"Disappointment."
"Disappointment. You kids are nothing but disappointment."
We all turned toward the voice—it was the two instructors.
What the fuck did he just say?
Is he talking about us?
And it wasn't just my thought; you could see it on everyone's faces.
Every single one of us was looking around, silently asking the same question.
Then the old bastard spoke again.
"Who are you looking around for? I'm talking about all of you. Yeah, every single one of you first-years—you're nothing but disappointment."
Is this old fuck seriously picking a fight?
"What the hell is he talking about?"
"Doesn't he know the shit we just went through?"
"Wait… no. He does know."
"He knows everything that happened, the monster, the chaos, the whole damn ordeal."
"And instead of helping us there… all he does is call us disappointment?"
Everyone started murmuring to themselves—objections, excuses, whispers of disbelief.
"Silence!" Instructor Brandt's voice cracked like a whip. "Did I give you permission to mutter among yourselves? Huh?"
The murmurs died instantly. His eyes scanned us like a predator sizing up prey.
"You want to know why I called you disappointments? Then listen well." His tone was low, hard. "I watched every one of you. Pathetic. Running, crying, screaming, panicking—the moment you faced something unexpected. The moment a beast showed up that was just a little stronger than you."
"B-But that beast was a Chimera, an—" someone stammered.
"Shut up! No excuses!" Brandt roared. "Do you think reality will handpick your opponents? Do you think the enemy will wait politely, make sure they're weaker than you, and give you a fair fight? Do you think they'll show you mercy?"
His voice thundered across the field.
"You are naïve. That weakness in your heads—that fragile little fantasy—will get you killed. And this academy? This academy does not need cowards who tremble when the world turns against them. It does not need narrow-minded brats who fold the moment things go south!"
"What have you been doing until now? What kind of mentality brought you to the Royal Academy? Did you think getting admitted meant you could slack off? Mess around? Dream your way through?" Brandt's voice was razor-sharp. "Sorry to break it to you—but it's time to wake up."
He paced before us like a wolf among sheep.
"This academy doesn't exist to coddle children. We forge the future here. We produce leaders, guides, pillars. People who will hold society together when it crumbles. And yet—" his glare swept across the battered crowd, "all I see before me are cowards."
His words were a hammer striking down.
"From the moment you step into these grounds, you are no longer children. You carry a role branded into your destiny. Either you rise, or you're cast out. There is no middle ground."
He let the silence hang, sharp and suffocating.
"I gave you an opportunity. A chance. Did I ever say this test was about points? No. I made it clear—it was a team test. Yes, the beast was unexpected. Yes, it was stronger. But you weren't alone in there."
His voice dropped lower, colder. "You had your teammates. Your friends. The ones beside you. And yet what did I see? Not courage. Not unity. Just panic. Just selfishness."
Brandt's eyes narrowed, a disgusted sneer pulling at his face.
"I never expected you to become heroes in a single day. But I expected you to fight—together. That's what teammates are for. That's what comrades are for. To stand. To face what comes, even if you fall."
"And yet," Brandt said, voice hard as flint, "what I hoped for ended in disappointment. This test has failed—utterly—because of you. The blame lies with each and every one of you. Burn this into your hearts: the academy is not some ideal place where life hands you victories. This is a forge. This is hell. You will be remade, or you will break."
He paused, eyes sweeping the ruined circle like a judge peering over a court.
"But there was one exception," he continued, voice colder now. "One team—one person—who did not crumble. Calm, calculated, rational. They acted with clear thought and purpose, and because of that, the beast fell."
Is he talking about me? I thought, blinking.
Who else would he mean? I'd been the one driving the spear in.
My moves had been practical, brutal, clinical. My team had kept it together—well, most of them—and we'd brought the thing down.
Lucas did the crazy charge and went out like a martyr, sure, but he's passed out now; hardly the face of a rational savior.
So yeah—if Brandt's crowning some "calm, calculated" hero, it better not be the fool who looks like he just orgasmed on the troll's corpse.
"So, without any further ado, I'd like to invite the team—and their leader," Brandt announced, Garrick looming beside him.
I pushed myself up, dusting off my clothes. My arm screamed in pain—broken as fuck—but whatever, I wasn't about to crawl up there like some cripple. I started walking, each step heavier than the last.
"Group 23," Brandt called, "alongside Group 12, led by student Catherine Winterbourne. Step up."
I stopped dead. My smile twitched, cracked, then died.
For a moment I just stood there, then said fuck it and sat my ass right back down on the ground.
That's when the voice came—sharp, dripping with venom.
"Oi! What, not gonna go? Hah! Do you actually fucking think you—the coward who ran away—get to walk up there like some hero and claim an award?"
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Of course. Fucking Aldric Sunstrider.
He lay sprawled on the ground, ribs pounding, but still had the nerve to bark. Quite the mutt.
I didn't give him the satisfaction of a look. My eyes stayed glued to the teams walking up front.
I recognized some faces — Ryan, beaten up but forcing a smile until I noticed the gap in his teeth and the smile died.
The team that Brandt called up had panicked at first, sure, but then they'd thought. They analyzed, coordinated, and nailed the kill on that Black Lily Spider — a hell of a monster to face.
All because of their leader, Catherine Winterbourne. Calm, collected, pulling the team together and turning panic into purpose. She freaking stole the show. Barbie girl, huh? Didn't see that coming.
Brandt used them as the example he wanted burned into our heads: this is what the academy expects. He pointed out other groups who'd taken down beasts, but then spat at the rest of us — the ones who ran or turned suicidal.
His gaze flicked to me for a beat. I met it, bored. What does he expect? I come from a harsher world; my uncle taunted me to go into medicine and called me a waste — so spare me the sermon.
"Alright, you lot — move. If you're fit, get to the infirmary and help the ones who can't move. I won't hand out results now; my mood's off. You'll get them at the end of the day." Brandt stalked off, Garrick trailing behind him like some silent shadow.
The moment he was out of earshot, the crowd erupted.
Every curse you could imagine poured out of those kids — mothers, sisters, grandmothers, ancestors, you name it. Creative, filthy, demented swears that would get my account banned if I repeated them.
They screamed and spat and let loose all the bile the instructors had bottled inside them.
I stayed where I was, watching the chaos, watching Catherine walk off with her team, and wondering which of us, if any, actually deserved the title of "hero."
----
--
[Inside The Infirmary]
The infirmary was buzzing like a damn marketplace. Bodies stacked in beds, some groaning, some out cold, the smell of sweat and blood mixed with incense.
Healers moved around in their priest robes, all calm while the rest of us looked like corpses with heartbeats.
I wasn't exactly in a comfortable position. My arm was twisted like shit, bone half out of place.
Creak—
"AAAAA—fuck—no, duck—shit, I mean—duck is hurt like a freaking duck!"I screamed as the sister in a priest's outfit cranked my arm back into place.
"Just bear with it for a moment, child. It will get better soon," she said, voice sweet like she wasn't torturing me.
"Heh—look at Ravenshade," Aldric's voice came from the bed beside mine. The bastard was wrapped in bandages like a burrito but still had a mouth to run. "Can't even handle a little pain. What a pussy."
I tilted my head, still sweating. "Sister, check him quick. He's probably got a vibrator stuck somewhere private. That's why he's cranky. And also… he just cuss."
"Hey! I didn't—" Aldric sputtered, face red. "Sister, pussy doesn't mean that, it's like, uh… a cat. Meow. A cat!"
I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Nobody's buying that bullshit."
"Both of you, enough." The sister's tone went sharp. "And watch your language. If you keep this up, I won't heal either of you."
"Okay, sister," we both muttered like scolded kids.
Her nameplate caught my eye — Maria.
She placed her hands over my arm again. Warm green light spread, seeping into the bone, the particles of light melting through my skin. The ache dulled, turned heavy but manageable.
"Aaah, Sister Maria—why the hell didn't you just heal me from the start instead of snapping my bone like a twig first?" I groaned.
"If I did that, your arm would heal wrong," she said calmly. "The body is delicate. Bones must be placed correctly before magic can seal them. Otherwise, you'd be crippled for life."
"Tch. Guess that makes sense." I sighed. "Still feels like you just enjoy the screaming part."
Her lips twitched, like she wanted to smile but stayed professional.
The infirmary around us was still a mess of moans, prayers, and curses—but at least my arm was finally starting to feel whole again.
After Sister Maria finished twisting my bones back into place and patched me up, she moved on to the next half-dead bastard. Busy day for her—guess the academy thought it'd be funny to pack the infirmary like a discount slaughterhouse.
"Man, I wanna get the hell out of this place as quick as possible," I muttered.
Aldric snorted from the bed beside me. "Why? Because your noble ass can't handle lying next to commoners? Want me to book a private ward for you, Ravenshade?"
"Shut the fuck up, Sunstrider. Do everyone a favor and slap a diaper on your mouth, 'cause every time you open it, the only thing that comes out is shit. Just shit on repeat."
That shut him up for a second, then we were back at it, snapping at each other like kids fighting over scraps.
Honestly, there aren't many people around here who hold a personal grudge against me—but Aldric Sunstrider? Yeah, he's on that short list. And it's not 'cause I slept with his mom or kissed his sister—I'm not that kind of bastard.
Nah, this shit runs deeper. Both our families—House Ravenshade and House Sunstrider—are Marquis lines. Old money, old pride, old grudges. Trade, finance, military influence—you name it, our houses go neck to neck in every damn arena.
And the real beef? It ain't even between us kids. The flames were lit by our old men. My father and his—both stubborn as hell, both allergic to losing, both with chili shoved up their asses. That rivalry passed down like some shitty inheritance.
So here we are, me and Aldric, carrying the same feud on our shoulders. He picks at me whenever he can, not 'cause he has a real reason, but because that's what happens when two houses can't stop butting heads. The sons get dragged into the same bullshit.
After the rest of our tantrum only earned us another scolding from Sister Maria, we finally shut up.
I sighed. "Let's just put this away for today. I don't have the energy to keep at it."
Aldric groaned. "It's not like I was dying to keep yapping either. Man, I feel like shit."
"Yeah, you look like shit—wrapped in a tortilla."
"You fuckin'—" He stopped halfway, flopping his head back. "Haa… why am I even wasting energy on you? As much as I'd love to keep hating your guts, my rage is on that bastard teacher, Brandt Stoneborn."
"Yeah, you're right about that." I smirked. "Disappointment, huh? Pretty sure that's what his wife calls him every time he's in bed."
Aldric snorted, then burst into laughter. "Heheheh… that's a good one."
The rest of the conversation died. Aldric and I went quiet — nothing left to say. The day had been a mess, but my head had its own noise. I just wanted out of the place, out of the smell of disinfectant and the sight of bandages.
I'm sick of hospitals. Sick of everything that smells like them. I'd had enough of them back on Earth, and I hate that the memory follows me here.
Back home I spent more time in wards than anywhere else. I remember the corridor noises: one ward filled with cries and laughter because someone had a newborn, life bursting into the world; the next room over wrapped in silence, the only sound a slow mechanical breath and the tick of an IV drip.
That room was where my father lay—eyes shut, pale and tired. The oxygen mask hissed. The drip kept time. People outside celebrated life while my world was held to a single, thin line of slow breath.
I wasn't part of the joy. I was in the room that measured what was leaving, not what was coming.
The original Evan wasn't so different from me in this. He'd seen the same things and been sickened by them.
Back home, the room that once held warmth and affection had turned into a hollow shrine of medicine. My mother — the marquess — had been struck by that cruel, slow thing they call Mana-Drain Syndrome. I don't want to get into details; it drags up a truckload of terrible memories I don't want to unlock right now.
Maybe if it weren't for the broken bone, the deep cuts, or whatever else I've survived, I could have shrugged it off, told the nurse some excuse, and walked back to my room. Roselyn would fuss over me, bandage whatever needed bandaging, pour a healing potion down my throat, and tuck me into bed. Rest. Let [Vital Flux] do its work. My blessing heals me unbelievably fast — faster than anyone else here.
Sometimes I think about what I'd trade that speed for. What if my blessing could have been given to my father who never woke. Given to Evan's mother so she wouldn't vanish and leave me blinking in the dark.
What if it could hold them in this world a little longer so I wouldn't be left alone? The thought makes my chest go hot and hollow all at once.
I'm not saying I'm sinking into some endless depression — but being here strips the dam of thought in my head.
Memories leak out and flood me. I just want out of this place. I want something to quiet the noise so I can stop thinking about the things that hurt.