"That… Went well…"
John stood rooted to the spot, his chest heaving as he finally allowed himself to catch his breath. It took several long minutes for the adrenaline to recede enough for him to notice the state he was in. His skin felt clammy, and he realised with a shiver that his clothes were utterly soaked in a cold, nervous sweat.
As he wiped his forehead, he paused, looking down at his sleeves. He wasn't wearing the drab, rough-textured orange jumpsuit he had lived in for the past few months of his imprisonment.
Instead, he was clad in a dark, durable jacket and a pair of sturdy jeans, with a soft shirt underneath and heavy-duty, thick shoes on his feet. The outfit felt high-quality and completely alien.
"Hmm, let me check what that system is all about…"
John instantly thought of the system, and an interface opened up. He stared, mesmerised, at the translucent golden lines cascading in front of his eyes. Even as a top-tier hacker, he was taken aback by the sheer complexity of the interface, as he was oblivious to many items mentioned there.
"Interesting," John muttered, a small, amused smirk playing on his lips. "It's just like any program I or other developers ever coded," John thought, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the familiarity. It made this alien world feel manageable.
There was a section for Quests, another for a Map, which was currently greyed out, a Profile icon, and other features. However, most of the features were dimmed, greyed out.
He checked his profile details, and there he found basic stuff like his name, age, and then more detailed stuff like abilities, stats, and Mental Points. There were other alien stuff like system synchronisation level and security deadlines.
He spent a few minutes checking everything, going through all and reading the description attached next to each. There was one active ability he could use for now, which was Frame Recognition.
From its description, he could tell it allowed him to perceive the world in a code matrix way. The description was a bit vague, so he decided to give it a try.
"Let's see what this is all about... Frame Recognition!"
John felt a sharp tug on his eyes and head as the ability surged to life for the first time. The realistic appearance of the academy dissolved into a sea of flickering green code.
The floor beneath him was no longer polished stone; it was a complex lattice of glowing lines, symbols, and codes. The ceiling and the walls followed suit.
"Fascinating," John was totally absorbed in the new world that had just opened to his eyes. There was nothing similar to the realistic appearance he saw before in this big hall.
Everything was formed of green code lines. He had to step up and touch the central doll, and his hands felt the artificial soft skin covering it. And yet in his eyes, the doll was made entirely out of green code.
"Even my body is made of the same weird code structure," he took a glimpse of his arms, body, and there he spotted the same structure of green codes. Everything felt new and shocking to him, yet quite refreshing.
He would have dismissed everything, the interrogation, Mark, the void, the hectic few dozen minutes that he just lived through, as a particularly vivid fever dream if it weren't for what he was seeing right now.
As he kept moving around and inspecting everything, getting a bit used to this ability, ten minutes passed, and then the ability snapped off. "Tsk, it seems this system is quite serious about the duration thing," he shook his head, while the world around him returned to look realistic as before.
He then turned toward the far wall, where a massive mirror dominated the space. He approached his reflection cautiously. He looked like himself, the same jet-black hair, the same piercing blue eyes, nothing out of the ordinary.
He looked… In the best shape he ever had. The clothes offered no clues. Yet he was the curious type of person, and very patient too. "I'll take my time, surely something or someone will pass by here and I'll get to know more about what this place really is," he casually said, before recalling something.
"First things first," John whispered. He took a quick, frantic look at his own body, reaching down to check his little John. He let out a long, heavy sigh of relief to find everything exactly where it was supposed to be. "Okay. At least these future programs knew where not to mess around."
He spent a moment testing his body. He sprinted a few paces, ducked low, and performed a standing jump. He felt light, responsive, and incredibly fast.
He turned his attention back to the room. He marched to the door and shoved against it, but it remained as stubborn as a mountain. He was still locked in. "Don't tell me the prison just got an upgrade," he grumbled, turning back toward the centre of the hall.
In the middle of the room stood a big training doll. There were others scattered around the perimeter, but this one was the clear focus.
It was a featureless mannequin, with soft skin, devoid of a face, standing on a weighted base. Its most glaring feature was a set of shining, silver-coloured armour plates bolted firmly over its chest and abdomen.
"First time I've ever met a student who ignored the testing doll to dance around, speaking to himself, like a complete idiot!"
The sudden, gravelly voice echoed through the hall, startling John so badly he nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, his heart leaping into his throat, and instinctively retreated a few steps. He raised his fists in a messy, untrained guard, his eyes wide with alarm.
"Easy there, kid. I'm not your enemy," the voice continued.
A man stepped out from the shadows near the far wall. He was middle-aged and built like a brick fortress, his muscles bulging beneath a sleeveless tunic. A long scar ran down his forehead, and his features were carved out of stone.
"You had over half an hour to kick and punch this little thing," the man said, gesturing dismissively toward the armoured doll.
"Thirty whole minutes to score points for your initial academy assessment entry test. And yet, you chose to spend that time moving around like a clown in a circus. Dammit, kid! What the hell is wrong with your head?"
The man tapped his temple aggressively, his tone dripping with an enraged disappointment that suggested he had been watching John's every move. John froze, his mind racing.
'Hadn't this man seen the glowing text? Hadn't he seen the black void of the Shell or the cascading lines of code?' John's mind raced with these questions. Yet he didn't know that to this observer, John had just been talking to thin air and jumping around for no reason.
John's brain struggled to pivot. Academy? Entry test?
"It's too late now," the man barked, noticing the way John was eyeing the doll. "You had your chance, fair and square, just like everyone else. But you didn't land a single strike. Not one punch, not a single kick. You didn't give the sensors a single point to record!"
The man stomped closer, stopping just a foot away from John. He raised his hand, curling his thumb and forefinger into a mocking circle. "A big fat zero! I swear, in all my years at the Azure Academy, I have never seen anyone score a zero. Like… Ever! Even the most talentless brat manages to fall against the thing and get a pity point."
"The Azure Academy?!" John heard this word for the first time, never heard of such a place before. And the teacher seemed to take John as a real noob at this moment, so he instantly exploded:
"The Azure Academy, one of the best one hundred academies in the entire Athanasia! We are proud to be ranked the overall ninety-ninth in the world, with our Military Department ranked as the seventieth-third best in the world…"
The teacher seemed quite proud of everything he said, yet John couldn't help but frown. What was special about being ranked so low, and even feeling lots of pride in saying it out loud, in such a way?
As if the teacher sniffed the doubt in John's expression and silence, he instantly shouted:
"In a world with tens of thousands of academies, ranked like this is a real pride in itself! On top of that, big families, wealthy corporations, and even the mighty Paragon's affiliated forces all acknowledge us. Do you think anyone can possibly join the academy without having a strong backing and even pull some strings?"
The teacher kept issuing the same halo of pride after saying all this, and yet John didn't feel much about it. If any, he heard a weird word, Paragons, and he wanted to ask about it, yet refrained when the teacher glared at him.
The man leaned in, his face inches from John's, "I remember you now, John Mirage. You got in here from a common family, yet for a reason, your late father did a service to one of the Paragons, so you are super lucky to be admitted here thanks to that."
Then, just as suddenly, he snapped upright and turned on his heel. He walked toward the door, which hissed open automatically as he approached.
"Come on. Move it," the man sighed, his shoulders slouching with the weight of a heavy burden. After saying the last words about John's information provided to the academy, the teacher seemed to grow a bit soft towards this youngster.
"Regardless of your pathetic entry score, you have a full year ahead of you to try and learn something useful from us. Though I'll tell you now, I'm your teacher, not your babysitter."
The man began to walk down a long, empty corridor, his voice trailing back as he continued to grumble to himself. "I can't believe the trash those bastards in the Admission Department are sending us these days. It's a joke! How the hell am I supposed to teach someone who doesn't even know how to throw a punch? Dammit!"
John stood in the doorway for a second, watching the man keep moving forward. The door was open, and the alternative was staying in a room that was more like the prison he came from.
"Screw it, what worse can happen to me anyway?" he whispered to himself, while his curiosity overcame everything else, as he made up his mind to follow the man and walk towards the awaiting future.
John stepped out into the corridor, noticing dozens of similar doors lining the hallway. Several had opened as well, looking like other test rooms.
John kept his gaze moving, scanning the environment with curiosity. The masonry of the walls had slight imperfections; the footsteps of the examiner teacher echoed with a heavy, physical presence.
It was a masterpiece of simulation, or a reality so advanced it was indistinguishable from one. Then he decided to reuse his ability again, mentally thinking about it, and then the world changed in a burst.
The realistic-looking world dissolved into a grid of green codes. At first, he felt like everything was blending together, unable to make head or tail of anything.
Over time, he started to grow more accustomed to the structure around, noticing where the corridor was, where the walls were, and the shape of the teacher walking in front of him.
The teacher continued his low-volume monologue, occasionally shaking his head as if trying to clear away the sheer frustration John's zero score had brought him.
The two kept walking for more than twenty minutes. During which John's ability ended at exactly ten minutes after using it. John felt a little headache from the different vision, so he decided to take a break and enjoy how the world looked without it.
Then the teacher came to a halt before a massive set of double doors. He turned to face John, his expression softening into something unexpectedly kind.
"Listen, kid," the man sighed, his voice dropping. He seemed to be struggling with some internal conflict, caught between the urge to scream at John's incompetence and a sense of genuine pity for the boy's future.
"No matter what happens, don't let what you're about to experience shake you. The world is a big place. Anyone can shine given the right circumstances. Perhaps you're just a gem covered in a thick layer of mud.
Don't worry; we'll do everything in our power to scrub you clean and push your potential until you sparkle. But... If we can't, don't lose hope in yourself."
John didn't fully grasp the weight of the man's words; he still wasn't even sure if he was in a game, the future, or a hallucination, but he felt a sudden, surprising warmth toward the scarred examiner. This man was kind, or at least capable of empathy, which made him a stark contrast to the cold, mechanical cruelty of Mark.
"Let's go," the man said, pushing the doors open.
They stepped into a wide hall that was easily the size of a professional basketball stadium. John's eyes immediately landed on the crowd. There were dozens of youths, all looking roughly seventeen or eighteen, standing in various groups across the polished floor.
Some radiated a blinding confidence, their postures straight and their voices loud as they chatted. Others stood in silent, watchful circles. Around the periphery of the big hall stood several adults, all bearing the same serious, military bearing as the man who had led John here.
"Wait for my return!" the man shouted, his voice booming across the hall. He wasn't just talking to John now; he was addressing a specific section of the youngsters, pointing toward a designated waiting area.
"Wait there for the final test results to be announced. Do not wander around! After the results are made public, you'll head towards the big garden outside, as the admission ceremony will start."
John obeyed, moving toward the indicated area to join a large group. The reaction was immediate but silent. As he walked past, conversations died down.
Every eye in the vicinity attached itself to his silhouette, tracking him with a mixture of curiosity and sizing gazes. Sensing this, John found a secluded corner away from their piercing eyes and sat down on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest.
He wasn't the type to get socialised with others this easily. He would prefer sitting in the corner, calmly watching and observing, gathering data and analysing information.
Once he was out of the direct line of sight, the other students seemed to lose interest, returning to their chitchats and their whispered gossiping. John used the opportunity to do what he did best: gather information. He sat perfectly still, eavesdropping on the fragments of conversation drifting through the hall.
Within a few minutes, he had pieced together lots of stuff. Every youth in the room had already been admitted, but they were divided into different departments.
John was grouped with the Military Department, which perfectly aligned with the examiner's obsession with his ability to punch, kick, and the focus on the armoured training doll.
More importantly, he learned that the test he had just failed wasn't about acceptance or rejection; it was about establishing a hierarchy. The scores would determine their rank and their standing within the freshman year.
A system designed to codify bullying, John thought bitterly. It was the worst kind of teaching system imaginable in his eyes. And yet, for many others, they were eagerly waiting to see the results and check their rankings.
According to what he heard, the score would make their chances in joining clubs later way easier. There were different types of clubs in the academy, mostly ranked as the Elite Clubs and the Common Clubs.
The Elite Clubs gained their prestige and authority from Paragon-affiliated families supporting them. The more John heard about those Paragons, the more he grew curious about them.
He even spotted a few of the students who boasted about their families being direct affiliations to certain Paragons. They looked as if they were peacocks, and John hated the shiny, useless stuff like peacocks.
A door on the far side of the hall hissed open. Another stern-looking adult appeared, seemingly another examiner like the one who brought John here. He shouted for his specific group to gather around, and they vanished through another doorway for the next phase of the induction.
He thought the admission ceremony would be for everyone in their first year from all departments. Yet it felt like every department would head out first to enjoy the festivities.
John wasn't that interested in such an event, yet he knew, as a total outsider to this world, that being there and actively participating would give him more insight into the world he was living in.