"Welcome... to the Guardian Academy."
A sharp, commanding voice echoed across the grand hall, capturing the attention of every student assembled.
"There are two types of students in this facility," announced the woman standing on the podium, her sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Those who earned their place here through talent… and those who leveraged their connections to gain entry. We know who you are, all of you, but we will remain silent."
"You may be enjoying your position as a high-ranker," she continued, her voice slicing through the whispers, "though you know deep down you are unworthy of that title. As I said, we know who you are. But we will let the system, long established, decide your fates."
"In one month, there will be a tournament of sorts," she declared, her tone turning razor-sharp. "This will determine everything. So prepare yourselves. Your future depends on the decisions you make and the paths you choose."
<>
Walking down the dimly lit hallway was a young man, his face cast downward as his bluish, almost white hair swayed and fell over his face, partially obscuring his strange ash-colored eyes.
"Hey…" A voice broke through his thoughts, and he stopped, raising his head slightly. His gaze met that of a young man seated casually by the stairs leading to the lower floor. The seated youth wore the same uniform as the blue-haired boy—a white shirt under an oxblood blazer, paired with white trousers. However, the uniform was incomplete; there was also a sleeveless cardigan and an oxblood tie meant to complete the look, but most students ignored these additional pieces.
"Are you deaf? I said come over," the seated boy said, his voice laced with arrogance. The two young men flanking him, sharing his shady demeanor, began moving toward the blue-haired young man.
"What do you want?" the blue-haired boy asked, his tone calm, his stance unmoving.
At this, the young man's eyes widened in disbelief, stunned by the audacity.
BAM!
The lackeys wasted no time sending the blue-haired boy to his knees with a hard shove.
"I can't believe it. Do you not know your place?!" Before the blue-haired youth could regain his bearings, a punch from one of the lackeys was already aimed at his face.
BAM!
It struck him, and he was thrown back—or at least, that was what should have happened. Instead, as soon as the punch landed, the other lackey, a blond-haired boy with faded streaks, moved swiftly, grabbing the blue-haired boy by his hair. They forced him to look straight into the eyes of their leader, who now stood seated by the railing.
"Um… boss," said the raven-haired lackey, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and surprise.
"What…?" the one seated by the railing replied lazily.
"He's just a… Level 1," the raven-haired boy said, his disbelief evident, his expression a mixture of shock and stifled laughter.
"Level 1? Do such weak shits even exist?!" chimed in another boy, one of the lackeys with bright orange hair and eyes.
"A Level 1? A LEVEL 1 ACTUALLY ACTS SO BOLD IN FRONT OF ME?! DO YOU NOT KNOW MY NAME?!" The so-called boss jumped down from the railing, landing lightly on his feet.
The lackeys holding the blue-haired boy stepped aside, but not far; the other two standing by the blued haired boy flanked him, pinning his shoulders to leave him utterly defenseless.
"…" The blue-haired boy remained silent, his gaze downcast as though contemplating something distant.
"Tsk. Teach this imbecile a lesson, and before that, take away every single damn point he has," the boss ordered, his grin widening. He then turned to the boy before him, sneering. "I wanted to go easy on you low-rankers. I was actually in a good mood today and would've only taken a hundred points, maybe two, but you just had to get on my nerves."
He laughed wickedly, his voice echoing in the hallway. "Trust me. I will make you regret ever stepping foot in this academy. I will make your life miserable. That way, you can relate to your fellow low-rankers, and they will learn to fear me," he declared, his tone dripping with malice.
"Teach him a lesson," he said again, waving a hand dismissively as he walked back to his perch by the railing. The lackeys grinned in unison, their expressions a mix of cruelty and delight.
<>
"Ugh," the blue-haired boy groaned, his consciousness returning slowly.
"It's cold," he muttered, realizing he was lying on the tiled floor.
"Ugh," he groaned again as he sat up, his body aching from the earlier assault.
He looked around. It was now nighttime, and the empty hallway carried an eerie stillness.
That could only mean one thing.
'I missed curfew,' he thought, closing his eyes briefly as a wave of frustration washed over him.
It seemed clear now: this place was a battlefield.
No one cared what happened to anyone else. It was survival of the fittest, and he was the weakest.
"Heh," a bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he stared up at the ceiling.
Many people had witnessed the humiliation he suffered. Not a single one had stepped in. As long as it wasn't them, they were fine with it.
"Sigh." He exhaled heavily, his body slumping back onto the cold floor.
[Why don't you give in? You have the power to bring them all to their knees.]
'Shut it,' he thought sharply, and the voice in his head vanished.
"I'll just rest a little longer, then leave before morning," he murmured to himself, his voice hollow. Closing his eyes once more, he drifted into a deep, restless sleep.