[@Estylwen][@Psyker Landshark][@ERode][@AThousandCurses][@Sifr]

[b][h3]CLASSROOM 103[/h3][/b]

Davil's eyes filled with recognition as he followed Otis' words, nodding along as he wiped the drool away from his lips and letting it dry on his sleeves. "Uh huh, uh huh, it all makes sense now... yes, it all makes sense," he would mutter as Otis guided him along, drifting deeper into otherworldly concentration as he followed the visualizations set out before him. There would be [i]nothing[/i] standing in his way, as a small gust of wind circled around his outstretched arms, slowly coating them and becoming one with his flesh. He imagined the storm around him, swirling just as the emotional essence did - a blender of the material and immaterial, with him at its center.

[i]Thunk.[/i]

All at once, the sound of a heavy rock crashing against floor could be heard, and in that same moment, the wind gathered around Davil's limbs dispersed and slammed against the floor. A small dent scarred the wooden floorboards, leaving him stunned as he looked at Otis for any kind of answer, clearly having found none himself. After another moment he'd shrug, eyebrows cocked in defeat as a nervous laugh escaped him. "I guess it didn't work, chum. Maybe it isn't time yet, huh? I-I'm sure I'll be fine, though. I just need to not get hit when I gotta fight, yeah? That should work."

There was a glint of disappointment in the boy's eyes, but he turned his face away from Otis' to stare at the wall, continuing to chuckle nervously knowing that his reasoning wasn't good enough. For now, though, the Wund boy would seem to concede after his first attempt. He leaned on the palm of his hand propped up by his elbow on the top of his desk, gritting his teeth.

As people began to break off into discussion and find themselves practicing rather than simply being lectured, the door to the classroom would eventually open after another few minutes. Entering would be several Mannekin dressed in generic leather armor and with crude wooden practice weaponry strapped to their bodies. They would march inside the classroom and each take a seat at an unoccupied desk, and Alto would let out a small cough to signify he had more to say.

"Shortly, we'll begin the final early morning exercise that will take up the rest of our introductory class. As a compact class, you should know that you differ from standard classes in that your numbers are smaller. For reasons decided upon by recorded footage and staff meetings regarding yesterday's trial by fire, you have all been chosen for Compact 3 because interested parties believe you would all function effectively as a smaller, more cohesive unit."

Alto would begin to gesture outwardly towards the various Mannekin sitting about, some beginning to aimlessly stare at students near them. After an uncomfortable pause and a small eyebrow raise of uncertainty from Professor Wund, he would continue.

"But that doesn't mean you'll have less to contend with. Rather, those interested parties thought it would be interesting to allow for competition to fill these empty seats. Today it's Mannekin, but who knows what it could be another day? Truth be told, I don't even know, I just roll with it, ahaha!"

Rio and Chloe would deliver deadpan, unamused looks, while Davil looked on in unease at a Mannekin's faceless visage turned directly towards him. The heat from the primal leyline within the room would increase again, and upon another minute or so passing, roots and vines would begin to slowly slide out of the floorboards.

"Part of why I asked you all to figure out your PBs [i]now[/i], by the way, was because of what comes next. I'm going to overcharge this leyline beneath us, you see. And when that happens, individuals with either no PB active or one insufficient in its construction will experience extreme nausea, broken bones, a temporary failure of internal organs, or in 1% of cases, death. Finish your talks, make your preparations, and settle in with an active PB within the next two minutes. Best of luck~!"

Alto's eyes would close as essence swirled around him, the roots from under the floorboards slowly inching towards him. Each of the Mannekin would notably surround themselves in Personal Barriers, sturdy and prepared as they sat obediently like the emotionless puppets they were. From somewhere off in the distance, yet so close, dreamlike flutes would slowly begin to play a song that would sound oddly familiar, and yet unable to be placed directly. Their subconsciously familiar echoes would pulse about the classroom as pressure slowly increased.