[Entrant 456,1100. Welcome to the Badlands.]
The moment Roman opened his eyes, he was in serious disbelief.
What came first was harsh, dry air hitting his skin, and next were bustling sounds made by crowds from the near distance.
He quickly attempted to observe where he was standing, but just as he was trying, a huge arm suddenly came grabbing him by the shoulders, and soon he found himself falling face-first a few steps ahead.
"Get going, rookie. It's a shame that the last Entrant of this session looks like a cold rabbit."
Roman quickly turned to look at who was speaking while still on the ground, and noticed a broad-shouldered man with a very stern face. He was dressed like a soldier and was holding a whip in his right hand.
Not wanting to have it used on him, Roman quickly stood up and continued walking forward.
He was led to a spot that looked like an attendant terminal. Standing on one end were some other men who were also dressed like soldiers, their eyes sharp and scanning every new face that passed through. On the other end, Roman could spot eager faces of people dressed in different attires. With the look on their faces, it appeared like they had been waiting there for quite a long time, but it didn't take Roman long before he understood what this meant.
In the academy, he had learnt that top figures from different areas of the Badlands settled at the Teleport Station on the day of the Red Zenith every year. Why? Because they sought good and promising new Entrants with great potential.
This had to do with getting adequate additions to Adventurer groups and Guilds to improve growth and success.
To sum it up, only the students with the best grades were taken by the best groups.
The Teleport Station was where those who were summoned arrived. Though it wasn't directly through the teleport systems, it was the Newbie Arrivals Unit, where the Premiers, the very first people who got summoned into the Badlands, had arrived from.
When the Premiers arrived in the Badlands about three centuries ago, they had no idea how to survive or how to adapt.
They thought they were trapped, and most of them panicked. The panicked ones became weak enough to die to low-rank monsters, and even the ones who tried to maintain courage? The stronger monsters became their nightmare.
It was the little few who survived several trials and mastered a handful of magical knowledge that discovered how to return to the real world by creating the Teleportation System.
It was these few surviving Premiers that taught the outside world about the Badlands and how to practically survive in it, and after several confirmations, the World Government decided to establish special Academies which were first run and governed by the Premiers.
Because since the first summoning, every year, a considerable number of individuals at the age of 18 were summoned, and to prevent the hell that the Premiers faced, every youngster at the age of 14 had to be enrolled into the Academy.
...
With this recollection coming to his head, Roman heaved a deep sigh.
"I wonder where I'd be going," he muttered to himself.
"And finally, we have the last Entrant!"
One of the soldiers at the counter shouted as he quickly pulled Roman towards him like he weighed nothing.
"Better be good, boy!"
"First Class Standard, please!"
"Be good and I'm going to make you my personal Treasurer!"
Murmurs erupted from the other side, and Roman heard almost every one of them.
But he knew. He knew that he was just about to disappoint them.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
What looked like a stethoscope was placed on his forehead, and suddenly, something started reading on the screen of the device connected to it.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
"Final Academic Standard, Fourth Class!" The soldier announced, his voice loud enough to cut through the crowd, and at once, Roman could see the faces of everyone turning dark.
"Oops."
"Damn."
"Anyone going for this young man?!" The soldier then asked.
Murmurs erupted again, and slowly the crowd began to disperse. Since he was the last Entrant available, there was no reason to stay anymore, right?
The soldier waited, and clearly, it seemed like no one was coming.
Then the soldier turned to Roman with a pitiful look on his face.
"Oh, man. Guess you will just have to start your life yourself. I don't know how a Fourth Class even got into the Badlands."
"That's... rare," another soldier standing next to him added.
However, just when the case looked like it had closed, a young man suddenly stepped in front of the counter.
"I will take him!"
The soldier turned and spotted a young man dressed in a black baggy jacket, his hands tucked casually into his pockets like he hadn't just done something unexpected.
"Mister Norman? Seriously? Do you want to take this boy so he can die in the Valley?" The soldier asked.
"With all the best guidance possible, he'll be fine. Trust me."
The soldier hesitated and turned to Roman, who was just standing still with no expression on his face.
He then sighed and nodded. "Okay, then. If you say so."
He grabbed a book and recorded something. Roman figured that the soldier was recording the handover of the last Entrant, which was him.
Soon, he was led outside the terminal where he met the man who had just asked to take him.
"Hey, I'm Norman. Norman Kons," the man quickly introduced himself as Roman stepped out.
"Roman Rings," he gave his introduction as well, with a rather expressionless face.
"Alright, Roman. I'm the assistant to the Head of Blood Trail Outpost, which is about thirty-five kilometres from here. You might be feeling terrible about yourself right now because the others didn't pick you, but trust me, I believe you still have something big to give to the Badlands," Norman said.
Roman could only nod, and he figured that was the best thing he could do.
Right now, the only thing on his mind was the system that had just gotten him here. He needed to know how and why, and where it came from.
"Come with me."
Norman led him to what looked like a caravan parked not too far from the Teleport Station. And there, he saw dozens of other new Entrants that Norman had brought with him.
Every individual in the Badlands was called an Entrant, and that was the appropriate name used to address themselves here. It was the people in the outside world that called them Awakeners, and that term was only used outside the Badlands since it wasn't cultured.
A caravan that was going to embark on a thirty-five kilometre journey. Roman already knew it was going to be a long ride, but he was glad that he would have enough time to access the strange blue screen that was appearing at the corner of his eyes.
"Try not to die early, boy!"
"Very important!"
Just as they were about to head into the caravan, some familiar voices sounded from behind, and they turned to notice that it was the soldiers back at the station gate.
"Don't let that frighten you, Roman. The Wrath Army men can act like clowns sometimes," Norman said with a smile.
Once they were in, they started the journey to Blood Trail Outpost.
The Badlands was a vast world, and as expected, one significant place of residence could be miles away from another, and what could be distancing them were either forests, wastelands or even seas.
Roman already knew all of this, and that's why he didn't raise an alarm when he was told that Blood Trail Outpost was thirty-five kilometres away.
When the journey began, he made sure to find a quiet, suitable spot for himself in the caravan and settle there away from the others.
Then, he faced the interface, and questions rained.
"What are you?"
"Where do you come from?"
"How did you get me here?"
"Why?"
"If you can help losers like me, why didn't you help my father?"
All these questions came, and in the end, the only response he got left him unsatisfied.
[Host has successfully entered the Badlands.]
[Host can now view his status.]
[If Host asks too many questions, Host will be thrown back into the World, and Host will never return to the Badlands.]