What Sorcery Is This?

I offered them the document —which I improvised by watching lettering tutorials— with the campaign's rules, the story's development, a description of the world, a summary of the activities, and the tools they would need throughout. Everyone signed with their name and their character's. Finally, they sealed the pact with their blood on paper —printing their thumbs with red ink— on their signs in triplicate. That was the start of the campaign, and we all took a photo to record the beginning of our adventure.

After everyone invested themselves into their roles, they organized the tasks to make my brilliant plan work: Nirvanya Irestorm —Yumeko— made magical potions (little bottles with dice inside, so they would never lose Luck throws) for everyone. Pol Laris —Toya— prepared armor and weapons (props) for each one. The cursed cat twins, Katniss —Saburo— and Fluffestiltskin —Shiro— made the adventurer belts to carry all they needed and not interrupt the roleplay time.

The Theatre Club Kit contains three magical potions—eight, ten, and twenty-sided dice into a shining liquid that looks like a galaxy in a bottle—tied with ribbons and sealed with wax, a fanny pack to transport our quirks, a pair of leather strands to hold our weapon and a pouch to transport the Black Mirror—OK, the cellphone—where we will contact with the Great Old One—GOO for short—the achievements we do and receive every day reports to comply with campaign/club standards.

And that's how we return to today, where I'm being lectured, for the fifth time this week, by my club's activities that annoy teachers by saying that "fireballs, non-sneaky dances, cat pronunciation, petal rains and religious sun worship are not part of the curriculum" in front everybody on teacher's room.

"Stay in character, stay in character," I repeat to myself in the solitude of my mind while I'm trying not to show how nervous I am to get a conduct report for behaving like a total moron in front of the teacher while I play with my butterfly knife —comb— to be Robin Banks, my rogue with a very high luck to attract problems with authority, TOTALLY UNPLANNED AND UNDESIRED! This is the problem with unwanted character development!

While I keep trying to save my butt, my bad fortune strikes again when the brothers run aside from us, with one being pestering by fleas —throwing pepper— and the other rolling a terrible chanting about someone that bites the dust, terribly ineffective to break the Plagued curse over his Minor Lycanthropy, reason why he is portraying a wolf head —mask— since the morning.

The fuss called the attention of the other classrooms on that side of the hallway, a perfect opportunity for our paladin not to lose the chance to shine by jumping on the corridor and extending his hand to the berserk entity that screams in the painful desire to end his life because everything on his body is itching.

"Stop there, creature besieged by darkness. Let me end your suffering!" Pol says while he takes his blessed lance, Springurm, from his pouch, extending a long stick to the half-wolf that runs in terror for the bard who, outside of the role, succeeds in causing the curse, but within the role, he sings so out of tune that it produces the opposite effect, increasing the druid's ardor as he half transforms.

"I use Divine Smite to calm the suffering of this poor soul in disgrace!" says the paladin before he receives a notification from GOO to his Black Mirror. "You did not prepared that spell this morning," he reads the message, freezing a second before being run over by the twins.

"You all! Infirmary! Ms. Ito, go to the Principal's office with me!" orders the Mathematics teacher, a person on whom students bet year after year, ensuring that he will soon go bald, a game that increased the number of participants when our club began its intensive activities.

The conditioner air cools the salty moisture on my skin when I step into the Principal's office; the receptionist is already used to seeing me coming in and out of the office, so she opens the door after seeing the Math teacher dragging me like a potato sack. The lady closes the front door before returning to her desk and knocking it with a special rhythm on the darkest window over the golden sign: Dr. Shori Pan, Principal.

"En-trud," he said with a singular tone, classic bipolar overacted performer.

The office was dark due to the tick curtains and no other source of light other than the small tinted glass behind us. The teacher's nerves bristle his little hair when he calls his boss's name with slight anxiety, the signal for a very tall, plump figure to appear in front of our eyes by discovering the panoramic window and leaving us blind for a few seconds. A friendly-looking man, worthy of Christmas advertising, takes long steps from the inside right corner to the front of his desk to rest his body on the edge of the wooden surface. He clears his throat and moves the mustache like a character from a mute movie.

"Kocho Sensei, the students are out of control again. It's the fifth time this week. It's Friday, and we started classes this Monday," says the man who pulled my scarf to that place.

"Oh, dear lord, Matsuoka-sensei," says the man who was not taking the poor man on the edge of his sanity seriously. The person with the highest rank in the School looks at him with butterfly eyes as he rests his chubby cheek on his hand, pretending to be surprised.

"I beg your pardon, sir. But..." The human that looks like a billiard eleven ball in my eyes cut his speech to let his superior talk.

"Ta Tatatatatata~ Matsuoka-sensei, let the kids be kids. Think about this experience as a social experiment where your skills as a teacher will be well used at full potential," comments the Principal while putting a white hand fan, with the School's crest in the middle, on other's lips as he tries to raise the morale of the teaching staff.

"I still don't understand why you let them do whatever they want. They are risking the learning chances of all students on these games. They will affect their schoolmates' scores too much," explains the man who only thinks about numbers.

The man in front of us whistles as he shakes his finger softly to show his disagreement while closing the fan and putting it over his chest.

"A good teacher doesn't excuse his lack of ability on their students. It's our duty as their guidance to find the best way to get into their lives and help them to find their life path." 

After that, there is an awkward silence between the adults, so I dare to interrupt.

"Well, this is a —HUGE— surprise. So... If I'm not under arrest, I should return..." I was talking on my way back to the classroom when I felt the wooden artifact of maximum power on my shoulders, freezing me in time.

"Ms. Ito, you should stay a little more. Let me share some words with you," the mid-boss says to stop me and toss away Math's teacher with a persuasion skill that felt like a plus ten bonus.

When we were alone in the office, the Principal walked around the desk, pulling a curtain to darken the room again.

"I could not expect less from you, Ms. Ito. Disasters over catastrophes every day," says the man with a different richness in his voice. "I'm proud, truly impressed."

I knew what he was talking about, but my surprise was unavoidable from my being. It feels like battling an LVL. 50 beholder while I'm still stuck in LVL. 5! (HELP!)

"How is the team doing?" the prominent man asks as he returns to his desk.

"They are doing great. No worries for them. As you can see in the contract, they signed by their own will and invested their soul in the crew. We will have our first meeting tomorrow outside the city and we would make the submissions to the town," I explain while I'm thinking of purchasing a yo-yo as a new weapon before my dagger breaks because of my anxiety.

"Good, good. I'm expecting favorable results on the Guild's next month report. You know what would happen to you if they break the pact, right?"

What can I say? Being ripped in thousands of pieces sounds good, opposite to the entire destruction of the institution, so my anxiety was justified.

"The life of every student of this noble institution has been bet on consolidating this contract, Ms. Ito. I hope you don't disappoint me and bring me what I need," warns me, the owner of my existence and the devil in the flesh.

"I'm aware. I will not fail in my word even if I need to die to comply my part." My words are spilled to the floor, unable to pose my eyes on the man who looks at the front garden with his happy facade.

"Dismiss, now." His words echoed in my ears even if his fan covered his lips.

At his immediate order, I jumped back and abandoned the office. In front of my disappearance, the Demon Lord smiled and spun on his seat a few rounds.

"Ah... What a delightful sensation to be young again," he murmurs, his voice carrying a sinister undertone.