Beams of sunlight slipped through the gaps between the white blinds concealing Draven's window, giving him the privilege to slowly awaken to a feeling of subtle warmth. The bed beneath him was absurdly comfortable, as if crafted to perfectly care for each aching part of his body.
Rubbing his temples, he let out a relieved sigh.
"Well a headache's better than getting my skull split open, I guess."
Grasping the headboard, he slowly pulled himself up into a seating position. The covers slipped carefully down his figure, unveiling the bandages he had yet to remove. Since being discharged from the hospital, there were still a few burn wounds that needed more time to fully recover.
And frankly, the surprise attack he'd suffered on his first day wasn't much help either.
The pain wasn't too severe, at least.
"That damn prick. Sure! Let's go ahead and flatten the new kid against the ground! Sounds like fun!"
With a scoff, he carefully picked himself up from the bed before disinfecting the injuries and grabbing his school bag. This would be his…fourth day of school?
Since he was joining in the middle of the year, there was plenty of paperwork and contracts he had to painstakingly sign for the previous three days. Albeit that at least gave him the opportunity to properly map out the school.
"Let's hope there's another couple of slum rats…"
Placing the pin on his chest, he decided to reluctantly skip breakfast. Considering there was still much he didn't know about Carnivore, he had some experiments he wanted to perform on his own.
One of the main ones being the limitations of his hunger — if Carnivore functioned the way he believed it did — would his hunger make him no different than another human, or regress him to a beast-like state?
"The latter's harrowing…but maybe it'll have some impact on my strength?"
As he stepped out of the dormitory, he was immediately greeted with the lavish halls of the Institution. Academy? Didn't matter.
Some male students close to his age conversed with one another, showing off new weapons their parents had bought them or talking about recent events. Draven could only look in envy as they lived the dream life he'd been hoping for, for so long.
"Get a grip! I'll make the most of the time I got here, maybe meet some friends…get a beautiful girlfriend.."
Encompassed in his thoughts, Draven hadn't even noticed the bell ringing or even the people going to their various classes. It wasn't as if he was going to be late anyways, he prided himself on his ability to memorize the quickest route to his classes.
It was the least he could do considering he wasn't even sure whether or not he'd know much about the subjects themselves.
As he walked, a familiar sound pervaded his ears.
The familiar stomping of steel soles against a surface. Contrasting loudly against the squeaking of other student's sneakers or other footwear.
It was the same sound as the shoes that damned prick was wearing!
Instantly, his neck twisted in the direction he'd heard it from, his eyes setting upon a lone boy in the middle of the halls. His black earbuds hummed lightly during his walk, his eyes completely shut as he reflexively slipped between the other students.
'So we commoners aren't even worth your time, huh?!'
There was absolutely nothing that actually proved the student had any qualms with Draven's social status, despite the fact it was well-known by now. But his gut was just prodding at him, telling him the guy was looking down at everyone else in the hallway.
Taking no time, Draven pushed through the river of people flooding through the halls. The sound of his frayed sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor caught the attention of those who'd been close by, but only momentarily.
Except, it was that very moment that'd capture their attention for even longer.
With a single, well-executed swing of his arm, Draven socked the poor bastard directly in the chin. Launching him halfway across the halls into a crowd of people.
"Take that, Snowflake!"
He wasn't exactly sure why he mentioned his hair color, but it just felt right.
For a second, the student just lied on the ground. The people around him shifted and moved, scared of whatever would come next. Some took out their phones, others ran to find a teacher or just get out of the vicinity of the ensuing fight.
"First you flatten me against the pavement, now you're just striding around like you own the damn place?"
Draven growled.
"You must think you're so much better than us, huh?!"
Still, the boy hadn't responded. On the contrary he remained completely silent as he lifted himself up with his sheathed blade — Draven didn't have the patience to debate the safety hazards that posed, Jumper schools were weird.
"...Do I know you?"
Adjusting his glasses, the student approached Draven. His eyes narrowed but he had yet to express any real hostility. His hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he stepped closer.
Just as Draven reached to grasp his collar, the boy swatted his hands away as if he were an insect and spoke again.
"Don't answer that. Of course I don't. As far as I can tell you're an egocentric barbarian whose only solution to a dispute is violence. Typical."
With a grin, the student turned away as he retrieved his fallen schoolbag.
"Of course I wouldn't hold you in high enough regard to remember you."
Before Draven was even provided a chance to argue back, the boy had long since made his departure. Leaving him with nothing but a knot in his throat and an unfinished debt to pay.
'That…prick…'
Gritting his teeth, Draven looked around the hallway. Some students had gone about their day, others were still a bit dumbfounded by the sudden confrontation, but as they gazed at Draven — he could see it wasn't shock that filled their eyes.
It was jeering.
The bastards were mocking him, and he could do nothing but admit they were right in doing so. After all, it was him who was being immature.
Sure his actions weren't unjustified, but the way he confronted him…that was exactly what they'd expect of someone from the slums, from the lowest-of-the-low.
He just proved them right.
"Tch, damn it…"
There was nothing he could do about it now. With a complicated expression he took a glance at his schedule before making his way toward his first class.
It seemed he'd have to build his reputation from the ground up now.
***
His first class, 'Basics in Self Defense and Survival' took place in a massive room near the outer confines of the school. In the center of the square room was a large, elevated wooden platform with several spotlights above it.
Around the perimeter of the platform were thick chains intended to keep the sparring party inside until either side declared victory over the other. In a lot of ways, it was more brutal than Draven believed was needed.
Once around 30 students had flooded into the classroom and placed themselves against the armored walls, the instructor stepped onto the platform.
The guy was massive, dwarfing even Draven's six foot stature donning a white tracksuit. His body was living proof of his library of experience, riddled with scars and injuries the students couldn't even fathom the origin of.
A thick, gray beard covered his chin. Which in combination with his black eyepatch and similarly colored hair gave off a powerful, indomitable presence.
"Alright, knuckleheads! You can refer to me as Instructor Baron."
He paused for a moment, scanning over the new batch of students he'd been given with a disappointed glare.
"You all have taken this class believin' you can slack off. Overpower the weak and move on with yer day. Maybe even take out a newbie or two and get your grade up."
He shot a glance at one of the students, much to Draven's surprise it was the white-haired boy from before who the teacher seemed most focused on.
"But I'll tell you right here, right now, that you're wrong! That kind of mentality will get you killed on your first expedition. If you don't take advantage of this time to face stronger opponents, you won't even have a lick of what it takes to kill a Beast!"
In his words, some of the students flinched. Who wouldn't?
Some of them overlooked the reality of their circumstances. This wasn't just a school, it was a training regime. They were being cultivated from weaklings into powerful soldiers, all for the sake of humanity's expansion.
And of course, that reality implied they would be responsible for facing things that could very well be the death of them.
Draven's eyes slowly went over the other students, some paled at the thought whereas others seemed to be filled with newfound determination. Creating a clear distinction between who and who wouldn't survive their expeditions.
"...Let's see then."
The class was suddenly brought back to reality by the heavy, methodical steps of the instructor as he left the platform and circled them. Slowly and carefully observing the students, from the way they held themselves to their curious glances.
Suddenly, his index finger froze on a particularly short, yet inconceivably handsome young man. His back straightened against the wall, not even an ounce of doubt present in his pupils. Familiar white hair ran down his neck, like the mane of a proud lion.
"Atreus, get on the ring."
Atreus shrugged, placing his sheathed sword on his shoulder as he monotonously made his way toward the ring in the center of the classroom. Despite the fact he didn't have any particular reputation as of yet, the students couldn't help but concede to his confidence.
"And then we'll have…"
Baron's finger once again slowly went over the students before…
"Draven. Get up there."
Draven flinched a bit, before reluctantly trudging his way toward the ring.
The last experience he had with Atreus was…less than flattering. Nevertheless, it was unavoidable that the two would have to confront one another at some point.
Before Draven could actually step foot on the wooden platform, however, Baron stopped him. Placing his bear-like forearm in the center of his path.
"To make things fair, you're allowed to pick any of the weapons along these walls. If you'd like."
For the first time, Draven was able to take a good look at the classroom — though it seemed more like a modified armory than anything.
Weapons were tightly secured to the walls on pegboards and racks, alongside some pieces of armor for less experienced combatants or more dangerous duels.
Hammers, Daggers, even various types of swords and ranged weaponry. Regardless of whatever you specialized in it was basically guaranteed they'd have a suitable weapon for you.
Still, Draven simply shook his head in response to Baron. Pointing toward his teeth with a cocky expression.
"Nah, these babies are all I'll need."
Baron let out an amused chuckle before lightheartedly gesturing for Draven to go on ahead. It seemed he'd witnessed more than enough fools in his lifetime — comments like this weren't enough to shock him.
Once Draven made his way to the right side of the ring, he noticed Atreus looking at him curiously. His head tilted at an angle.
"...What're you looking at?"
Atreus shrugged
"Nothing, you just seem familiar is all."
'This prick!'
The jerk didn't even go through the trouble of memorizing his face! And after he was seriously considering apologizing to the pompous bastard.
"Don't worry, I'll jog your memory real nice."
Cracking his knuckles, Draven began to approach his opponent with a mischievous grin.
Atreus yawned before adjusting his glasses.
"Alright, let us finish this quickly."
At that moment, he slowly unsheathed his blade. Unveiling a large sabre that nearly dwarfed his own height. As the blade was removed from its leather prison, the golden dragon present on the sheathe slithered onto it so quickly that Draven had nearly missed the damned thing.
'So it actually was alive!
Then, Draven's brow rose.
'Wait…It's alive?!'
Not even allowing him the privilege of comprehending anything that was going on, Atreus shifted his weight onto his right foot, before immediately darting in Draven's direction.
Before Draven could react, he felt the pommel of the sabre lodge deeply into the gap in his ribs. Nearly causing him to spit up what little was in his stomach.
Except even if he had, Atreus refused to allow it. Grabbing hold of Draven's jaw with his palm he took no time in launching the carnivore's body half-way across the platform. A triumphant smile appeared on his face as he did so.
Even though he said he didn't remember him, it seemed as if Atreus hadn't forgotten the attack on his pride. And he had yet to fully repay it, slowly making his way toward the fallen Draven with a haughty march.
Draven spat in response, stumbling back onto his feet with a resentful expression plastered onto his face. For someone who was reprimanding violence just a second ago, Atreus didn't seem the least bit hesitant to fight back.
'Son of a bitch…'