God of Trash

Rhys rushed across the peak, Tarais at his heel. When the students saw him coming, they dismissed him, but they cleared out of the way at the sight of Tarais, a rare Tier 2 student. In such a way, the two of them ran easily across the peak almost entirely unobstructed. Rhys wrapped his arms around the pot, hugging it tight to his chest. He protected the delicate flower with a raised hand, shielding it from the wind that blew around him from running. Coolness brushed against his chest, emanating from the flower’s heart. The mana from the bloom pulsed, nearing a fever pitch. The time to harvest it was now, but he didn’t know how, and didn’t want to risk damaging it.

Tarais patted his shoulder. She pointed. “She’s in class.”

Rhys nodded. Without hesitation, he beelined for the potions class and threw the door open.

It slammed against the wall. Once more, the whole advanced class stared at him. The same boy from before lifted a lip, sneering.

Sorden looked up. “I did invite you to come by anytime, but I hoped you would be more subtle.”

Rhys lowered his protective hands, showing her the bloom. “It blossomed! The Star Ice—”

Before he finished, Sorden stood in front of him. He hadn’t seen her move, so quickly had she flashed from the front of the class to in front of him. She stared, eyes wide, open-mouthed. Her hands hovered around the flower, almost afraid to touch it.

“Professor?” the boy asked.

“Class dismissed.” Sorden dashed back and forth for a second, lost on where to go, then sprinted off. She returned with a set of very specific blades, each one a different width, hardness, and span. Taking the pot delicately from Rhys, she knelt on the floor right in front of him. Holding her breath, she watched the plant closely. The mana beat, pulsing faster and faster. As it reached its top speed, her hand lashed out. A dozen precise cuts filleted the plant where it stood, separating bud, petals, leaves, stalk, even the roots were sectioned up. Another flash of hands, and she quickly, but carefully, stored each individual piece in a separate vial.

Most of the students quietly filed out the other door at the front of the classroom. Most of them. The boy who’d questioned Rhys this whole time stood at his seat, his arms crossed. He narrowed his eyes at Rhys. “Why is he allowed to recklessly interrupt our classes? If I attempted the same, you would—”

“Bring me a perfect Star Ice Flower, and I’ll let you interrupt any class you want,” Sorden interrupted him, distracted. She nodded at Rhys. Lifting the vials, she said, “I need to brew these immediately. Five times your initial reward… it’s not enough, for what you’ve given me. See me tomorrow, and we’ll discuss a more worthy reward.”

The boy’s jaw dropped. “Professor! This blatant favoritism—”