The familiar interior of the Assassins' club greets me for yet another day. The eerie aura emanates from the various cupboards. I’m sure they’re filled with a wide variety of poisons and who knows what. Also, there’s a stain on the floor that looks suspiciously like blood. The less you know, the better.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” Viola asks.

  “Do you doubt me, The Chosen One?” I ask dramatically.

  “I’ve seen you fall asleep during class and then wake up by hitting your head on the desk,” she says.

  “I… didn’t think anybody saw that, but nonetheless it will work. Trust me, Viola,” I say with a devilish grin.

  Viola lets out a sigh as she sits down in her chair next to Ruby and William. In fact, the whole class is here, or at least it seems that way. Viola's paint magic sure is interesting. To think she can create this many paint copies of the advanced class.

  “They won’t last long,” she reminds.

  “No worries. They only need to last long enough for the second years to come sniffing around. Oh, how did it go with Talon?” I ask as I draw something on the chalkboard.

  “Fine. I managed to steer him clear of any second years, but Gods is he one hard-headed dude. I mean, how many times do I have to tell him that I don’t want to fight him?” she complains as her eyes linger on the Ruby copy.

  “Hmm. He seems much more reserved in class. Then again, he does come from the north. They consider fighting the best way to get to know each other, or at least that’s what Hopper tells me.”

  Viola carefully adjusts the hair of the Ruby copy. Her eyes soften, and a small smile forms. I see how this could get annoying, William, but I can also tell that this could serve as entertainment. Where to start?

  “So, Ruby, huh?”

  Viola's Elven ears turn a bright red. “I… Uhm… What are you talking about? She’s… just a friend,” she manages to blurt out.

  “I was asking about the Ruby copy. You’re fixing her, right?” I [Lie].

  “Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m doing.”

  “What did you think I was asking?”

  “Uh, nothing,” she lies poorly.

  You would think that for a merchant's daughter, she would be a better liar. Then again, maybe her family comes from honest merchants. Oh, who am I kidding? Honest merchant? Yeah right.

  “Anyway, did you get permission to use the Assassins' club room, again?” she deflects.

  “Yeah. They’re awfully fond of me, so they said I could use the room however I like. Seems they only really use it during the night,” I explain.

  “Why would the Assassin club be fond of you?” she asks as she lays her head on the desk.

  “They say that my arrival foretells a time of great change. It seems they’ve been preparing for this time since the inception of the school, and they hail me as The Harbinger of Change,” I repeat.

  “Did they really say all of that?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. What do you think?” I ask as I point at the chalkboard.

  “I think I should’ve drawn it. How is your ability to draw this bad?” she asks as she erases the drawing and begins to fix it.

  “I think it’s perfectly fine,” I [Lie].

  Viola quickly draws out the idea and then steps back. “That’s how you do it,” she says smugly.

  “Hmm. The flowers are a nice touch. Okay, that should set the trap. Let's go,” I say as I give a thumbs up out the window.

  “I understand why we’re doing this, but does it have to be this complicated? Wouldn’t it simply be easier to send them a letter or something like that?” Viola asks as she takes her position.

  “Oh, Viola, my dear friend. When you send a message, you have to make sure it comes across clearly. You have to leave no room for error. Especially with this kind of message,” I explain.

  “And?”

  “And it’s really fun,” I admit as I take my position.

  The moment I do, the door swings open to reveal a small group of second years led by the redheaded Alfie. Right on time.

  “No more scurrying about for you. Did you think we wouldn’t find your little meeting spot?” he asks with a good slathering of cockiness.

  I gasp dramatically. “How- How did you find us? It’s impossible. It must’ve been you,” I point to Viola.

  “ME!? How dare you! I’ve put more effort into this than anybody else, and you dare accuse me of being a mole!?” Viola says dramatically.

  “Oh, please. You call that effort? No wonder you Rank 4,” I taunt.

  Alfie looks confused as he scratches his head. “What are the two of-”

  Viola stands up violently and taps my chest. “You want to say that again?” she asks in a menacing tone.

  I grab her finger and rudely brush it aside. “You aren’t worthy of being Rank 4.”

  “Hey guys, maybe calm down a bit. There’s no need for that. We can talk it out,” he says nervously.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You stay out of this!” we yell in unison.

  Alfie immediately goes quiet.

  “You’re right, I’m not worthy of Rank 4. I’m worthy of Rank 1,” she proclaims.

  “Then prove it, Rank 4.”

  Viola grabs me, and we tumble towards the window. I send out a punch that misses. She kicks me in the shin. We flail and scream until we’re right up on the window. Midpunch we lock eyes, and I give her a wink. With her help, I suddenly throw her out the window.

  Alfie looks shocked as I huff and puff at the window. “Did you just throw her out the window?” he asks in disbelief.

  With an evil grin, I smile. “Look for yourself.”

  The group of second years rush to the window as I quietly walk over to the door.

  “Wait a minute. Why is there an ice ramp outside this window?” Alfie asks.

  “I’d like to thank you all for being a lovely audience. If you’d direct your attention to the board, I think you’ll find the answers to your question,” I say as I stand right outside the club room.

  The second years look over to the chalkboard to see a depiction of a pile of shit being eaten by a person. Also, some flowers to spruce up the empty space.

  “What is this strangely well-drawn art?” Alfie asks.

  One of the second years leans over and whispers in his ear.

  “He’s telling us to eat shit?! What about the flowers?” he asks.

  Another second year whispers in his ear.

  “You think it’s just to fill out the empty space? How dare you!?” he yells as he angrily walks over to the door.

  “I’d be careful if I were you,” I warn.

  Alfie doesn’t listen as he slams face-first into the barrier. “What in the hells? A barrier?”

  “Yeah, courtesy of one of my classmates. He apparently has a barrier [Skill]. It’s not very useful in combat, but it’s great for setting a trap. Especially when you’ve strengthened it with a magic circle and a lot of mana,” I explain.

  Alfie goes red in the face, but then gives a smug smile. “You idiot. You may have trapped us inside, but you forgot about your classmates,” he says as he points at the paint clones.

  “Oh, whatever will I do?” I ask.

  “How about I help?” Viola says as she meets back up with me.

  With a snap of her fingers, the paint clones disappear. “Pretty good for Rank 4, am I right?” she asks with a cocky grin.

  “I sure think so. You’re definitely worthy of Rank 4, that’s for sure,” I say with a devilish grin.

  “You won’t get away with this. There’s no point in struggling. You’re not going to win,” he taunts.

  “And that’s where you’re wrong. We are going to win, and we’re going to embarrass you as we do. So, make sure to warn everybody in the advanced class that we first years are ready to go to war,” I say as we walk away.

  “Get back here, Chosen One! Let us out! Chosen One!!” Alfie yells.

  “See you in the morning!” I yell back.

  “Guess you were right, Chosen One. If you’re going to send a message, you might as well make it fun,” Viola says with a smile.

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  The smell of the swamp is becoming… familiar? I don’t want to say fond or even pleasant. Yeah, familiar is probably the word for it. It’s not the worst smell I’ve ever had to handle, but it’s certainly no field of roses. Hmm. I’ve never seen a field of roses. A field of hay, corn, potatoes, but not roses. Maybe I should make a field of roses when winter is over. Helia says that the Botany club is technically in charge of the large area behind the greenhouse. Yeah, next quarter I’ll work on making a field of roses. What was I doing?

  Penelope holds the jaws of the Giant Snake as it threatens to eat us. Oh, yeah, that’s right. We fell into a pit of Giant Snakes. Lovely.

  Hopper lets loose an arrow straight down the throat of the Giant Snake, causing it to reel back in pain. Penelope takes advantage of that opportunity and slices the head off of that snake. Another one strikes towards me. I side-step it and try to make a simple slash. The tail of the snake slams into me, sending me flying into the trees. My foot wraps around one of the swamp vines, which promptly spins me around and back at the snake.

  Using my momentum, I perform a simple slash and cut off the tail of the snake. At the same time, Penelope appears next to me and cuts the snake's head off using her crackling greatsword.

  Penelope looks at me with confusion. “How did your swordsmanship improve this quickly? It’s still the basics, but the difference is night and day.”

  “Let's say I found a good teacher,” I deflect.

  Hopper's bunny ears perk up. “Guys, I think I hear the next floor,” he says as he hops over to a shrub.

  Pulling back the shrub, the stairs to the seventh floor are revealed along with an intense heat.

  “That certainly looks like the entrance. Although I’m not liking this heat.”

  “Anythings better than this swamp,” Penelope says.

  Hopper peers down the entrance. “We still have a bit of time. Should we check it out?”

  Penelope nods. “Yeah. This will be our last chance to check this floor out before the weekend. It’ll give us time to see what’s down there and how to possibly deal with it,” she explains.

  “Ok, but if I catch on fire you’re buying me new clothes,” I joke.

  Penelope rolls her eyes.

  As we descend, the heat only grows, and the stairs fill with a sulfurous smoke. I’m not an expert on lava, but it certainly feels like lava is down there. The glow of lava fills my vision as we enter the seventh floor. The air stings at my eyes, making it hard to see.

  “Lava? Peculiar,” Penelope whispers to herself.

  “I’d rather it not.”

  Hopper fans himself. “Just a reminder, but I’m not built for this environment.”

  “And we are?” I ask.

  Before Hopper can respond, a white light envelops our sight. Guess we’re out of time. I can already tell that this floor is going to be a pain, but that’s a pain for later. The weekend awaits.