In the underground auditorium of the syndicate, where morning and evening could not be differentiated, a place where the shine of the lights on a ceiling determined the passing of day and night.
Bodies of the dead students from the purge during the assembly were removed. Many of them were in their young years—the trails of blood, distorted expressions, and the screams of the dead during the initiation were imprinted in the minds and hearts of the survivors. Yet the faces of surviving candidates held expressions of reverence; however, deep down, some were in awe, some were shocked, some were not surprised, but most had a shocking and even instinctual realisation that this hellhole might be their final resting place.
The candidates conversed with each other, some looking to form hierarchies, others looking for ways to escape, and very few comforted those troubled by the current situation. The auditorium became louder and louder as chaos ensued—suddenly, a lady who looked in her 60s, clothed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, entered the auditorium.
She had a dark complexion, and her silvery hair was tied back, matching her silver wristwatch. Each wrinkle she had told a story of the adventures and adversaries she had encountered throughout her life; she carried a dignified look that commanded respect. As she approached the podium, she looked at the new round of probationary students before picking up the microphone to start her lesson.
"Silence!" she commanded. However, she was paid no heed.
"The next time I utter 'silence,' no one will leave these premises alive," she commanded again. Some students were quick enough to remember that they were not in the outside world, but other students felt insulted that an old lady wanted to order them around; they decided it was best to gang up on her, but that was a decision they would not have the chance to regret.
"First lesson: Respect your elders, or consequences will be met," she sternly uttered as the heads of rebellious candidates disconnected from their bodies. Instantly, silence engulfed the whole auditorium.
"Second lesson: Whenever I finish my sentence, you will respond, 'Yes, Ma,'" she remarked.
"Yes, Ma," all the surviving candidates rose from their seats and responded respectfully. Seeing that the atmosphere had become tense and peaceful, she smiled, finding solace in it. She took her smart pad, tapped it, and illustrated a hierarchical graph on the board.
"Good evening, class. I am Madam Avery, head of the teaching department. I will be the one to teach you about the roles and responsibilities of the syndicate, the world, and how to unlock your abilities; to put it simply, this is an introductory class," Madam Avery remarked.
"Yes, Ma," the candidates responded respectfully.
"The Syndicate was founded about three years ago by our supreme leader to overthrow the current state of affairs; as you can see on the board, the hierarchy of the syndicate is comprised of six main circles with approximately 650 members in total."
"You are all at the bottom of the barrel, not even at the level of trainees yet. You all are probationary members; however, by the time I am done working on you all, every single one of you will be a proud member of the syndicate."
"Yes, Ma," the students responded. At the far back, a shy guy in a baseball cap raised his hand to ask a question, which Madam Avery gestured for him to ask.
"Please, my name is Matthew; what do we have to do to become trainees and rise through the ranks?" the boy asked, visibly scared, evident from his twitching and palpitating arm. Seeing how scared the candidate was, a smile curled on her face, yet having the courage to ask how to rise through the ranks was admirable.
"Excellent question. As you all remember, tickets were distributed anonymously to all sectors of Xerxes, with the strict instruction that with the wealth this opportunity provides, death also knocks on the same door; this distribution served as the primary filter of candidates. This was to test those who could grasp opportunities presented to them."
"The second trial was to test the resolve of candidates through the illustration of an interrogation of a traitor—" As Madam Avery lectured, suddenly a girl with a ponytail donned in a white vest with black jeans interrupted her, questioning,
"Isn't that a waste of human resources and potential?" she asked, hoping to curry favour by asking a question she deemed brilliant. However, her little finger on her dominant hand was cleanly sliced off. She nearly screamed, but a female candidate held her mouth to stop her as she struggled from the pain. The girl who prevented her scream signalled her to look at Madam Avery.
It was at that moment she realised that if she had screamed, her head would have been separated from her body. The expression of Madam Avery at that moment cemented what would be a long run of trauma, even after her death.
"Thank you, Elise. I owe you my life," Martha whispered, tears flowing from her eyes as she swore to get back at her when she rose to a higher status than her.
"Can anyone tell me the reason for the punishment and what she did wrong?" Madam Avery asked the assembly of probationary members. Immediately, the candidates racked their brains to find the perfect answer. Yes. Not an answer, but the ideal answer. They saw this as an opportunity to give an answer that would make them stand out from the crowd.
During this session, a boy with a buzz cut raised his hand to answer the question. This boy was a candidate who had taken advantage of the chaos to ally with five other candidates. Madam Avery called on him, and he stood and responded,
"Yes, Ma."
"Please, Madam, her mistake was to interrupt you, thereby disrespecting you, an elder, which violated your first rule. Second, she questioned the syndicate's methods in a manner that looked down on our glorious institute's intellect. Last, she spoke without manners and needed to be taught a lesson," the punk-like boy answered respectfully.
With each point made, Madam Avery nodded in acknowledgement not only because of his great point but also because of his ability to take an opportunity without hesitation while properly and sensibly articulating his points.
"Perfect mark for your answer, Dante. Everything you said was on point. Sit down," Madam Avery politely instructed while highlighting the names of Martha, Elise, Dante, and his allied members.
"He has great potential in leadership; even his dress has thought behind it. In dressing the way he does, he allows the guard of his enemy to be lowered. If it had been anyone else who answered, they would have been ostracised for gaining more opportunities than others. Jealousy."
"From his looks, he would be perceived as an impulsive brat without scrutiny. Now I wonder how he and Matthew would relate in the special class." Madam Avery's wrinkles tensed as she smirked thoughtfully.
"As I said earlier, the second test was to observe your ability to adapt to your surroundings and maintain composure when in a fearful and irrational situation. What all these things have in common is that they are all tests of various kinds. To rise through the ranks, you must accomplish several smaller missions or a mission far exceeding your rank."
"The missions are categorised into nine types: reconnaissance or intelligence missions, research missions, legal missions, daily operations missions, field missions, support missions, technology missions, finance missions, and enforcement missions, with varying difficulties. At the end of the month, you are assessed according to the mission category in which you believe you excel. When one passes with flying colours, they are promoted; when they fail, the opposite happens."
"Further details about the syndicate's inner workings, roles, and responsibilities have already been uploaded to your new state-of-the-art smart pads; they will be operational only for you. The pad is to be taken care of, as that is where missions, announcements, and all syndicate-related activities will be communicated and answered from unless a direct meeting is being called for," Madam Avery explained.
After lecturing the class, she illustrated an image of a brain on the board titled "The Universe."
"What you are seeing on the board is obviously a brain, but what if I were to tell you this was the blueprint of the universe—"
Upon hearing this, the students were confused about why their madam made such an absurd statement. Seeing the looks on their faces, she understood how ridiculous this statement was in their line of reasoning.
"Let me clarify: in the past, astrophysicists, with the help of neuroscientists, observed that the number of galaxies in the universe was equivalent to the number of neurons in our brain. Fast forward to the current age, when we managed to get a glimpse outside our universe, we observed that the ever-expanding tree on this planet extended past our universe to connect to various other universes, forming a cosmic web."
"The number of universes is also said to be the same as the number of galaxies in our universe. This discovery has led us to believe that our existence is a figment of a supreme being's imagination," Madam Avery remarked. This realisation spurred different reactions and feelings within the students. Some felt their lives were meaningless, some wanted to know more about this unbelievable universe, and some were unbothered by this hypothesis.
"What I am trying to say is this: There had to be a reaction within this universe that triggered our existence, and the same reaction might be what allows living beings to acquire their abilities. Since everyone is their own sentient universe, we are studying ways of triggering abilities of our choosing by learning about various stimuli and which abilities they awaken."
"We still have questions about whether the universe has a will or consciousness, and if so, what role it plays in all this," Madam Avery lectured about the topic of abilities and its possible connection with the world they live inside.
"After the lectures, you will all be tested to study the extent of your abilities. Remember, don't get overly excited or demotivated by whatever the detector shows. The full potential of your ability is all in your mental space; be creative, explore, and never stagnate."
"I am an example of your starting point not determining your end; read it up in your codex if you have doubts. The lecture is over," Madam Avery muttered before leaving the premises.
After the lecture, Matthew tried socialising with fellow probationary members. Instead, he was shunned. Feeling demotivated, he sat at his place, planning his next steps. Right as he was deep in thought, Dante approached him and spoke.
"Hey, how are you doing?" Dante asked Matthew while taking a seat by his side. While Dante conversed with Matthew, a member of Dante's group asked what he was doing.
"Conrad, you know the boss always does his best to acquire talents. Personally, I can see his potential to be as great as the boss, with a little more guidance," another member commented.
Conversation between Matthew and Dante…
"Oh, I see; you took this job to earn money to aid your family. I know that they are proud to have such a great son," Dante remarked.
"Thank you. I appreciate the company, but what do you want from me?" Matthew asked.
"I see we're being direct here. I wanted to get to know you. I also wanted to ally; as the saying goes, why make an enemy when you can have a friend," Dante said jokingly. Hearing Dante's offer of friendship, Matthew pondered it before finalising his answer.
"Why not," Matthew replied, extending his hand to Dante, which Dante reciprocated with a handshake.
Madam Avery observed all of this through her smart pad, to which she said,
"This might just be a year of prodigies. If possible, it would be second only to the first generation."