The time elf grasps the microphone on the desk, projecting hus deep yet youthful voice into the room. "Greetings, students. My name is Mr. Galfal. Please write your name on the desk. These boards will mirror all master boards in the college—or repeat voices if you adjust the settings. You don't have to stare at me, though I suggest you do. Write your names, stay focused, and know big brother's watching. Capeesh?"
The students take their time injecting the information before them.
"Woah, this is so advanced. They weren't lying." One student said.
"How did they manage to keep this a secret for so long without any whistleblowers?" Another said.
"This is too much to take in!"
"May be it's just me, but I've worked on more complex mana coding than this. It kinda bores me to see magic at this level," another says with a sigh.
Ekrus lays back in the chair with her arms crossed. "Khazzarma, your father works as the engineer director of mana pool for the Golden Continent, not Angelica, the Golden Continent. You have no say in this."
"Don't blurt it out loud, Ekrus. Geez." Khazzarma replies, hiding her face.
Admits the commotion, Galfal eases into his regal chair, carrying a sly smirk on his lips. "Since this is your first day, let's cover how this college works. Firstly, grades depend on speed, efficiency, and accuracy. Finish quickly and you may leave early. Missing questions only extend your time. In my class—and a few others—progress mainly centers around time. Any questions?"
Another soft commotion erupts as Galfal waits patiently for a question.
When none had offer itself, Mr. Galfal lifts the thick book into his lap. "Before we dive into history, please consider this: 'The victors write history.' You've likely heard that everything seems subjective, but some remain absolute truths such as biology and those other icky topics."
Many students—especially kitsunes, catfolk, and druids—nod in agreement.
A nymph raises his hand. "Uh, what does that phrase mean?"
'Isn't it already simplified?'
Galfal puts one finger in the air. "Take Kitsuné history, for example. Today, it honors angels as a noble race. Yet, during the ancient period, kitsunés treated angels as mere pawns to be used and thrown—up until the 4th Kitsuné War. Despite their loss, they took it like warriors."
"They didn't," Galfal whispers.
The students chuckle at his quip, while the kitsunés stare daggers into him—all except Akiro, who joins the laughter.
Ignoring the intense reactions, Galfal flips to a page: "Now for the remainder. I'll stay neutral for the most. Bias may creep in, but I won't praise or condemn any side. Most races, especially Genesis Angels and Ancient Fairies, have their ancestors' stories in secret libraries, and I advise listening to that—rather than what I'm going over. Your stories are a more of a reliable source than what the college offers."
An enlightened elf raises his hand. His voice comes in a poised, elegant voice. "But why conceal such vital truths? Shouldn't they share their history without us needing to favor one side?"
Galfal replies: "Alanze, it's largely a matter of perspective. Families treasure their books as sacred heirlooms, rich with personal biases; they'll decline your offer before you even say a word. They'll also omit key details to craft their story as it's a biography, not a history book. To truly uncover history, we would need every original account; however, the difficulty arises when most biographies contain falsehoods. So, we mainly rely on extinct families' records to reconstruct a clearer past without bothering the living."
Alanze tries to argue, but an angel from behind interrupts him: "Still, his point stands. Wouldn't avoiding both sides—the Golden Races and others—falsify history and tell a completely new story? There were pure evil hierarchies/civilizations, methods and practices, and hybrids/races like the demo—"
Galfal speaks over him: "Let's not open that can of worms yet. What I mean by neutral is: it'll focus on the Heavenly Continent's POV in vast detail, avoiding the reasoning of others. You were taught the universal version in school. I'll teach the perspective and uncensored version."
Alanze and the angel stay silent—accepting Galfal's answer.
He clasps his hands. "Now, let's start with the origins of the greatest and longest-standing magical nation in history."
Everyone leans forward, interested in this perspective.
Kailus' wings flutter a bit. 'Wow, a… uncensored verison about our history from our perspective—incredible. Always an "universal experience" rather than the ancient's actual thought during that time. I'm excited to see what this'll change.'
Akiro props her head up. 'My first time learning about the native's history for the twelfth time.'
Shalius mutters to herself, "Demons…"
Mr. Galfal begins to narrate: "In the dawn of creation, Genesis Angels and Ancientas Fairkins inhabited the Heavenly Continent, and no creature rose against them, neither fang, nor flame, troubled their peace. For that land was hallowed above all others, wherein no shadow of conflict dwells, and wherein no conquering shall ever occur. Lo, the Angels and Fairkins wrought as brethren."
A Kitsuné student raises a hand: "So dear, Galfal. What if they were meant to be enemies? Two races on the same continent, not fighting to have superiority, but rather a coexisting relationship. Sounds like a fairytale."
"An intriguing thought indeed. Genesis Angels are the best strength-and-healing race, while Ancient Fairies are the best magic race. That scenario is plausible, but thankfully, they were intelligent, unlike the insectoids." Galfal muses.
Akiro's ears instantly perk up. 'Wait, this can't be? Is he one of the funny teachers? Oh, I missed Ms. Hanna and her humor,' She laughs inwardly. 'The earth sirens are raw chicken; they have no talent besides eating each other.'
'Wow, he's really taking shots at anyone. I wonder what he'll say about my kind?' Kailus ponders as his halo shifts into a grey hue.
Shalius narrows her eye. 'I came for education, not humor. Why is he wasting our time?'
"Harmony ruled the lives of the elegant races. Together they toiled in peace: the Genesis healed the wounded, and gave comfort to the laboring women. The fairkins drew warmth from the air and living waters from their hands. Fed by the fruits of the land, the plant-eaters knew of no hunger, and life flourished unendingly. But in the long season of ease, sloth took root, and from plenty, sprang the seeds of idleness upon the Ancientas and Genesis."
The class stares blankly at their boards, lost in thought. Creaking of chairs and finger taps kept others from falling asleep, along with the occasional scribbles.
Students whisper to their neighbors while others passed notes.
'Maybe it's later down the line?'
"And therefore, sloth brought trivial upon them: the pains of birth returned, water thinned, and the land grew cold. After four years of forbearance—an era henceforth named the Tribulations—the consorts rose in solemn dissent. With voices bound in unity, they proclaimed a covenant of abstention, vowing to withdraw from the rites of flesh should such afflictions persist unceasingly."
Kailus raises an eyebrow. 'Huh, I don't remember this in my ancestors' book…'
A student asks, "Why did it take four years? Wouldn't they have demand it much sooner?"
Galfal replies: "They did, but it was ideally to avoid conflict, as it was seen unnecessary and inappropriate during that time. For the Ancientas, fighting—"
As Galfal was explaining the culture within the Ancientas, Kailus passes a note onto Shalius' desk.
She immediately turns her attention toward it.
Kailus' note: "Is this in your ancestors' book, or is it just me? I don't remember reading such."
Shalius smiles at the note. 'I'm glad he shares the same thought process as mine. Since we're passing notes, I might as well ask him here.'
She scribbles her response and places it on his desk.
Shalius' note: "Neither do I, but I do advise to not take his word sincerely as his comedy may lead to falsehood in the text. For your question, are you perhaps looking through your ancestors' lens, rather than the many extinct books the college has seized in its entirety?"
Kailus pauses for a while before sending another note back.
Kailus' note: "Maybe I am…"
Shalius sends another.
Shalius' note: "Speaking of this, do you have any familiarity with those you were eyeing in the class?"
Kailus' eyes widen at her note; his halo shifts into almost a purplish color. Shalius gazes at him, expecting another note, but only a smile returns.
'It's not for me to discuss.'
Meanwhile:
Students stifle giggles at the implications of 'sex'. Some manage to hold their breath, silently laughing from within, while others were able to withhold their laughter entirely with a straight face. But Akiro, unable to resist anymore, lets out a light chuckle.
"Akiro, anything you'd like to share?" Galfal asks through her desk.
Kailus and Shalius immediately straighten themselves. The whole class stares at Akiro.
Akiro puts her hands on her chin and proclaim in a withheld voice. "Naw, nope.. no—…" She laughs again.
"I'll let it slide for now, but don't interrupt my lessons again," Galfal mumbles.
"The Genesis Angels trained their healing by flaying their skin on bark—just to heal it. Whereas, the Ancient Fairkins train by completely draining their mana—pushing themselves past their limits. This intense training throughout the generations gave their offspring the ability to replace mana with their blood—"
"I knew they did that! The teacher always said they trained by 'healing sickness' or whatever!" One shouts.
"Me too, I always thought when I was a child: 'wouldn't it be better to just break a limb and heal it back?'" Another discloses.
"You guys are lucky, my teacher told us the truth on accident. Haven't seen her since 5th grade." An angel injects.
"Yeah, we know that, Papel," a nymph says, rolling her eyes.
Papel hits her with a ball of paper. "You could be nice, but i guess sassy is your only personality."
Galfal yells. "Can we get a move on to the lesson. Discussion time is over."
"Now, into the side-notes of the training: this training also affected the children. They were flayed by their parents and bled to death. It's discussed in 49 autobiographies that 1/3 of children died, and it would've been more if they continue it. If they hadn't place an age requirement, your people would've been long extinct."
The students stood silent.
'Oh… my. You know what? I should've expected that.'