Confirming that Azrael was indeed a legitimate student at their university, the thin man and his burly companion exchanged incredulous glances. While early admissions were not unheard of, they had never met anyone who started classes halfway through the semester.
In their minds, Azrael had to be either the privileged son of a powerful figure who'd bought his way in, or someone so exceptionally talented that Pixar University had made an unprecedented exception to accommodate him.
Given the extraordinary display they'd witnessed at the entrance to the campus, the latter seemed far more likely.
The two students approached Azrael with renewed interest. "I have to admit, I didn't expect you to actually be enrolled here," the thin man said, holding out his hand. "Let me see that address again."
"Class 1, Card Making Department, Grade 2024," he read aloud slowly.
His heavier companion's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, that's our class!"
Standing outside the classroom door, Azrael turned to thank his impromptu guides. "I appreciate you showing me the way."
During their short walk he'd learned their identities, the burly student was Harold, while his slender companion was Arnald. Remarkably, despite their vastly different physiques, they were twins, a fact that truly surprised him.
Harold waved dismissively. "No trouble at all. We had to report here anyway, so it was convenient." His expression lit up with real warmth. "Besides, you're our classmate from today on."
Arnald simply nodded in silent agreement.
The trio entered the classroom together, immediately attracting the attention of the students already seated inside. Curious eyes followed their movements as whispered questions rippled through the room.
"Who's the new guy?" someone asked directly.
Harold opened his mouth to answer, then paused uncertainly and scratched his head. "The situation is... complicated. Professor Alice will probably explain when she arrives."
"Are you sure Professor Alice will explain anything?" Arnald interjected with his characteristic bluntness.
"Uh..." Harold's confidence wavered as he considered their notoriously reticent instructor.
Azrael felt a growing sense of déjà vu at the mention of Professor Alice. It couldn't be my older sister, could it? he wondered. Surely no university would appoint someone with social anxiety as a student advisor?
On the other hand, given Alice's position as an instructor at Pixar University, serving as a part-time counselor wouldn't be entirely unreasonable. After all, such positions typically involved minimal actual interaction with students.
The minutes ticked by as more students filed into the classroom, each newcomer casting curious glances at the unfamiliar face in their midst. Azrael bore their scrutiny with practiced patience, already accustomed to being the center of attention.
As the clock struck nine, a slender figure in a cream-colored turtleneck stepped into the classroom.
"It really is my older sister," Azrael thought with resigned amusement, covering his forehead.
Alice's eyes found his as soon as she entered, lighting up with recognition. Her lips parted as if to speak, but she quickly pressed them together and remained silent, moving to stand beside the podium.
"Don't judge Professor Alice too harshly," Harold whispered. "She's actually quite reasonable, and she's very generous in granting leave requests." He noticed Azrael getting up. "Hey, where are you going?"
Under the confused stares of his new classmates, Azrael walked directly to Alice's position. "Senior Sister, may I introduce myself?"
The room erupted into confused murmurs. "Elder sister? What is he talking about?"
Before anyone could process this strange form of address, Azrael turned to face the class. "Hello everyone, my name is Azrael, originally from Velkairos. I'm grateful to Pixar University for this opportunity. Starting today, I'll be studying with all of you. I hope we can work well together.
The classroom fell into stunned silence as the implications of his words sank in. These were no ordinary students, anyone admitted to Pixar University possessed above average intelligence, and they quickly understood what they had just witnessed.
"A transfer student?"
"Whose influential family is he from?"
"This is ridiculous. I've never seen anything like it."
Undeterred by their reactions, Azrael calmly returned to his seat next to Harold.
"What did you mean by 'elder sister'?" Harold asked, his curiosity obvious. While he wasn't shocked by Azrael's unexpected enrollment, he had already seen enough to understand that his new classmate was exceptional, but the familiar way he addressed their professor intrigued him.
"Exactly how it sounds. Master Lucian is my teacher."
"What?!" The exclamation escaped Harold's lips louder than intended, drawing the attention of nearby students.
By the end of their first day together, news of Azrael's connection to Master Lucian had spread throughout Class 1 of the Cartography Department. His classmates finally understood why he'd addressed Professor Alice as Senior Sister, and more importantly, why Pixar University had made such unprecedented accommodations for a mid-semester transfer.
The following afternoon, Azrael stood at the base of a considerable mountain, studying the forested slopes that rose above the campus buildings. He turned to Harold with a quizzical look. "So our practical classes are up there?"
The mountain dominated the Immortal Spirit Campus, its peak visible from virtually anywhere on the grounds. The facilities of the Cardmaking Department had been strategically placed adjacent to its base, allowing easy access to the training areas hidden in the wilderness above.
As this was only Azrael's second day, he was still learning the layout and logistics of his new academic environment.
Harold shook his head with a slight correction. "Not just on the mountain, we use the whole mountain. Different age groups train at different heights." He gestured toward the distant peak. "First years like us are usually confined to the upper reaches. We don't need the kind of space that would require demolishing half the mountainside."
Azrael nodded thoughtfully. In the short time he'd been observing his fellow students, he'd noticed that most first-year students were Bronze-level Lore Cardians, with only a handful having reached the Silver level. Exceptional cases like himself remained rare, even at this prestigious institution.
According to Harold's casual comments, most of their classmates were approaching the threshold of the silver level breakthrough. The competitive academic environment naturally accelerated their development, though few had achieved the rapid progress that marked true prodigies.
Of course, Azrael could not exactly advertise his own silver-level status. Such information was better kept private until the appropriate moment for revelation arrived.
"We should get going," Arnald interrupted their conversation with characteristic directness. "Class starts soon."
Without further discussion, he summoned a massive canine creature and quickly mounted it before racing up the mountain path. The beast's powerful strides carried it swiftly to its destination, leaving clouds of dust in its wake.
Recognizing the practicality of this approach, Azrael stopped hesitating and summoned Pidgeot. The loyal bird appeared with his usual grace, though Pride's subtle enhancements made his appearance slightly more intimidating than a normal Pokémon. Within moments, they were airborne, following the winding paths to the top of the mountain.
Arriving at their designated training area, Azrael finally understood how someone with Alice's social anxiety could effectively teach.
She was standing next to a large blackboard and had written several bold letters across its surface in clear, precise strokes.
[Survival Combat Techniques for Lore Cardians in Wild Environments]
"Damn, why is this the topic today?" Arnald muttered beside him, visible tension creeping into his normally composed demeanor.
Since this was Azrael's first practical class, he had no context for understanding the various topics of the curriculum. "What's wrong with this particular subject?"
Harold's expression was that of someone facing execution. "The point of these lessons is to improve our survival rate in wilderness encounters," he explained grimly. "The crucial limitation is that we can't use cards capable of independent action."
While Harold was giving this explanation, a middle-aged man in traditional Taoist robes appeared beside Alice. The newcomer wore yellow silk robes and a distinctive yellow headband that marked him as someone of considerable authority within their mystical hierarchy.
With a subtle gesture of his fingers, the Taoist summoned a sturdy yellow-turbaned warrior to the mountaintop. The martial figure strode to the center of their training area, his heavy footsteps echoing off the stone below.
"Who would like to demonstrate first?" the warrior asked, his voice carrying the gravelly tones of ancient authority.
Lacking sufficient context to volunteer immediately, Azrael remained silent, watching the group's dynamics.
The mountaintop fell into an uncomfortable silence as the students avoided eye contact with both the instructor and the imposing warrior awaiting their first volunteer.
After several tense moments, a voice broke the silence with calculated provocation. "Professor Alice, why don't you let Azrael go first? We'd all like to see what kind of abilities he has."
Several pairs of eyes turned to him with expressions ranging from curiosity to subtle challenge. Azrael felt his jaw tighten as he recognized the underlying dynamic at play.
Of course it comes down to that, he thought with weary resignation. In this world, everything comes down to who can throw the hardest punch.
He understood their motives perfectly. His classmates assumed he'd gained admission through family connections rather than personal merit, and they wanted concrete proof of his abilities. None of them seemed to consider that Master Lucian didn't accept just anyone as a personal student, regardless of background or influence.
Feeling Alice's expectant gaze upon him, Azrael exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'll go first."
As he stepped into the designated combat area, the Yellow Turban Warrior offered a respectful salute. "My apologies in advance, young master."
As one of Alice's cards, the creature naturally recognized Azrael's identity and connection to its master's lineage.
In the next instant, the warrior vanished from its original position. When he reappeared, the whistling sound of displaced air preceded a devastating blow aimed directly at Azrael's face. The massive fist carried enough force to shatter stone, its trajectory precise and inevitable.
"I was really underestimated, wasn't I, Elder Sister?"
Two voices, one calm, one filled with wild excitement, overlapped and echoed across the mountaintop as something extraordinary began to unfold.