Elias watched as the glow faded, and a small notification appeared on his watch's screen:
[New Schedule Uploaded.]
"Got it," he said, offering a polite nod. "Thanks."
The woman returned to her work without another word, already addressing the next student in line.
With his updated schedule in hand — or rather, on his wrist — Elias shuffled toward his first class of the day: Survival Tactics. He couldn't help but sigh.
The class had been informative the first time, sure, but it was also dense, filled with details about formations, strategies, and theoretical scenarios that had made his head spin.
Still, he understood its importance. Out in the real world, survival would mean the difference between life and death.
The Academy hallways seemed a bit less intimidating now that he had a clearer idea of the layout. He passed groups of students, some chatting in clusters near the walls, others striding purposefully toward their own destinations.
A few of them glanced at him, their eyes lingering just long enough for him to notice before they turned away. He wasn't sure if it was curiosity, recognition, or something else, but he chose to ignore it.
The door to the Survival Tactics classroom was already open when he arrived, and Elias stepped inside quietly, grateful not to be late this time.
The room was modest, with rows of desks arranged in neat lines and a large screen at the front displaying a map of a desolate urban landscape.
The instructor, the man with the mechanical arm and sharp eyes, stood near the screen, tapping through a series of slides on a tablet.
"Good morning," the instructor said without looking up as Elias took a seat near the middle of the room.
The other students were a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. A few nodded in greeting, while others remained focused on their notes or the map on the screen.
"Today," the instructor began, his voice clear and commanding, "we're going to delve into environmental hazards and how to navigate them. Out in the field, the terrain is just as much your enemy as the monsters are. In fact, it's often the environment that claims inexperienced Hunters."
He tapped the screen, and the map shifted to a barren, rocky wasteland dotted with jagged cliffs.
"This," he continued, pointing at the screen, "is a Class C danger zone known as the Shard Barrens. It's a former industrial site that's now infested with Common and Elite class monsters. What makes it particularly dangerous, however, is the terrain. The cliffs and narrow pathways leave little room for maneuvering, and one wrong step could send you plummeting to your death."
Elias leaned forward slightly, his attention fully on the screen.
The instructor continued, shifting to other examples: a swamp with toxic mists that could disorient even the most experienced Hunters; a frozen tundra where the cold itself was a lethal adversary; and an abandoned city, its crumbling buildings teeming with hidden threats.
"With every mission," the instructor said, his tone grave, "you'll encounter environments like these. Some will be worse. Always remember: the world doesn't care about your skill level or your potential. It will kill you if you give it the chance."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"That's why survival isn't just about strength or speed. It's about preparation, awareness, and adaptability. A well-prepared Hunter can outlast even the most dangerous foes. An unprepared one..." He trailed off, his expression making it clear what he meant.
The rest of the lesson focused on practical advice: how to spot and avoid traps in abandoned buildings, how to ration supplies in a hostile environment, and how to use the terrain to your advantage in combat.
Elias took notes diligently, his mind racing with thoughts of what the real world would be like.
He couldn't help but wonder how much of this knowledge he would actually retain in the heat of the moment.
Would he remember the instructor's warnings when faced with a deadly monster? Or would instinct take over, leaving him to rely on his own skills and luck?
Toward the end of the class, the instructor's tone shifted, becoming more encouraging.
"Remember," he said, "you're not alone out there. The Academy equips you with the skills you need, but it's up to you to apply them. Join a brigade, find teammates you trust, and never underestimate the importance of teamwork. Out there, a good brigade can mean the difference between coming home alive and never coming home at all."
As the class ended, Elias gathered his things and headed for the door. The instructor's parting words echoed in his mind, reinforcing the weight of the decisions he would have to make in the days to come.
He glanced down at his watch, checking the time. The day was far from over, and he still had plenty of classes to attend. But for now, he felt a little more prepared, a little more grounded.
#####
Elias stepped into the Weapon Mastery training hall for the second time, his muscles still remembering the strain from the previous session.
The air was thick with the familiar scent of sweat, steel, and the faint tang of oil used to maintain weapons.
The instructor stood at the front, just as imposing as before. His sharp eyes scanned the room, gauging each student's stance and posture with a single glance.
He was a man of few words, but his expectations were high, and his punishments for sloppiness were immediate.
"Form up," he commanded, his voice cutting through the low murmurs of the students.
The class immediately arranged themselves into lines, standing at attention. Elias noticed some of his classmates shifting uncomfortably, no doubt remembering the ruthless corrections from their first lesson.
Their instructor had made it clear that there was no room for weakness in this academy — especially in Weapon Mastery.
The instructor let the silence stretch before speaking again.
"Last class, I had the misfortune of witnessing some of the worst weapon handling I've ever seen." His gaze swept over them, cold and unyielding. "Many of you held your weapons like you were gripping a child's toy. Some of you swung like you were swatting flies. That ends today."
There was no room for excuses here. No complaints about sore muscles, no asking for breaks. If they wanted to become Hunters, they had to endure.