The next morning arrived far too quickly.
One moment I was closing my eyes.
The next, sunlight was pouring through my window like an invading army.
A personal attack.
There was no other explanation.
I stared at the ceiling for several seconds.
Then sighed.
The academy clearly expected students to wake up early.
A normality in any school in and out of fiction.
Unfortunately, attendance was mandatory.
And unlike certain fantasy protagonists, I had no desire to spend my first week collecting disciplinary records.
I dragged myself out of bed.
By the time I arrived at Combat Grounds Three, hundreds of students were already gathered.
Most belonged to the freshman classes.
The training grounds themselves were enormous.
Rows of combat arenas stretched into the distance.
Target ranges occupied one side of the complex.
Training fields covered the other.
Everywhere I looked, people were moving.
Training.
Sparring.
Competing.
The entire area felt alive.
Like a giant machine that never stopped turning.
I recognized several students from Class One and took a seat near the back.
Not because I disliked people.
I simply enjoyed peace.
The two rarely coexisted.
A few minutes later, a man stepped onto the central platform.
Conversations immediately died.
Not because he looked intimidating.
Though he certainly did.
The man was built like a fortress.
Broad shoulders.
Weathered features.
Several old scars.
The sort of person who looked as though he had spent more time fighting than speaking.
No.
What caught my attention was the reaction.
Students stopped talking because they wanted to.
That was significantly more impressive.
The instructor surveyed the gathering crowd.
Then spoke.
"Combat is simple."
His voice carried easily across the grounds.
"You hit the other person."
Several students blinked.
The instructor folded his arms.
"They hit you back."
A pause.
"The one still standing wins."
A longer pause.
"Any questions?"
Silence.
I liked him immediately.
"My name is Garrick."
He gestured toward the enormous Academy Crystal floating above the training grounds.
"Everything you do here is recorded."
The crystal pulsed softly.
Countless names appeared across its surface.
Ranks.
Records.
Statistics.
Combat histories.
The information shifted constantly.
Students climbed.
Students fell.
Records changed.
It never stopped moving.
"Your Student Crystals are connected to the main crystal."
As if responding to his words, dozens of students produced their crystals.
Mine included.
"The crystal tracks your progress."
Garrick continued.
"Class performance."
"Combat records."
"Achievements."
"Rankings."
I turned my crystal over in my hand.
Right.
I remembered writing this.
Or at least most of it.
At the time, I had wanted a system that rewarded activity.
Students who trained.
Students who fought.
Students who improved.
The crystal handled all of it.
A surprisingly practical invention.
A student raised her hand.
"What about duels?"
Several students immediately looked interested.
Garrick nodded.
"Official duels are handled through your Student Crystal."
The giant crystal shifted.
New information appeared.
Combat Rankings.
Challenge Records.
Win Streaks.
The attention of the entire crowd sharpened.
Understandable.
Competition was a language students understood.
"If you want to challenge another student, register it through the crystal."
Garrick said.
"The system verifies both parties."
"It records the battle."
"It records the outcome."
Simple.
Efficient.
Exactly how it was supposed to work.
Another hand rose.
"What if someone refuses?"
A few students nodded.
Clearly they were thinking the same thing.
The instructor's expression didn't change.
"They can."
Several students relaxed.
Then—
"The crystal records it as a forfeit."
The relaxation vanished immediately.
A few people looked horrified.
I almost laughed.
Whoever designed that rule clearly disliked cowards.
Then I remembered.
Ah.
That was me.
The lesson continued.
Not with combat.
With explanations.
How rankings worked.
How challenge requests were sent.
How combat records affected academy evaluations.
What counted as an official duel.
What didn't.
Apparently launching someone through a wall during class still didn't qualify.
A disappointing discovery.
Eventually the crystal displayed the current freshman rankings.
Thousands of names appeared.
Most were blank.
The semester had only just begun.
Very few students had established records.
Still, a handful of names already occupied the top positions.
I skimmed through them.
Then stopped.
Vampire.
It once again caught my attention
An unpleasant individual attached to an excellent class.
A shame.
"Your rank has value."
Garrick continued.
"Not because of the number."
The rankings disappeared.
"Because it reflects effort."
Several students nodded.
Others looked unconvinced.
The instructor didn't seem to care.
"Talent matters."
His gaze swept across the crowd.
"Anyone who says otherwise is lying."
A few students straightened proudly.
Then Garrick continued.
"Effort matters more."
The pride disappeared.
"As does experience."
And now everyone looked annoyed.
Good.
Reality was rarely flattering.
By the end of the lesson, most students seemed exhausted.
Not physically.
Mentally.
There had been far more information than actual combat.
A tragedy.
As the crowd began dispersing, I glanced down at my Student Crystal.
The screen still displayed the same information.
Name: Benjamin
Year: First
Rank: Unranked
Official Duels: 0
Win Streak: 0
Combat Record: 0–0
For now.
I slipped the crystal back into my pocket and stood.
Around me, students were already discussing rankings.
Challenges.
Future matches.
Strategies.
The academy had only been open for two days.
And people were already competing.
Some things never changed.
As I left the Combat Grounds, one thought crossed my mind.
The academy wasn't teaching students how to fight.
It was creating an environment where they would choose to fight on their own.
Honestly.
That was probably more effective.
And far more entertaining.