The Jaegars were a family that focused on martial arts. They could be considered battle mages as they tended not to use weapons. Some consider them akin to warrior monks who practice both the fist and the mystical arts. It wasn't prohibited for them to use weapons; rather, it was a conscious choice most of them made.
They didn't care enough about social and financial status. For the Jaegars, the fist dictated right and wrong; justification decided whether something was correct. They boasted immense strength and were often left alone, as people viewed it as bothersome to deal with them.
A task that would require the general aura user to use mana would likely be done with pure physical strength by the Jaegars. Dio had heard rumors about how monstrous their toughness could get at times.
Keeping this in mind, he tried his best to maintain the distance between them. Unfortunately, his physical health was nowhere close to hers. Of course, it could never be the end for Dio, not like this, at least. If Hina abused her weapon, then Dio simply had to use his.
'Fuck fuck fuck…' he cried for help inside his mind. He had been running for quite some time, not realizing that they were now in a completely different part of the campus. He spotted an out-of-place turn in the corridor and bolted in that direction. Right before making a sharp cut, he made sure to freeze the ground behind him a little.
"Ahahah," he laughed as he looked at Hina chasing him at full speed. There was no way she could stop, and all Dio had to do was simply move out of the way. However, once his eyes caught what was at the end of the corridor, he froze in place. Hina, on the other hand, yelled curses at him as she slid across and rammed straight into him. Both of them were on the ground now, with Hina on top of Dio. Even then, Dio's eyes were stuck on something at the end of the corridor.
It was an artwork. A painting of the Lost King, and at the top of it were the words "Supreme Magus". He sat on a throne with one hand resting on the armrest while the other propped up to support his head. His hair was a mixture of gold and blond, which paired weirdly well with his unusually orange eyes.
"Azure…" a voice called out. When Dio turned his head towards it, he was in an unfamiliar environment. It was almost like a new world. He was currently in this large rectangular room with around 25 or so chairs; it reminded him of his classrooms at Hexora, but everything about this one was different. The material and the design were the most prominent variables.
However, he could recognize one thing: an angry-looking man with square glasses and a cowlick almost falling onto his eyes. He didn't know of this man's identity, but he could recognize a teacher when he saw one. Not to mention the fact that all these 25 desks were facing one singular table.
"Dreaming again…?" the man questioned in a stern tone. Dio's body felt familiar but so alien at the same time. It felt like the atoms in his body were constantly vibrating, almost as if they recognized that they didn't belong here.
He could feel the harsh gazes of his peers; every single person in that room seemed clearly uninterested in him. For a second there, he could see reality twist, and the other chairs got farther and farther away from him while staying close to each other.
Before he could say anything, a loud and obnoxious ringing began, prompting everyone to look in a specific direction for a second before they stood up and left. It was weird, he had never felt this invasive before. Dio was proud of who he was, he was confident and strong-tongued. However, this felt like the complete opposite.
If he were in his world, his bodily senses would've been way more developed. He could see danger coming his way from a distance, but this body? It was untrained. Matter of fact, it felt far too weak even for a normal person. Maybe that was why he couldn't feel or sense the hand swinging at a rapid pace, aiming exactly at the back of his head.
*PLAAAAAT*
His face shot forward and banged into his desk, the impact was so strong that his face bounced a little, knocking him out completely. He still felt completely in control, even though he was just sucker punched into losing consciousness. With a sense of panic and need to defend and retaliate, he opened his eyes.
"Dio Aethereus"
The words were written in bold at the bottom of the painting. He was back with Hina, who still laid on top of him. Confused and completely perplexed, Dio grabbed onto her shoulders and shook her firmly, "How long have we been like this...?" The anxiety in his voice was evident.
"…..Not long…" Hina blushed, turning her face away and slowly using her own strength to get up. She dusted off her shoulders and looked down. With a smile, she held out her hand, "I think I should get back soon,"
"Huh…" Dio replied as he accepted her gesture, nevertheless, the confusion overwhelmed his thoughts. He prided himself on his memory, so just why couldn't he clearly remember what had just happened?
'He's…still Dio after all. Just another boy,' she told herself in her mind before turning around and walking away. There wasn't any goodbye or anything, she left without saying another word. Every step resounded in his head, the image of a siege ram clashing into a heavy metal gate synchronized with her steps.
"Urgh.." He grabbed onto his head and could feel his knees slightly weaken. His heartbeat was rising, and his eyes were literally throbbing. This lasted for a few more seconds before eventually dying down.
Dio now sat exactly under the painting; the pain from earlier had made him stumble into this corridor until he eventually fell down to rest and catch his breath. There wasn't a single thought he had that could answer his queries at the moment. An exhausting and perilous situation. But since when did life care about circumstances? When you're fallen down, it continues to push you down and beat you to a pulp. Sometimes, it felt vindictive and purposeful. Yet, people pushed through...isn't that beautiful?
"That's him…" a familiar voice called out, the number of footsteps clearly indicated that there was a group of them. The fatigue and burnout reflected on his dampening senses.
"Huh…" Dio groaned. His hand was on his face, and through the gap between his fingers, his eyes pierced the figures that just appeared. What originally were red crimson-like eyes had momentarily turned golden. It was a brief look, but it sent shivers down everyone there.
"You're…." He struggled to get up, almost like a drunkard on the side of a road proving that he was sober. But once he was up, every step followed an immense amount of pressure. It was unnatural and didn't belong to him. What rattled them the most were his golden eyes; they seemed to be the cause for this suffocating sensation.
"G-g-get awayyyy.." The boy at the frontmost cried as he fell down, he crawled backward, and the people behind him followed. It was the same senior who had picked a fight with him previously, except this time, he brought reinforcements. Ultimately, it didn't even matter.
Once they were out of his sight, Dio used his hand to lift his head up slightly, "who…the what…? Who was that…?" he shook his head a few times in an attempt to get out the grogginess. His eyes were back to normal, and the aura around him disappeared.
At the same time, in a distant location. An old and extremely pale man sat in a rocking chair. A tiny round table next to him had a grand-looking staff placed on it; hanging onto a nail pinned into the table was a pouch containing glowing purple daggers.
"…My Lord…?" The man looked out of the window with his eyes tearing through everything and desperately seeking something. A hint of disappointment replaced the momentary passion, and purpose in his eyes.