Classes, classes... They had finally been dealt with.
Waiting a few more minutes after the final bell rang, V loitered in a corridor as he watched the many students depart from the school. Amongst those hundreds of bodies were their own lives, with their own passions, and all the kind he could imagine.
The horde reminded him of the many humans Urizen had snuffed away...
He shut his eyes and grumbled inaudibly. It brought a visceral reaction in his gut, as if it were immolating over.
Never forget.
V reopened his eyes with that small mantra.
The hallways were asleep at the moment, vacant from any bustling footsteps filling it with activity. V preferred this sort of atmosphere more than some others, where he could drink in the tranquility and let it refresh him.
To have nothing interrupting his thoughts was a boon.
A calm velocity was always more his tempo than anything else. Though, admittedly, he desired in some parts of his confined heart something that could oppose it in some way. Perhaps it was a longing for his long-lost brother he never had the chance to reconcile with, before the whims of the world decided he was yet to meet him.
His steps came to a stop, settling atop the pristine wooding that was the corridor's grounds.
V caught sight of a Liberi girl, of whom he remembered to be named 'Patia.' She was a confidant of Fiammetta—making the girl the friend of a friend to him—and not much more. At most, he had seen her in passing and classrooms, the two granting one another short, cursory recognition at most—ignoring each other at least.
Today should have been the same old book he remembered reading from, scrawls worth only a brisk notice to remind himself of the repetition of sidelong greetings. However, he was sorely wrong.
"V," Patia called out.
V ceased walking and turned her way. He took notice of her posture. Arms crossed. Leaning slightly to the side in distribution of her weight. It was as if she was dissatisfied or disappointed with something.
"Yes, Patia? Is something the matter?" He shut his book, a thump resounding in the air.
"Did you skip class today?" she asked.
"No, I didn't."
V pondered why the woman was so interested in his attendance. Somebody such as Serpilia possessed some silk of connection with him, but that was all it was. Perchance they could tug the strings for mutual benefits, but that was where it ended.
"Good," Patia replied, a more well-pleased expression now varnished over her previous one. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Why do you ask?" he inquired with genuine curiosity.
She uncrossed her arms, staring him straight in the eye. "You do know how important your current position is, don't you?"
"I would say that's a rather exorbitant exaggeration. What's so important about it?" V's finger fiddled the engravings on his cane without flair.
Patia's countenance shifted ever so slightly.
Was that annoyance?
"I don't think you really understand what kind of position you're in," she declared unwaveringly.
"...? But I do," he deftly replied.
"You're qualified for SCL," she pronounced, testing.
"So I am." He nodded. "It's nothing to be distraught over."
"Nothing—?!" Patia blurted out.
V blinked a few times in her surprise outburst, as if the word from her mouth had blown a harsh squall his way.
Patia practically stomped his way, pointing to him. "Do you even know how many non-Sankta students have achieved SCL since this academy's founding?!"
"Not much, I've heard." He thought over shoving the accusatory limb away, but reined himself in.
"Practically none! Not even 0.01%! You'd be one of the first ever non-Sankta in Sanctus Aeternum to achieve SCL!"
V watched as Patia caught her breath. A realization came over her in the way she had run her mouth before, much due to the silence he gave her in the form of a judgemental gaze.
"And this concerns you... why?" V asked.
"You... I..." Patia clenched her fists and shook her head, Liberi feathers swaying with her short-cut hair. "Forget it! See if I care if you drop down and go for a mediocre life!"
V stepped aside as the girl stormed off. The thumps of her footfalls reverberated through the hallways. Just as quickly as it fell, like thunder, it receded away. He was left once more in quietude.
The hell's her problem? Griffon exasperatedly spoke in his psyche.
"I don't understand either. There shouldn't be a problem in the first place." V massaged his neck. "But... How strange. It's as if she has something to prove?" he mused.
What? If she has something to prove, then she'd best do it herself! Griffon retaliated.
"Food for later thought, we have more important matters." V tossed his cane up and snatched it back into his grip. "I'll deal with her later if she's persistent with whatever that was."
More important matters... yeah, I hear you. Griffon sparked within his tattoos, eager. You felt another Demon like I did, didn'tcha?
"Without fail."
***
The Demonic signature they had felt was directly in the school they were in. V was in some parts glad that was the case, as he was close to it, but was marginally worried that some people could have been targets of where the Demon resided.
Which was a club room, no less.
V stood before it as if it were some imposing gate, the door lined with a decor that plainly gave away what the club subject was; if the apparent signage wasn't enough.
Mysticism Exploration Club? Ha? What kinda club is that? Griffon confusedly voiced in his mind. I don't get this whole schooling thing. Do they just allow any clubs to be a thing?
"Most clubs in Laterano, if not all, Griffon," V started, leaning against the wall, tilting his wrist holding his poetry book, "are instituted if they meet a certain criteria."
...And that criteria is?
V kept his eyes completely focused on the inscribed sign. "If they can craft a savory and flavorsome confection, then the privilege to establish a club is granted in full."
Are you serious? the Familiar exasperated.
"I am not," V replied. "It also has to fulfill the criteria of being for educational purposes. The club subject, I mean."
Uh-huh, and how does this club relate to... 'educational purposes'? Griffon chuckled.
He ruminated over the answer. "Well, this is mainly a club for research, a kind of study into some Arts or folklore that many find to be shrouded in speculation. It attempts to approve or disprove myths or legends in relation to them."
So... a bunch of nerds doing some theory-crafting? Griffon asked.
"A crude statement, and neither accurate," V softly chided. "Their research methods and thesis are widely regarded to be rather excellent in quality."
Eh... true. But they could have just kept their club name short, like an Arts Research Club or something. Hey, that was pretty good, right, right? Why the heck did they choose mysticism? That sounds so weird!
"Eccentricism is encouraged for students to enjoy themselves," V elaborated. "It's the modus operandi for a majority of Lateran schools."
...Even if said eccentricism had led to some, ahem, fulminations on school grounds.
Griffon wooed. You know a whole lotta things for something that doesn't interest you.
"Lemuen was rather adamant that I join a club, he began, from Play, to Poetry, and to this... 'Mysticism Exploration', she... 'convinced' me to study them to see if they capture my interests."
Must've been a journey. Hey, you said eccentricism was encouraged, right? What'd they name the Poetry Club? Griffon excitedly asked.
"Sanctified Poet's Society," V responded. "I would've preferred 'Dead Poet's Society', if you ask me."
How gloomy! Now, now, enough about that. We gotta get to the bottom of this horrendous signature.
V peeled himself from the wall. "I concur."
He stood before the door, analyzing it. More precisely, the lock. Thankfully, their activities were not organized during a time such as today, so he didn't have to worry about any passerbys noticing his suspicious activities.
"Can you disable the lock, Griffon?" V set his hand on the door handle.
"Piece of cake," Griffon spoke, materializing a small portion of himself.
A volt traveled through V's tattoos, leading down his arms and onto the metal handle. The electricity continued on and on, until it penetrated where the lock was located within less than a second, the door then turning and...
"Viola!" Griffon receded back into V's body.
"Excellent."
V walked inside, making sure to close the door behind him.
There was a crack, no different from a wooden stool's legs breaking at the seams, splinters spreading about. It set both he and Griffon on high-alert. However, there was no stool, nor anything buckling underneath an oppressive force.
An illusion, perhaps. But that meant there was certainly something present.
"Did you hear that?" V called out to Griffon, eyes darting across the multiplicious trinkets and academy-issued Arts Unit for study—some with their panels open and revealing Originium circuits of industrial-make that he did not know.
Heard that loud and clear, V, Griffon replied. Demon's got a niche in hiding its presence, eh?
"Without doubt." He no longer heard the crack.
Attempting to analyze the room further, he made note of the many books resembling Demonic Grimoires, and small wands twisted in spirals and encompassing larger surface areas. The materials were nothing that could conduct Demonic Energy. Well, it was not Demonic Energy that a specific material was adept in conducting—none were—but the Demonic Energy itself that would make it adept.
I'm not much into the economic side of things, but how expensive are these? Griffon gaped.
"Although we are in a privileged academy, Arts Units can be expensive, meaning high-quality ones are scarcely provided for study," V said. "These seem to be rather sub-par in quality."
Huh. Gotcha, Griffon hummed.
"I wasn't aware you took interest in such things." V glanced across another batch, hands perched atop his cane stoically.
Can't a bird have a few interests? It felt like Griffon had flapped his wings. You know I'm not like any geese!
"You're right. You're a Demonic breed." V didn't argue, continuing his journey across the maze.
He made sure to watch his step, the pristine floor boards fortunately not creaking under the weight of his body. A glimmering sheen could be seen upon the ligneous tiles, sunlight refracted and reflected brilliantly; a thick, oily scent that bordered closer to incense.
Clean. Very clean.
In an environment void of Demonic presence, which Terra was, it became facile to determine wherever a Hell-spawn would rear their unsightly visage. Unfortunately, Demons were adaptable creatures, and with the amount V had remembered cleansing from the soil...
It's worrying... V placed a hand over his mouth contemplatively, eyes scouring for any slight of sully amongst the clean.
Griffon hadn't responded, deep in sensory details. It meant many things to V for the blabbermouth avian to be so still and quiet, that his Familiar could barely discern this Demon even with such concentration.
Now that brought a question further to the surface of his mind.
V sat on an unoccupied chair, designed the same way any classroom furniture was. The backdrop behind him left his mind as he deliberated over the many prospects elicited from what he had felt before.
"Griffon," V called.
Yeah? Griffon finally spoke, a seldom sigh.
"Do you believe we've waltzed into a trap?"
Wouldn't surprise me. You're the brains here.
"Hm. Indeed. From what I can tell so far, I doubt this is a Demon young to this world."
A Demon adept in veiling itself between ornaments to the point where his Familiar couldn't discern wasn't foolish enough to let even a slither of its profane spirit leak. Lest said Demon was, in spite of its proven capabilities, a halfwit.
Well... crap, do you think it's already escaped and is calling out to its buddies right now? Griffon postulated.
"A valid theory. Or it was to lead us here," V handed in his own two cents. "Our usage of Magic hasn't been discreet, to say the least."
'Discreet', he says. Yeah. We've been blasting our horns off, Griffon snorted. What're we gonna do now? Wait it out? This thing feels experienced.
"I'll remain vigilant," he simply replied.
Better keep that energy up, then.
Stamping his cane onto the ground and lifting himself from the cushions of his seat, V stood with a marginally bent posture. He corrected himself afterward, eyes still grazing the trinket prairie like a calm cow to grass.
Experienced... he masticated the word that Griffon had used over and over again. A normal Demon wouldn't be able to hide itself so well. Without denial, it wanted them to be here, as they had already concluded.
Before long, a repulsing laughter pierced into the room, making all the items faintly shake, a miniature earthquake localized where they stood.
A tremor pierced his heart, V's eyes dilating.