After finishing their sparring session in the training field, Akira and Rozori made their way back to the base. The evening breeze swept across the stone pathways while the distant sounds of other trainees echoed through the halls.
Rozori let out a light chuckle. "So? How was it fighting someone at commander level?"
"Not bad!" Akira stretched his shoulders with a grin. "Even if you cracked a rib or two." He laughed casually before glancing at him. "Though you didn't have to heal me. I can regenerate on my own, y'know?"
Akira's healing ability was abnormal even among the gifted. Torn flesh, shattered bones, even fatal injuries could eventually restore themselves. But the pain never disappeared alongside the wounds. Regeneration only rebuilt what was lost—it didn't spare him from feeling every second of it.
Death itself was no exception.
If his body was destroyed completely, another would reform eventually. The pain would vanish then, replaced only by an empty numbness he could never properly describe.
Rozori looked down quietly, guilt lingering on his face.
"Well… I panicked." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Seeing my juniors get hurt just doesn't sit right with me. I healed you before I even thought about it." He sighed softly. "Sorry if I overstepped."
Akira smiled brightly.
"Apology accepted!"
The tension between them eased as they continued down the corridor side by side.
Then their footsteps slowed.
A young man stood ahead, leaning silently against the wall with folded arms. The dim hallway light cast shadows over his figure, yet the pressure surrounding him was unmistakable.
As if he had been waiting for them the entire time.
"I apologize for the delay!" Rozori bowed slightly toward the young man waiting by the wall.
The man didn't respond immediately.
Instead, his eyes remained fixed on Akira.
The silence stretched awkwardly.
"…What are you staring at?" Akira finally asked.
The young man's gaze felt strange—not hostile, yet unsettlingly intense. It reminded Akira of the look Shura used to give him long ago, as if trying to see through more than just his face. But unlike Shura's sharp curiosity, this stare carried something colder. Something unreadable.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then the young man straightened himself from the wall.
His black hair swayed slightly as he stepped forward, revealing a jacket nearly identical to Akira's own uniform. Blue jeans, combat boots, and a utility belt strapped around his waist completed the outfit. Attached to the belt were several metallic rods sharpened at the ends, resembling strange tools or weapons.
"Akira, this is my other pupil," Rozori quickly said, sensing the tension. "I'll be mentoring both of you from now on, so try to get along."
Akira instantly brightened.
"My name is Akira Keita. It's nice to meet you!"
He stepped forward and offered a handshake without hesitation.
The young man looked down at the hand.
His brows furrowed slightly.
Though his expression remained calm, there was an unmistakable grimness hidden beneath it. His eyes slowly narrowed, as if suppressing a thought he didn't wish to voice aloud.
The hallway fell quiet once more.
And still—
he didn't take Akira's hand.
"Didn't ask, get lost." He slapped his hand vigorously and without showing any emotion. He turned and walked out of view.
"Huh?" Akira's eye twitched. "You tryna pick a fight here?"
The sudden outburst echoed through the hallway.
Without fully realizing it himself, Akira had already rolled up his sleeves, veins bulging faintly across his forehead as irritation surged through him.
"Akira—wait!" Rozori quickly moved behind him, locking both arms around his shoulders before things escalated further.
"Lemme go! The hell's his problem?!" Akira barked, trying to step forward while Rozori struggled to hold him back.
The black-haired young man remained silent the entire time, his expression barely changing. His narrowed eyes simply watched Akira in silence, almost as if measuring him.
"Calm down already!" Rozori groaned.
After a long moment, Akira finally clicked his tongue and relaxed.
"Tch… fine."
Rozori slowly loosened his grip before stepping beside him with a tired sigh.
"Sorry about that," he said awkwardly. "He's… a little standoffish sometimes." He scratched his cheek. "Normally, everyone here tries to cooperate and treat newcomers decently—not giving the cold shoulders, but…" His eyes shifted toward the silent young man. "He's kind of the exception."
Akira placed both hands on his hips, clearly unconvinced.
"Yeah, no kidding."
A growing irritation settled in his chest.
Ever since arriving here, something felt off. The looks, the silence, the tension—like people were judging him for something he didn't even understand. Aside from the enemies he had fought before, this was the first time he felt unwelcome among supposed allies.
Rozori noticed the frustration in Akira's eyes and quietly frowned.
He genuinely hoped Akira could eventually see the good within the group.
Otherwise, the misunderstanding festering between everyone would only grow worse.
"Who even is that guy anyway?" Akira muttered, still annoyed as he rubbed the back of his neck.
Rozori glanced toward the end of the hallway where the black-haired young man had disappeared.
"His name is Volts Raiya."
The name lingered in the air for a moment before Rozori continued quietly.
"He's… had a difficult life." His voice softened slightly. "I just hope you can understand why he acts that way."
Akira raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, allowing Rozori to continue.
"According to the records I read, Volts was orphaned when he was still young. His parents were murdered by thugs connected to a criminal organization." Rozori's expression darkened. "Not long after that, he was kidnapped."
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
Rozori exhaled slowly. "Whatever happened during that time changed him completely. Not just his life… but his heart too."
Akira's irritation gradually faded.
The image of Volts refusing the handshake replayed in his mind—the guarded eyes, the silence, the way he avoided contact entirely. It no longer looked like arrogance.
It looked like someone terrified of letting others get close.
"…I see," Akira murmured quietly.
Sensing the heavy mood settling over them, Rozori quickly clapped his hands together.
"Anyway!" he said, forcing a brighter tone. "You still don't know where your room is, right?"
"My room?" Akira blinked. "Wait, I get one?"
"Of course," Rozori laughed. "Everyone here has their own."
He reached into his pocket and handed Akira a metallic key. Hanging from it was a small silver tag engraved with the number:
345
Akira stared at it for a second.
"This place is basically a hotel…" he muttered.
"Haha, well not everyone stays here." Rozori chuckled. "Some even stayed in their own home for privacy matters or comforting reasons." He added.
"Wait, so you're telling me this place gives everyone a free room?" Akira stared at the key in disbelief.
He looked genuinely disturbed by the revelation.
Before joining the squad, he had already spent money renting a cramped apartment in the city. He had moved all of his belongings there, unpacked everything, and finally settled in—only to now discover he had been given a room here from the start.
"…You're kidding me."
"Nope," Rozori replied cheerfully. "You'll be staying in the male dormitory."
Then his expression suddenly turned serious.
"And don't even think about trespassing into the female dorms unless you have a death wish."
The warning came so naturally that Akira blinked twice.
Rozori was known among the commanders as the friendliest and most approachable of them all. Most people couldn't even imagine him threatening someone.
Which only made the warning feel far more terrifying.
"…What makes you think I'd even go there?" Akira asked with an offended look.
"Well…" Rozori awkwardly scratched his cheek. "Just in case."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"If you ever get influenced by some rotten... foul attitude and try anything stupid, we will punish you."
Akira stared at him silently.
For some reason, Rozori sounded less like he was joking and more like he was speaking from experience.
A very bad experience.
Ever since dealing with countless reckless men over the years, Rozori's trust in the male species had steadily deteriorated. Human stupidity, especially from hormonal young fighters with too much confidence, had proven itself horrifyingly limitless.
Akira sighed tiredly.
"You people have serious trust issues."
"And those trust issues exist for a reason," Rozori answered immediately.
"…Now I'm scared to ask what happened."
"You don't want to know."
The speed of Rozori's response made Akira decide not to question it further.
"What kind of punishment are we talking about exactly?" Akira asked curiously.
Like a cat incapable of resisting trouble, his curiosity only deepened the more Rozori warned him.
Rozori let out a long sigh before answering.
"Well, for the last idiot we caught…" He paused, clearly trying to remain calm while remembering it. "We made him stand in the middle of the training field holding two heavy buckets of water with both arms extended."
Akira blinked.
"…That's it?"
"We also wrote 'SHAME' across his forehead."
"…That sounds more humiliating than painful."
"That's the point."
Rozori crossed his arms proudly, as if the punishment system was flawless.
"There are harsher punishments too, but I don't think I should explain those right now."
In truth, Rozori deliberately held himself back. He had seen punishments severe enough to mentally scar reckless trainees for life, and judging by Akira's personality, he didn't want to accidentally give him new fears on his first day.
Akira scratched his cheek awkwardly.
"So… how many people have you actually caught doing this?"
Rozori tilted his head in thought.
"Hm. Counting last week's incident alone…" He casually raised a finger. "About three hundred and thirteen."
Silence.
Akira's jaw slowly dropped.
"…THAT MANY?!"
His voice echoed through the hallway.
Rozori nodded with the exhausted expression of a man who had lost faith in humanity years ago.
"You'd be surprised how creative people become when they think rules don't apply to them."
"What kind of prison disguised as a dormitory is this?!" Akira shouted.
"A necessary one," Rozori replied instantly.
Rozori let out another exhausted sigh, as if the memories alone were enough to drain years from his life.
"You have to understand," he said, rubbing his temples, "this place is filled with women who are… absurdly attractive."
Akira raised an eyebrow.
Rozori continued without hesitation. "There's Kitsune with that mature charm that makes people forget how to breathe, and Elisha with that innocent, adorable aura that makes everyone want to protect her." He pointed upward dramatically. "The problem is that certain idiots here lose all sense of morality the moment they see a pretty face."
"…That sounds less like admiration and more like a disease," Akira muttered.
"Exactly."
Rozori looked deeply disappointed in humanity.
"They actually gathered in groups to peep on the girls and steal their underwear."
Akira nearly choked.
"They WHAT?"
"The mastermind behind the incident was Hiroshi Ganzell," Rozori explained bitterly. "That scumbag convinced everyone it would be a 'legendary operation.'"
"And people agreed?!"
"Three hundred and thirteen people agreed."
"That's horrifying."
Rozori nodded solemnly.
"He got the harshest punishment." A faint smirk crossed his face. "A thousand-sentence apology paper and one week of complete isolation."
Akira winced just imagining it.
"Actually, that was last week," Rozori added casually. "So he's probably been released by now."
"…Remind me never to meet this Hiroshi guy."
"Oh, you'll know it's him immediately," Rozori replied. "He's the type of person who smiles right before causing irreversible problems."
Akira stared at him in disbelief.
"And the girls just accepted the apology?"
Rozori suddenly burst out laughing.
"Accepted? No. The punishment from them was even worse."
A dangerous aura seemed to surround him as he listed them off.
"Groin kicks. Ice-cold showers. Public humiliation. Wedgies strong enough to transcend reality—"
"ALRIGHT, I GET IT!" Akira immediately raised both hands in surrender.
At that moment, he silently swore to himself that he would never, under any circumstances, follow in those idiots' footsteps.
Rozori noticed the fear settling into Akira's soul and quickly laughed it off.
"Hahaha! Relax, relax." He patted Akira's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm not threatening you. It's just a friendly reminder."
"That stopped sounding friendly five minutes ago," Akira replied flatly.
Rozori only smiled innocently.
Akira finally relaxed, though Rozori's warnings still lingered uncomfortably in the back of his mind.
"So," Rozori said, clapping his hands together, "once you're done settling into your room, meet me at the canteen around six."
He pointed toward the northern side of the base.
"The canteen's over there, and that giant building to the west?" He nodded toward a massive structure towering beyond the pathways. "That's the dormitory."
Akira followed his gaze.
The building was enormous—far larger than he expected. Sunlight reflected across its glass windows while streams of trainees entered and exited through the main entrance.
"And don't be late," Rozori added with a grin. "The canteen closes at eight. Missing dinner here is basically suicide."
Akira glanced at the clock mounted nearby.
4:00 PM.
"Got it."
With that, the two parted ways. Rozori headed toward the central facilities while Akira began the annoying journey of moving out from the room he had rented before joining the squad.
Fourteen minutes later, he returned to his temporary lodging.
The room suddenly felt smaller than before.
After stuffing his belongings into bags and carrying everything back out again, Akira couldn't help but grumble under his breath about the wasted money and effort. Still, there was no point dwelling on it now.
Forty-five minutes later, slightly exhausted from hauling his things around, he finally arrived at the dormitory.
"…Whoa."
The moment he stepped inside Room 345, he froze.
This was no ordinary dorm room.
It looked more like a luxury apartment.
The living room was spacious and neatly furnished, complete with a sofa, a low glass table, and polished wooden flooring. Beyond it sat a clean kitchen stocked with modern appliances, while a hallway connected to a sleek bathroom and the sleeping area.
The dorm room exceeded every expectation Akira had imagined.
The twin beds resting against the walls looked impossibly soft, their thick white mattresses sinking gently at the slightest touch, almost like falling into a giant marshmallow. Clean sheets were neatly folded across them, untouched and pristine.
The kitchen carried a modern elegance to it. Sleek black stoves lined the counters beside polished cabinets, while a large refrigerator stood in the corner spacious enough to store weeks' worth of ingredients and meals. The metallic surfaces reflected the room's warm lighting, giving the entire area an expensive atmosphere.
The living room was equally impressive. A massive television hung against the wall with access to eighty-one international channels, positioned perfectly in front of plush sofas and cushioned chairs that looked dangerously comfortable. The room itself felt less like a military dormitory and more like a high-end apartment reserved for wealthy elites.
But the true centerpiece was the window.
Positioned on the twelfth floor, the enormous glass pane overlooked the sprawling city below. Buildings stretched endlessly beneath the evening sky while distant lights slowly flickered to life one after another. From this height, the world looked calm—almost peaceful.
The bathroom was fully stocked as well, prepared with paired toothbrushes, soaps, shampoos, folded towels, and neatly arranged supplies as if awaiting guests in a luxury hotel. Even the shower offered both steaming hot water and freezing cold settings.
Everything about the room felt unreal.
For a place built to train fighters and commanders, the dormitory carried a surprising sense of comfort—as if it existed to let its residents briefly forget the dangers waiting outside its walls.
The entire room was climate-controlled, maintaining a cool temperature of 18°C that gently brushed against the skin. Combined with the quiet atmosphere and soft lighting, the dorm felt strangely relaxing compared to the chaos Akira had grown accustomed to.
After spending some time organizing his belongings and familiarizing himself with the layout, Akira glanced at the clock mounted near the kitchen.
17:43.
Realizing the time, he quickly grabbed his jacket and left for the canteen.
The evening air outside carried the scent of food drifting through the base, guiding streams of trainees toward the brightly lit building to the north. Conversations echoed across the pathways while the sky slowly darkened into shades of orange and violet.
Inside the canteen, the atmosphere was lively.
Rows of tables stretched across the massive dining hall while cooks worked behind open counters, flames dancing beneath pans as countless meals were prepared. The aroma alone was enough to make Akira's stomach growl.
Rozori was already seated near the center of the hall.
The moment he spotted Akira entering, he raised a hand with a warm smile. Akira waved back as he approached.
"Right on time," Rozori said approvingly. "Actually, you're five minutes early."
He stood from his seat and gestured toward the food counters.
"Come on. I'll show you around—and dinner's on me today."
"Wait, they ain't free?"
"There's a free option, but the purchased ones tastes better." Rozori winked.
Akira's eyes immediately lit up.
Without hesitation, he followed Rozori through the enormous selection of dishes displayed across the canteen. Some meals looked familiar, while others carried exotic ingredients and spices he had never seen before. Grilled meats glazed in rich sauces, steaming bowls of fragrant soup, vibrant seafood platters, and desserts crafted with almost artistic precision lined the counters endlessly.
Akira carefully filled his tray, curiosity guiding nearly every choice.
For the first time that day, the exhaustion from moving and training began to fade beneath the simple comfort of food and company.
The food is tasty and nutritious, with sixty-six options for warriors to choose from.
- Samerian Turkey Sandwich (11 Gols)
- Atlantana Sagorian Tuna. (30 Gols)
- Zenric Roasted Pork. (17 Gols)
- Srimeliur Steak (special menu). (51 Gols)
- Coztekyt Ramiore Skewers. (13 Gols)
- Gomour, The Gluttony King's Meal. (150 Gols)
And more...
Akira ended up ordering forty-three different dishes.
By the time the staff finished preparing everything, five massive trays covered the long dining table from end to end. Plates of grilled meat, rice bowls, soups, seafood, noodles, desserts, and unfamiliar foreign delicacies crowded together in a feast large enough to feed an entire squad.
Rozori stared at the receipt in utter disbelief.
"…Nine hundred seventy-one Gols," he read aloud slowly. "If you eat like this regularly, you could bankrupt somebody."
Akira awkwardly scratched his cheek.
Thankfully, he wasn't being greedy for the sake of greed itself. He simply wanted to try everything he had never seen before. After years of rough living and repetitive meals, the sight of so many unfamiliar foods awakened his curiosity more than his appetite.
"Sorry…" Akira muttered, lowering his brows guiltily as he looked at the mountain of food.
Rozori suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Relax, it's fine." He waved dismissively. "Eat as much as you want. You don't need to worry about me—I've got more than enough money for this."
"Alright then… thanks for the meal!"
The moment Akira picked up his utensils, the destruction began.
Rozori's smile slowly faded into stunned silence.
Akira devoured food at an almost supernatural pace. He stuffed enormous portions into his mouth without slowing down, somehow chewing and swallowing everything effortlessly before immediately moving onto the next plate. Dish after dish vanished with terrifying efficiency.
And somehow—
his stomach showed no sign of reaching its limit.
Rozori watched in complete disbelief as another plate disappeared.
"…Where is all of that even going?" he muttered.
At this point, Akira no longer looked like a human enjoying dinner.
He looked like a bottomless abyss disguised as a teenager.
Akira continued devouring the feast at terrifying speed, stuffing an entire mouthful of food before giving Rozori an enthusiastic thumbs up.
"Thamks for the meal—"
"Don't talk with your mouth full—"
Akira suddenly froze.
His eyes widened.
A second later, he violently choked.
"Ghk—!?"
Rozori immediately shoved a massive glass of water toward him. Akira grabbed it with both hands and chugged the entire thing in seconds before slamming the empty cup onto the table.
"…Haaah!"
Relief washed across his face.
Rozori stared at him with complete disbelief.
"You almost died from eating."
"Hehe, sorry." Akira laughed sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. "I was just testing the food, but it turned out so tasty that I got distracted."
Rozori couldn't help smiling at the childish honesty.
"Well, I'm glad you liked it."
The two continued eating for a while before Rozori suddenly sniffed the air subtly.
"…By the way," he began carefully, "you should probably take a bath after this."
Akira blinked.
Rozori awkwardly looked away.
"When you first got here, I already told you that you smelled like a corpse." He coughed lightly into his fist. "After today's training and all that sweating… the smell probably evolved into something worse."
Akira stared at him blankly.
"…That bad?"
"Very."
The answer came far too quickly.
Rozori then pointed toward another building visible outside the canteen windows.
"There's a public bath nearby. Wanna go together afterward?"
Akira tilted his head.
"…Public bath?"
Rozori paused.
"You know… a large shared bath?"
Akira's confusion only deepened, making Rozori slowly narrow his eyes.
"…Are you a foreigner or something?"
"No," Akira replied honestly. "I'm just a peasant."
He folded his arms and frowned defensively.
"And don't laugh at me for not knowing rich people stuff."
For a moment, Rozori simply stared at him.
Then he burst out laughing anyway.
"Hahaha" Rozori laughed softly.
"It's alright, don't worry about it." Rozori smiled warmly with his eyes closed. "I accept people for who they are, even if they can be a little troublesome sometimes."
"Thank you!" Akira replied gratefully.
By the time their conversation ended, every single plate on the table had been emptied.
All forty-three dishes.
By Akira alone.
Rozori stared at the battlefield of clean plates with quiet horror.
"…Excellent," he said slowly. "So, are you finally full?"
Akira leaned back in his chair, his stomach visibly swollen beneath his shirt.
"No… give me a minute or two."
Rozori blinked.
"You actually overate?" He sighed. "Don't force yourself to eat that much. It's bad for your body."
Akira simply raised a hand, signaling him to wait.
Then something strange happened.
Akira closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The muscles around his abdomen tightened as faint heat radiated from his body. A low rumbling sound echoed from within him before he suddenly exhaled an enormous gust of air.
FWOOOSH.
The pressure blasted across the table like a burst of wind.
And just like that—
his bloated stomach shrank back to normal instantly.
Rozori froze.
"…What."
Akira stretched comfortably as if nothing unusual had happened.
"There we go."
Rozori stared at him in stunned silence.
"How did you even do that?"
"Oh, that?" Akira answered casually. "I trained in the woods a lot, so I developed a technique that speeds up digestion and converts food directly into energy."
Silence.
Rozori slowly looked down at the mountain of empty plates again.
Then back at Akira.
"…Is he even human?" he muttered under his breath.
Akira tilted his head innocently, completely unaware of how abnormal he sounded.
After finally finishing dinner, the two left the canteen together and headed toward the public bath Rozori had mentioned earlier, the cool evening air accompanying them through the illuminated pathways of the base.
Steam drifted heavily through the public bath as Akira and Rozori entered.
Around thirty-seven warriors were already there, relaxing after their training sessions. Some casually chatted near the edges of the bath while others silently soaked in the hot water with exhausted expressions. The sound of splashing water and echoing conversations filled the large stone chamber.
After washing themselves thoroughly with soap and hot water, the two finally stepped into the bath.
The moment the heat embraced their bodies, both of them let out long sighs of relief.
The tension weighing on their muscles slowly melted away.
"…This feels amazing," Akira admitted quietly.
Rozori chuckled beside him. "Told you."
For a while, they simply relaxed in silence while steam curled around the ceiling above them.
Then Akira spoke again.
"So… uh, can you tell me more about Volts?"
Rozori's expression shifted slightly.
"That's… a sensitive topic." His voice lowered. "He'd probably get upset if I talked too much about him behind his back."
Akira noticed the seriousness in his tone and nodded.
"Okay."
The atmosphere calmed again before Rozori leaned his arms against the edge of the bath.
"Anyway, be ready starting tomorrow," he said. "You never know when Sazoru might assign you a mission."
Akira straightened slightly.
"Got it."
The thought of suddenly being sent into real combat made the warm bath feel slightly less relaxing.
After spending more time talking and unwinding in the hot water, the two eventually left the bathhouse. Cool night air brushed against their skin the moment they stepped outside, the contrast making the evening feel refreshing.
By now, the clock near the pathway read:
8:00 PM.
"Well then," Rozori said while stretching his arms, "let's split up here. I still have work to do, and you should get some sleep."
Akira blinked curiously.
"What kind of work?"
Rozori immediately answered without hesitation.
"Classified."
"…That sounds suspicious."
"It's supposed to."
Rozori then pointed a finger at him one last time with exaggerated seriousness.
"And as a final reminder—do NOT trespass into the female dorms and disappoint me."
"Okay, okay! Warnings received loud and clear."
Satisfied, Rozori nodded proudly before the two headed in opposite directions.
Under the quiet glow of the nighttime lights, Akira made his way back toward the dormitory, exhaustion finally beginning to settle into his body.
Tomorrow would be his first true day there.
And he had no idea what awaited him next.