Inside the darkness, the stone room was coated with dampness and layers of sweet water.
No noise.
No humans.
No creatures.
Only the figure of a battered young man, his hands chained and stretched toward both sides of the damp stone wall.
Finally, the young man slowly opened his weary eyes. He remained standing, though his arms were suspended above him.
"Where am I…?" He tried to move his body, but it was no use.
His gaze shifted to his restrained hands, and he struggled to adjust his posture, hoping to relieve the pressure from the chains.
After a while, he fully grasped his situation.
He remembered losing consciousness as blood had poured from the vertical wounds on his chest.
Then, he vaguely recalled the voice of an instructor speaking to him—though the words barely carried any kindness.
He assumed that bastard had wanted to tear him apart.
"Sigh… Luckily, I survived. The academy's rules are always something else…"
