Scarecrow: Part Three

Scarecrow: Part Three

The lesson began surprisingly on time. Jacques speculated that Mr. Diaz’s alarm clock had finally done its job, and he also noticed several improvements in his professor’s appearance—he had actually shaved. That being said, the ’Raging Hornet’ still wore his lavish silk shirt, which, sadly for his students, was unbuttoned far too low, putting a show of his hairy chest.

“Welcome to your second day at Miraval Academy” Mr. Diaz greeted his students as he picked up a piece of chalk. “Before we begin, let me give you a breakdown of how your days will work for the next three to four years.” He began sketching a rough schedule on the blackboard. “Your lessons are divided into three main categories—learning theory, developing your [Skills], and training for battle. However, since the courses don’t officially start until next week, and Class F students are strictly prohibited from using any training facilities, for now, you’ll just focus on learning how to use your [Skills].”

“Mr Diaz,” Carmen recalled his attention as she opened her yellow notebook. “Are we going to spend the whole day in this dusty classroom?”

“Absolutely not!” The professor leaned lazily against his desk. “There’s no way I’m wasting six hours here. If you get lucky—two hours max. Then you’re free to self-train, study, go to your job, or do whatever else keeps you from wasting my time—I couldn’t care less.” Carmen diligently jotted everything down, insults included.

“Alright, let’s begin,” Mr. Diaz said, cracking his knuckles. “Yesterday, we covered [Contacts.Window], [Inventory.Window], and [Stats.Window]. That means we can finally get to the fun part—the [Tree.Window].” The professor took a tungsten box from his [Inventory], placing it onto the desk with a dull thunk. Then, one by one, he pulled out various objects, distributing them to the students.

Jacques, Derserk, Oshira, and Sahel each received a steel bracelet embedded with a magic gem. Casimir and Jude were handed chainmail featuring a blue wire intricately woven through each ring. Katrina and Carmen received leather gloves, each sporting a round glass circle in the center of the palm.

“Mr. Diaz, is there nothing for me?” Connor asked, leaning forward to peer into the empty box in search of his missing present. In response, Mr. Diaz sneered, walked over to Connor, and pulled from his pocket a red ball featuring a concave hole.

“For you—‘Clown.’” Connor blinked as his professor handed him the little red ball. He turned it over and over in his hands, unable to fathom its secrets.

“What I’ve just handed out are called Mementos, and they’re indispensable to your training. Why? Because, as you know, all [Skills] rely on the correct arrangement of Magic Particles. But does anyone here actually know how to do that?” Sahel raised his hand, but Mr. Diaz ignored the toddler-looking student. “Don’t panic. The whole point of being an Essentia is to use magic effortlessly, learning to control your Mana directly would go against our very nature.” He gestured toward the items they had just received. “That’s why Mementos exist. When you wear one and pronounce one of the names listed in your [Tree.Window], the Memento automatically translates your will into a Radiation, which forces your Mana to arrange correctly.”

Casimir, Carmen, and Jude stared at him blankly, while Sahel whispered the explanation to Oshira, who nodded without, however, understanding anything.

“Mr. Diaz…could you…ahem…repeat that in simpler words?” Casimir implored.

The ’Raging Hornet’ sighed. “To use any [Skill], put your Memento on and say its name. That’s it, does a knight know how to forge a sword?” The ’Scarecrow’ nodded solemnly.

“Mr. Diaz, I have a question,” Carmen asked after finishing with her notes. “Where’s your Memento?”

In response, Mr. Diaz pushed up his sleeve, revealing an arm embedded with metallic cylinders, each one sunk deep into his flesh. “Technically, I don’t need one because, over time, Mementos train your body to the point where you can use any [Skill] by just thinking about it—that’s the ultimate goal to achieve before your graduation at the Miraval Academy.” He tapped one of the metal implants. “Still, some advanced versions might be useful for someone with low [WIS] like me. My [Class] is built for brute force, not precision, and this little toy helps contain my unquenchable rage.” He rolled his sleeve back down. “Now, put yours on.”

As Casimir and Jude proudly showed off their muscular bare chests while slipping into their chainmail, Connor stared in confusion at the strange red ball in his hand. “How am I supposed to wear a ball?” He asked, baffled.

Upon hearing his words, Mr. Diaz strode toward Connor, his sneer widening with every step. “Observe.” With theatrical precision, he placed the red ball onto Connor’s nose and gave it three pinches between his thumb and middle finger. *HONK!* *HONK!* *HONK!* Three loud trumpet sounds echoed through the classroom. “Life as a Class F is a tragedy, but yours is a comedy. So laugh—'Clown!'”

“Haha!” Katrina burst out, unable to hold back her laughter, and Mr. Diaz gladly joined in, while the rest of the students struggled to keep their mouths shut.

Connor’s hands trembled as he gripped the red ball, pulling it with all his might, but it wouldn’t budge. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!” The young Highlander Knight roared, panicking as he pulled harder and harder—each attempt only making the ball squeak more.

After a quick nod, Jude and Sahel rushed forward, shoving Mr. Diaz, who was now cackling uncontrollably, aside. “Connor, stay still for a moment!” Sahel shouted.

“At my three,” Jude yelled. “One, two—THREE!” They pulled with all the strength they had, but they failed miserably. Their only reward was more screams of pain and squeaks from their friend’s nose.

“Alright, alright—enough fun for today,” Mr. Diaz admitted, wiping tears from his eyes. “You two, sit down. Mementos have a built-in security system to protect them from being stolen while you sleep. Only the owner can remove them. How? By sit down and pay attention!”

Jude and Sahel exchanged a look of defeat, sighed, and reluctantly returned to their seats. Meanwhile, Connor’s fists clenched, his wet yet homicidal sight fixed on the ’Raging Hornet,’ who whistled like nothing had happened.

The professor pulled a strange metal handle from his desk and walked to the eastern wall of the classroom. There, he inserted it into a nearly invisible hole near the corner and turned it clockwise. With a faint grinding sound, part of the wall began to shrink inward, folding in on itself until a doorway wide enough for a person to pass through formed at its center. “We’re going to conclude today’s lesson outdoors,” he announced, pointing at the new exit.

“Mr. Diaz,” Casimir asked, surprised. “Where did the wall go?”

“Inside itself. There’s a mechanism hidden in the structure. Pretty cool, I guess.” “But…why? I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“You’re right, it’s, indeed, strange. According to old records, this building wasn’t originally a student facility, but a dormitory for the academy staff. However, in the past fifty years, only one person has lived here—a janitor named Moony Susan.” He paused for a dramatic effect. “But, one day, he mysteriously vanished. No belongings left. No forwarding address submitted. No trace of him having ever lived here was left in this building. And the weirdest part? No one remembers him. Not a single student, teacher, or citizen in Miraval City recalls ever seeing the guy. A ghost who left behind a haunted house.” He shrugged. “But honestly—who cares? In this world, there are too many mysteries to worry about. Wondering what is hidden inside ‘The Last One’ is much more interesting than some smuggler who lost the protection of some rich bastard.”

Without waiting for more questions, Mr. Diaz stepped through the opening and the rest of the students followed. Except for Jacques and Derserk, who stayed behind to help Casimir, whose massive body struggled to squeeze through the narrow doorway.

“Fresh air and the beautiful sight of the sky,” Mr. Diaz declared as he stepped into the open field, stretching his arms wide. “Being caged behind a desk goes against everything an Essentia is supposed to be.” He inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp breeze.

The backyard was covered in the same tall grass as the rest of the Developing Area, and from that yellowish sea, a grasshopper suddenly leapt into the porch, landing in front of Carmen, who crouched down and gently cupped it between her palms. “Look how cute it is, Kat,” she sweetly said, opening her hands to show the little green insect to her teammate.

The grasshopper locked its oversized red eyes onto the trembling ones of the Arpine lady before jumping straight onto her face. “Aaaah!” Katrina shrieked, zigzagging across the porch and screaming like her life was on the verge of an abrupt end and giving Connor a taste of sweet revenge.

“Afraid of a little insect, Miss Welf?” Jacques sarcastically asked once she finally stopped.

“Shut up! Insects are minuscule—you don’t even see them slipping into your clothes! And they carry diseases! How the hell am I supposed to fight something invisible?!”

“Sure, dudette.” Jacques’s smirk widened. “They’re so tiny, you didn’t even notice the one on your shoulder.”

Katrina twitched violently and dropped to the ground, but when she opened her eyes, she found nothing there. “You bastard!”

Jacques, as a true Marian gentleman, offered her his hand, doing his best to mimic the same malicious smirk she’d worn at breakfast.

“Stop being children and open your [Tree.Window].” Mr. Diaz ordered, pointing across the field. “See the trees in front of us? They’ll be your targets.”

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Two branches? Sniping and buffing? Not that bad. Jacques’ hope had just been resurrected.

“Before the training begins, I’m going to explain the differences between [Skills]. Just like [Stats], [Skills] fall into three main categories—[Stats.Skills], [Tree.Skills], and [Cheat.Skills]. However, [Cheats] will never be of any direct interest to us—never—trust me on that.” From his [Inventory], the ’Raging Hornet’ pulled out a massive iron ball, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy thud. “Let’s start with [Stats.Skills], and we’ll do it with a practical example. Casimir, come here and lift this ball.”

Casimir stepped forward, grabbed the iron ball, and lifted it with ease. “Nothing compared to the barrels I lift at my father’s farm,” he proudly stated while Mr. Diaz blinked in disbelief.

“You weren’t supposed to do that!” He sighed. “Anyway, now try to throw it at one of those trees.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Casimir gave it his best shot, but, despite landing really close, the ball failed to hit the target. “Sorry, Mr. Diaz. I’ve tried my best.”

“Again, you were supposed to fail!” Diaz yelled as he summoned another iron ball. “Now, say [Strength] and try again.”

Casimir nodded. “[Strength].” For an instant, a red wave bathed his body. Then, the ’Scarecrow’ threw the ball once more, but this time, it hit the target, shattering its trunk. “I did it, Mr. Diaz!” Casimir cheered. “After saying [Strength], the ball felt so light!” He flexed his arms, finding no visible change in his muscles.

“What Casimir just used is a [Stats.Skill], and, as the name implies, are directly connected to your [Dynamic.Stats]. Hence, there are seven of them. [Strength]—Increases your physical power. [Constitution]—Improves your natural defense and durability of your armor. [Perception]— Helps you detect hidden threats. [Dexterity]—Doesn’t enhance your speed, but just your agility. [Intelligence]—Boosts your Mana Frequency. [Wisdom]—Optimizes your Mana Manipulation. [Charisma]—Buffs your Servants or Summons. [Luck]—Inflates your [HitRate].”

Without warning, Diaz spun around and sprinted toward the building, launching himself onto the roof with a single backflip. However, as his feet hit the surface, the rotting structure failed to withstand his weight, plummeting face-first to the ground. Connor chuckled, concluding the circle of revenge.

“As I just demonstrated,” Diaz grumbled, brushing soil from his face as he stood. “Using [Constitution] reduces [HP] loss from impacts. At my level, all my [Stats.Skills] stay active permanently, but for now, you’ll need to activate them manually before every single fight. Anyway, self-training starts now!”

After that, the students spent a few minutes practicing their [Stats.Skills], except Jacques, who kept a low profile due to the less visible changes in his abilities.

“Now let’s talk about the final category—the [Tree.Skills]. The name comes, obviously, from your [Tree.Window], consume [MP] and are technically unique to each [Class]. Now read their descriptions carefully.” As everyone opened their [Tree.Window], Jacques noticed Connor’s body tense for an instant.

“Mr. Diaz,” Carmen spoke hesitantly. “My [Skills] require…weird conditions. I don’t think I can train them right now.” Her face had gone pale.

“From the look on your frightened face, I’d guess your [Skills] involve burning some unlucky guy alive, or other deranged nonsense.” Mr. Diaz shrugged. “Not uncommon. Dumb requirements for even dumber [Skills] are the standard for a Class F. So, don’t worry, and just train your [Basic.Skill] for today. But remember, if you want to unlock any new [Skill], you’ll eventually have to train all of them multiple times.”

The ’Ego Witch’ gave him a faint smile before glancing shyly at the ’Data Analyst,’ but she lowered her gaze before any words came out from her mouth.

Jacques observed the whole scene closely. That expression…I don’t care if you hail from that Adam-forsaken shithole called Suarez. New life. New start. Whatever those conditions are, Port Island is crawling with low-tier criminals we can torture or even kill together! The ’Javelinist’ took a sacred oath.

“[ManaSphere].” A glowing-purple orb was ejected from Carmen’s glove, instantly turning several trees to ash on impact.

Mr. Diaz let out a low whistle. “Outstanding job, for a Class F. What you have just seen was the [Basic.Skill] for any member of the [Mage.Ring]—a release of Crude Mana, shaped according to the intrinsic properties of her Essentia.” He glanced toward Katrina. “Since you’re a Magician too, show us yours—’Data Analyst!’”

Katrina raised her palm, but instead of a sphere, a wide and thin disk of Mana was thrown at the forest, slicing through dozens of trees as easily as cutting paper.

Diaz nodded in approval. “Total opposite, I see. Well done, Witches.” Then he turned to the others. “Now, members of the [Warrior.Ring]—Jacques, Derserk, Connor, Oshira, Sahel—materialize your weapons!”

Jacques summoned a glowing blue javelin, Connor a small knife that resembled a children’s to, Derserk’s a scythe with an ebony shaft taller than he was, and Oshira and Sahel exotic scimitars, their blades curving with exaggerated elegance. While the blurry weapons of the ’Javelinist’ and ’Clown’ only offered a rough impression of their shape, the scimitars of the ’Copper Blade’ and ’Tin Blade’ were highly detailed, resembling those freshly purchased from the most expensive weapon shop in the Capital. That being said, it was the ’Gravedigger’s’ weapon that stood out the most.

Derserk’s scythe had a pitch-black blade, featuring a crimson-glowing edge and an engraved sentence written in an ancient golden script along each side—’Nobody is Immortal’ and ’Nothing is Eternal.’

“I hope your other weapon isn’t as small as this one,” the ’Raging Hornet’ winked at Connor. However, he didn’t react—his eyes locked on something only he could see.

Meanwhile, Jacques stepped closer to Derserk, eyeing the scythe with curiosity. “Ballserk, why isn’t your weapon a shovel?”

“It’s Derserk, not Ballserk.”

“Sure, dude. I just didn’t expect a gravedigger to carry a scythe.”

“The real job of a gravedigger is to ensure the dead stay underground.” For a brief moment, Himself took over the young man’s body, but, thankfully, Jacques just laughed, assuming it was a joke.

“All members of the [Warrior.Ring] get Mana Weapons,” Mr. Diaz explained. “They’re not as strong as the physical ones you can buy at your local store, but they’re better than nothing and don’t break. Now, it’s the [Monk.Ring] turn. Jude, you go first.” He pointed at the tanned young man.

“[Adrenaline].” A surge of green energy bathed the body of the ’Mafioso,’ and the next instant, he started moving with astonishing speed—too fast for the human eye to follow. "Fuuccck!" However, after only three light-speed steps, he collapsed face-first into the grass, completely drained of energy.

“Great Skill,” Diaz commented, walking over and kneeling next to his face. “But, clearly, balanced by an abysmal amount of [SP].” The professor pulled a glass vial from his [Inventory] and poured a glowing-green liquid directly into his student’s mouth. Within seconds, Jude’s eyes snapped open, color returned to his face, and his limbs twitched back to life. “Green Potions are expensive, even for a Class A like me. So from now on, try to manage your stamina better.” Diaz warned. “Casimir, now it’s your turn.”

“[Stoicism]!” The ’Scarecrow’ shouted as a bluish wave of Mana submerged his body. Yet, unlike Jude, there was no visible change on Casimir.

“Good job Kaz…but,” Mr. Diaz slowly approached his student, placed a hand on his shoulder, and softly whispered—“Sorry.” Then, the ’Raging Hornet’ punched the ’Scarecrow’ square in the solar plexus.

Mr. Diaz stood tall, fist raised like a mythic hero, while Casimir rocketed through the air. He crashed through the first tree, then the second, third, fourth, and so on, all happening too fast for the students to react, who could only powerlessly stare at Casimir’s Red Bar, now completely gray, as his journey ended after obliterating the twelfth tree.

“CASIMIR!” Carmen cried as Jacques and Derserk sprinted down the long trench of crushed grass formed by their friend’s free flight.

“Jude—MOVE YOUR ASS!” Jacques barked as he and Derserk failed to lift Casimir’s heavy body. Then, by using Jacques’s Basilisk-leather overcoat as a makeshift stretcher, the three of them managed to transport the ’Scarecrow’ back to the classroom, where the ’Mafioso’ pulled out a pillow from his [Inventory], placing it beneath Casimir’s head.

“Casimir, please wake up…” Carmen whispered through tears, gently shaking him with trembling hands, and, somehow, Casimir’s eyes opened. The ’Scarecrow’ was disoriented by the sight of everyone standing around him—everyone, except Katrina. His eyes darted in every direction until he spotted the ’Data Analyst’ still outside, staring at her [Tree.Window] with boredom in her eyes. Casimir’s heart broke, and he fainted again. “CASIMIR!”

“Please move, Carmen. Let me try with my [Skill].” Derserk knelt beside his friend. “[MeatFeast].” A violet wave washed over Casimir, restoring his [HP], without, however, waking him up.

“It’s useless,” Mr. Diaz interjected. “Damage taken when [HP=0] can’t be recovered with new [HP]. Hen—”

*SMACK!* A loud slap interrupted him. “You killed him!” The ’Ego Witch’ screamed, raising her hand to strike a second time. But, before it landed, the ’Data Analyst’ caught her wrist.

“Relax, Cammy, he’s still breathing. I’m sure Mr. Diaz wouldn’t kill a student in front of this many witnesses. Right, professor?”

Mr. Diaz nodded. “Casimir is a Tank—his job is to take hits. I have [STR=413] and he has survived my mighty sting. That means any physical attack under that level won’t affect him too much from now on.” He spoke proudly, like a craftsman admiring his masterpiece. “What I’ve done might very well be called calibration, and now, thanks to me, Casimir is a top-tier Tank who will have no trouble finding a job even on a Class B team.”

“That doesn’t justify your violence!” Carmen shouted. “You’re unfit to be our professor.” She turned to her teammates. “Derserk, Jude, please help me take Casimir to his room.” Wordlessly, they nodded, and the four students left the classroom.

“Well, it seems our lesson is over.” Mr. Diaz shrugged. “I thought being forced to teach Class F would be boring, but I had my fun. See you tomorro—” The professor stopped as he felt a weight on his shoulder.

“Tell me how to remove my Memento—NOW!” Connor’s furious expression left no room for doubt.

“Oh…right, I almost forgot. So, Connor, tell me—what did you feel after summoning your weapon?”

Connor frowned. “Like I had an extra limb.”

The ’Raging Hornet’ snapped his fingers. “Exactly! You don’t need to think to speak or to breathe, and your Memento works the same way. Your Mana is like one of your muscles. You’ve tensed it, so all you have to do is loosen it.”

After metallic clinks, the bracelets worn by Jacques, Oshira, and Sahel, along with Katrina’s gloves, dropped to the ground. However, Connor’s red nose stayed right where it was.

“Why isn’t it working?!” He yelled, panic fully visible in his eagle eyes.

“Try again. First extend, then contract.” Connor repetitively summoned and dismissed his little knife, but it didn’t matter—the ball was still there.

“MR. DIAZ, IT’S NOT WORKING!”

The professor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, a red aura flared around his hand, using it to pull the ’Clown’s’ nose, again and again, as Connor screamed in unimaginable pain. “MR---DIAZ!” Connor was on the verge of crying.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he declared, pulling from his [Inventory] a flask filled with glowing yellow liquid. “Griffin Urine—the best acid against magic. Don’t worry, the doctors at Saint Miraval Hospital can regrow a nose in a matter of weeks…I guess.” Oshira and Sahel immediately grabbed his arms, pinning him in place as the professor poured the acid.

“WAIT! You’re insa—AAAAAH!” The skin around his nose hissed and peeled, leaving behind only raw, exposed flesh. “Mr. Diaz…Mr…Diaz…” However, despite half his face was now melting, the Memento still stood firmly over his nose—untouched.

For the first time in two days, Jacques saw Mr. Diaz’s expression change. He pressed both hands to his wrinkled forehead, baring his teeth like a cornered animal. “…Guys…the lesson’s over,” he mumbled. Then, he walked up to Connor, gently placed an arm around his shoulders, and pulled out a Leech Cloth, wiping away tears and blood alike. “Don’t worry, kid. Principal Miraval is an expert in weird cases like this, and I swear on my honor that before sunset, we’ll get that thing off your face.” And with that, he led Connor out of the classroom, leaving Jacques, Katrina, Sahel, and Oshira behind.

“My sister and I will train a bit more in the forest. Goodbye,” Sahel said, and the two began to walk away, though Oshira kept her amber eyes fixed on Jacques till the very last moment.

Jacques exhaled, relieved that his personal police state had finally come to an end, but then, a soft whistle broke the silence. ”Lady Welf,” Jacques took the hint. “May I ask for the honor of training together?” He bowed, offering his hand. As a true Marian gentleman, he could not leave a lady alone—especially one who might potentially blackmail him.

“I gladly accept, but don’t make me regret it.” Together, they moved to a quieter edge of the forest. There, Jacques with his javelins and Katrina with her magic disk spent the rest of the afternoon hitting trees. However, Jacques often found himself looking away from the Arpine lady, whose splendid outfit seemed far more suited to an evening gala, and his self-control was far from perfect—she laughed every time the ’Javelinist’ fell for the temptation.

“What about training something more advanced?” Jacques suggested.

“[ManaSphere] is my only offensive [Skill],” Katrina replied. ”The rest are focused on analysis. So go ahead, use your powers—I’ll observe them very closely.”

“[AlphaJavelin=12].” A thicker, more solid-looking javelin materialized in his hand. But when he threw it at the tree—it missed.

*DING!* A notification window popped up in front of him.

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“Unlucky. I analyzed your [Skill]. Its [HitRate] is 50%, plus modifiers from your [Perception], [Dexterity], and [Luck].”

Jacques grimaced. -49.8% [HitRate]? Well…being a sniper is overrated. “Anyway, it seems I’ve unlocked new Skills.”

“So have I,” Katrina replied, brushing a strand of icy hair behind her ear. “I’ve unlocked a book to store all the info about the [Skills] I’ve analyzed, plus another one to write Queries on this archive. Looks like I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.”

Her words reminded Jacques of the other branch in his Tree. “Miss Welf, I want to try a different [Skill]. Can I shoot you with a javelin? Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

Another malicious smirk curled on her lips. ”On our first date, you take me to an isolated spot in the middle of the woods, begging to let your spear penetrate me? Ah, and to think I promised my father I’d bring home a gentleman…Well, I’m willing to make an exception—just for you.” She ended with a wink, and Jacques’ body betrayed his poker face by turning completely red.

“[DefenseJavelin].” A dark-blue javelin struck Katrina in the chest, dissolving into a shimmering wave that flowed across her body.

Katrina faked a moan before checking her [Stats.Window]. “My [CON] just increased by 17%. Your [Skill] buffs allies without putting you at risk on the front lines—very useful for a Class F.” She clapped as he heard a new notification sound.

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Jacques remembered his conversation with Chad Rolandsson. Perhaps I’m not meant to be the protagonist of this story. But maybe I can help the ’Hero’ reach his happy ending.

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