Jim woke up bright and early for the exams, not wanting to miss the beginning like he had last time. He was sure that his low score on the theory portion had simply been due to not having enough time to think on the answers.

  That was the only possible explanation.

  That was why yesterday he’d taken great care to spend only half his day idling around the city and taking a brief side-tour to repay his small debt to Lebowski. The other half of the day he’d spent in his room, making sure he’d make it to bed on time.

  He’d even briefly glimpsed through the textbook, before putting it under his pillow and rolling around for a few hours until sleep took him.

  Getting dressed and exiting the room, he made his way to the canteen to grab a quick snack. It was a large building with almost too many chimneys and an aggressively red roof stuck in between the male and female dormitories. The place was decisively overfilled with all sorts of students leeching off welfare and stuffing their pockets with breakfast items such as sausage rolls and apples.

  They ate here because it was free for students, Jim ate here because it was the closest option, they were not the same. Also, the canteen cooked fairly well; there were only a few Richean restaurants better at it in the city, but it wasn’t worth going there regularly.

  Too much of a walk.

  Jim finished his meal while refusing to talk to anyone, before joining the stream of students heading towards the exams.

  “Jim! Where have you been? It’s almost like you’ve been avoiding me,” a jolly voice suddenly said from behind him, causing Jim to turn his head. It was, of course, Lebowski, whom he had been avoiding.

  The future in which Lebowski abandoned him due to jealousy had finally clued the Savant into the fact that his friend was unreliable.

  “I was in my room trying to get to bed at the right time,” Jim said seriously.

  Lebowski blinked at him owlishly, looking like a fat owl. “Is there a risk of missing the exam?” he asked confusedly.

  Jim frowned. “There is always a risk!”

  “Since when do you care anyway?” Lebowski dug further. “Since when do we care?”

  “Someone stole my money pouch on the boat,” Jim eventually decided to say, instead of saying that there was no 'I,' in 'We', unlike in Wend'i'go and we'i'rd.

  “Yeah, that sucks,” Lebowski said while nodding his head.

  “It’s a great dishonour to my family,” Jim continued. “I went to a detective to help me find the culprit, and they used a scrying ritual. But, the person who stole the pouch finished setting up a cleansing ritual, which prevented further identification. I only know…” he looked around suspiciously, “that they are among us.”

  “Huh,” Lebowski said eloquently, having blanked out at the mention of scrying and rituals. “How does that, uh, why are exams important?” he managed to stutter out.

  Jim narrowed his eyes. “The detective was useless, a waste of money. I'd better learn the scrying ritual myself so that I can find the culprit if this ever happens again.”

  “And that’s why you went to bed early?” Lebowski asked slowly.

  “Yes,” Jim nodded proudly.

  “Several hours early, in fact?”

  “I didn’t want to risk staying out too long, so I absconded to my chambers in the late afternoon.”

  Lebowski stared at him as they continued walking, approaching the large colosseum where their start-of-year exams would take place. “That sounds weird for some reason,” he eventually said. “But I can’t really pinpoint why.”

  Jim frowned. Was Lebowski making fun of him? The plan had gone off without a hitch.

  Lebowski suddenly slapped a fist into the palm of his hand.

  “Oh, I know. If you’d wanted to be in bed by a certain time, you could have just gotten very drunk. I always black out and sleep when I drink more than six bottles of wine,” he said.

  Jim stared at his friend for a second. He didn’t drink as much as Lebowski, but he was aware of the positive attributes of red wine. It had all the nutrients a growing body needed.

  He palmed his face. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he complained.

  “It’s alright,” Lebowski said consolingly, patting him on the shoulder. “Two heads are always better than one.” He then looked uncomfortable for a second. “But if you’d really decided to work harder on the exam, you could have told me earlier,” he said chastisingly.

  “But I only found out,” Jim started before pausing and holding up his hands, extending a single finger, “one day ago.”

  Lebowski shrugged. “It is what it is, but you should try to be quicker when making decisions. My mom always says that any decision that needs more than five seconds is a waste of mental faculties. Makes you spend too much time thinking rather than doing.”

  “That…” Jim muttered slowly, before suddenly remembering another thing that had been bothering him.

  He’d gone out yesterday during the morning and the afternoon and had even paid particular attention to taking the side alleys so he could reproduce his meeting with Alice.

  He needed to warn the girl about the headmaster’s evil plans to oppose free speech and the citizens’ right to assemble.

  “By the way, I walked here yesterday since I gave you my carriage money,” Lebowski said, suddenly puffing out his chest. “Good decision, I met a complete babe. I was minding my own business, puk- I mean meditating in a side-alley when I was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of thugs.” He paused for dramatic effect. “There were about 300 of them, but they didn’t really stand a chance. I swung my left fist,” he mimicked the motion, “and blew away a hundred. My right fist took care of 120, it’s stronger,” he explained at Jim’s confused look, before kicking at the air in front of him. “Then I kicked the rest, and they were all gone. All in a day’s work.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Jim stared at his friend with wide eyes, fundamentally not being able to believe Lebowski would be able to beat even a stray dog. He’d been mugged by only six scoundrels, how did it make sense for Lebowski to be accosted by 300? Who was providing the intelligence on the capabilities of the students in this city? Jim was a much better fighter than Lebowski.

  Lebowski, unaware of his friend's disbelief, continued his story. “Then, when I finish up with the last one, holding him up by the scruff of his neck, short fellow, only 2 metres, biceps only as big as a barrel of beer, the hottest babe I’ve ever seen falls down from the sky.” He smiled lecherously, an expression Jim really wanted to wipe off his face. “She was so impressed with my martial prowess, she gave me an invitation to a secret society of badasses who are going to…” he trailed off with furrowed brows. “Do something, I’m sure,” he eventually decided.

  Jim couldn’t say anything about that, deciding to not pop his friend's bubble, over-exaggerated as it obviously was...

  The texture beneath his feet suddenly shifted, and he looked up to see that they’d entered the colosseum and its sand-covered ground. There were rows of desks with parchment and inkwells spread on them spanning the entire arena alongside a bunch of teachers in the front.

  Last time, Jim had missed this particular scene because he’d slept in. He locked eyes with and exchanged a serious nod with Professor Waters, which she confusedly returned, before excusing himself from Lebowski and taking a seat close to the entrance.

  The fact that Lebowski now had an invite to the meeting of the Black Ouroboros and Jim didn’t, rankled. He’d have to intensify his search for Alice after the exam. It was the only thing on the agenda today, so he’d have time after. Worst case, he’d appear at the meeting place unannounced and simply walk past the blubbering doorman. But, Alice, he wanted to see her again sooner rather than later.

  A sigh escaped him, and he looked down at the exam in front of him. The same thing he’d already done a few days ago, with more time available. Honestly, sometimes his visions made life a bit too easy.

  It almost made him want to give himself some obstacles occasionally so that life would get less boring.

  -/-

  The written exam passed in a blur for around twenty minutes, which was how long it took for Jim to finish it. Honestly, if they didn’t want people to be so fast, they shouldn’t have included easy questions such as:

  32: Name two ways to obfuscate your presence.

  To which the answer was obviously:

  1: Don’t be there where someone is looking for you.

  2: Don’t do anything that would make someone look for you.

  Sometimes Jim could only sigh at this exam, which he’d already passed two times. Maybe he should have simply arrived late, he mused as he spent the time until the hourglass ran out of sand grains, graciously twitching in his chair and exchanging heated glances with the blue-haired Waterflower who was still scribbling away, angry that Jim had finished before her.

  Eventually, of course, even dull things came to an end, and the students were called in sequentially for the practical exams.

  This time Jim was bid to perform the spells he knew not for Professor Waters, but the old dark-skinned professor Kalypso with a head full of grey dreads. Jim performed his basic four as well as he could.

  The old professor looked at the report in her hand, doubtlessly extolling his virtues, and nodded with satisfaction at the baffling amount of progress he had doubtlessly shown once again.

  Then, when it was time to showcase his magic missile and his hexagon shield formation, Jim once again dazzled those blessed enough to see his performance.

  “Two concurrent magic missiles are a good accomplishment at this stage,” Professor Kalypso praised as they impacted uselessly on her shield.

  “A good attempt, smaller hexagons will provide more durability in the future,” was what she had to say to his shield.

  Jim preened from the praise, and after he had shown all that he could, he politely said his goodbyes. “I’ll be seeing you in class then,” he said perfunctorily, at which the old professor gave him an odd look with her milky white eyes.

  She was the divination professor, so perhaps she already saw that he would test out of her class, having learned all he had to in one session? His talent in the seeing arts, like many others, was certainly undeniable.

  As a pleasant surprise in comparison to last time, Lebowski didn’t refuse to meet Jim’s gaze when he rejoined the crowd.

  “You must have really practised to improve so much,” the younger boy said with a confused shake of his head as Jim came to a stop next to him on the hot sand of the colosseum. “But why didn’t you tell me you were practising?” he continued again with a slight tinge of hurt in his voice.

  Jim couldn’t very well explain that he’d gained these skills from a vision of the future. But, well, considering the fact that Lebowski had already shown his true colours once, abandoning him in a fit of jealousy, Jim didn’t feel the need to explain anything.

  “The lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep,” he said dramatically with a shake of his head, black hair flying everywhere. Then he turned around and walked off amidst the adoring looks of his classmates.

  He had to find Alice. He was rapidly starting to outgrow the academy; it was time for him to make ties with those worthy of his time, those more on his level.

  He pulled out a cigarette from the box in his pocket and lit it with a flame from his fingertip.

  And for the day when he ascended to a level where there were no more equals, a day he felt approaching from his toes to his hair, then he’d simply accept the curse of excellence.

  “Maybe I’m just meant to be lonely,” he muttered to himself as he exited the academy gates and started heading for the dark alleyways of the city. He finished the last drag of the cigarette and flicked the butt towards a beggar holding out a rough wooden cup.

  He knew that they liked to scrape out whatever tobacco was left in the thing to roll their own. He was generous enough to donate to the cause whenever he saw someone extending their hands for alms.

  “It is important to remain humble and giving,” he told himself with a self-satisfied nod.

  -/-

  The alleys of Sredina beckoned Jim with their promises of foul bandits to slay and beauties to rescue.

  He’d already been jumped twice, and both times he’d most easily dealt with his assailants, for they were nothing but scum to be parted by the great warship of his unassailable magical prowess.

  He thus wandered with absolute confidence to the docks and back, traversing the ghettos, the red light district, as unlit as it was during the day, the residential district, the banking district, until finally he was once again assailed by the miscreants of the city’s underbelly.

  They were different this time, cornering him deep in the city’s Mitelosian ghettos, a group of five burly and wretchedly dressed men standing between him and the exit of a dead end street that he’d intentionally entered.

  The alleyway was dark, dank and full of shit, human and dog. The stones of the houses were being eaten away by time and rain, and the darkening of the sky made the whole scene even more eerie.

  The five men approaching him held wickedly curved and disgustingly rusted daggers, one of them even having a crossbow, their teeth were rotting in their mouths, and their hair, so dirty it was all brown regardless of actual colour, was matted and patchy.

  They were most definitely a lower breed of criminal than the bandits Jim had been accosted by previously.

  “Give us yer money and keep yer life,” the biggest and burliest of the five slurred with an ugly look in his eye.

  Jim looked down, dramatically shadowing his blue eyes from view. Then he swept out his arm, which caused his black cloak to flutter in the wind.

  “Fools, you dare challenge me, wielder of the arcane and possessor of forbidden knowledge?” he started, knowing that Alice could be watching. He wanted to put on a show.

  He dramatically manifested two magic missiles, one over each shoulder. “Face me then and know the pain of defeat-”

  A dull impact and pain suddenly blossomed in his chest.

  Jim raised his eyes to see the one scrawny guy with the crossbow pointing the weapon at him. But there was no bolt in the exposed chamber. He looked down listlessly and saw a long piece of wood jutting out of his chest, a bit on the left, just where his heart must have been.

  “Huh?”

  He felt himself collapse forward, first on his knees, then on his face. It drove the bolt even further, but he couldn’t feel anymore. Everything was turning cold.

  He felt something metal, sharp and crusty touch his neck before it dragged itself along it, creating a line of heat.

  A pool of warmth grew beneath his head, doubtlessly improving the quality of the dirt road. He couldn’t breathe, and his vision, even if it was directed at the floor, grew dark.

  Black.

  AN: If you haven't rated or followed this story yet, now would be the time! Let's push for top 3 Rising Stars! Probably won't make top 1 ever so that milestone will represent the last extra chapter.

  Regular update still set to Friday in two days. (Very possible that we will have four chapters this week, scary for my backlog, but good problem to have. Thankfully Book 2 is written)

  Overall state of the story: Jim is still a dipshit for the moment.