"Internal bleeding, a broken jaw, a punctured lung, a concussion, potential paralysis from the leg down..." Franka stopped reading the medical report, tucking the stack of stapled paper beneath her arm.
Samson was admitted to the academy's medical wing, where he was currently recovering—in a stable condition. Franka was leaning against the wall outside Samson's recovery room, glaring at the man in front of her. "...do you just let your students do anything they want outside of school time, Edward?"
Instructor Edward Hargrove was leaning against the opposite wall. His platinum hair was slicked back, and a goatee stretched around his lips. "They're not my students," he corrected, "...sure, I teach them practical combat, but I'm not directly responsible for them outside of school hours."
"Still, you're head of the academy's combat division. Restricting the first-years' access to school venues like Training Ground Beta during orientation day is your responsibility. Yet," Franka stepped forward, "...you decided to let the sparring match take place."
"Tch," Hargrove turned away from Franka. "You're too soft. The Unification Department's a dog-eat-dog world. If you can't handle a pummeling—if you can't get beaten hard and still get back up—then you don't belong here."
"Still, Edward..." Franka sighed, "...you're too harsh." Taking another step forward, Franka's hand came to cup Edward's cheek. The hallway was empty and silent, save for the incessant humming of the overhead lights.
"...Don't you like that about me?" Edward's finger traced a line across Franka's cheek. The two came close—their breaths mingling in the space between them as Franka rose onto her tiptoes.
Then, footsteps shot down the corridor.
Franka and Edward recoiled away from one another, planting their backs against opposite sides of the hallway. Franka's gaze was downturned, trying to hide the flush that had spread across her cheeks. Edward, however, remained perfectly composed—his only tell being the slight twitch of his eyebrow.
Ansel jogged down the corridor, coming to an awkward halt as his oblivious gaze shifted between the school nurse and the instructor. His throat felt dry as he spoke, "If possible... could I go see Samson?"
"Of course, go ahead," Franka gestured inside the room. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet, but you're free to visit him if you like. The orientation ceremony's been delayed to 8 PM, so don't spend too long in there."
"Thank you," Ansel nodded, quickly entering Samson's recovery room. 'Did I just interrupt an important conversation?'
Edward watched Ansel's back with an uncanny smile, the corner of his lip twitching. 'That brat...'
* * *
Ansel entered the recovery room, immediately spotting the small crowd forming around Samson's bed. 'They must be his friends from the examination...'
Ansel took a step forward, but stopped in his tracks. 'Samson's the one Dominic sparred with, not me... If he hadn't stepped in, would I still be standing here?' It wasn't just guilt weighing heavy on Ansel's heart—it was a sense of inferiority as well.
One of the students in the crowd turned his head toward Ansel, an unreadable expression on his face, before focusing his attention back on Samson once more. Samson's hands were laying flat by his side. His face was a blue-and-purple mess of bruises, and his two front teeth were knocked out.
Ansel couldn't work up the courage to approach Samson's bed, instead deciding to exit the room, cradling his own head. 'Why did Dominic go that far? Why did he have to hurt Samson like that? Samson is a good person... he didn't deserve to be beaten up like that.'
"Dominic..."
* * *
The auditorium was packed with first-year students. The seating was composed of fifty tiered rows, stretching out in a circular pattern from the main stage. It provided ample room to seat the cohort of 200 students.
Ansel had arrived earlier, focusing his attention on the center of the stage instead of brooding about the events that had occurred earlier in the day. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation run down his spine.
A pair of small hands danced through the strands of Ansel's hair, gently tugging at his auburn locks and humming a soft tune.
Ansel's head turned around like an animatronic, seeing another first-year student leaning over his chair—her hands planted on his scalp. "Your hair is so smooth..." the girl's emerald eyes spun as if she was mesmerized, "...and so soft! It's like a girl's hair!"
"I—uh..." Ansel's cheeks tinged with pink as he stuttered over his words. "What... are you doing?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry!" The girl sprang back onto her seat, distancing herself from Ansel. Her medium-length pink hair was tussled by the movement, chaotic waves running down to her nape. "Your hair was just so pretty, I couldn't help but feel it..."
"Oh..." Ansel slowly turned away, offering a shy smile. "Thank you—"
The girl bent forward at a ninety-degree angle, her head stopping directly next to Ansel's. "So, what's your name?"
"Ah!" Ansel jerked to his right— away from the girl. He froze mid-pose, blinking twice as his mind filtered the uncomfortable proximity. "I-I'm Ansel... Ansel Einchalle."
"Oh. Cool, cool." The girl grinned wide. "Ansel Einchalle? I'm Eyra Astedes! I don't think I saw you during the entrance examination... are you that one boy who didn't have to sit it?" Her brow slightly furrowed, a childish pout making its way onto her mouth.
"Oh, that's me. How do you already know about—"
"Ehhhh, no hard feelings." She leaned back again, resting her head in her arms and kicking her feet onto the backseat of Ansel's chair, using it as a footrest. "If you got in without having to take the exam, you must be pretty important, or powerful, or both."
"I wouldn't say I'm that important." Ansel faced forward again, casually ignoring Eyra's shoes. "I think I'm more lucky than skilled..."
"If you keep on saying stuff like that, people are bound to start hating you!" Eyra hissed, retracting her feet.
"H-hating me?" Ansel whipped his head around.
"You've been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get into the Unified Training Academy scot-free, so chalking it all up to luck is bound to make some people angry."
"I see," Ansel's gaze turned downcast, "...do you not think that, Eyra?"
"I can't really tell, since I just met you. Buuut, you don't seem like that bad of a person," Eyra smiled. "So I can't really hate you now. You should just talk to more people. Hating someone you've talked to is way harder than hating a stranger."
"Well, maybe it's right for everyone else to feel cheated." Ansel fidgeted with his thumbs. "Because honestly, I don't think I deserve to be here."
"Hm?" Students flowed into the auditorium, taking up vacant seats as the lights began to dim.
"I'm really not skilled at all," Ansel continued. "I'm pretty much the weakest person here. I didn't even have the courage to go up and confront Dominic, and I can't even use my ability."
"You sure are telling me a lot of secrets..." Eyra yawned. "Are you in love with me or something?"
"W-wah? No! That's not it!" Ansel's face went red.
Eyra sighed, taking on a normal seated position. "Look," she interlocked her fingers, "I don't care. You seem like a nice person, so I'll let you off the hook."
"Alright..."
"Just get stronger, Ansel."
"What do you mean? That's so vague... getting stronger isn't something I can do just by putting my mind to it. Maybe I'm not meant to be strong." Ansel shook his head, "...just face it, I'm weak."
"You're weak because you're wallowing in your own self-pity."
"Huh?" Eyra's blunt tone momentarily stunned Ansel.
"Oh, boo-hoo, poor me. I'm so weak and I can't use my powers, oooh, woe is me!" Eyra shouted theatrically, with the back of her hand planted on her forehead. Nearby students turned to watch as she spoke.
"All you need to do," she jabbed a finger at Ansel's forehead, "is take every negative thought in that tiny head of yours, bunch them up into a ball, and stomp on it until it dies."
"Wait... what?"
"I'm telling you to not give a shit, Ansel! Whenever you see an opportunity to act, and your heart starts beating fast for no reason, and your head starts to ring with pain—just don't give a shit! Do what you know is right and don't waste a single neuron thinking about the consequences."
"That sounds like a dangerous way to live. What if other people get hurt? Or what if I get hurt?"
"Somebody always ends up getting hurt, Ansel. We're supposed to pick and choose. That's what it means to be a Unity Officer."
'She's basically saying the same thing that Uncle Pengal told me earlier today... is it really that easy not to care about what other people think?'
Just then, the lights completely shut off. A spotlight illuminated the center of the stage, and a silhouetted figure took the limelight.
Microphone feedback echoed across the auditorium as the contours of the silhouetted figure's face came into the light. It was a man with pallid skin and gray, balding hair. His back was hunched over, and he wore a loose, formal robe. From the outside, he looked like an ordinary elderly man—but something about his presence demanded the attention of the students.
To Ansel, it seemed as if the man's every breath carried the weight of authority. His gray eyes gleamed with countless years of wisdom. 'Is he the...'
"Welcome, first-year students, to Farrah's Unified Training Academy." His voice carried across the space as he adjusted the microphone on his collar. "I am Headmaster Xerxes, the 209th headmaster of this academy."
Xerxes began to pace around the room. "Throughout my many years teaching here, I have seen countless talented cohorts. One of them being the graduating cohort of the 1893rd Aerial Year, whose practical exam scores surpassed even that of the Capital's."
Stopping, Xerxes' gaze began to sweep over the room—drifting across Cerua, Dominic, and Eyra, before landing on Ansel with a heavy gaze.
Ansel's body went rigid as he braced for impact. The direct pressure from the headmaster's gaze felt as if anvils were crushing his body from all sides. 'He's looking directly at me...'
Xerxes' eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny before breaking his gaze away from Ansel and resuming his address to the rest of the cohort. "You will be challenged during your journey at the academy. You will rise. You will fall. You will cry, sweat, and bleed," he sighed. "It will not be an easy journey."
Ansel could hear Eyra lean forward in her chair behind him. A few rows ahead, Dominic slowly rubbed his hands together, a blank look on his face. 'What is he thinking?' Ansel bit his lip. Then, Dominic slightly turned his head around, meeting Ansel's eyes head-on and offering a small smirk.
Ansel snapped his focus back toward the headmaster, a mix of frustration and embarrassment swelling within his chest.
"Your classes will be split into three divisions: Academics, History, and Combat. Your academics course will cover subjects such as mathematics and literature, while your history course will cover the background of the Accessed Arts and the Unification Department."
Murmurs of mixed reactions spread throughout the crowd.
"Your combat course," the crowd went silent, "...will be divided into two sections. Theory, where you learn combat strategies in a classroom setting, and Practical, where you put these strategies to the test."
Students burst out into discussion, engulfing the auditorium in a cacophony of sound before Xerxes cleared his throat. "Quiet..." Silence followed once more.
"Your personal timetables will be delivered by admin soon, along with a school handbook. Commit everything to memory, and work to the best of your ability." He turned around. "Like I said before, this won't be an easy journey. Out of the two hundred of you here today, only half of you will be able to become proper Unity Officers. You will all be tested like never before, and pushed to lengths you never could have hoped to achieve, because that is what it means to be a Unity Officer—consistently breaking your own limits for the sake of the Federation. You are not limited by your chord, just as you are not limited by your own body or mind. For the sake of your family, for the sake of your people, and for the sake of yourself—do the very best you can."
Xerxes sighed again. "Dismissed."