Tommy stared into the ceiling. A day had since passed from his encounter with the student council. Now the subjects of talks around the school, it had proven to be quite the pleasure for him. Knowing that it was his name that was spoken, uttered, and announced with such fervor brought him joy.

There was nothing wrong with hurting a few people after all, much less if they were the ones that instigated it.

As it was morning, Tommy rolled to the side. His eyes on the digital clock by his bed, it read to be 9:00 AM.

Though he did not have class until an hour later, the thought of him waking up so late unsettled him. Given that he normally would have awoken at least a couple hours before, Tommy wondered what had gotten to him.

Whether it be the result of the monotony of school, or his already frail resilience, he did not know. The young man, who did not wish to waste his time any further, stood up.

Pores, stuffed full of sweat, his hand reached for his forehead. On contact, he felt the familiar sensation of water and mild heat. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

A fever… As that thought reiterated in his mind, the familiar feeling of weakness permeated his body. A weakness that threatened to suffocate his innate desire to live, he took a moment to let that fact settle in.

People who experience sickness naturally should be killed off. They don’t provide anything for society, people, or anyone in particular. Back long long ago, even the smallest of diseases could spread and destroy an entire civilization if left unchecked.

Certainly, Tommy saw no fault with that statement.

“Hm.”

Tommy didn’t really want to die, but at the same time, his knife was conveniently on the table next to him. While he hadn’t dissected himself before, there was a first for everything in life right?

Kac-hing. At the press of a switch, the blade snapped out of its handle.

Just a normal knife, it was a tool he used in both combat and experimentation. Pressed against the surface of his forehead flat, his whole vision was now covered by the knife.

How beautiful. It is the perfect diameter, length and material. With a gentle yet sensual lick that befits such a masterpiece, he slathered it up and down.

Capable of making butterflies out of any pieces of walking flesh, he asked himself when was the last time had used it. In order to avoid a situation where he is unable to cut his enemies, the boy known as Tommy Sessogun must test it first.

His natural response was then to look around the room. In order to assess the thing that would best stand the test of the blade, he analyzed his bedroom.

Empty. That is all it is. It is a room devoid of much furniture or decoration. Just as he liked it. Though he saw eyes in the shadows, and shadows at his feet, he didn’t suppose he could cut those.

A room that is filled to the brim with unnecessary components, can not hope to harbor as many corpses or bodies, after all. But still, it disturbed him. Without anything to cut, how can he test his blade?

If he was unable to guarantee the blade’s efficiency, then he was not willing to use it on himself. In his head, a few clean cuts would do the trick far better then a series of savage stabs.

Disappointed with that realization, his mind tried to move on.

Remembering his class started at 10, he checked the time on the clock.

It now reads 9:24.

Good enough for him, the boy turned to change into his pre-prepared clothes.

The shirt and trousers, it was nothing special. As he fitted his head and arm through the shirt, the blade dragged through its sleeve, separating the fabric down the middle. While it was a pity, he does not want to let go of the knife. Attacks, which can appear from any corner or location at any time, must be properly prepared against.

Thankfully, because his legs do not hold knives, he is able to wear them without any damage. It would be unfortunate if he was mistaken for a prostitute, or worse, a homeless person. He couldn’t stand the thought that people might see him as either, though mainly the latter, at least the former could live in a brothel.

The next decision he made was to leave. Tommy walked forward and opened the door to the outside world.

Upon heading outside, his first idea was to walk to class. Thanks to sheer stroke of luck, the path to his first class of the day was no more than a few minutes walk at best. Grateful that was the case, Tommy did not stop to think until he arrived.

No one on his way chose to stop him either. Besides the fact that there were no laws against what he was doing, Tommy’s status as a being was also beyond them. Within this school where there is a differentiation in power, also came a differentiation in ambition.

In most cases, those with the desire or proficiency for combat trained themselves for it. Under the law of the government, these individuals of Althaiez Academy were given the exclusive permission to use whatever destructive abilities they had for the apprehension of criminals and evil doers. As well as to show dominance and settle disputes among the students, of course.

In exchange, the headmaster of the school, the titular Rainee Althaiez himself, provided safety and reassurance among the government. A mage, the so-called Rainee was the human equivalent of a nuclear deterrent. With the power to single handedly capitulate an entire state by himself, he was offered great leeway in return for cooperating with the government.

No doubt not wanting to be on the receiving end of a magical bomb, they let what would otherwise be a heavily restrained school the permission to do whatever they wanted.

Tommy, who had still been walking, nearly bumped into someone. Without faltering, he paid no mind to who could’ve been his victim and continued.

“What the hell….” A student said. “What’s he carrying around a knife for?”

For some reason, everyone around him seemed to back off, looking at him as they would a mythical being, with fear and confusion.

That’s right, know your place, mongrel. The tales of his might and prowess had no doubt reached their ears.

Basking in ‘glory’ as the students around him made way for him as cars would for an ambulance, it wasn’t long before Tommy reached his destination.

Before the door in front of him, was a man. His squinted eyes no doubt glued to the weapon of his beloved pupil made him laugh.

“Hellloooo sleepyhead!”

Tommy, who had been immersed in his own fantasy, had now woken.

“Azama?”

Calling out the name of the familiar teacher, his eyes drew themselves to his face.

The first thing that he noticed in his view being his distinct smile, Tommy did not realize the attack that came after. Fwoosh, an attack is aimed toward his forehead. To be more specific, a gentle flick.

“Was that necessary?” Agitated at his teacher's usual antics, he rolled his eyes.

He wasn’t some kid that needed discipline or broken any rules, so he didn’t understand why he was hit.

“As necessary as you carrying a knife around and walking in burlesque clothes.”

The teacher, who was impressed by his own joke, chuckled to himself.

Tommy, however, who remained unimpressed by his comparison with an exotic dancer, sighed again.

In the next instant, empty air took the place of Tommy’s switchblade. Slightly taken aback at its disappearance, Tommy now saw it in the hands of Azama.

“Sorry kiddo, but I’m just gonna confiscate this weapon of destruction off your hands.”

“And what do you suppose I’ll defend myself with if I’m attacked?”

Attempting to determine the conditions of his wellbeing, Tommy asked that question with complete and utter confidence. His teacher's gaze, which peered into his with complete seriousness, lingered for a few brief moments.

“Well, besides demon dogs, caterpillars, eldritch abominations and water, you also have yours truly to protect you!”

Upon responding, Azama gestured to himself, and made a pose.

An expression taken straight out of a cheesy spy movie, his head then darted from left to right in a comical fashion, while his fists fought imaginary gangsters. Thus, Tommy, who had been given his answer, could do nothing but head to class.

Without his knife to stab or eviscerate flesh, he instead found a seat near the window.

Looking outside with a solemn look, thoughts of a reflective variety entered his mind.

To be fair, a knife wasn’t really necessary for a day to day school life. In this day and age, all that’s required is a paper and pen, or a digital device capable of accomplishing the same thing. Tommy did not recall the last time he used a knife in class, while it no doubt had some use in arts and crafts, it was pretty much useless otherwise.

Meanwhile, the other students who took this class had begun to barge in.

Settled, the familiar sound of chatter and bickering gradually grew louder. Indeed, while older generations contemplated the increasing presence of smartphones and virtual technology, Tommy felt it was far fetched. Rather than completely take over socialization, it was merely a bonus addition. Nothing, it seemed to him at least, could ever replace the joys of speaking to someone in person. To prove his theory, Tommy envisioned a scenario where he would, with visceral desire and intent, stab someone to death. Judging by the quickening of his heart and the tingles of pleasure racing down his spine, he makes the natural conclusion that even imaging such does not compare to the joy of feeling the warmth of blood upon his hands and his adversarie's life in his grasp.

The young man's reverie, which could not last for much longer, is once again intruded.

“Hello insect, enjoying the view?”

The sound of the voice penetrated his ears like a broken alarm.

Hearing this intrusion, he turned to meet the person who stood next to him.

Dressed in black professional ware, the boy known as Valefar now watched him.

An impressive head above Tommy in height, his towering presence slightly unnerved the seated boy. Brown haired, blue eyed, and handsome, he was the target of many girls' affections. All this when combined with his unique race, only served to further their desires.

With pale skin, and a distinct aura of nobility, the boy known as Valefar was what is known as a vampire. A people akin to humans in appearance, they in fact harbored more similarities than differences. In contrast to the common myth where they had to subsist on blood and disintegrated in light, they instead treated blood as alcohol and light as an inconvenience.

Functional members of society in all aspects, Tommy disliked them nonetheless.

A cold nasal grunt escaped Tommy’s throat. “Yes, you anemic parasite.” He replied, a harsh emphasis on the latter half.

His unyielding gaze, which was supplemented by a sly smile, perturbed Tommy.

The smile of someone who acted like they knew something others did not, Tommy’s frustration grew by the minute. Known to be a member of some blue blooded clan of ‘basement dwellers’, it was no wonder that the bloodsucker turned out this way.

A self concerned egotist, that is.

“There’s no need for such vexation, insect, I’m simply worried over your wellbeing.” Even though he spoke words of earnest, all Tommy heard was the discernible presence of indifferent curiosity.

Valefar’s expression were no less tainted by Tommy’s words as he was by the snow outside.

Tommy’s nostrils flared as he stared back.

How annoying. Even if the being before him had all the characteristics of a human, he was far from it. Though flesh, hair and speech were the same, Valefar’s capacity for compassion was non-existent. More a wretched, deformed copy of humans than its own entity, he was only a beast.

A beast with no greater right to life than swine or sheep. A lump of animalistic flesh with human skin. A swirling mass of blood. A walking carcass that thrived among cattle.

Maybe for a change of habit, Tommy could drink Valefar’s blood instead. Maybe an exquisite blood sausage or pudding could have been made out of it too, how delicious, why limit one's culinary choices?

There is no answer given to Valefar’s question. Without a competent conversational partner, all the vampire can do is seat himself and smile. And smile he did, not an awkward smile but one from the bottom of his heart, as if he were savouring the situation.

“A word of warning from me brother. You’ll regret it if you don’t get that out soon.”

The class then began. A jovial cry and expression of their teacher indicated as much.

Chalk on the blackboard, a lesson devoid of any happiness or great contentment is given.

Even with an academy such as this one, it seemed the escape from the subject known as ‘mathematics’ was impossible.

Though this school incorporated magic and forms of combat into their curriculum, they also had additional options for normal subjects. The more popular subjects required several classes to fit their students, and therefore, there were times when you were stranded among a sea of students you had no compatibility with.

The only saving grace of unison was the makeshift homeroom lessons.

Largely unnecessary for most students, homeroom classes were a concept saved for those special snowflakes who had power, and was thus a session where they could be given special information in private.

Begrudgingly, Tommy tried to keep up with the lesson. While he stared intently, his mind had some difficulty comprehending the cryptic symbols and letters, whether it be the ones or 1s, or the 3s and threes. Like snowflakes in a blizzard. They all seemed to mix together, I mean, what was the difference, anyway?

They were just imagined concepts, not even real, which fucker was going to stop him if he thought 1+1 was five, or three plus 2 was twenty? No one.

After this revelation, the rest of the class was spent in relative silence. By the time the bell rang again, most of the students were ready at the door, and sprang away.

Following them, Tommy managed to quickly integrate his existence like a droplet of water into a sea of people. Unreachable, untouchable, and by all means a being that once was but was now more an insignificant part of a large swirling mass. The boy wasted no time in leaving.