Faene awoke with a start. He felt a pair of eyes watching him.
Most would be frozen in fear, hoping that whatever it was would not notice them.
But Faene had already experienced this the night before; it was just another trial he had to face to ready himself for what was to come.
Not bothering to change out of his simple white tunic and long black pants, he picked up his longsword, which was propped against the side of his bed.
His window had been opened, and he peered outside of it.
He was inside one of the outer dorm rooms of the Academy, and his window faced out to a large warehouse, which likely was where shipments were delivered.
On top of it, he saw a hooded and masked figure staring down into his window ominously.
Once whoever it was saw Faene was up, they turned away and walked across the rooftop.
Faene swiftly followed, and augmenting himself with internal energy allowed him to leap directly to the roof.
The cloaked individual stood on the opposite side of the roof. Faene readied his sword, feeling tense.
Last night, there had been an immediate fight; he wondered if this night would be the same, or if perhaps his order had relayed some information this time.
The figure turned, and they held a dagger in either hand, each one serrated and clearly intended to deal great damage.
'Seems like more of the same.'
Faene inherited a technique through his order, which allows him to impose a law of his choice onto both his opponent and himself.
When he lacks knowledge of his opponent, he typically opts to remove both of their abilities to use internal energy.
This is because Faene is one of, if not the most talented, blade master among any living awakened. It also negated any techniques that might be difficult to deal with.
Their speed and strength were both severely lowered due to this, but it hardly mattered.
The gap was already closed.
The masked man dealt dozens of blows in just a few moments.
Faene weathered the storm and searched for openings.
And it came as simply as that.
One wild swing, and one of the daggers was sent whizzing through the air.
The masked man did not try to retrieve it, simply trying to use it as his own opening to strike at Faene's throat with his remaining blade.
Faene's own sword stabbed back down with frightening speed, piercing the wrist of the assailent and pinning it to the roof with savage speed.
A slight whimper sounded from behind the mask.
Faene stared at them for a moment before pulling his sword free.
"Heal up, I won't need you again. Tell them to send someone stronger."
He turned away and began walking back to his room.
The figure paused for a moment, then knelt in respect and disappeared in a flash.
.
.
.
Roy lazily chewed on his lunch. Today had been quite uneventful for him, and he supposed he ought to find something to do; being lazy would not help his survival in the first layer after all.
But he couldn't bear to listen to lectures and was not exactly in the mood to be beaten up during hand-to-hand combat practice again.
He excelled in real fights! He had proven that during the game... Right?
His ability was very situational and team-oriented; yeah, he might be able to fool somebody once or twice with it, but once they realized, they just had to stop shooting projectiles at him, it was always the end for him.
He sighed
'Why can't I just have been born the oldest of the family....'
His annoyed gaze fell upon Faenes' table. He was wearing a relaxed expression and sitting alone.
'Order of Pride bastard...'
He snidely looked away and stared at the other two. What were their names again?
"Sack-something and... Ear..? That doesn't sound right..."
Anyway, the two of them were chatting at their table, seemingly getting along well. Roy was almost tempted to join.
Almost.
With a sigh, he left the Cafeteria, dumping his garbage into a bin by the exit.
He decided some fresh air was in order.
He walked through the streets of the third city, his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit pants. The weather was somewhat cold at this time of year; it seemed he would miss winter this year.
Thank the Gods, he hated that season.
There were many unsafe streets in the third city, almost everyone there knew an easy score when they saw one, and there were even those so desperate as to go after not-so-easy scores.
But none so foolish as to go after someone wearing academy attire.
Although he did receive a few glances.
He arrived at a broken-down overpass, which must have been demolished recently, a shame, he had liked the view he got when he climbed atop it.
With a sigh, he stopped.
"Yes?"
"Master Roy."
"I told you I wouldn't be going back."
"I understand... they understand. But they are worried about you."
Roy turned.
An old man with grey hair with white strands mixed in stood behind him; he was slightly hunched and wore a fancy suit.
"And why did they make you come all the way out here then?"
"Lady Anne, your sister... she sent you this, I hope you will read it over."
The man walked to him and handed him an envelope with a wax seal insignia of The Sun.
He frowned at it and looked back at the old man.
He wore a pleading expression on his face.
Roy sighed
"Alright, you win, I promise that after I come back from the first layer, I'll visit."
The butler smiled.
"Thank you, young master."
Back in his room, he examined the letter and sighed.
"Dear brother, I hope this letter finds you well. I'd like to wish you luck in your Ascension. I also hope whatever answers you are looking for are found. Best wishes. -Love, Anne"
Roy groaned, placing the letter on his bedside table and lying back into bed, his mind was once again filled with questions.
.
.
.
Eira snapped her fingers.
She fell out of the dimensional void, landing directly in her room.
She, unlike others she brought inside, could breathe in the strange space, and she personally found floating in a deep, weightless void more relaxing than sleeping in a room where she could be ambushed in her sleep.
Disregarding her potentially irrational fears, she left for the first class of the day.
She shared this class with Sacril; he intrigued her in particular during the game, and especially afterwards, she couldn't tell initially, but apparently, he hadn't had a contract or even been using any internal energy back then.
She couldn't exactly force this information out of him, nor did she want to, but she hoped he might share it.
Alas, they had usually just made small talk; he didn't seem to mind, although he typically avoided eye contact.
The classes they shared were combat and Survival, the latter being one he had picked back up after the game, likely due to him underestimating how important it would be.
In combat class, they were top performers, Eira specialising in augmenting her weapons with her technique, and Sacril simply being more skilled and stronger than the other students in the class.
Sadly, the pretentious Faene was not in the class; Eira would have enjoyed watching him fight that guy.
Roy, as well, although he lacked the stuck-up attitude, him being a part of an order was enough for her to dislike him.
Every one of them thought they were better; who do they think they are? In reality, they are just people too scared to face the world alone.
She drank from a bottle of water supplied by the academy. She was drenched in sweat, having finished her own training and was observing Sacril run his usual gauntlet of sparring the entire class.
This time, she swore he was not even touched by a single blow; she sighed in satisfaction.
'My carry is assured.'