History Lesson

John spent most of his psychology and mathematics classes doubling up his casts of Alter Body on himself and continuing to Observe every damn person he saw. The amount of names he barely recognized struck him. He’d spent a few months sharing classes with these people, and yet he only knew the names of a scant handful of them. Even then, most of those were of people he was trying to avoid rather than befriend.

I really am a loser, huh?

Self loathing aside, John had a quest to focus on. When he wasn’t covertly using his skills, he was tapping away on his cell phone, looking up ‘The Golden Rose’ on every search engine he could think of. When the first attempt’s results came up suspiciously short, John moved to lesser used and possibly lesser policed sites. The only solid find was to a high-end florist in California, and John suspected that Moira was probably not the secret templar of an order of west coast flower knights. Everything else came up as partial matches or mediocre fanfiction. Even an order of knights with a name as baroque as ‘The Golden Rose’ employed some measure of cyber security, it seemed.

John had another option, but it would have to wait. For now, he took another look at the two new Skill Books his new classes offered him.

-
Modern Psychology, 6th Edition
Item - Skill Book
Teaches the Spell “Emotion Shift”
Use? <Yes/No>
Skill Book Slots Remaining: 2/3
-
Emotion Shift, Lv. 1
Empathology - Active
25mp
Range: 5 feet
Alter the target’s emotions, subduing or inflaming one current emotion by 25%.
-

The other…

Mathematics 102
Item - Skill Book
Teaches the Spell “Arithmeticks”
Use? <Yes/No>
Skill Book Slots Remaining: 2/3
-
Arithmeticks, Lv. 1
Numeromancy - Active
?mp,
Used in conjunction with other skills, Arithmeticks allows the user to alter the range, effect, and number of targets of a skill beyond their normal limit in accordance with a pre-selected algorithm upon casting.
-

Arithmeticks sounded powerful but also like a headache waiting to happen. Without being able to see the algorithms available, and Math being one of John’s weaker subjects, he decided to pass. Performing complicated calculations in the middle of a heated encounter didn’t seem feasible to him, but it was interesting to know the option existed.

The other skill, Emotion Shift, also seemed incredibly useful. The decision weighed on John for a while. With it, he could easily manipulate his way out of sticky situations (such as Frank) and get closer to more desirable alternatives (such as June). Still, the thought of messing with people’s heads felt like the beginning of a potentially dangerous path. The concept was of dubious morality at best, depending on how he used it. Still, it was tempting...

Hang on. I don’t know enough about all this yet. For all I know, there could be a magical police **** out there and using a spell like that might be considered a crime. Better to lay low, learn more, and come back to this one later. No need to rush things.

-
<Achievement Unlocked!>
Look Before You Leap
Consider the consequences of your decisions before you make them. You wouldn’t believe how uncommon this sort of thing is.

+1 WIS
+1 INT
+20 EXP
-

Well, okay then.

Class ended in the middle of his deliberations. John’s next class, history, was nearby. He decided to wait a few minutes before leaving in an effort to avoid running into Frank again. He noticed his nearly full mana bar while watching the other students filter out and made a snap decision. He cast Alter Body on one of the shorter and quieter guys in class, targeting his dick. He had the mana to spare, why not share the wealth a little?

-
<Achievement Unlocked!>
Do unto others…
Use a beneficial spell on a stranger, without seeking personal gain.

+2 CHA
Mana cost of the spell used discounted by 10%
-
<Spell Level Up!>
Alter Body Lv. 3
May now be applied as a temporary effect with a duration of up to one hour for 25% the cost. Temporary alterations stack independently of permenant alterations.
-

I love this game.

But does this mean I’d be punished if I was randomly malicious? Or maybe this is some sort of morality mechanic? If it is, I’d probably get rewarded instead. Games usually try to balance out the rewards for either side, but maybe I can game the system and go for both. Yet another thing to consider for when my mana refills.

With only a minute left in the break between classes, John jogged out the door and down the hall to history. Being late to Mrs. Wentworth’s class was not an option. As it was, John received a frigid glare from his history teacher for showing up only moments before the bell rang again.

“The bell is the signal for class to commence, Mr. Newman, not a suggestion,” she scolded, one stern eyebrow sharply raised.

“Sorry, Mrs. Wentworth.” John didn’t bother to come up with an excuse, it would not be accepted.

“Just take your seat so we can begin,” Mrs. Wentworth ordered as she rose and approached the blackboard. John did so.

Victoria Wentworth was the subject of numerous rumors throughout the school, and likely a few nightmares. Some said she was secretly a witch who turned misbehaving students into mice, while others were assured that she had murdered her husband 30 years ago and used his finger bones for chalk. There was even a story that claimed that she bathed in the blood of virgins every month to maintain her immortality. She certainly looked the part, with her angular face, tight, greying bun, and austere clothing.
Of course no one actually believed these things, but the fear of Mrs. Wentworth remained real all the same. She was swift to award extra assignments as punishment for acting out and had little to no tolerance for students who spoke out of turn. Victoria Wentworth was all business, all the time.

For these reasons and more, John elected not to Observe her. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He’d already learned more than he wanted to know about his own mother today and that was unsettling enough. He dreaded to think how he might react if something similar happened with his creepy history teacher.

“You will recall, I hope, that our lesson last left off towards the end of the 11th century and the struggling Byzantine Empire,” she began, pacing across the front of the room. John did recall, but why he needed to study about the rise and fall of empires from nearly a thousand years ago eluded him.

“The Byzantine Empire was surrounded by enemies to the East and West, suffering loss of military cohesion, economic inflation, and shrinking borders,” Wentworth continued her lecture, barely looking at her students. She picked up a piece of chalk and began to draw an alarmingly accurate map of the Mediterranean area, freehand.

The lecture droned on and John tuned out almost entirely. Mrs. Wentworth seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of world history. There was no period of time or area of the world whose history she could not recite at a moment’s notice. John had to wonder if she spent the entirety of her free time nose deep in books in her never ending study of the world. Such a boring existence would probably explain her irritability.

But that was exactly what made her the perfect person to ask about the Golden Rose. If anybody John knew could answer his questions, it would be her. That was why John found himself lingering behind the departing students once again, hoping to speak privately.

“Have you forgotten your way, Mr Newman, or has you fear of the Dickinson boy paralyzed you?” Wentworth asked from her desk. She was one of the very few teachers who did not bow to Frank’s reputation and likewise one of the very few teachers he obeyed.

“N-no, Mrs. Wentworth,” John fumbled, suddenly unsure if he was doing the right thing. She was intimidating enough in a room full of people, but one-on-one her aura was suffocating. “I wanted to ask you a couple questions about… about history. No one else can answer me.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Wentworth quirked a brow. “Then ask, but be aware that I will not provide you with an excuse for any tardiness on your part next class.”

“That’s fine. I-I have lunch next anyway,” John replied. Wentworth did not respond, staring John down in a silent order to get on with it. “Uh, well, have you heard of… I mean, uh… do you know what The Order of the Golden Rose is?”

Not an instant passed between the end of John’s sentence and the door to the classroom slamming shut of its own accord. Suddenly the world looked different, colors were brighter but darks were darker. A hazy filter seemed to have been placed over the world, blurring the edges of objects and making them appear to shift in position every so often. The effect was as nauseating as it was disorienting, and the pit in John’s stomach told him he had just made a big mistake.

You Have Been Pulled Into a Trap Barrier
Owner: Victoria Wentworth
Level N/A

“Sit down, Mr. Newman,” Victoria Wentworth directed. Her tone was graver than usual, heavier. She rose to stand and John’s heart raced as he attempted to Observe her.

Victoria Wentworth
Level ☠ Human ?????
[The S̵̡̥̃?̶̝̜͐á̵̫͍ṟ̶̭͉͉͉̼̤͂̌͑͜͝╫̸̧̨̢̱̼͚̑͛͘▐̶̡̥̿̐t̴͇̖̯̹͙͔͋́̽͂̓̕͝ Witch>
RP: -67

<Skill Lev̵̟͇̩̮̘̖͚͎̠̐͝el ̷̫̾̉ủ̷̢̩̥͖̓͛̔ͅp̷̙̪̑̈͂̌͂͐͛͘͝!>
O̴̰͍͇̗͉̤͇̥̟͒͑̂͛͆͘b̴̨͈̮̯͕̻͓͕̣̓͗͆̄̄̈́͠s̸̻͚̩͈͚͔̐̃̆͘erv̶̄̋̀e ̴̛̩̫̭͖̰͉͔̥̹̌͛̀̋̚̚͜Lv̴̡̛͖͍̘̼͚̝̑͜.̷̢̠͖̂͊̔͑͘͝͝.5
?̸̣̈́͝o?̴̻̖̔ _¿nl?̴̫̳͘ck?̸̠̬͆͘d

“I said, sit down.”

With a twitch of his teacher’s wrist, John’s observe window flickered out of existence. Simultaneously he heard a metallic screeching and felt something slam into the back of his knees, forcing them to bend. He fell backwards into a chair that hadn’t been there before and swallowed hard. He’d just aggro’d a boss monster.

“Where did you learn that name?” Wentworth questioned. She stood before him with her arms folded behind her back. Her composure was as harshly disciplined as ever, even if every word out of her mouth made John feel like he was going to die.

“Moira!” John answered honestly, there was even less of a point to lying now than usual. “Moira B-Brighton.”

“I am well aware of who the Warden is, boy.” Wentworth took a step closer. “What I asked is how you know that. Answer quickly, I will not ask again.”

“I have… um, That is, I…” John stammered. His chest felt empty yet he could hardly breathe. The Goddess, whoever she was, had already warned him about telling people about his powers. But what could she do to him that Wentworth wouldn’t? At least a swift **** was preferable to prolonged ****.
“I have powers. I don’t know how, or why, but I got them this morning. One of them lets me see information about people, and I used it on Moira!” John spat out. He clenched his eyes shut, awaiting divine retribution.

“So it was you, then,” was all the punishment he received. John felt the pressure let up as he opened his eyes and he gasped for a lungful of fresh air. He remained in the strange version of his history classroom, but it and Mrs. Wentworth no longer seemed quite so terrifying. That is not to say he was not terrified at all, quite the opposite, only that he was no longer at immediate risk of pissing his pants. Wentworth stepped back and began a slow pace across the front of the room.

“I had detected an unfamiliar mana signature this morning. I expected to find a Late Bloomer, but I did not expect it to be you,” Wentworth went on, her tone ponderous.

Being interrogated by his super-powered history teacher was not how John expected this conversation to go. She continued to stare him down in silence for what felt like hours. Without any other cues, John decided to risk taking it as an invitation to speak.

“Um, excuse me, Mrs. Wentworth,” John managed. “Mana signature? Late Bloomer? I don’t know those terms.” He did, honestly, but he was fairly certain he’d hit puberty already.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Late Bloomers, of which you are one, come into their power at an unexpected age, rather than cultivating their abilities from birth,” Wentworth explained. Apparently his first question was deemed unworthy of an answer. Even so, John was feeling more confident to speak freely.

“So, uh, I guess this is obvious, but I’m not the only one with powers like this?” John asked. Wentworth shut her eyes and emitted an irritated sigh.

“That depends on your definition of ‘like this’, but no, you are far from the only mage in existence. Nor even this school, for the matter. But before I lecture you further on the nature of the Abyss, you will tell me what this so called power of yours says about me.” Wentworth stopped directly in front of John, leaning in at eye level. He could feel his heart rate begin to rise again.
“I believe I do not need to remind you that it would be in your best interest not to lie to me, child.”

“Not much, ma’am.” John barely avoided **** on his own words. “Some of your information is blocked out. It tells me your name, that you are Human, that you don’t like me, and that you have a title. Some kind of witch, ma’am.”

“Hm.” Wentworth considered his words for a few dreadful seconds.

"What sort of witch?" Her eyes narrowed to such an extent that John could tell it was a fatally important question.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't read it. The word before 'Witch' is all messed up."

“Very good." Wentworth rose and dropped a fraction of her menace. "Nothing anyone doesn't already know. Tell me then, what doesn’t it tell you.”

“Your level and class, ma’am,” John answered.

“Explain,” Wentworth instructed with a flat look but a raised brow.

“Oh, right,” John remembered that not everyone knew those classic terms. It also confirmed that however many people also had powers, they did not necessarily have a game interface like him.

“A Level is a measure of your overall power, from 1 to 100. Actually, I don’t know if it stops at 100, that’s just how it usually goes,” he answered. “And your class is sorta what you do, what kind of powers you have. Like, Moira is a Paladin.”

“An accurate assessment,” Wentworth stated. “And you? What is your class.”

“I, uh, hang on,” John fumbled and opened his character sheet for what he realized was the first time since this morning. He looked towards his personal info, confused.

“I… don’t have one? I just have a Title, The Gamer.”

“How frustratingly inconsistent.” Wentworth grimaced. “Still, that is quite the useful ability you have there, Mr. Newman. It will serve you well in the Abyss.”

“You said that word before. The Abyss. What is that?” John asked.

“The Abyss is your life now, whether you want it to be or not. It is the realm of all things magical, of possibility beyond comprehension,” was Wentworth’s reply.

“I see.”

He did not.

“I don’t have the time to give you a full lecture on all things Abyssal, Mr. Newman.” The teacher seemed to sense his lack of understanding. “Your arrival has already disturbed a delicate schedule, one I will not tolerate risking further. Stay seated a moment.”

John did so, as if he had a choice.

Wentworth returned to her desk and pulled out, of all things, an honest to god quill and parchment. John noted a lack of inkwell, but she began to write all the same. He was left with nothing but his own thoughts.

Okay John, let’s think this through.
1. You’re not dead, which is great.
2. Your history teacher is an obscenely powerful witch.
3. She doesn't like you.
4. She determines how long fact #1 stays true.
5. You are an idiot.

Maybe I can prove I could be useful to her in some way? Big villains usually tolerate incompetent underlings as long as they're useful at least some of the time. Maybe I can be an information gatherer? No, she can probably already scry on everyone in the school. I could do small errands so she doesn’t have to herself? That’s something… that literally anyone could do. Think, moron, think!

After a few moments, his mysterious teacher folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope. She then produced a seal and a stick of wax, which dripped without flame, and pressed the envelope shut.

“Come.”

John did as ordered and stepped gingerly over to Wentworth’s desk. There she slid the letter to him and folded her fingers together.

“Present this to the Warden,” she said. “Loathe as I am to deliver you directly to them, you will require protection if you intend to survive the week, protection you will not be afforded from me. The Brightons will provide your first lessons on the Abyss and their Order. You will then return to me tomorrow promptly after classes for your second lesson,” Wentworth delivered her instructions exactly as she delivered her class lecture. John found it unnerving, to say the least.
“You are excused, Mr. Newman.”

John picked up the letter and placed it directly into his inventory, rather than insult Wentworth somehow by examining it. She shot him an inquisitive look when it disappeared.

“Oh, it’s uh, just one of the things I can do. It’s safe,” he said.

“Useful. Now go on.” Wentworth pointed to the door. “And expect a thorny greeting from Ms. Brighton. The Order and I do not exactly see eye to eye.”

“Yeah,” John nodded. “And, uh, thank you, Mrs. Wentworth.”

That drew the witch’s attention. For a brief moment, John could see a tinge of something undefinable beneath her austere and annoyed expression.

“I have done nothing to earn your gratitude, Mr. Newman. In fact I may well have done you a great disservice today,” Wentworth returned his thanks with a cold glare. “Now go.”

“But what do you mean by survi-”

“Go.”

Another flick of the Witch's wrist opened the classroom door and sent John sailing through it. It slammed shut before he could voice even the beginnings of protest. Subsequently, the entire world shattered like glass, jagged pieces of reality cascading around him. John ducked in a panic and covered his head with his arms, squeezing his eyes shut. No lacerating shards came, however, only the low din of a hallway packed full of students. John opened his eyes and found himself in the ordinary halls of Ashcroft Academy, fellow students headed to their next classes as if nothing had happened. John stood, completely dumbstruck.

What the fuck just happened?