Please tell me what needs work. My eyes hurt...

What the hell even is Aura or Dust...

This vent fic was is for how wasteful the writers are.


[01]: No Danger Sleeping Here.


The headmaster's office was a small room, about three times the size of a supply closet. Three arched windows behind his desk painted the beautiful scenery of Vacuo, its stark orange and blue encapsulating the rusty corrugated roofs and brightly bleached sandstone walls. Every so often the desert heat would roll through the glass-free windows, painting the headmaster in sweat which seeped into the documents he was in the middle of signing.

It was an Great day for the Headmaster of "The Wastes". Nothing had to be dug out and no one was set ablaze by the summer sun. The negotiations for their supply of ice dust had gone shockingly well, with the General promising an extra three tons of raw, unprocessed dust for the students... There haven't even been any reports of Sandworms!

It was an Great day for the Headmaster of "The Wastes".

"Maxwell!" Until it wasn't...

Ms. Rumpole barged into the cramped office, her gaze locked to him before scanning over to the offender.

"…zZzZz…" The brown mop resting its head on the glorified coffee table barely twitched. With a sigh the woman bent down and grasped onto the wiry strands of hair, lifting it as high as she can reach before quickly slamming it onto the desk.

"mmmhhnnn…" Still, the person remained asleep.

"Ms. Rumpole, I know-" The glare she had given him told of unspeakable pain if he were to intervene. Digging deep down into the roots of the corpse she hefted it up and crashed it down directly onto the drool and sweat stained paperwork. The mops snoring stuttered and it pulled up to reveal his widening baggy eyes, unfocused yet watching the woman mad-dogging him. The headmaster knew he knew no fear, and didn't seem to care even when his yawn was ruined by her ever tightening grip.

"I am this close to turning that wire scourer you call hair into gold." The words were spat out to them but even then, he couldn't hold back the fear building up inside of him.

He knew they would make it worse... "Hello Ms. Rumpole..." Her eye visibly twitched. "Is... there a problem?" Their pained grunts were muffled by the wooden desk, meanwhile he suffered the dry biting stare that simply asked why? But they both knew why he was hired as the only teacher in dust control. Her name leaked from their muffled voice, reminding her of how much force she was using. Luckily, the only damage was to the forms that they used as a pillow-

Nevermind. "-Yes, there is a major problem. Your-" She cut herself off once again as she yanked the crinkled paper to their unfocused stare. It wasn't a form.

One beat. The headmaster felt the promises of pain wrap around him.

Two beats. She slowly marched over to his now wilting form. Slamming the piece of paper and shaking the rickety door ajar.

Three beats. He read the first line, '-' He almost choked on his saliva, but still had to violently cough just to calm his throat... "Oh..." Was as he could say, his mind was busy slamming into itself trying its absolute damnedest to come up with any answer.

"Oh." She mimicked.

"...Was it not for me? Because Headmaster Theodore did just split the pile into two..." And now he can envision his death, thanks to Maxwell and his loose tongue. It would a slow death, involving his own knuckle dusters. They straightened out their weary body, keeping their eyes focused on the two of them.

"What was it that you wanted to discuss, Ms. Rumpole?" The red hot sun highlighted the scabs and scars that ran thick with his sweat. His eyes however remained perfectly neutral.

It didn't seem to affect her however, "...Yes. Your syllabus was modified." She remained leaning over the stout desk but still watched along with the headmaster as all the sweat dripping from his face sunk back in to his shock.

"Why!? It was perfectly-"

"It was unsafe. They may be huntsman but it is still bad form to let them deal with raw explosives by themselves." Maxwell looked astonished at that statement, and it took all of Theodore's might to not make a sound.

"I mean... Was it?" Theodore couldn't help the snort that pulled out from his mouth, luckily she was too shocked to even notice his shoulders rapidly heaving.

"You wrote it!"

"I had to rewrite things because I didn't even know what I was doing back then! But it never crossed my mind that it would've been dangerous..." He swept his arms to his sides, the confusion and annoyance on his face made clearer by the sudden burst of harsh sun heat as the clouds behind Theodore parted. Everyone winced at the harsh heat tunneling deep into their backs. Even when it had dissipated the heat lingered on their skin and clothes.

"I'll get some Ice Dust..." Theodore was quick on his, taking only three strides and shoving the door wide open with his elbow. The sounds of his footsteps echoed through the circular hallways.

Rubbing the back of her broiled head she continued her conversation, "With the state you were in I have to wonder what you consider to be dangerous." She retorted. "I wonder if your infected foot contaminated the water supply..."

"I haven't even touched the water supply." Maxwell lazily retorted, gently poking the blisters that were starting to form on his skin. Completely unaware of the look of horror that was growing on the woman's face.

"I'm sorry?"

"I never got the tickets to use the showers." Rumpole looked to her left palm, true to her word it wasn't sweat that lined her skin, but grease. Countless hours of grease smeared across his hands. Her skin grew as pale as it could. Just on time the headmaster hefted in several packets of inactivated dust in his arms, for her to quickly snag two of them and sticking them to the back of her head.

"Did you get Maxwell his tickets yet?"

"uhhhh..."


Silence permeated the classroom, as it always too hot to even consider thinking about gossip. Luckily the sun was situated behind them, shrouding their cross-legged forms and giving them full illumated view of the gradually sagging teachers desk.

The door slammed wide open with their voice trailing along. "Alright, class, welcome to this new subject. My name is Maxwell and you are the lucky ones who get to learn something important and fun!" The stretched corpse marching up to the desk with several colourful baskets had all the flair of a rabbit sock puppet. hebriskly limped around the desk, the creaking of a wooden foot prosthetic not distracting the students from the creases miring his face. although some questions were slowly though up before being boiled away by the reflecting heat

"So again, welcome to 'Aura and Dust Control 100'. This… will be fun, and probably lethal so! I need to first jog your memory on what Aura and Dust is… do we have anyone willing to tell me what is Aura?" Scanning around the crowd he watched them all stare at the man with complete confusion, before finally, one person slowly raised their hand up. The person darted his amber eyes from side to side in slight regret, everyone else's eyes were trained on him.

"Aura is... the manifestation of one's soul." Maxwell gestured for him to continue. "It allows us to take hits that would be lethal. And also amplify our own physical abilities. Our- some semblances run on Aura."

"…Good, like he said- I'm sorry I never got your name- I completely forgot to do the register! Dammit!" He cursed, shocking the students. "Don't worry! Don't worry! We can do it without it today!"

"Uh… my name is Ryan Cordon." They said, quickly bringing back his attention to the lesson.

"Ah, thank you. Anyways! Like he said, Aura is a 'magical' force that lets us do things that can be called 'superhuman'. It can be use actively by infusing weapons or the body, or passively as a way to heal bruises or cuts, though not dismemberment. Yet."

Digging through one of the baskets he fetched out a whole stack of oversized boards. The harsh light was absorbed into the black backing of the chalkboard walls, allowing the chalk to highlight the simple drawing of a person with a loop drawn around its body.

"Aura, as we know it can be represented as a rope tied into a knot, or a circuit."

Suddenly he tossed the board off into one of the many wilting bushes that circled the classroom. Wherever it was it let out a violent snap, the sounds of the bushes being crushed under the light his hands was a new board which showed a more detailed aura circuit, complete with a knot that rested over the figures heart. "There's a 'core' where aura flows out from and into, wrapping itself around the body. Those with massive aura tanks have thicker loops."

Another board was cycled to, another death knell of the local plant life. "The 'core' of this loop is where most of the Aura techniques originate from. By repositioning the loop so that it encompasses a certain area, you can strengthen this area. "

This time the board was lightly slapped onto the bent teachers desk . "Or have it flare up from your skin. Which allows for the loop to possibly bridge into your weapons, strengthening it." The tension dissipated as they gently place the final board on top of the previous one.

It quickly skyrocketed when he pulled out a Fire Dust and begun to juggle it in the air.

"Dust as we know it is a crystalline material that is reactive to either Aura or sudden,strong impacts," He punctuated his point by suddenly rattling his gaunt knuckles over the edges of the crystal. "Really though. This stuff is only dangerous with aura running through it. Otherwise it'll be like a cheap Firebomb." He changed his grasp into one where he held the crystal by two fingers.

The hum of aura being pushed out was drowned by the panicked shuffling of the students, who were backing up as the stone grew to a luminous white. Some of the students rested their hands on the gaps where there were not plants, ready to begin clambouring up and over the low-hanging skylight and literally hot-foot it across the roof.

"Dust crystals are sensitive to Aura, however you can run Aura through it and put it in a… unstable state. If I shook this…" Silence filled the world momentarily. "It would be worse than a firebomb." The students however exhaled fully when the crystal slowly stopped glowing. Although one person seemingly slouched over, banging the side of their head on their low-rise desk.

"Like our bodies, Dust can circulate Aura through itself, however a certain path must be taken in order for it to not explode. Aura attracts Aura, and this logic allows it to find the shortest route possible." The implications of what that could mean were left to winds of fate, some of the students caught on and paled. Some didn't.

"Aura can also lure dust." The crystal in his hands begun to glow again to their panic. With his hands he slowly and gently pulled the crystal apart, inch by inch, letting it rest momentarily. Gradually its center became threadbare, but it stil had not exploded. "You can manipulate its shape this way, allowing one to store more dust in a smaller area. "The glow on the crystal dimmed for a while, however it came back, more concentrated in the centre. He repeated with the glow dimming and coming back until finally the crystal was pulled apart with a quiet plink.

"With this technique you could cut costs on specially carved crystals. You could even make a dust crystal, and it could keep its hold until you want it to detonate!" Maxwell plonked the separated crystals onto the desk and rummaged behind it, pulling out a cooler and walking to the front of the students. Opening the cooler, many students paled once they saw the large medely of small dust crystals. The assignment put in place was clear.

His enroaching form was halted as he asked a quick question. "Actually... Before we begin, how many of you have done that exercise where you trace an object with your aura, right?" The students looked to each other, knowing the truth and what should be said... "I know this is scary, but this will be useful in your Huntsman life."

"We'll be using these smaller dust crystals." He begun hapazardly dropping crystals onto every desk. "You'll be expected to separate it, or at least get it to a thin enough point... Remember! use one aura thread and scan through the pathway, trust your gut."

"You can start now."

But they didn't, or rather, they were hesitant in the first place. Some souls tentativly picked up the nugget and fiddled with it, taking deep breaths and rubbing the sweat dripping off their faces with their shoulders. Maxwell watched the students gently prod at the crystal and he couldn't help but smile as they battled their fears...

'reminds me of the first time I did this... I almost-'

Unfortunatly, he was so quickly engrossed in thought that was unaware as Ms. Rumpole silently marched into the room, quickly paling at the sight of so many students fondling dust crystals. She prayed that the motes of lights that glistened off the shards were just from the light as she quickly hissed at him, alerting him to her stout presence. "…Is there a problem?"

The white hot look on her face indicated she would've strangled him if she could. "Yes!" She growled. "We haven't agreed to do this!"

"Oh, don't worry. It's from my personal stash."

"That's not the point! We need them to-"

Her retort was cut short as the sound of panicked screaming came from one of the students. Her aura crystal was glowing a bright red. Far too bright than all the rest.

" Ms. Amiele-" An arm was put in front of her before she could move however, glaring back up she swore she saw his eyes light up momentarily.

"That's perfect!" Maxwell quickly dashed over to the student and pointed at the crystal. "This is the type of glow you want. It's in that field of being perfectly malleable and you can do it on the move without triggering an explosion!"

"Ahh… Umm…" The student was still panicking, now because of how close the teacher was. With his manic grin being the icing on top.

Quickly he relaxed at her pallid face. "Oh, that's right. Uh... try to feel around for the aura thread. Don't actually put aura into the crystal, just… around your finger and feel around. Like wetting your thumb and sticking it in the air." Maxwell patted her back. And she gave a busted smile.


Wasteful? More like incompetent.

I wrote this years ago... You can't really tell, right?

Now i'm going to eat my own foot.

Think of this like a stocking stuffer.

The story, not my foot.

You won't live to see me in stockings...