As usual, I awoke to a nightmare—the same one where I am tormented by everyone I ever betrayed, everyone I ever killed.
I am not haunted by remorse, though I suppose I could have done better. In those days, I was driven mad by the fear of dying a vagrant. My hatred for my mother and the world fueled me, making treachery and betrayal feel like nothing more than tools of the trade. I loathe those days now. If I could go back, I would do things with more finesse; I have learned that if one must commit an evil act, it should at least yield a significant gain.
Back then, I did evil because I enjoyed it. It was the folly of an immature child who thought he had a personal vendetta against the world. I can only laugh at those wretched days now.
I climbed out of bed feeling as though a horse had trampled me. My body was a map of aches, especially my muscles. It seemed the physical strain had only intensified the nightmare.
I went to the courtyard, filled two buckets from the well, and attended to my needs in the bathroom. I stripped, stepped back inside, and began to wash. The cold water felt like a purge, as if it were scrubbing away the filth—both from my skin and from within.
Once finished, I threw myself into an intense workout. Though my muscles screamed from the hard bed, I didn't care. I am acutely aware that I am in a race against time, especially in a place like this. I must give everything I have.
Two hours into my training, a knock came at the door.
I was surprised. Who would visit this early? I approached the door but didn't dare peek through the keyhole—that is the height of stupidity when facing an enemy; you risk a blinding injury. It wasn't that I was confident, but I figured the academy wouldn't let us die quite this easily.
I pulled the door open and recognised the man standing there: it was the servant.
The servant looked at me with a glint of admiration. "Sir, you are remarkably diligent. I didn't expect you to be awake, let alone training. Most recruits are still dead to the world after the exhaustion of the journey."
"Thank you," I replied coldly. "But did you come this early just to check if I was sleeping?"
"My apologies, sir," he said, "I got distracted. I am here to show you the academy grounds, the cafeteria, and the market. Are you ready?"
I looked him over. "Give me five minutes to wash and return."
I filled two more buckets, washed quickly, and thought: *It seems my days in this place are going to be long indeed.*
I set out with the servant. Our first stop was the cafeteria, a mere seven-minute walk from my house. We arrived to find a massive queue; at least sixty people stood ahead of me.
"Do I have to wait in this entire line?" I asked.
"Yes, sir," the servant replied. "And take this badge. It allows you access for one month only. After that, it becomes useless." He paused, then added with a casual chill, "Also, a reminder: five days before your free period ends, anyone at Level Zero is permitted to steal this badge from you. So, stay alert."
I was stunned. So the 'free' month wasn't entirely free. "What does Level Zero mean?" I asked. "Is that a superhuman rank?"
"The levels will be explained in class," he answered. "But I will tell you this: Level Zero is indeed superhuman. Ten times stronger than an ordinary human."
Terror gripped my heart. *Ten times?* How could I possibly defend my badge against such a being?
Sensing my fear, the servant added, "Don't worry, it isn't an impossible feat. If you survive for three weeks here, you will reach Level Zero yourself. However, you will be facing those who have held that power for much longer. Everyone will be trying to save their coin."
His words did little to ease my mind. "What do you mean, 'survive for three weeks'?"
The servant laughed, a hollow, unsettling sound. "I am not permitted to tell you everything. But I can say this: the tradition here is that fifty per cent of recruits die within these first three weeks. It could be worse, but fifty per cent is the standard."
He leaned in with a malicious grin. "Or rather… they are *killed*."
"By whom? I cannot say. But rest assured, they won't be killed by monsters. They will be killed by men."
*Will the recruits kill each other? Does this mean no one can afford to sleep at night?*
"Remember," the servant added, "the academy is not your enemy. It is in our interest for you to succeed. I truly hope you survive these three weeks."
With that, he walked into the cafeteria, passing through without a second glance from anyone. I stepped into the line immediately, not wanting it to grow any longer.
This school was more terrifying than I had imagined. Fifty per cent dead in three weeks? Only twenty-eight had passed the initial test out of two hundred, and now half of those would be slaughtered? What kind of place was this? Why did everyone treat this like a mundane reality? And why did that servant look so amused, as if he were telling a thrilling bedtime story?
*Is this place full of deviants?*
Lost in thought, it was finally my turn. I entered the hall and moved to the left, where another short line of three people stood. They were handing over slips of paper to the food server.
Then, it was my turn. The server—a massive, muscular man with long tied-back black hair and a thick beard—held out his hand and shook it impatiently. I reached into my pocket and produced the badge. It was a simple piece of wood engraved with a half-full cup.
He took the badge, looked at me with pure loathing, and spat, "I hope the free period ends quickly."
He filled a bowl with stew—thick with meat—and handed it to me with an air of profound disappointment. Before I could move, he shoved two loaves of bread toward me.
"I hope you die before the month is up," he muttered.
He then turned to the next person, hand already outstretched. I left immediately. I felt as though he would have killed me right then and there if I had stayed a second longer. In his eyes, I was a parasite stealing his inheritance.
The dining area was a large hall with three windows: one for food, one for drink, and a third for returning dishes. At the second window, the same thing happened—the moment I showed my badge, I was met with glares that wished for my swift demise.
.
After receiving a large cup filled with a fragrant yellow drink, I found an empty table and sat down.