Gleaming down the decorated hallways was a bright, orange light, the sun peeking from just under the window. This light gave way to the interior of a grand, luxurious academy that sat within the densely poputed city of Mauyonne. A pque that read “Mauyonne Clerical Boarding” shone against the sunlight as it rested on top of the arched wooden door that divided the upcoming clerics of the Guild from the world outside. People arrived here for one purpose only: to either instruct, or be instructed, on how to properly utilize the many powers of healing magic. Training academies for other fields of magic, or for practitioners of more physical weaponry were also present within Mauyonne’s fortified walls, yet none were as lucrative as healer work. Entrants paid a hefty sum to be instructed on healing magic and to receive an amulet of completion from the Guild, all so they can turn a profit with the highly paying jobs avaible only to those knowing of healing magic. Of these entrants was one Dante Pildel, him stepping out of his assigned dormitory room with a rge, hard backed book in his hands. Standing at a modest height, the young man had long, bushy bck hair that went down all the way to his back, with a bck ribbon near the end of his hair to tie a tuft of it together. Most prominent about his appearance were the two long, bull-like horns that went out the sides of his head, them colored a charcoal bck. Dante stepped towards his first session of the day, taking in a deep breath as he walked by the many groups of people standing about in the halls. He caught the occasional look as he was passed by, him ignoring the odd stares at what was a cultural oddity about him. From his long horns and brownish skin, it was easy to tell that he was a member of the race known as the Tovrons, something which earned a few sly comments from those who passed him. “What’s a tovron doing here trying to learn spells? Can he even read?” “Might be lost. Weapon trainers are down the street.” “Mate’s probably the smallest tovron I’ve ever seen. Seen children with more muscle on their bones than that d.” Another jestingly spoke, Dante ignoring the comments as he marched down the hallway. He had grown accustomed to the ribbing from family, friends, and strangers alike for his strange tendencies alien from that of other tovrons. His family were all hard-skinned farmers and warriors, standing tall with heavy, muscur builds, whilst Dante was some scrawny, mousy bookworm. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Slinging hay bales or swinging a bde was never his strength. Knowledge, compassion, and dedication was. He stopped in front of a decorated, cast door, its engravings reading “Advanced Cleric Course” just on the top of it. Today marked the day in which he had spent a month at this course, him having recently learned the basics of anatomy and medical knowledge, as well as literacy and arithmetic. Though his prior schooling as a child had made those sections of the course rather easy to him. He looked around at the others that were present for this day’s lesson. The cssroom was lined with wooden pews, all of them facing a podium from where their instructor stood. Dante sat down next to an older-looking man, them looking up towards him as he brought himself down. Dante could easily recognize this one as a Vinnan; a retively featureless race, only sporting typical facial features, darker skin, and thin body hair. This vinnan gave him a short wave before looking back at their journal, mouthing out the words as he read them to himself. Dante returned the wave, turning his head forward as he watched an unfamiliar, uniformed figure walk up to the front of the css. This individual, also a vinnan like many of the others who lived in this area, carried about a rather unenergetic gait about them, sighing deeply while they leaned onto the desk in front of them, pushing their eyegsses up the bridge of their nose before they spoke. “Good afternoon. I’m Duran Thaddeus, and I’ll be taking over the course from here.” He stated somewhat robotically, his indifferent tone sounding as though he had “taken the course from here” countless times. Duran looked around the room for a moment, only to see everyone quietly paying attention to him. “Incase you somehow aren’t aware,” He began, walking away from the desk and putting his hands behind his back. “This is the course for learning the many healing spells that a Guild cleric needs to know. You have paid a rather handsome fee to be here, though, so I imagine you all did your own research before arriving.” Dante rubbed at his own chin while Duran spoke, turning his head from side to side as he thought to himself. While he had a wide array of education and knowledge at his disposal back home, his information regarding magic was sparse, some worry growing from within him when he looked around the room, only to see those confidently taking out what looked to be personal journals of such information. “So… let’s just get this shit over with quick. I imagine you lot are looking to make your money back as soon as possible with cleric work, so let’s not drag our asses.” As Duran spoke, the dozens of students in the css all took out their books, readying to log whatever was spoken. Hoping to fit in, Dante took out his own book, it only having recorded a collection of events that had happened over the past few days, as well as some slightly scribbled drawings depicting the anatomy of various races that he had gone over days prior. “You, er, the tovron.” Duran pointed at Dante, him jumping up in his seat a little as he was called upon. “Huh - oh… yes?” Dante replied, Duran stepping towards him as he continued to speak. “Can you tell us what you know about healing spells?” He asked, Dante rubbing the back of his head as he stammered out for a moment, looking around the room to see that all those sitting down had their eyes on him. “I… it’s, like… for helping people, right?” Dante asked, Duran raising an eyebrow while some giggles and sneers came from around the room. “Don’t be a smartass on your first day, kid.” “I - I’m not.” Dante defensively replied, Duran crossing his arms as he registered what was in front of him. “...I see.” Duran quietly spoke to himself, Dante sinking down in his seat as he turned the page on his journal, ready to write down whatever Duran was about to say. “Well, I’m guessing a couple more of you probably haven’t a clue, either. Let’s just start with the basics, then.” Bending down, Duran grabbed what looked to be a parchment from under the table, picking up an additional one as he stood back up. Turning to the wall behind him, he then pced a diagram of a humanoid anatomy onto the wall. Next to it was the other parchment, it depicting what looked like a rge fme, with a vial right next to it. “All of us, regardless of race, have the ability to tap into a spiritual reserve known as Mana.” Tapping his finger on the fme, Duran then pointed towards the chest on the anatomy figure. “Now, there’s a lot of hearsay about where it comes from, whether it’s from Idolism’s Forces or it’s some biological bullshit, but that’s not important.” He stated, turning away from the anatomy diagram. “All you need to know is that you need it to cast magic, and that it’ll run out after a while. Now, it’ll replenish easily, you only need to get some food or water in you. Rest and meditation works even better.” Bringing his palm up, Duran quietly whispered something to himself, before a faint shining of light came from his hand, it dancing between his fingertips as he continued to expin. “Now, your amount of mana, that’s something you train. It’s a lot like endurance, the more you expend it, the more it’ll hold. Pretty simple, right?” Dante was visibly confused on something, hesitantly raising his hand, Duran turning towards him and gesturing for the tovron to speak. “How do you, uh… how do you tell when you’re out of mana?” He asked, Duran ughing a bit before answering. “Oh, haha, that’s the fun part. You can’t. There’s some warning signs; headache, delirium, numbness in parts of your body… it’s kind of like running out of breath, but, you know, different.” Dante nodded his head, writing the information down, quickly turning his head back up to listen to Duran’s further expnation. “Right then, that ought to bring you up to speed. Let’s go ahead and get you learning these spells, then.” Duran cpped his hands together, waving his hand for everyone to follow him as he opened the door. The cssroom full of people of varying sizes, ages, and races followed the retively young vinnan out the door, Dante staying near the back as the group soon made it into a rge, dungeon-looking room from the bottom of a stairwell.

  “So…” Duran began, turning around to face them, picking up a wooden box from behind him. “Normally, to be able to cast spells, you need a specially crafted book… has to be parchment and wood sourced from a tree altered with magic, then lined with a pretty decent amount of a single, unique gem, has to be kept in good condition or it’ll stop letting you cast spells… you get the idea, it’s pretty inconvenient. Luckily, though, there’s a workaround.” He then opened the wooden box, the css stepping forward to see what was inside. Dante peered over the shoulder of someone in front of him to see what looked like some hands squirming around. Their shape was indiscernible, though Dante could faintly hear the sounds of flesh squishing against each other from where these fingers were. He got a much better look when Duran pulled one of the objects out, Dante grimacing as he saw what it was. It looked like a collection of fingers grossly stitched together, each finger having different features to it. Some were a lighter shade, some seemed to have scales or feathers, and one was a yellowish digit much rger than the others. “Who’s first?” Duran asked, the group taking a moment before one was brave enough to see what was to be done with the collection of grotesque creations. “Aw, man, fuck that. That looks like some Atharot shit.” One of the students commented in the back, the chatter ending when one of the aspiring clerics finally went forth. The one who stepped forward, an older-looking vinnan, stopped before Duran, taking a deep breath as they brought their hands forward. Duran pced the fingered object in their palm, it pressing its tips into their wrist and pushing itself under their skin. The vinnan winced as their flesh contorted around the fingers, only another moment passing before it eventually vanished. In its pce though, was a circur sigil present on the vinnan’s palm, it glowing a deep, dark red. Closing their fingers, the vinnan walked to the back of the room, Dante walking forward shortly afterwards. Dante nearly closed his eyes as Duran took out another fingered object from the box, flinching as he hovered it over his palm. “What… what are those things?” Dante asked, Duran chuckling before he answered. “It’s better if you don’t know.” Swallowing, Dante nodded his head, shutting his eyes as he could feel the digits touch his skin. One of his eyes slowly opened as he turned his head towards it, watching as it burrowed itself into his wrist. The sensation Dante felt from its touch wasn’t of pain. Wherever the fingers moved left a feeling of powerful, cold numbness, accompanied by a slightly electric sensation as the fingers started to part his skin. It was like the warmth of dozens of other people touching him at once as it vanished into his flesh, the warmness turning more into heat as Dante felt a searing sensation burn against his palm. He grunted out as he looked at the sigil that was now burned into his hand, it the same shape, color, and size as the one that the vinnan had received. Dante looked at Duran’s hand to see that he had the same symbol on his own palm, watching as this hand moved up to pat Dante on his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it.” Duran advised, exhaling through his nose as he watched Dante turn around and walk towards the back of the room, this particur area growing poputed as more and more of the css were branded by the strange finger contraptions that moved about in that unmarked wooden box. Dante sat down with his back against the wall, bringing his legs up to his chest and resting his arms on his knees. Turning his palm up to see the glowing marking on it, Dante ran his finger across it, sighing as he thought to himself. “I… I suppose I’m really doing this, then. No longer will I work on my family’s farm, I’m… I’m actually setting out to work for the Guild.” Standing up, Dante looked over to see Duran gathering the css behind him, the tovron quick to catch up with the others as they walked back towards the cssroom. He didn’t quite manage to hear what Duran had said, but once they were back inside, he was quite quickly informed.

  “The first spell we will be learning is Remedium. A simple, efficient heal that’s light on Mana use.” Duran stuck his hand forward, before saying “Remedium.” out loud, the same bright light from earlier coming again from his hand. Dante tried it, mumbling the word to himself as he id his hand ft. He was disappointed when he saw nothing happen, looking back up to see Duran standing with a dagger, one of the other students kneeling before him. The vinnan then gently sshed the bded end along their bare skin, the student groaning out as blood dripped from the fresh wound. Duran then casted the spell onto their wound, it sealing back up almost immediately after. The student then stood back up, saying “Remedium.” and watching as the spell then successfully casted from their marked hand. “Easy, right?” Duran asked, the student nodding as they walked back over to sit down. “You can only cast a spell that’s been casted on you, a little process called indentation. That’s the gist of it. Well… most of the gist. See,” Duran cleared his throat, turning away from the students and walking back to the front of the css. “Healing spells, they really can shift the tide of a battle. They’re powerful, near instantaneous… can turn a previously battered ptoon of men into a fresh set of soldiers. It’s part of why this school here costs so much, since the Guild doesn’t want every other asshole on the face of Nimouervil having this kind of power.” Duran clicked his tongue, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped on a gss of water on his desk. “But there’s… limitations with these healing spells of ours. Biggest one you wanna worry about is cleaning the wound. Remedium will seal it up and kill off any infection, but it won’t, you know… magically clear out all the debris.” Duran lifted up the gss of water, then brought it to a white rag. “You still gotta clean the wound, otherwise you might be sending people off with rocks or wood fragments or shit inside their bodies. And hopefully I shouldn’t have to expin why that’d be an unpleasant experience.” The students all nodded collectively, a bit of a disgusted look forming on Dante’s face as he visualized a piece of debris being sealed inside of someone’s flesh. “Now then… who’s next?” Duran asked, holding up the dagger and passing it around the css, having more and more of the students get indented by the spells.

  At the end of the day, Dante had already acquired a rather noticeable scar upon his left arm from the instruction, but remained confident that he was learning these new spells. His tome rested against his bedsheets with the name of spell scribbled on its page, the first simply being that “Remedium”. Sticking his hand out, Dante almost effortlessly casted it, it lighting up the room with a faint yellow light. Heaving a satisfied sigh after managing to get it to work, he id down inside the warm covers, closing the book onto the table as he gently let himself into a deep sleep.

  Awakened to the sound of many footsteps outside of his door, Dante made the fatal assumption that he had missed some sort of bell, quickly jumping out of bed and gathering his clothing. Sliding on his pants, then sliding his horned head through his tunic and buttoning it back up, Dante ran out of the door in a state of panic as a concentration of students would begin gathering outside, around a statue of what appeared to be a rge, female-looking vinnan levitating in the air, with two columns of fme leaving from both of her hands. Dante stood by the exit, visibly confused at the tradition, before he felt a rge grasp upon his shoulder from behind. Turning back towards the sight, he gasped as a rge man stood there smiling at him, 4 rge gems snug inside of his temple as his yellowish skin wrapped against his toned frame. This was an unfamiliar figure… that was, until the crest of the Guild was present on his chest, with enough stars embedded under it to indicate he was likely at a fairly high position. “Ah! I’m so sorry, nobody told me I was supposed to go pray to a statue!” He yelled out, the unfamiliar figure ughing as he patted Dante on the shoulder. “Do not worry, young one. You are no vinnan, so you need not pray to the Force of vinnan martyrdom, no?” The word confused Dante, him cocking his head with a befuddled expression on his face. “Martyrdom? Is that…” Dante trailed off at the sight of the tall, broadly built man, earning an amused look from him. “I’m sorry, I er… I only woke up minutes ago.” Dante said with a slight chuckle, the Kyvernite man returning the chuckle, turning his head from side to side and crossing his arms. “It’s quite alright. We installed the shrine for a popur sect of Idolism amongst the vinnan popution.” “Y - Yes, I see.” “Hmm… it is interesting to see your kind here, though, tovron. Are you learning to become a cleric?” He asked curiously, Dante nodding his head in response. “Well, I suppose you’ll be shipping out to perform Guild work soon, then. Though perhaps we will see each other again. I am Artin, a representative of the Mauyonne chapter of the Guild. I oversee the academic operations, such as this academy.” Artin stopped in pce, sticking out his hand, Dante reaching his hand forward to shake his. “Yes, er… well met. I’m Dante.” Dante replied, sighing and pulling his hand back. “So, I don’t have to go pray?” “No, you do not. But I would recommend speaking with your fellow students. Your schooling will be very… brief, and I would suggest making the most of it.” “Alright. Thank you!” With little intention of trying to fit in such an alien pce like this, Dante hurried back to his room, taking the opportunity to get a bit of an edge in his learning. Casting the spell of Remedium once more, he was surprised as it left his hand with significantly more vigor than it did earlier. Dante remained stuck simply staring at the light he had casted for several minutes, inspecting each angle of it, hardly able even to comprehend that this magic was his own doing. “I suppose all I really need to do to learn is to… simply let them cast it on me.” Dante thought to himself, sitting up on his bed. “And, haha… memorize the spell’s name, of course. Can’t be going through my journal in the midst of combat.” Laying down on his back, Dante pced his hands on his chest, slowly shutting his eyes and letting a few brief minutes of sleep come to him.

  If people were to sit in groups of their own choosing, Dante would likely be by his lonesome. But, in pattern with this academy’s speediness, Dante’s choice of seat at the dining hall was made for him. He was filtered into a group of vinnans, them looking at the tovron d with some surprise, some immediately going to prod him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d see a tovron here.” The one sat next to him stated, turning and hovering his hand above Dante’s horns. “Damn, so those things are real, huh?” “...yes?” Dante replied, another vinnan gawking at the one who was so in awe about Dante’s horns. “My uncle owns a hold out in Ardelesia, and he’s got tovrons employed as guards there. None of them are learned in any magic, though.” “Huh, Ardelesia? Never been.” Another vinnan replied. “You’re not missing much. It’s either barren tundras or overpoputed shitholes.” “Makes sense. Kyvernites and Atharot loved razing each other during the war. Surprised there’s even anything left up there.” Dante couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the people’s talk of their journeys across Nimouervil. He had never left his childhood farm nestled safely within Hospuria outside of occasional treks to nearby vilges, something which made him feel even more of an outcast as the others began to leave the table. Hurrying to try and remain on schedule, he quickly gulped down his formici honey and ate his greens and sliced meat, then quickly headed to his cssroom and sat amongst the rest.

  Each day of learning spells seemed to follow a pattern, in that the wounds would get more and more gruesome each time the lesson ended. At first it was shallow knife wounds, then it was light burns, then a weak venom. Upon the end of the week, Dante had endured an arrow to his chest, a dislocated leg, asphyxiation, being cursed with temporary blindness, using pain killing herbs, being addicted to pain killing herbs for a brief moment, and having his arm cut off then reattached. There were no breaks, no days for rest, and definitely no stops in between getting afflicted with worse and worse injury. He could’ve sworn they didn’t heal his leg entirely, the way it still limped slightly. There was only a couple of days until his final test arrived. He would become one with the Undead, as all fully learned clerics become. The title was rather intimidating to him, before Duran stopped to further expin. “Ahem… I know we’ve got some Athorists in the room here, and for… whatever logical reason you all have, you forbid becoming Undead. This is by no means required to get your amulet, so if you wanna skip it, go ahead, I don’t care. For those of you that actually want to learn something as important as being able to revive others from death, just stay put and wait your turn, the usual.” Some vinnan individuals came walking out the room, leaving only half the css, Dante included. Dante was the second to go up and learn the spell known as Subortus, a powerful incantation that can revive an operable body from death. A potent venom was let into an open wound in the tovrons neck. Dante’s vision went blurry, him choking out a little before all he could see was…

  The floor beneath him was nothing he could describe. A blurring mixing of white and bck, lit by bright fmes that slowly grew along the sides of the strange pathway. At the end of this path was a strange altar made from what looked like living wood, with a hooded man standing behind the altar with his arms spread out. More hooded individuals all gathered around the altar, one stepping forward and holding out a crying child. Dante walked across the fire, each step would burn his feet with increasing pain, his teeth clenching together increasingly tighter as he got closer to the altar. This walking turned to running as he saw the hooded man begin to immote the child with fire magic, Dante reaching his hand out as he sprinted to try and stop him. “This…” A soft, feminine voice spoke, the sight of the cloaked individuals sacrificing the child fading away, leaving Dante standing in the burning fmes. “This shall be your end, Dante Pildel…” Dante stopped, looking up at the darkness hanging over the strange scape he was left in. “What?” “Your time is not here, not for some gathering of man fueled by avarice. It will be for…”

  “...and, there. Welcome back.” Dante quickly sat up, panting while he looked around the cssroom. “Ah…” Dante chipped for air for a moment. “Ah… what was that? Was I actually dead?” Duran nodded, looking rather unphased by his reaction, as if he had seen it countless times. “Yes. Congratutions, you are now officially Undead. And you should probably write down Subortus somewhere.” Nodding in return, he slid off of the table, his mind racing with whatever that vision could’ve meant as he quickly jotted down that spell into his growing tome. He had no recognition of the voice that spoke to him, nor of the vague warning that it had given him. The sight of seeing a child in danger like that was distressing, but Dante thought no further of it than some hallucination brought on in his dying mind from the venom let into his veins. While Dante thought this, Duran walked by his desk, tossing a small dead animal in front of him, causing Dante to flinch and back away from the creature slightly. “Okay. Did everyone get that, now? Revive whatever animal I gave you.” Inhaling, Dante picked up the corpse, recognizing it as a mudhog; a greenish creature hardly bigger than Dante’s hand, with a thin exoskeleton and two powerful rear limbs, complimented by a set of cws coming out its front. He id it next to his tome, him repeating the word Subortus while pressing his hands against the mudhog’s stomach. A faint, reddish glow left his fingers to meet the mudhog’s body, it pulsing as if it were a heartbeat as he kept his hands still. About a couple minutes of contact led to the mudhog quickly squirming out from under Dante’s grasp, it jumping with life as a variety of small wildlife began running around the room. Duran looked around the room to see most people succeeding, with the exclusion of one young looking male, his eyes a bright blue and his hair silvery white. Dante knew he was a race other than a vinnan, but he unfortunately couldn’t quite put his finger on the name of such at the moment. His pondering on what this one’s race was was interrupted when they spoke. “Sire Duran, my mudhog, it’s - it’s not reviving.” Duran walked forward, shaking his head as he rested his hands behind his back. “Uuf. There’s a few… kinks, with the Subortus spell.” He started walking back towards the front of the room as he went to expin. “Most importantly, you only get a certain amount of time after someone dies to use it. Now, that time, it depends on a lot of things about that particur someone. Vigor, age, diet… but on average, you get about… maybe an hour.” Dante’s eyes went wide at the revetion, leaning forward in his seat slightly as he listened to Duran further speak. “And that timeframe gets tighter and tighter every time that person gets revived. These mudhogs here, they’ve been revived before.” Duran went back towards the unsuccessfully revived mudhog, gently picking it up and ying its body in his hands. “Guessing this one got Subortus used on it so many times, got maybe only a second before it’d no longer bring ‘em back up. Shame.” Clicking his tongue, Duran pced the mudhog back on the table, wiping his hands off on his trousers. “Well then, that’s it for now. To your rooms, all of you.” With the lesson finished, Dante headed back towards his room as per command, now with only about another day or two left of spells to learn before he was finished.

  The next day, Dante felt fully integrated in the routine; wake up at the chime of the city’s bell, quickly eat, go to css and get a part of his body mutited and healed, have his instructor look over his tome, get lunch, learn another spell or two, then have a little bit of time to himself before going to bed. Such punctuality seemed to be a pattern in the city of Mauyonne itself. The citizens fell and rose at around the same time each day, and overall the same series of events would happen at each hour. Mercenaries of the Guild gathered each morning to receive their jobs for the day, and after a busy rush that sted until the afternoon, the city remained quiet and orderly. He thought about this while looking over his journal, Dante taking a moment to look through the spells he had learned as of recently. “Pervestigationis” was the one he had learned today, which looked almost like some sort of lightning bolt, but it instead instantly regenerated whatever body it would hit. His arms and legs were almost covered in scars now from the experience, but it was soon to be to an end. He was only to learn one more spell and have his spells be looked over one st time, before he was an official cleric. The final spell would make the final mark on Dante’s flesh. It was simply named “Sensum”, a spell that restored the feeling in a limb too mangled for Remedium to fully heal. Of course, that involved him getting one of the tendons in his legs cut open for it to be casted on him. But that was the finale; a gilded amulet with a red stone in the midst of it was handed to him by the Guild official known as Artin. The past month of schooling led to an end in to a life Dante felt monotonous and ineffectual. Unlike the recently born clerics that surrounded him, it wasn’t just coin that Dante was after. He knew his world was broken, that it was still healing after all the damage brought onto it. And he would help make it whole once again.