The Conciege
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August Intruder- Chapter 154- Foreshadowing
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 10:31:59 +0000 UTCGrand.
It was the only word Melmarc could use to describe the gates to Fallen High’s entrance. From what he knew from the internet, the school had four gates. The south gate was considered the back gate and most alumni just called it the back gate.
It was funny because the gate that was considered the entrance was the West gate and everyone just called it the front gate.
“A bit arrogant,” Ark said, smiling up at the gate, watching it through his rolled up window as they passed it.
Melmarc had to agree. They had taken the ‘Fallen’ in their name and gone religious with it. The gate was over fifteen feet high and made of silver. Actually, Melmarc didn’t know if it was made of silver, but it looked as if it was. But what was extravagant about it was not the color. It was the two massive angels with sad expressions that flanked it on both sides.
They white with patches of black staining them. From where he was, it looked as if the patches of black were actually corrupting the angels. Their wings were already black, after all.
“Are they…” Melmarc squinted, then frowned as he realized that they were.
Ark chuckled. “Fallen angels that watch you as you enter the premises. Definitely arrogant.”
A few months ago, Melmarc would’ve thought the school was standing out, being impressive. Now, however, he wondered if there was more to it than just standing out.
Did the school somehow have connections with angels? Were there fallen angels?
“Welcome to Fallen High,” their driver announced as he took the straight road deeper into the school.
Melmarc found the school unsurprisingly busy. The roads were clean, pristine. The path they drove along was a straight road, flanked on both sides by large fields, large enough to house a stadium. It demanded a long drive.
Ark adjusted in his chair, scooting over to the middle so that he could look between the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat. He was like a curious child.
Melmarc saw what he was looking at before he could say anything.
“They have a chapel?” he asked.
Far in front of them was a round about with road leading off in different directions except straight on. On the other side of the roundabout was a massive chapel with a cross at the top of it. It was painted a deep white with stains of black all over it. Again, the stains made it look as if the chapel was being corrupted.
Melmarc wasn’t sure how he felt about what he was seeing.
“Fuck the chapel,” Ark said suddenly. “Take a look at that angel.”
At the center of the roundabout was an angel as massive as the ones at the gate. This one, however, bore no black taint. It was a deep white that seemed to shine under the dying evening sun. It held a longsword in its left hand with an actual steel blade.
“That can’t be real steel, right?” Melmarc wondered out loud.
“I think I saw something about it,” Ark said as the car followed the road, circling the roundabout. “I heard that they are supposed to be contraptions. Actual golems created by a powerful [Crafter].”
Melmarc had heard it, too. But since it had never moved before, and the founders of the school were long dead, it remained nothing but one of the rumors that lived in Fallen High.
The car drove on from the roundabout and took a left.
“Have you done your interviews?” the driver asked.
“I’m on a recruitment scholarship,” Ark answered. “Will I still have to do an interview?”
The driver nodded. “Every new student does an interview. For scholarship students, it’s to decide their aptitude.”
“And non-scholarship?” Melmarc asked.
“To determine if they are a proper fit for the school.” The man met Melmarc’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “You have nothing to worry about, it’s just standard procedures. Academic tests, physical tests, mental tests, class tests. The simple things.”
Melmarc’s mind went back to his fight with Uncle Dorthna that he still didn’t remember and wasn’t sure how the mental test was going to go. Uncle Dorthna had cast a spell on him that claimed he would not lose control unless his title effect actually had to trigger, and even then it would still be unlikely. Still, Melmarc couldn’t smother that small part of him that doubted everything would go alright.
“I guess you’ll be a shoe in,” Ark said. He had returned to his side of the car and was staring out the window once more. Spitfire was on his lap. Its upper body was up inside Ark’s shirt as the creature continued to lick at his burn marks, healing him.
Ark had been right, all the scars on his face were gone now. Licked clean.
“He should be,” the driver said. “The exams usually determine what assistance they wish to give you during your stay here. It teaches them your strengths and weaknesses.”
Melmarc noticed how every building they passed was tall and large. His mind flickered to how many students the school had. They were much, but not that much. In fact, they were fewer than the average school on account of how many Gifted children appeared every year.
Then again, with very few Gifted capitals existing all across the world, the filthy rich liked to send their Gifted children and wards of all kinds to schools located in Gifted capitals. Fallen High boasted being the Gifted school in the country with the highest number of international students as well as the highest diversity.
The rich sent their children here with the hopes that their children would make the necessary connections to gain residency in the capital. Fallen High benefited very greatly from that.
“What happens if someone fails the mental exam?” Melmarc could not stop himself from asking.
“They usually get assigned to a therapist for the duration of their stay here,” the driver answered. “But they’ll also be mandated away from certain activities.”
“Combat sports?” Ark asked.
“To a degree,” the driver confirmed. “They’ll still be allowed to attend gym classes, but the Gifted tournaments will be out of the question.”
Melmarc was glad their driver had answers for them. It felt more comfortable, instead of being surprised.
“Let me guess,” Ark said suddenly. “You attended Fallen High.”
“Proud alumnus,” the man said, smiling. “But I will point out that I was not a top student in any category.”
“Did you grow up here, too?” Ark asked.
The man shook his head. “Nah. I grew up in Sout Carolina. Got a scholarship.” He met Ark’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “Like you.”
“Nice.”
Ark leaned forward as the car took another turn. Here there were more students moving around. Some stared at the empty air in front of them, most definitely looking through their interface. Ark watched them with interest.
Melmarc, however, watched something else. The mana particles here were so very much alive. They were bright and vibrant and moving around like children plagued by sugar rush. They bounced off everybody and got breathed in and expelled. And they were everywhere. He didn’t even have to focus to see them.
He wondered if he could reach out and touch them the same way Uncle Dorthna could. He pressed the button for the window and it wound down. Then he reached out and tried to grab a handful. It was like grabbing the wind.
Can’t touch them like him, he noted, pulling his hand back in and raising the window back up.
“What can you tell us about the program their calling the promise?” Ark asked.
Melmarc paused to look at him. The Promise?
He knew that Ark had been admitted for a special program but he hadn’t known the name. he gave Ark a pointed look which Ark returned with a shrug. There was no way Ark did not have the same suspicions that he was currently having.
It took the driver a moment to answer.
“No idea.” He paused thoughtfully. “Must be a new program.”
The Promise? Melmarc mouthed to Ark. There was no way, he wasn’t making any connections.
A new program. It was called The Promise. A synonym for an Oath was a promise. Melmarc wasn’t saying that the Oaths had something to do with a new program that the only known person on the planet with the class of [Demon King] had just been admitted into on a scholarship, but it was something to be worried about.
Mom and dad are Oaths, Ark mouthed back. I’m sure it’s fine.
Melmarc wasn’t sure. From the way Uncle Dorthna described the Oaths, they held all the power. They could sway governments so it would not be far-fetched to think that they could sway schools, too.
It’s going to be fine, Melmarc told himself as the driver pulled the car to a stop.
Dissonant.
Melmarc sighed. He hated his inability to lie to himself anymore. He wasn’t one to lie to himself often, but he understood how it was good to be able to do so. Most self peptalks were just people lying to themselves. ‘You can do it’ was a lie when you believed that you could not do it.
“This is the admission center,” the driver said.
Ark was already opening the door.
“You’ll get registered here,” the driver was saying. “Then they’ll send you to the Grace Hall.”
Ark paused halfway out of the car. “Grace Hall?”
“It’s where they put people like us who have been given admission but haven’t gone through the tests and orientation,” Melmarc explained, using knowledge gained from the internet.
They were parked in front of a monolith of a building. Melmarc got down from the car and looked at the building with a frown.
It was the same color as the chapel and angel statues. White and corrupting black. How did they make the black look as if it was corrupting the white? It was so… apt.
Ark chuckled suddenly. “You look like shit.”
“What?” Melmarc said, looking at his brother.
Ark gestured to his face. “You look like shit.”
“It’s the color.”
“I know. I still don’t get why you’re reacting like that. It’s not like you didn’t already know what it looks like.”
Ark was right. Melmarc had seen pictures of the school on the internet more than once. But there was just something different about seeing it up close. It gave you the concept of… well, falling from grace.
“Really puts the whole corruption thing into perspective,” Ark mused.
He paused, thoughtful, while the driver came down from the car to stand next to him. The driver looked up at the building as well.
“The important building give off the same vibe,” the driver said.
They stared at the building of bright white with stains of black that seemed to crawl out of the edges, corrupting it slowly.
It continued to rub Melmarc the wrong way. Standing in front of it, he couldn’t put a finger on it. Something about it just seemed… wrong.
The white seemed to glow a little while the black seemed to darken a little too much.
Ark perked up in the end. “I like it.”
“We all tend to,” the driver agreed.
Ark threw an arm over Melmarc’s shoulder. “You’ll learn to like it, too.”
Melmarc highly doubted it. Not when the school gave the depiction of fallen angels and he knew that angels and demons were real and not just creatures in a holy book.
“There’s a mosque that way,” the driver said, pointing west as he got their things out of the trunk. “There are also other places of worship. A synagogue, a…” he paused. “Well, there are places of worship. There’s a shrine to a god named Amadioha.”
Melmarc had never heard of a god named Amadioha.
His lack of knowledge must have shown on his face because the driver explained.
“It’s an Igbo deity from Nigeria,” he said. “One of many deities in Nigeria.”
“Why’s the chapel so… on display, then?” Ark asked. “Kinda makes it seem as if it’s supposed to be the most important.”
Ark took his duffel bag from the driver while Spitfire sat comfortably on his head. Melmarc took his as well, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“A lot of students and parents have complained about that, actually.” The man closed the trunk. “There have been petitions to demolish the chapel and rebuild something in its place while building the chapel elsewhere so that it didn’t seem larger than the other places of worship.”
“It didn’t take?” Melmarc asked.
The man shook his head. “The school board refused. There were petitions to make the other places of worship as grand as the chapel. That didn’t take, too.”
“Didn’t parents threaten to pull their children out?” Melmarc asked.
“They did.”
Ark chuckled. “Let me guess. The school told them to go fuck themselves.”
“Aptly put,” the driver laughed. “But yes. As for why the chapel is so large. It’s because the founding parents of Fallen High were Christians.”
“Catholic?” Melmarc asked absently.
The driver nodded. “Catholic. Apparently, it’s part of their mandate that the chapel remain exactly where it is, and no other place of worship should be larger than it. Any other building can be larger, but not any other place of worship.”
That raised a lot of flags in Melmarc’s head. There was no way it was just a normal Christian obsessed.
“Well then,” the driver clapped. “It was nice driving you here, and I am also grateful for what you did on the plane. I’ll let detective Felix know that you arrived safe and sound.”
With that, he turned and returned to the car. Melmarc and Ark waited patiently for him to drive off before returning their attention to the building.
“There are students walking around everywhere,” Ark said.
“But why is this place so…”
“Empty?” Ark finished for him. “I’d say everyone’s inside. Come on, let’s go join them inside.”
Fallen High, Melmarc thought as they climbed the wide stairs, elevating as if going up some court of justice common in movies.
What had once seemed eccentric and unique was beginning to seem like some kind of foreshadowing.
…
Today was a slow day at the office. Most of the new students had come in earlier, not wanting to be late for attendance.
A student worker, Tyrese was in his final year. If he was lucky, he would graduate and get admitted into college. It was his dream to get into Fallen High college. If he succeeded, he could become a recommended Delver, get employed by companies with some sway in the world.
He needed a life of riches and comfort. The kind of life that gave him the option of becoming a resident of Tatelat.
Got to win the championship this year, then, he thought.
Fallen High was a top five. However, it did not mean that they were a shoe in for nationals. Nationals last year hadn’t gone to them after all.
Just thinking of their defeat was annoying. He had been the one to cost them their victory. If he had just…
Tyrese shook his head, uncrossed his legs, and brought them down from the desk. He couldn’t focus on the negative. Anyone could’ve made the same mistakes he had made. He just had to do better this year. They could win nationals.
Better if they could win the continental, too.
A notification popped up on his phone and he reached for it. Hopefully, it wasn’t Deidei. Deidei wasn’t necessarily the best behaved and he kept on talking about how they should come up with something fitting for the new intakes.
Apparently, they were the ones that were going to be in charge of the combat test for the students interested in the combat lessons. Right now, he was on duty. Deidei would be stupid to be asking him to come for practice or anything.
Looking down at the phone screen, it was not Deidei. It was a social media notification. He smiled as he looked at it. It was a follow up to the video that had gone viral a few hours ago.
He opened it and laughed. “That’s just wild.”
Staring at him was a photograph of a boy in front of an airport building holding his hands up on both sides with a peace sign on each. He was large and alone. There were people around him but not the second important person.
“That scar’s going to make him look so badass,” Tyrese muttered as he zoomed in on the boy’s face.
He didn’t know the boy but he already looked up to the boy. To stop a fire type Gifted on a plane and proceed to throw himself off the plane was insane. And he’d survived. Nobody survived jumping off a plane without a parachute.
The boy was badass.
They needed people with that kind of gusto in their combat team. The thought of the combat team reminded him of the new project the school was starting. There would be tryouts for people willing to join and he was definitely willing to join.
“There’s nothing more than,” a voice said from outside. It was approaching the door. “It’s just eccentricity, Mel. Nothing to think about so deeply.”
New intakes? Tyrese wondered. That would be interesting. Even the rich in Tatelat didn’t come late. Fallen High cared nothing for fame and status.
Two boys strolled up the stairs and approached the door.
“I swear,” one of the boys said. “There’s just something about it.”
“Is it one of those quirky things you’ve got going on?” the other boy asked.
His companion paused, confused. “What?” Then understanding settled on him. “No, not that. It’s just a feeling.”
Both boys were tall. The taller one had more meat on him and looked like he was always up for a party. He had a smile that looked perpetual.
Tyrese knew that they had to be a part of the combat team, at least the taller boy. The second boy looked more alert than the first but there was just something about him. He looked capable but reluctant. Confused, too.
Maybe it’s because of what they’re talking about?
Tyrese’s attention settled on the familiar on the larger boy’s head and he nodded. It was an interesting looking creature. A salamander, maybe. It was orange with blue spots that were so dark they could be mistaken for black.
He squinted at it, frowning. Are those horns?
Horned salamanders were rare. And powerful.
Was the boy a summoner?
“How about we ask him?” the boy with the salamander on his head asked, gesturing at Tyrese.
Bubbly, too. Tyrese liked extroverts.
He got up from his seat and put on a kind face. “Welcome. You guys are kind of late. You know that, right?”
The larger boy shrugged. “Sometimes it’s fun to be fashionably late.”
“Doesn’t orientation start tomorrow,” his companion asked.
Tyrese nodded. “It does, but people usually come earlier so that they can get the better apartments in the Grace Hall. You get to satisfy your preferences that way.”
He held out his hand for a handshake when they came to a stop in front of his desk. “Tyrese.”
“Ark,” the larger boy said, shaking his hand. The boy had large hands. Releasing his hand, Ark gestured to his companion. “My brother, Jethro.”
Jethro smacked his brother’s arm and Ark laughed.
Jethro shook his hand. “Don’t mind my brother. I’m Melmarc. You can call me Marc.”
Tyrese eyed both brothers. One was a prankster and the other was the calm one. That was a nice brotherly combination.
Wait a moment.
Tyrese squinted and leaned forward. “Do I know you guys from somewhere?”
“I doubt it,” Marc said. “We aren’t from around here.”
“But I could swear that you look familiar.”
Tyrese knew the larger boy’s face. He’d seen Ark somewhere, he just couldn’t put a finger on…
His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped.
“You have got to be shitting me,” he blurted, snatching up his phone. “This cannot be happening.”
As he unlocked his phone, Ark was already grinning.
Tyrese swiped through the phone until he got to the latest picture he’d been looking at. He looked from it to the boy and back.
“You were on the plane!” he blurted, already ashamed of how he was beginning to sound like a fanboy. “You’re the kid that sacrificed himself.”
Ark threw his arm over Marc’s shoulder. “And he’s the one that saved me.”
Tyrese jaw dropped. That explained why he couldn’t recognize him and how the other boy had been able to fight for so long.
Tyrese couldn’t recognize Ark because he had none of the scars that he’d had a few hours ago.
This is gonna be good, he thought in ecstasy. They had a better shot of winning the Nationals if he could get the two of them to join the combat team.
He turned his attention to Marc already grinning. Fallen High had just hit the jackpot.
No scars on Ark, fighting off a fire based class with no visible injuries, surviving falling off a plane.
His smile couldn’t get any wider as Marc gave him a worried look.
“What?” Marc asked.
“Our school has a combat team and I really think you guys are going to enjoy being a part of it,” he rattled out, unable to stop himself. “You’ll definitely be welcomed in without any serious test.”
Marc and Ark shared a confused look.
“Why?” Marc asked, dragging out the word with uncertainty.
“Because you’re a [Healer]. And we really need someone with your class.”
Ark burst out laughing.
Comments
Mr. Iron
I see how he got there, but man what a leap.
Jesse
He must have just got a bit excited, and his mouth moved faster than his head.
Julkur
How can he jump to the conclusion that Marc is a healer? 😅 They could have been in a hospital as offered
