Trash: Chapter 148 Registration (Patreon)

<<<Author's Note: Sorry about the earlier submission. I didn't see the formatting error. As per our previous agreement, I have attached the character sheet along with the thoughts behind each section in the attached file. Sorry for any inconvenience or confusion. >>>>Chapter 148

Registration

Maybe I expected too much, when it came to registration, and what would be expected of me.

“Place your hand here,” Zabal stated coldly while pointing to an analyzing stone, his tone clearly denoting a boredom of being assigned to me. Seeing the stone I saw that it was similar to the one used by the arbiter, Mr. Yohan Smoulder. Though this first one didn’t seem to be as intricate as the one used to measure my magical potential. As if reading my mind, Zabal spoke, clearly not wanting to hear me ask what he already knew I was going to say.

“This is a basic competency scanning stone. It searches for completed badges that you have earned. Most notably, it looks for the Literacy and the Numerals badges. Should you fail to have either of these badges, then your registration will stop here as you have not met the minimum standard needed to proceed further in these halls of higher education.” By now Mr. Zabal’s haughtiness was on full display as again, he still seemed to think I was an uneducated layman from the outskirts of civilization.

“If you have the badges, the next set of doors will open, and you will—” he began, but not wanting to hear him drone on any further, I placed my hand on the stone and instantly caused a green light to shine, along with a set of automatic mechanisms to take place. There was a gentle chime that sounded, cutting off Zabal from his longwinded speech, before the doors began to open.

Seeing the system in place, I could tell that this was fairly advanced. Maybe the equivalent of a mobile app reader from my past life, like how I would let my phone get scanned to make a payment. Here it seemed to be the same process, though I could almost swear it was my hand that presented the required burst of energy, that was then accepted by the stone, which now acted as a reader. Seeing the process, it was odd, as I could almost understand the processes being used to start the automation, but I was still missing a piece.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Zabal asked mockingly. Hearing his condescending tone, I inhaled not wanting to cause an issue. Instead, I just nod acceptingly and proceed through the door, trying to cut off his tone of voice that seems so grading to my ears.

“Here is where we will find your magic capacity rating, you need a medium-high rating to proceed—” Zabal continues. This time, I place my hand on the stone without prompting, already realizing that this part too has been confirmed. However, unlike last time, I try to pay attention. This time, just like the previous time, the stone was cold. But it warms up almost immediately at my touch, and then there is a faint jolt of electricity, as if I am sending a static discharge into the stone. It is faint, far fainter than a real static shock, but now that I am focusing, I can feel it.

Almost immediately after the jolt of electricity is sent, I hear another chime and am already turning to enter the next set of doors. My movements are still so fast that I cut off Zabal’s comments almost instantly, but I do take a moment of delight in seeing the look of shock on his face as I turn past him and enter the third room.

“This will be a measure of your affinities. While you have a high affinity for magic, what really matters is your ability to wield and learn healing magic infused Skills,” Zabal states, again pointing out the purpose for this test. However, this stone looks a bit more like the one that Yohan Smoulder used when performing my initial evaluation. Unlike the one used by Yohan, this one seemed to only focus on the green band of light and was therefore far more limited in its scope.

Once again, my hand made contact with a cold stone that instantly began to glow and react to the heat of my hand and body. Once again, there was a shock of static electricity that seemed to pulse from my hand to the stone, followed immediately by a third chime.

Seeing that there was a process to this, that I, well my body was somehow the catalyst for this intricate series of opening and closing doors, I had to ask.

“Is there a class on how these doors operate?” I ask.

“You want a class on how to open a door?” Zabal fires back, finding the absolute most annoying way to present my question.

“No, I would like to know if this university understands the principles of mechanical engineering that go into this door, or if it is a lost art that is just held to by a few last working examples,” I press back having had enough of Zabal’s condescending attitude. As we speak, I stare back, not backing down, knowing that bullies never stop if they see you as weak. Seeing my posture shift from neutral to one that is balanced and ready to strike, or at least react to violence, Zabal pauses for a moment before posturing.

“Are you threatening an elder classman?” Zabal asks, his tone trying to hold onto the shred of authority his status in this school still provides him.

“No, I am just clarifying my statement to avoid confusion later on. If my gaining knowledge is threatening to you, then that is entirely on you,” I declare making sure to take slow calm breaths while not breaking eye contact in any way with Zabal. We stare for what feels like minutes, but finally, he breaks eye contact first by walking away while responding, “go ask someone who cares.”

“Translation, you don’t know,” I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for my still silent companions to hear. Looking at them, I see that they hear, and give me approving head nods in agreement, but they remain quiet.

“What was that?” Zabal asks angrily from in front of me, distracting me from the fact that my team is still unsettlingly quiet. Seeing that he is near the next door, and I can already see an ornately decorated table with people sitting at the far end, I assume this is the last and final room. It is also clear that this might be a chance for me to incriminate myself before these people who clearly look like faculty members making who have a final decision as to whether I will be accepted into this institution or not. Realizing the trap, I just reply in the most sugary way possible.

“I was saying how impressive your overall knowledge is about the opportunities available here at this university, and how I am thankful that you were the one who was assigned to be my liaison,” I reply entering the final room and seeing that not only was I being monitored by what seemed to be a panelist of five judges, but that my data had been collected, compiled and rendered before everyone.

Name: Catarine Bloom

Age: 16

Class: (Unique) Culmen Vitae* (5/6) (Maximum Potential 7)

Magic Rating: Current: Medium 

Potential: High

Magic: Life (5/7) – Class Linked Only, Holy (2/7), Earth (1/6)

Seals: (7 / 7)

Binding Oaths: 3 (Bloom Family Bloodlines)

Badges Completed: (7)

(Common) (4):  Basic Strengthening, Numerals, Letters, Running

(Uncommon) (3): Eagle Eyed, Improvised Weapons, Acting

As was expected, my badge Skills denoting that I had passed this world’s standards for basic literacy and mathematical comprehension were shown. I assume this was all information gathered from my various interactions with the three separate crystals.

Next was a panel showing my Attributes, which had been rounded down in all categories, showing the last full numeral value completed. Not a terrible way to go, but it does feel that I have done a bit more than the values seem to present.

Then finally, a list of my currently slotted Skills.

Class Culmen Vitae* CLASS Skills (5/6)

FREE SLOTTED SKILLS (5/5)

Personal / DiVoratore Bloodline Skills

It was odd seeing my Skills whittled down and then highlighted with a letter denoting the magical affinity tied to the different Skills. It was also interesting seeing that the system of verification used noted my Bloodline as being from the DiVoratore line, while my last name was still Bloom. Good to know that I will hopefully get to avoid a retelling of how I was fostered by Madame Bloom, because my biological family is a gaggle of degenerates, but not the good kind.

Looking ahead, I see Matriarch Florence Livanathan sitting at the center. Her face is stoic, though I can tell from the glint in her eyes that she has already seen my status page. That or she had a very good understanding of my capabilities from before I got here, which is why she is the only one who is avoiding the renderings that are floating holographically before us, and staring directly at me.

I stare back, no malice in my gaze, but I need to show that I will not be cowed by someone merely looking at me. In my past life, I had to deal with a lot meaner looks and stares, so this is somewhat easy by comparison. Especially as I feel I have passed some unspoken tests, when the Matriarch smiles with a coy smugness at the fact that I didn’t falter at her stare.

Then I can all but see the moment when the other healers gathered at the table are done reading my full status screen. I can tell by the way they all seem to pop up, one after another. Their postures loose while reading, then suddenly snapping back to attention when they are done reading. As if suddenly realizing that they are playing a role, and that they went from interested gawkers to strict teachers in less than a second. But I could tell that many were impressed, at least that is what I took by their slack jawed appearances and dazed glances that showed they were truly trying to interpret what they were reading. While it was a form of directly judging one by looking at their status screen, I felt moderately confident that my Skills and Attributes were high. Well high compared to the other students who likely come here.

“Have you all had a moment to read the candidate’s entry baseline status?” The Matriarch asks, her tone giving some of the panelists their final emphasis needed to get into character. Not saying a word, the other panelists nod their heads in agreement.

“Very well then, we will begin the final assessment for whether Healing Candidate Catherine Bloom, of the awakened DiVoratore bloodline is worthy of entering our facilities. I will open the floor to general questions,” the Matriarch begins.

There is a momentary pause as everyone looks at the Matriarch, wondering if she has any questions. One even asks, “did you want to go first, Matriarch?”

“No, I have seen all I need to make my judgement about this candidate,” the Matriarch notes. Hearing her words, I realize this is either a very good sign, or a very bad sign. I am expecting it to be good, but I do know that she and my master have had quarrels in the past. But given that Madame Bloom herself asked me to go in her stead, that means something, right? Then I realized I did get a number of benefits by taking this obligation from her, which makes me wonder if she expected some type of trouble for me here.

“Very well, then I will proceed with my first few questions,” the instructor that had asked the Matriarch if she had any questions states. With this, I see that there is clearly a pecking order in place, and this instructor is marking herself as the second in command, after the Matriarch. Given that no one seems to object to this new speaker, I assume they all agree that she is the second in charge. Or at least the one with the most pressing questions to ask at the moment.

“You have a rather, eclectic, collection of Skills. Would you be willing to dismiss a few of your current Skills for some that are more, practical.” The instructor begins, adding a note of judgement to her use of eclectic and practical, clearly implying that both are the right option here. However, I disagree.

“No,” I reply flatly.

“Good, I would—” the instructor begins, but then pauses as she realizes I rejected her claim altogether. “Wait, did you say no?”

“That is correct, I did say no, as in I will keep my current collection of eclectic Skills,” I reply back, making sure to use the terminology posed to me. The instructor just glowers at me for a moment, before biting her lower lip for just a second before she continues her interrogation.

“Very well then, I will get back to the Skills. I see that you have a violin and a sword as personal items you are bringing to the school. I assume you intend to make one of these your focus?”

“Correct, I intend to make both a focus,” I reply.

At this, I can all but see the instructor roll her eyes into the back of her head in annoyance as she pauses and then looks at me.

“Look, I understand you likely think it is cute to be a whatever this is,” she states while waving her hand casually before me, clearly judging my entire appearance and demeanor. “But this is a college for Healing, as that is what we will train you to be, by the time you leave here. All we are doing now is trying to find you an elective that will not detract too much from your studies, while you are getting a class assigned.”

“I already have a class,” I reply.

At my comment, the instructor who had been marking a few notes on the paper before her stopped and glared up at me. Seeing her stare, I stared back, equally unimpressed. “I see that I see that you do have a Class, a unique class at that, which means extra resources will need to be provided to help guide you towards filling out the best way possible. When it comes to classes, you might think that a rarer class is better, and that unique classes are in fact the best, but that is not always the case. For it takes time and precision to get you into shape by the time you leave here so that you don’t get yourself, or worse the friends who trust you killed. That is why we have a way of doing things here. So again, I will ask, which elective will you focus on, given that you have a slotted Divine Music Skill and a Skill for Stringed Instruments that music will be your elective focus?”

“And swordsmanship, as I have a badged Improvised Weapons Skill as well, along with Dance.”

“Dance? That is actually the one Skill I would suggest you remove entirely and replace with a better Skill that this school can provide,” the instructor pressed.

Hearing her, I knew I shouldn’t argue, but I felt compelled to continue, if for nothing else than to explain why I needed this Skill.

“I can’t I need Dance to help adapt to my Master’s fighting style,” I reply.

“I’m sorry, I was unaware that Madame Bloom had a fighting style?” A second instructor from the right side of the table cut in. This would be the third ranked teacher here, at least I assume it would go Matriarch center, the second in command to her right, then now the third. This person, who is on the Matriarch’s left.

“No, Madame Bloom called in a favor to get force Mr. Yi to be my instructor,” I reply.

There are a few gasps from the older two instructors, meanwhile there is silence from the Matriarch and the two instructors at the end. The Matriarch just looks on smugly at me giving answers, while the other two at the ends just look confused about who exactly Mr. Yi is. There is a moment of confusion as the second and third instructors seme to have a momentary conversation with each other, leaning forward and seeming to speak in front of the Matriarch. Meanwhile the fourth instructor, or last one on my left chooses this moment to ask their questions.

“I take it, this Mr. Yi is the reason you have already managed to badge your Improvised Weapons Skill?”

“Yes,” I reply while nodding.

“Now can you explain why you think Dance is the Skill needed to help you maintain a combat form?” The fourth instructor asks, clearly confused about the rationale for why I am so adamant about keeping this Skill.

“Well, I wanted a Skill that would help me with fighting, but most of Mr. Yi’s teachings are on being weapon agnostic, which is why I prefer dance,” I begin, and seeing that my words are hitting their marks I continue. “Dance is about balance, power, and most importantly control. Control over your movements, seeing how your body is moving in space and making sure your feet are planted, your legs are balanced, and most importantly that your core is powerful enough to hold your body while you move and glide against gravity itself,” I conclude.

For a moment, I feel that I have made my point, that I will get through this interview relatively unscathed. Of course, no sooner do I have this thought, then they circle back to a question that was already asked and answered.

“Again, you realize that you are applying to be the healer of the group. While your often seen as the leader in terms of whether your team should go out on a mission or not, that does not mean you are expected, or even allowed to be a front line fighter,” the second in command states.

Taking a moment to collect myself, I breathe in, and prepare to answer another question in what I feel is now going to be a very long and drawn out battle of wills.