Chapter 1

The sword stood in the doorway of the classroom, waiting. Rows of desks—half occupied— filled most of the room, except at the front where a young woman, her body not much older than the sword’s, slouched behind a large podium. Large windows filled most of the opposite wall, spilling sunlight.

It had only been a few days since the sword had found himself back in a human body, but he already knew that he did not like speaking, and he did not like acting without direction.

So he waited in the doorway, as other people, all seemingly teenagers like himself, pushed past him, speaking first to the woman, then settling at one of the empty desks.

All of the teenagers were dressed in the uniform the sword was also wearing: blue overcoat, white shirt, tan pants. Some of the girls wore checkered skirts instead.

The sword assessed them all as potential wielders with a glance. Despite their outwardly soft bodies—not a hint of muscle to be seen anywhere—seven of them sat as upright as soldiers, and a few of the others had the careless lounge of practiced duelists. The tense ones were brawlers, survivors more than anything else. The ones with their heads on their desks, already asleep, he dismissed at once.

But despite the large number of warriors in the room, there were really only three wielder candidates.

A boy, huddled in a jacket that was too large for him, his eyes unblinking when they met the sword’s. The boy raised a single eyebrow, the rest of his face smooth as glass.

He was the strongest person in the room other than the woman at the podium. That wasn’t saying much, but the sword had worked with less.

A girl, grinning widely as she chatted with the boy next to her, her long black hair tied in a neat pony tail. When she threw her head back and laughed, her whole body shook, and the boy next to her couldn’t help but laugh with her.

She was used to killing. Not a swordswoman necessarily, knives mostly, if the sword had to guess, but she’d learn quickly.

And another girl, amber eyed, brown haired, sitting tall at the center of a group, speaking only rarely, but somehow still the focus of attention.

She was not a warrior exactly, but she was comfortable with power. She would not flinch to use the sword, at least.

Of the three, the boy was the most promising. The strongest always wanted to get stronger.

“You just going to stand in the door all day?”

It was the woman at the front of the room, blue eyes, long black hair, unlike the others she was not in uniform: loose black pants, white hooded sweatshirt, round black glasses.

He had already discarded her as a potential wielder. Not because she wasn’t strong, she was stronger than the boy actually, much stronger.

But she already had a sword, though it was not visible at the moment, he could sense its presence clearly. And he did not share.

“Should I?” The sword asked. His voice was soft and rasping, he wasn’t used to speaking, but the woman had no trouble hearing him.

She rolled her eyes, “Another weeper? Couldn’t you have gotten it out of your system yesterday?”

The sword didn’t know what she meant.

When he said nothing else, she sighed, “Find a desk. The exam is about to begin.”

The sword walked to the nearest empty desk and sat. Whispers started up around him, but they stopped as the woman stepped up to the black board and wrapped it with her knuckles for attention.

“Welcome to Crossroads Academy. I’m Ms. Lopez, I’ll be your homeroom teacher for the year. If you have problems, you’re supposed to bring them to me,” she paused. “Don’t bring me any. I really don’t care about your returner angst.”

Someone snickered.

“Today is all initial assessments. Mental, then physical, mental then physical, and we’ll be done for the day. Based on your results, some of your afternoons you’ll be split into groups for individually appropriate lessons, but you’ll begin every day here, together.”

There were murmurs, but no clear voices until the exams had been passed out, a stack of clean white papers stapled together, with a pen fixed to the top sheet.

The sword stared at the first page, then slid the pen free, pressing the top with his thumb. It clicked.

Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he recognized that sound.

It made his skin prickle.

He didn’t like the feeling very much.

It had only been three days since he had come back to Earth, but so far, he couldn’t say he liked having skin very much.

“And what if I don’t want to take this exam?” A boy asked. The sword turned to look. It was one of the duelists, still lounging, one arm draped over the back of his chair. He was short but stocky, his hair buzz cut, his grin wide and crooked. He looked like the kind of duelist who broke his sword regularly, and laughed about it.

Some of the other students grinned too, waiting for a response, though the sword noticed several, including the girl with amber eyes, who were already writing on their exams.

Ms. Lopez sighed again, rising from her chair, back slouched, hands in her pockets. “Some day, it’ll be one of the girls who asks me that question, and I’ll lose my betting pool. Shockwave.”

She slammed her fist into the blackboard, and the smooth black surface cracked in two, with a little round crater where her fist had made contact.

She rolled her neck from side to side, and licked the blood now leaking from the shallow scrape on her knuckles contemptuously. “Of course you can leave. You just have to beat me first. Before you decide though, why don’t we all check our statuses together?”

A wave of statuses filled the room, including, after a moment’s hesitation, the sword.

Status was a skill that seemingly everyone had had on the sword’s other world, the place he still thought of as home. When used, a blue panel appeared in front of the user, visible only to them, listing their class, skills and held items.

His memories of Earth were all but gone, but he was pretty sure Status had not been available on Earth. Yet, when he used it, there was the blue screen, floating above his desk.

Name: Nicholas Smith

Class: [Unique Sword]

Skills: Snuff.

Wielder Skills: Shadow Strike.

Inventory: N/A

On the one hand, he was relieved he was still a [Unique Sword], despite the change in circumstances. On the other, the lack of all but his earliest skills was…upsetting.

Ms. Lopez wrapped the blackboard for attention, though this time without the use of Shockwave. “To state the obvious, not only are you once more back to base skills, there are no [Heroes] on Earth. That means no skills you don’t earn the old fashioned way, no skills outside of your own title, and no blessings from Status, or for that matter, from [God]. Now that we’re clear on that, does anyone still want to fight their way out?”

Nobody said anything, though many of the other students looked shocked, even frightened. The sword looked around, confused. Had they really all been [Heroes]? That would be surprising. He’d only ever had two wielders who had been [Heroes]. It was the rarest title, bestowed by the gods alone.

“No? Then get writing,” Ms. Lopez said, and slouched back to her chair.

Even the sword found himself bending over his exam, responding automatically to the command in Ms. Lopez’ voice.

He paged carefully through the contents, pen at the ready, though his mind was still elsewhere. If he still had skills here, did that mean he could get more? Snuff on its own was not very much to work with.

“Pens on paper,” Ms. Lopez growled from her desk, and the sword bent to work.

He did appreciate a command.

To his total astonishment, when he reached a page filled with numbers, he did actually remember how to do addition and subtraction, though he used the pen clumsily, and his numbers came out uneven and larger than he’d meant them to.

As for the rest…

He flipped through the exam twice more, before closing it and clipping the pen to the top of the page.

There were some snorts and whispered hisses as he stood up and walked to Ms. Lopez’ desk.

She was paging through a glossy magazine with a woman in a fancy dress on the cover. She did not look up as he placed his exam in front of her.

“It’s been five minutes door boy, go back and write the rest of it.”

“I’ve answered all the questions I can.”

“Sure you have.”

The sword didn’t say anything else, just held his exam out to her.

After a moment, Ms. Lopez folded away her magazine and opened up the sword’s test. She flipped through it.

“That’s it? How long were you gone for, five years?”

The sword paused. “I was told it’s been five years on Earth, yes.”

“Not on Earth, how long were you there on your other world?”

That was a harder question. He knew time flowed differently on the other worlds than on Earth, but time had not been something he’d been too concerned with. He tried to count by wielders. He remembered all of them of course, but he was aware some of them had been wielders longer than others.

“A long time,” he said, which seemed, at least, to be correct.

Ms. Lopez met his gaze, and for a brief moment her eyes narrowed. “They have humans on your other world?”

“Oh yes,” the sword said. Many of his wielders had been human

“Did they get old like Earth humans get old?”

“I guess…they always lived shorter lives than the elves.”

“They always do,” Ms. Lopez said under her breath. “Ok, so…when you say a long time, are you talking about a whole human lifetime?”

The sword nodded, this was a helpful question. “Oh, I see. Several human life times, then.”

“…Several meaning more than two?”

“Definitely.”

Ms. Lopez held his gaze a moment longer, and something about her focused expression made her look much older than the body she wore. Then she leafed through his exam again. “The average time gone is something like three years, you know. On the other world, not on Earth. If you’re right, you’re an extreme outlier. I’m gonna kill the headmaster. You really can’t read at all?”

The sword shook his head. He remembered, in a vague way, having been able to read. But confronted with the printed lines of black symbols on the exam, he found he couldn’t make them mean a thing.

“You didn’t write your name, I’m guessing you don’t remember that either?”

The sword shook his head.

Ms. Lopez tapped the top of his exam, raised her eyebrows.

“Well?”

The sword didn’t know what she was asking.

“What’s your name,” she asked with another roll of her eyes.

Names. The sword had many names. Light Breaker, Shadow-Sun Blade, Death of Stars were just the first three that occurred to him.

Which name did she want?

He decided to use the shortest.

“Eclipse,” the sword named Eclipse said.

Ms. Lopez sighed, “I can tell this is going to be a fun year. Your Earth name, door boy.”

Oh, right. It had even been in his status.

“Nicholas Smith,” he said. It felt strange to say it out loud. “Or Nick, I guess.” Nicholas didn’t sound right at all.

She wrote down what must be his name on the top of the page, and put the exam aside, then paused.

“You’re going to stand out if you turn it in now,” she said, lowering her voice. “That’s going to make your life harder here.”

The sword Eclipse, or the boy Nick, whatever, shrugged.

“Ok,” Ms. Lopez said, returning to her magazine. “It’s your life not mine. If you’re finished, you can go back to your seat. We’re here till the bell rings.”

The sword was tired of talking.

He went back to his seat.

Someone said, “No way,” and Ms. Lopez barked out, “No talking.”

Waiting, at least, was something he was quite good at. It seemed like no time had passed when the bell rang, and Ms. Lopez commanded them to turn in their papers.