Year 2070
Central City, First High School
Central City covered a wide stretch of fields. As the heart of the nation, it was home to the number one institute in the country, a place where countless resources had been poured in without restraint.
Above, planes streaked across the sky at high speed, their shadows racing across the ground. Below, hundreds of students jogged through the training fields, sweat clinging to their faces as if it were the end of the world, and for some, it was. Because today was the Call of the Royale.
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Class One
The classroom was eerily quiet. A hundred students sat in neat rows, their backs straight, eyes fixed not only on the man at the front but, more importantly, on the countdown projected across the board.
It was the peak of the afternoon, the blazing sun flooding through the windows, yet even its brilliance could not outshine the relentless glow of the timer.
The timer had once displayed a full year, then months, then weeks. Now, only [01:00:00] remained.
Ding! A chime echoed through the classroom as the digits shifted; the last hour breaking apart.
[00:59:59]
At the front stood a young man about nineteen years old, Instructor Rowan, composed yet stern. His solemn gaze swept over the young faces seated before him. He wore a fitted leather coat, his short red hair catching the light. But what drew every eye, sooner or later, was the empty sleeve of his right arm, hanging loose where the limb had once been.
"Ten years ago," he began, his voice pulling every eye from the timer, "a sudden disappearance shook the world. Hundreds of thousands vanished without warning, workers, leaders, the famous, and the forgotten alike. No one knew the cause, and panic spread. We thought the end had come."
"What was strange was that everyone above sixteen and below thirty was taken. No children or elders were taken. The major countries came together to try to discover what happened, but their attempts were futile!"
"There were countless speculations. Some claimed the vanished were kidnapped by aliens and taken for experiments. Others believed divine judgment had descended and those taken were being punished for their sins. Conspiracists spoke of secret government projects, of parallel worlds merging into ours, of doomsday already creeping at the edges. The rumors were endless. But all of it stopped the moment a few of the disappeared… returned."
"Those who returned came back with the impossible. One could lift a car with a single arm. Another could summon fire at will. Some ran faster than cars; others bent steel like paper. Strength, speed, power… things that could only happen in movies, novels, and fiction."
"They also brought back tales; stories stranger than any speculation the world had made. A Royale!"
"A game-like competition of levels, beasts, skills, talents, and more spanning countless realms. The news was shocking, almost impossible to believe, yet the evidence stood before us. But it also came with dire news, an ultimatum: ten years."
"The ultimatum stated that if, within ten years, a world failed to produce even a single representative among the top thousand in the Novice Rankings, limited to the first ten levels — the consequences that followed would be beyond imagination."
"The world was shaken by this news, but with it came hope. Those who returned could already do the impossible, so people believed we were already among the top thousand." At this point, he shook his head, eyes heavy with dejection. "But the truth… the ones who came back were mediocre. The rear ranks of the players. Scraps, lucky enough to survive long enough to bring back the news."
"The nations of the world united, forging a single front. Special training programs were established, led by the Returned Players, to give the next generation even the slightest chance. And so it went, year after year; every child who turned sixteen was taken to participate in the Royale."
"But we failed, and the cycle repeated, never even scratching the back of the thousand… until three years ago." His words ignited the room. The once-quiet class stirred, and on every young face, fanatic devotion came alive.
"A super genius appeared, Veyra, and I was fortunate enough to be among the players taken in the same year as her." Even he had a look of fanaticism on his face.
"She broke through and secured a place among the top thousand in the first ten levels, saving our world from an unknown fate. We never learned her exact rank, but it must have been high, for the benefits we received were immense. And one of those very blessings… is the reason I stand here before you today, becoming the first instructor."
"Although we were saved, the Royale continued, unchanged in its routine; every child who turned sixteen was taken to participate. That is why you are here today." As he said this, the look of fanatic devotion faded from the class, replaced once more by stern silence.
"You are the best among your peers and have endured training others your age should never have faced: skydiving without hesitation, wilderness survival in the mountains and deserts, week-long fasting drills, live-combat sparring with weapons, underwater endurance trials, night hunts against trained beasts, and mental conditioning to withstand pain and fear."
"Although we cannot tell you exactly when this training will prove useful, because restrictions are in place preventing the returned from revealing too much, you must trust that every drill, every hardship, will matter. All of it is useful."
When all was said, he turned his head to look at the countdown on the board. It had already ticked down to its final ten minutes.
"The final ten minutes are upon us. You're dismissed. Go and say your goodbyes to your families… because some of you may never see them again."
The group of soon-to-be players rose from their seats, some unable to hold back tears as they prepared to spend what might be their final moments with their families.
As the door closed and silence settled over the room, a sudden snore tore through it like a ripping cloth.
Rowan, having finished his endlessly repeated speech, was about to leave the room when a thunderclap-like snore resounded through the enclosed space.
"Snoooorrrrk!"
Rowan suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked over to see who dared to sleep at this particular time.
At the back of the class, an inconspicuous boy lounged on a chair, one leg propped over the other, arms folded beneath his head as if he were in his own backyard.
Rowan rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. Of all the students, this was the one he least wanted to deal with, too troublesome by far.
"Rei…" he called out with a frown, ready to scold, only for a thunderclap-like snore to cut him off.
Rowan sighed, rubbed his temples, and muttered, "This brat…" under his breath.
"Rei, you brat! Do you…" Rowan began, only to be cut off by another rumbling snore.
His lips twitched several times.
"Rei!!!" The roar shook the walls, carrying through the entire building.
"Huh…" Rei slowly opened his eyelids, rising with deliberate slowness. He stretched his arms over his head, spine cracking, and let out a long yawn. "What's with the noise…?"
"Huh… Rowan, it's you?" Rei muttered, blinking sleep from his eyes. He glanced left and right, feigning confusion. "Wait, don't tell me the Royale already started. Did you all leave me behind?"
Unlike everyone else, this kid always called him Rowan instead of Instructor Rowan, but Rowan didn't seem to mind.
"Brat! You keep dozing off in class, already lagging behind your peers, and you still dare to sleep now? The Calling is less than five minutes away!" Rowan snapped, his finger jabbing at Rei, trembling from barely contained fury.
Only the boy before him dared to sleep in class. It had happened countless times. If it were anyone else, Rowan would have thrown them out the very first time.
"Hey, here comes another lecture. You're only three years older than me, don't go acting like some ancient elder." Rei rolled his eyes so hard it looked like they might flip over his head.
"I might only be three years older than you, but I'm still…" Rowan began, puffing up as if ready to boast, but Rei cut him off mid-sentence.
"Yeah, yeah, we all know," Rei drawled, waving a lazy hand. "Out of all the returned players, you're the one with the highest level, the great Instructor Rowan, blah blah blah…"
"But aren't you just one of the players who quit before dying? Which means…" Rei tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You're basically the strongest loser Earth's got."
The proud smirk on Rowan's face suddenly disappeared.
"Look who's talking. The only reason you're even in this class in the first place is because you're her brother. Let's see how long you last once you become a player."
"Better than you, that's for sure," Rei shot back without hesitation.
"Hahaha…!" Rowan burst into laughter, the sound booming across the room. He laughed so hard it was as if Rei had just told the most impossible joke. A tear even slipped from the corner of his eye.
"Just wait, I'll…" Rei started, ready to retort, when suddenly a golden beam of light crashed down, engulfing his entire figure and flooding the room with blinding brilliance.
"Huh…?!" Rowan's laughter died in his throat, his eyes snapping wide. "It's begun…?" He jerked his head toward the countdown on the board, its numbers had already burned down to zero.
This occurrence wasn't just happening in the room. The same golden beams of light descended all over the world, each falling upon a child of suitable age.
Their figures rose into the air and vanished before the eyes of their loved ones.
Back in the class, Rowan turned his head toward Rei, only to find his figure already gone.
"Hmph! Finally, that boy is gone. Let him trouble others." Yet, a faint sadness flickered in Rowan's eyes.
"I just wonder how long he can last. It'd be best if he could outlast me… but his sister? Impossible. It's already a miracle if he survives as long as I did." He shook his head and turned away.
Meanwhile, the players were about to begin the journey that would decide their fate.