Issues over Dinner

As they ate, conversation drifted between them like smoke, punctuated by the subtle symphony of cutlery and quiet amazement at flavors that seemed enhanced by some unseen force. Even Alex's simple sandwich carried notes of herbs that existed nowhere in their old world, each bite a reminder of their extraordinary circumstance.

"Dude, did you guys pass by the Magical Beast Meat section?" Max leaned forward, his eyes alight with wonder, voice barely containing his excitement.

"No, went straight to the deli," Alex replied between bites. "Why?"

"Let me tell you," Max gestured animatedly with his fork, "there was meat there that literally glowed with power. I was about to grab this steak that seemed to shimmer like a mirage, but my emblem," he tapped the skull insignia at his chest, "warned me off. Said something about magical food poisoning since we haven't awakened yet."

"Man, that sucks," Alex sympathized, watching as nearby students fearlessly consumed cuts of meat that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy. Another reminder of the power they had yet to claim in this realm of endless wonders and hidden dangers.

Around them, the dining hall hummed with the quiet energy of dozens of awakened students, their emblems gleaming with subtle power - a constant reminder of the transformation that awaited the three friends in this mystical academy's halls.

Their conversation halted as a shadow fell across their table like a passing cloud, drawing their attention to a newcomer's presence. The figure claiming the empty seat wore a uniform of brilliant orange that seemed to pulse with its own inner light against the dining hall's ethereal ambiance.

The stranger's appearance struck an odd contrast - his rounded face and military-precise buzzcut suggested someone trying to embody martial discipline while still holding onto civilian comforts. Despite his somewhat peculiar appearance, there was an undeniable warmth in his demeanor that softened his militant styling.

"Hope you don't mind the intrusion," he said, his voice carrying notes of genuine friendliness. "Couldn't help but notice you're unfamiliar faces. The grey uniforms mark you as unawakened first years, like myself, and I figured introductions were in order since we'll be sharing classes."

"Derek Smithwell," he offered, extending a hand that told its own story - calluses mapped constellations across his palm, speaking of countless hours of physical labor. The skin was rough but honest, marking him as someone who understood the value of hard work.

Max reached out first, matching Derek's grip with equal firmness. "Pleasure's mine, Derek. Max Grayson," he replied, their handshake carrying the weight of future camaraderie.

"Alex," came the simple introduction as Alex took his turn at the greeting, his hand meeting Derek's in a solid shake that bridged their worlds for a moment.

But something shifted in that instant - Derek's previously welcoming expression darkened like storm clouds gathering on a summer day. The change was subtle but unmistakable, his features hardening at the mere mention of Alex's name as if it carried some hidden significance in this magical realm. The dining hall's ambient light seemed to dim around them, the moment heavy with unspoken tension.

"What's this guy's problem?" The thought had barely formed in Alex's mind when Derek yanked his hand away as if scalded by cursed iron, his fingers curling into a protective fist against his chest.

The dining hall's enchanted lights seemed to dim, casting longer shadows across Derek's face as his expression twisted with unveiled contempt. "You mind telling me, Sir Grayson," he spat the honorific like poisoned honey, "why you're consorting with this filthy commoner?" Each word dripped with disdain thick enough to rival basilisk venom.

The magical atmosphere grew heavy, pressing down on them like an invisible storm front. The emblems on their uniforms pulsed with subtle warning, responding to the rising tension.

"The fuck you talking about, dude?" Max erupted from his seat, the chair scraping against ancient stone with a sound like angry spirits. He thrust himself into Derek's space, their uniforms - orange and grey - creating a stark contrast of status and power. "You picking a fight with me and my friends, huh?"

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, thick enough to taste - like lightning about to strike. Around them, other students began to take notice, their conversations falling into hushed whispers that echoed off the vaulted ceiling.

Confusion flickered across Derek's features, his certainty fracturing like thin ice. The expression suggested someone whose worldview had just tilted sideways - as if the very laws of nature had suddenly reversed themselves. The idea of an elite defending a commoner seemed to short-circuit something fundamental in his understanding of the social order.

His voice, when it returned, carried equal parts bewilderment and renewed disgust. "So what if I insulted your commoner?" The words carved through the tension like a rusted blade. "He should know his place – is with the pigs, eating from their trough, not at the elite's table."

"Who told you I was an elite?" Max says as he places his hand on Derreck's shoulder. Derreck's eyebrows draw together in a contemplative frown.

"Well, it's simple really - you gave me a last name. Only elites or noblemen have those." A dangerous glint flashes in Derreck's eyes as he continues, "So what, are you lying to me then, huh?"

His arm rises with predatory grace, palm settling against Max's chest with deliberate slowness. Heat emanates from Derreck's touch, building from warm to scorching, like metal left too long in the sun. "Seems to me you understand the severity of what you just claimed," his voice drops lower, more menacing. "You should know it's a Class 1 misdemeanor to impersonate a noble. Unless you've got the town to back it up, no one's going to take you seriously. Someone's going to put you in your place."

"Someone like you?" Max challenges.

The air crackles as Derreck's hand erupts into flames, searing through Max's uniform with a violent hiss. Max stumbles backward, shock written across his features as the reality of magic manifests before him.

Before Max can process the damage, Randy launches forward with the clumsy determination of someone who'd never thrown a real punch. His fist carves a wild arc through the air, but Derreck simply leans back, dodging the amateur strike with practiced ease. His face twists into a sneer before he drives his fist into Randy's chest. Randy crumples to the ground, an angry red scorch mark blazing across his solar plexus where Derreck's burning fist had connected.

"Arrgh!" Randy's pained cry echoes across the ground as he crashes against the unforgiving surface, the scorch mark on his chest still radiating waves of searing heat.

Not willing to leave his friends defenseless, Alex steps forward with fierce determination. His jab cracks through the air like thunder, connecting with Derreck's cheek in a satisfying impact that snaps the bully's head to the side.

Derreck whirls back with predatory grace, flames already dancing around his clenched fist as he prepares to strike. But before his burning knuckles can find their mark, Max barrels into him with the unstoppable force of a charging bull, driving them both to the ground with bone-jarring force.

"Eat Shit Asshole," Max snarls, driving his elbow down in a vicious arc that connects with a sickening crunch. Blood sprays from Derreck's shattered nose as Max rains down blow after devastating blow, his fists finding their mark with brutal efficiency.

But even as Alex and Randy move to help, the air around Derreck begins to shimmer with deadly heat, warping like desert mirages. In one fluid motion, Derreck brings his hands together in a thunderous clap. The sound reverberates through the air moments before a wave of searing flames explodes outward, catching all three boys in its infernal embrace. The force hurls them backward like ragdolls, their bodies crashing into the table they'd been peacefully sitting at mere moments ago.

Alex's knee collides with the table's unforgiving edge, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through his body. A guttural growl tears from his throat as he turns to face Derreck, his vision swimming with spots of darkness and pain. The sight before him defies comprehension - flames dancing across Derreck's skin like living armor, casting malevolent shadows across his face.

'What the hell is that?' The thought barely forms in Alex's mind as he struggles to his feet, his good knee trembling beneath him. The air around them crackles with magical energy, heavy with the scent of scorched fabric and burning rage.

But before he can steady himself for another round, Derreck materializes before him like a demon born of flame and fury. His fist, wreathed in writhing fire, connects with Alex's temple in a devastating arc. The impact sends Alex careening across the ground, his body leaving a trail of scattered debris before coming to rest with a thunderous crash.

"Worthless pig," Derreck spits, his words dripping with venomous contempt. "Eat the ground, you soft blood." Each syllable carries the heat of his contempt, the air around him still shimmering with residual magical energy as he stands over his fallen opponent.

Derreck raises his fist skyward, channeling his essence into a maelstrom of flame. The fire grows from a mere kitchen flicker into a raging inferno. The flames dancing around his clenched fingers casting writhing shadows across his hate-twisted features.

His arm descends in a devastating arc, the concentrated inferno roaring with promised violence as it speeds toward Alex's prone form. The very air seems to crack and splinter under the heat's intensity, the world holding its breath before the killing blow.

'I'm going to die.' Alex can't help but think seeing the firestorm brewing above him.

But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A barrier materializes between them, its surface rippling like sun-kissed water yet harder than diamond. As Derreck's flaming fist connects, the shield drinks in his fire like a thirsting creature, transforming the deadly orange-red heat into harmless light before dissolving it into nothingness. The barrier stands unmarred, a testament to power far beyond their petty squabble.

A translucent barrier forms in front of Derek's fist. His fist strikes the barrier with a hard thud. The fiery energy in Derek's hand transfers into the barrier, turning it bright orange before breaking apart, dispersing the flames unevenly and weakened.

A translucent barrier materializes before Derek's fist. His strike connects with a hard thud, fiery energy transferring from his hand into the barrier. It turns bright orange before breaking apart, dispersing weakened flames unevenly through the air.

"Who dares?" Derek turns, searching for whoever would interrupt his fight.

"Me." From the crowd emerges a human girl with glasses, her petite frame standing out as she holds up both hands radiating silver light like moonbeams. Dropping her hands against her silvery uniform, she strolls through the crowd.

"Oh, and who might you be, miss?" Derek says condescendingly. "You should know that messing with me is a recipe for disaster."

"Hmm, interesting. I thought everybody knew who I am. Well, how about I introduce myself? I'm Stella Astralith. Pleasure to meet you," Stella announces, standing tall while making her way to Alex.

Hearing her name, Derek's eyes widen before settling into a smirk.

"Ah, the infamous love child of Lord Astralith. What makes you think you have power over me? Heir to the Ignivar family, while you can't even step into your family's manor."

"You see, Derek, you need to stop asking if I have the authority to stop you. You should be asking yourself - do you even have the authority to attack them?"

Scoffing, Derek laughs in her face. "Lowly commoners, the filth beneath my feet. Do I have the authority? I pity your ignorance."

"No, Derek, I pity you. For those three aren't just any commoners. They're Daywalkers."

The surrounding students burst into gasps, murmuring among themselves about these supposed Daywalkers. They all know their world's history from 2000 years ago, when the heroes sacrificed themselves. Learning these three are from that world leaves them stunned.

"You must be jesting, Miss Astralith. We all know the knowledge of traversing realms was lost with the heroes. What makes you boldly claim these filth are Daywalkers?"

"Oh, nothing at all actually. I was just stalling for the professor to show up. Speaking of which..." Stella looks around as a large figure breaks through the crowd.

"Enough of this madness. All of you, head back to what you were doing. This isn't some arena for spectacle and games."

The professor stands tall in his dark suit and tie, an emblem adorning his chest, his silver hair slicked back. His lanky frame emanates a mystique aura.

"Miss Astralith, head back to your dorm room. Thank you for maintaining a safe environment for our students. And you, young Ignivar, visit nurse Wendy to amend your wounds, then report to my office."

"Ohhh," the crowd exhales collectively, like witnessing someone in trouble.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Scram." The professor glares at the lingering students. They stiffen, cold sweat forming, before finally dispersing.

Turning to the three boys grimacing in pain, the professor approaches, pulling out three vials from his pouch. "You three, drink this and follow me to my office. We need to talk."

The professor's stern voice and look melts away Derek's previous vigor as he slowly departs to tend his wounds. Stella, ever obedient to the professor's orders, heads to her dorm room, adjusting her glasses with a smile.

Kneeling before Alex, the professor offers one of the vials. "Drink this. I'll tend to your wounds for now."

Taking the vial, Alex runs his finger over its glass surface, watching the red liquid shine through. Opening the lid, he feels the cold liquid run down his throat, its bitter taste spreading.

'All medicine tastes bitter, doesn't it? Even in a fantasy world,' Alex grimaces as he feels energy rush to his injuries, providing subtle relief.

Without dwelling on this world's wonders, Alex takes the professor's offered hand and stands.

Once all three can stand, they follow the professor to his office, trailing behind like quiet students headed to the principal's office.

The three boys fall in line.