Bo Lang's aura shifted suddenly—a transformation from jagged peaks that pierced the sky to undulating mountains stretching for miles. The only constant was that sense of permanence, a weight as solid as a rock.
"Kid, do you know why the Military Academy performed those surgeries on you?" Bo Lang turned to ask, his golden pupils glowing as he pointed at his eyes. "What do these cross-shaped pupils in our eyes represent?"
Casia remained silent, not fully understanding what Bo Lang meant.
"I've asked many of my students this question. Of course, the answers varied. But invariably, they all had something to do with power and ability," Bo Lang grinned, a mocking, almost clownish expression.
"Indeed, those of us who've undergone the surgeries gain extraordinary abilities, enough to acquire in a few years what ordinary people could only achieve in a lifetime. And we, these parasites—or demons—because of the surgeries, live unnaturally long lives, enough to make one feel isolated. The people in the Council and Holy Emperor's Court are like fossils themselves; each one could be preserved as a specimen in a museum. But precisely because of this combination of ability and longevity, these cross pupils become a kind of cage."
"At least, that's how it feels to me," Bo Lang said, locking eyes with Casia. "Kid, you're trapped in the same cage. Whether you leave the Military Academy, join any Imperial institution, or get recruited by a major corporation or noble family, this is your inescapable fate."
"Those with cross pupils are destined to kill each other—enemy or ally alike. Bearing this mark, even if not by choice, you are caught in a centuries-long bloodletting. The only way to protect yourself is to take up the sword at your waist and fight for your life." Bo Lang's tone hinted at extraordinary experiences of his own.
"I've always had this feeling: I've seen more corpses on battlefields than students back at the school. Some of them bore cross pupils, yet on the battlefield's grinding wheel, they all became lifeless bodies. I wondered why a war that should have ended long ago continues. It wasn't until I was allowed to attend Council sessions and saw those ugly old men, clinging to life in wheelchairs with endless injections, that I understood the meaning of war," Bo Lang's cross pupils vanished. "War is just a game. Absurd and sad, yet all of us must participate."
"The war game hasn't reached its final stage. Those with cross pupils are the elite players. Every nation wants to win, but no one considers what remains after victory. Do you think winning a single international match makes you a sainted god? No—it's just the end of one game, and the next begins."
Casia listened intently.
Bo Lang shook his head. "Enough. Kid, here's a freshman training speech written by a student at the Holy Dorag Academy. I've already trained everyone in the Third-Star Academy except you. I hope you can find your place in it."
Seeing Casia's wide-eyed expression, Bo Lang smiled and walked ahead.
"Casia, I hope you understand the meaning behind this. Before I became a coach, I was a veteran, and I've seen far too much death. I hope you survive future training, at least not die under my supervision. My heart has too much pity."
"Coach, is this part of the speech too?" Casia asked as they descended from the main laboratory building, surrounded by bustling students.
"Of course not. After all these years, the cold-bloodedness of the battlefield has been worn away by time. Otherwise, you'd see me now—a chatty middle-aged man. Back then, I barely spoke more than 'yes' or 'no.' I hope you keep that hesitation before pulling the trigger. It's something you might lose in the future." Bo Lang didn't escort Casia to the dormitory. His visit to the lab was only to sign relevant documents—they dared not delay anything regarding Avalon.
"Coach Bo, if I had fired back then, would I have had a chance?" Casia called after him.
"Of course. After enrollment, you'd spend a few days in the hospital anyway, and learn how bone reconnection surgeries work." Bo Lang disappeared into the shadows of the building.
Casia returned to his room at 4:30 PM. The entire dorm was empty—training was in progress.
The room felt airy, thanks to the continuous heating. He drank a few cups of water from the kettle, then stared at the books on his desk with a sigh.
Mechanical Control Theory, Firearm Basics, Detailed Imperial Map, Extreme Weather Overview, Vehicle Operation Theory… eleven books in total. One small book, Second Biological Language, contained no words—only sounds and their corresponding meanings.A crack ran along the wall, with a few printed pages lodged inside.
Casia leaned back on the bed, flipping through them one by one.
"6:00 AM tomorrow, physical training and post-surgery recovery exercises…" The daily schedule was fixed in time but varied in content. Casia set it aside.
Next were notifications for the distribution of sedatives for surgery. Each student received two doses per month, to be collected and self-administered on time. Casia recalled the blue, glowing injections from the professors. According to Sukalyus, they were perfect evolutionary substances extracted from dragon blood—officially termed sedatives by the military. Their purpose: maintain stability of transplanted tissues, prevent rejection, and avoid degeneration.
The next pages contained various official notices, all densely printed in black ink.
The last document was different:
"In three months, the First to Fifth Star Academies will conduct their first combat training."
Signed: Executive Department
For important matters, the military preferred brevity.
Casia jumped off the bed, removed his blue hospital gown. His body had healed from the surgeries. Only marks from the twenty-four inhibitory tubes remained on his back, arms, and legs.
Stretching his stiffened body, he felt the effects of the surgery: enhanced vision and hearing were evident, but strength, speed, and stamina were still limited due to the inhibitory tubes.
"The surgical integration in your body is ongoing, on par with others. But the inhibitory tubes weigh down every organ and tissue. Their functions are enhanced by the surgery, yet severely suppressed by the tubes. To fully utilize your surgical potential, you'll need to work harder and train more," the professor had said. "Sedatives cannot be stopped. Though your rejection reactions have ceased, the number of inhibitory tubes can only be reduced to sixteen when you enter the second phase of surgery—this is the final limit."
"Don't worry. Many have survived with sixteen tubes. Some even succeeded." The professor's words were reassuring, and Casia didn't want to spoil that.
With Sukalyus's methods, he needn't fear falling behind. Casia dressed and reassured himself, though his stomach grumbled.
Post-surgery, his body entered the first phase: the compound growth phase, primarily affecting bone and muscle tissue, with high nutritional requirements. The Military Academy had prepared a specialized diet for this stage.
Dressed for training and armed with his password card and ID, Casia was ready to eat and join the other students' training.
Once again, he would share a classroom with others, though he had no idea what it would look like in the end.
"Really looking forward to it," Casia sighed, stretching. The sensation of the twenty-four inhibitory tubes reminded him of Bo Lang's "cage." For his body, with all the powerful dragon tissues inside, it truly was a cage.