my time. So, tell me, Custas Cloude, what kind of sorcerer are you striving to become."

"I...I...I don't know..." A plain and honest answer. He could have tried lying, deceiving the mage into thinking his ambitions were far grander and noble, but for some reason, Custas didn't suspect such a story would fool someone as deadpan as Raze. Never before would he have imagined being intimidated by such a sickly-looking face. "I'm just...tired of being treated like I don't matter..." A quick image of his parents at the mouth of that accursed alley flashed in his eyes. "I want to be happy."

Custas didn't remember much of what happened after that—that day had been too sudden—but he imagined his response must have satisfied Raze somehow. Otherwise, well, he wouldn't be here right now, would he? Why am I thinking about that stuff right now? Custas asked frustratedly, coming to a full halt. I'm in it for the money, plain and simple! Who cares what sorcerer I become as long as I'm rich and famous? The real power in this world is money! And I'll have lots and lots of it! No more running away for me! No more Custas the Coward! No more...

Contemplating Raze's advice, he pondered the potential transformation that awaited him. What kind of person would he become if he embraced change? What possibilities lay ahead for him? Would the future he envisioned be brighter and more fulfilling? 

The title of Professional Sorcerer bore not just prestige but also a unique power accessible only to those with abundant Essence. He could consider walking that path, just as Elaine and others had done. If he chose to pursue this new direction, would he find a sense of fulfillment and joy, or would he ultimately realize the futility of it all?

Sunder me, Custas thought, gripping his wand. "Sunder me to the Shadow!" Custas spun around in a motion that made his shoulder cape whip him at the base of his neck. The saber-tooth had already broken into a sprint for him, untamable fury singing its light blue eyes as famished gasps escaped its hung-open jaw. "This academy's driving me mad!" he shouted, his wand gleaming with magical energy at his side. "Wind Magic: Dromen Tempas!"

As he cast the spell, his wand glowed with a blinding intensity. The incantation required an immense amount of energy, draining him in a way that even Summoning a spirit did not. Yet, he knew that he had to cast it at that moment. Waiting would be futile; after all, what good would it do to cast the spell while being digested in the stomach fluids of a white tiger?

No! For the sake of his life—and his final grades—he'd have to shatter his limits and go beyond! Custas frowned at the thought of Professor Knight grinning like a spoiled noble whenever they lay their eyes on a new prospect to exploit, but with a shake of his head, he focused on the saber-tooth pouncing for him, roars inter-spliced between heavy, wet breaths.

The world shifted its rhythm as the winds obediently followed his command. Racing past him like surging waves, they tousled his unruly hair and whipped his cloak against his chin. The howling gusts transformed into a new shape, coalescing into razor-sharp blades with well-defined edges.

It required all of Custas's strength to maintain his smug expression as his Essence surged from his Core, causing a wild eruption of wind blades that seemed to multiply endlessly. These blades were razor-sharp, capable of penetrating even military-grade vehicles. 

Unlike Venti Entes, this spell was designed with one particular purpose: to kill. With clenched teeth, Custas directed the wind blades as they sliced through the air, guiding them to flatten out at a horizontal angle and then widening them so that their pointed tips could reach the trunks of the galbora trees lining both sides of the path.

In an instant, Custas' razor-sharp winds tore through the forest, cutting a path as straight and swift as a griffin in flight. Startled, the tiger's eyes snapped open, and it wisely dropped to the ground, hunkering down as the wind-borne blades whooshed perilously close above. 

As Custas watched the winds vanish into the distance, lacking the energy to sustain their lethal trajectory, not a single one found its mark on the tiger—barely missing, at best, with one blade coming close enough to slice off a tuft of its tail.

As the tiger stood up on its powerful four legs, Custas couldn't shake the feeling that a malevolent smirk was spreading across its furry face. Whether this was a genuine expression or just a product of his imagination, the creaking wood diverted the tiger's attention. In a swift movement, the tiger leaped out of the path of a falling galbora tree, which crashed down with a thunderous roar, kicking up a cloud of dust as it hit the ground.

In the blink of an eye, another towering tree started to lean precariously before finally snapping in half. It was quickly followed by another, and another, and another, creating a perilous maze for the tiger to navigate, dodging the colossal trees to avoid being crushed. Custas couldn't help but smile with undeniable satisfaction, everything unfolding just as he had hoped.

After enduring life on the streets, he grasped a valuable lesson: overpowering enemies wasn't about sheer strength but using one's wits. Unable to confront the tiger head-on, he let nature take its course. However, the formidable saber-tooth white tiger was not yet ready to admit defeat. With astonishing speed and agility, it effortlessly dodged numerous trees, inching closer to where Custas stood. Despite everything, the tiger's relentless pursuit persisted.

Growing increasingly tense, Custas found himself gasping for breath as the massive tiger suddenly lunged in his direction. With incredible speed, the tiger soared through the air, its jaws armed with razor-sharp daggers. Yet, in its single-minded pursuit, it failed to notice the looming galbora tree to its right, leaning dangerously over. Then, with a deafening crack, the tree's trunk split into two, crashing down with the force of a dragon, landing squarely on the tiger's torso and trapping it against the forest floor.

A nasty, pain-filled cry escaped the animal, clawing helplessly at the dirt from underneath the tree, keeping it pinned, and Custas could just discern the anguish in its light-colored eyes before the canopy of a subsequent tree crashed down on top of it. Where he'd last seen the formidable hunter now had been covered by countless branches and leaves of a collapsed tree.

Feeling weightless, Custas fell to his knees. His eyes remained glued on what he'd done with his magic, what had become of fighting back instead of running away, and a wide smile stretched from one cheek to the next. Placing a hand over his mouth, his chuckling gradually escalated into uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. His shoulders shook with mirth, and tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed up at the sky visible through the treetops.

What was this? This euphoric feeling? Happiness ushered by how he was still alive? Satisfaction for proving Fennick wrong for once? The rush of a battle he had won? None of it mattered. None of it at all. Custas couldn't help himself, couldn't restrain the screaming laughter pouring out his mouth as tears rivered down the sides of his face.

This wasn't the way of the world, nor did it highlight some yet-to-be-discovered status quo sponsored by a new form of change. This was an anomaly in his life, a breaking of the norm that happened once in a million moons. 

This was Luck, his Luck, and indeed, Maralyn smiled down at him. Yes, this thing called Luck was a mysterious creature, one such abnormality that no sane person could explain through logic or reasoning. And today, it pulled him out of the depths of the Shadow.

"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Custas happily screeched, pumping both fists overhead. "Did you see that, Fennick?! What about you, Professor?! I just took down a white tiger! A surgin' white tiger! You better give me an A on this exam, you bastard! Otherwise, I'm calling bull—"

A scraping of wood cut off the rest of what Custas had to say, and his ecstatic laughter ceased in a heartbeat as the cluster of logs and branches in front of him shifted. A massive frame covered in white fur—sprinkled in splotches of black liquid that was its blood—rose from the debris, a grumbling growl flaming through its bared fangs. The tiger rose to its full height with a shake and a tail flick. Once again, the beast's eyes were locked on its prey.

Lowering to pounce, the saber-tooth launched into a jump, claws extending out of its paws and roar escaping its throat. I should probably run, Custas thought, still crouched on his knees, yet he couldn't move, almost as if his body was actively banishing the desire to run. Overwhelmingly petrified in a cloak that was his fear, only a single question crossed his mind: Is this really how it all ends?

Suddenly, a luminous glow shimmered like a cluster of polychromatic celestial bodies right before his eyes, causing his pupils to contract involuntarily. A vague figure descended upon him a moment later, a creature without any sharp claws, furry coat, or even a tail. Thrown off his feet, the weight of the unknown entity crushing him down, Custas lifted his head with a bewildered grunt.

The creature that had been relentlessly pursuing him was no more. In its place, a young woman straddled him. What took him aback was the fact that she was completely unclothed. Every inch of her was completely exposed, as if she had no shame or fear of being seen.

Grunting, the girl took her head off his chest, sleepy, light blue-colored eyes peering out of her triangular-shaped face. An awkward grin creaked below Custas' nose as he uttered, "H...Hey. How's it, ah, going?"

The blankness in her eyes fizzled out as recognition struck her. Not giving him a chance to say anything else, a startled scream exploded from her stomach as she hopped off and scurried away like an animal who'd just been caught raiding some poor sulmo's barn. An intense blush scarred her face like a pinkish streak. "Fritz!" she cursed. "Why did it have to happen now?!"

Scrambling to his feet, Custas realized she wasn't a total stranger. Very few citizens in Incante possessed such oddly-colored hair—a blend of white and black—and he could never forget any he'd met. This girl, she was an Illuin, and her name was...was...err...Meredith? That's right! It was Meredith, the quiet student who sat in a seat two rows behind him during homeroom. Her scream just now had been the loudest he'd ever heard her.

"Quit goggling at me!" she viciously snarled. "You sick pervert!"

"P...Pervert? How am I..." Her tear-stained glare and teeth-gritting scowl were enough to silence him, and only then did he acknowledge just how much of a thorny position he was in. There he was, openly staring at a girl, a girl who wasn't clothed, crouched on the floor with her arms wrapping her breasts with her back facing him. "Oh, crap!" Clasping his hands together, shutting his eyes, Custas leaned forward in a frantic bow. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"Just stop looking at me, you sulmo!"

"R...Right!" Custas blabbered, spinning on his heels to give the girl his back. "You're...Meredith, aren't you? If I could be so bold as to ask...why are you naked?"

"It's not like I want to!" she growled. "I specialize in Transformation, specifically, Transfiguration. But I'm not at the level where I can...Transfigure my clothing, too. As humiliating as it sounds, stripping naked is the only way I can use my powers to their greatest potential."

"Transfiguration, huh? Wait, so then, you were that tiger?!" Custas gasped. "What the hell?! I thought you were seriously going to kill me!"

"Right now, I'm considering it," he heard Meredith mutter over his shoulder. "But I'm on the Griffin's team. I started my hunt for you when I heard Professor Knight's announcement. I figured you'd be easy pickings, especially if I could prevent you from using your Summoning, but your damned Wind Magic is so annoying!"

"Y...Yeah, it's kinda my thing," Custas snickered. "So, what now?"

"That's simple: you keep looking that way until I get changed. I left my uniform in a bush nearby. If you even think about peeping, I'll make you regret it, got that?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Custas yelped, keeping his eyes locked before him, feeling himself freeze in place. Oh, man, he thought. It isn't bad enough that I used to be a criminal, but if this gets out, I'll also be the resident pervert. Just my luck! Frustration boiled within him like a nasty, hottish flame; however, a malleable smile eventually slithered across his blushing face. I was kinda hoping that the first naked girl on top of me would be my girlfriend. This wasn't so bad, I guess.

Come on, Custas, Fennick's said eagerly. Right behind you is a girl dressed in nothing but her birthday suit! One little peep wouldn't hurt anyone.

Yeah, yeah, you're right. I suppose I could— Custas slapped himself on his face a second after the thought crossed his mind. Don't listen to your inner urges! Be strong, you sulmo! Yet how was he to fight what the heart longed for? Lust and love were dangerous forces, an infection strong enough to rob a human of all sense of rationality. But as Custas stood there in silence, desperately trying to keep shameless fantasies at bay, a new pondery emerged. Hang on a sec. Discounting the fact that she's naked, we're still in the middle of an exam, and right now, I have my back to my enemy. If I were in her shoes, I'd definitely take this opportunity to...to...

With rapid speed, Custas twirled around on his feet, just in time to see Meredith, some fifteen feet away, brandishing her Advanced Wand straight at him, beams of energy spiraling around its tip like the arms of a turbine. "Primary Magic: Iraitus!" she screamed as the projectile of concentrated Essence shot at him.

Clenching his teeth, Custas threw himself to the side in a sidestep that nearly sent him to the ground, but he wasn't as clumsy as Fearne. Refreshing his senses and flicking his wand out in front of him, Custas called upon his own spell. "Wind Magic: Venti Entes!"

The powerful gust of wind barreling toward Meredith took her by surprise, leaving her with barely enough time to react. Instinctively, she prepared for the impact, crossing her arms in front of her face, but it proved fruitless. Custas' wind was twice as swift as her own attack, overwhelming her with its force.

It struck her with a solid thud, blasting her off the ground and sending her flying through the air until she slammed into the base of a galbora tree. White-eyed and lifeless, Meredith sank to the forest floor behind a curtain of greenery on one side of the path. Hopefully, that'd been enough to finish her off for good this time.

Smirking, Custas spiraled his glowing wand in his hand. "You sulmo, how could I forget? My instincts are second to none. I guess I've got some pretty solid Luck after all."

"Over here!" a voice shouted. "I think I heard something."

Custas felt a jolt of tension as he spied three figures, making their way through the thick undergrowth. Leading the group was a young blonde girl with a neatly cropped hairdo, and her piercing red eyes gleamed like brilliant rubies. As Rayla caught sight of Custas and stepped onto the trail, her mischievous smile broadened into a playful grin. "Well, what do you know," she laughed.

"Guess he couldn't escape us after all," a plain-looking sulmo named Jesse smirked, appearing beside Rayla. With a squint, Custas made out Malcolm lingering behind the two. "Hey, Custas," Jesse called over to him. "I wouldn't say I'm necessarily tenacious, but what student could resist ten free points on an exam? Care to finish what we started before you ran off?" Jesse scoffed, raising his wand in a firm grip. "We're ready when you are."

Nevermind, Custas thought, sighing. My Luck's the worst...