The morning began with a scream.
"RISE AND SHINE, CADETS! REPORT TO THE TRAINING HALL IN TEN MINUTES!"
"What the hell..."
Aviel groaned, sitting up slowly. His hoodie sleeve felt heavier than usual.
He glanced down and found Avael curled up beside him like a lazy cat, clinging to his arm. Her snow-white hair spilled across the blanket, a single black strand curling over her face like a question mark.
Her expression was soft. Peaceful.
A smile tugged at his lips.
"Rise and shine, Ava," he murmured, poking her cheek.
"...Five more minutes..."
"C'mon, sleepy head."
She finally stirred, rubbing her eyes with the grace of a grumpy kitten. Her hair looked like it had fought a war in her sleep—and lost.
After surviving the five stages of denial, they suited up.
The academy-issued combat uniforms were simple but sleek—jet black, high-collared, lightweight, and perfect for mobility. Just enough edge to look cool, just enough function to survive an impromptu dragon attack.
Outside, the field buzzed with noise.
Boots pounded the stone floors. Cadets shuffled, stretched, panicked. Prodigies exchanged smug glances, comparing stats, gear, and auras.
And then—
Aviel spotted him.
Mid-height. Hazel-brown hair. Green eyes hidden behind half-lidded boredom. A red bandana hung around his neck like it couldn't be bothered to be useful.
He stood like the concept of effort offended him.
Aviel stared. The guy stared back.
Silence.
Then… a grin bloomed on the stranger's face.
Aviel grinned back.
'A fellow brother…'
No words exchanged. Just mutual slacker energy. Kindred souls.
They nodded. Understood. Then parted.
The twins moved deeper into the crowd until the rumble died down. All eyes turned to the stage at the center of the field.
Heels clicked against metal as a woman stepped onto a floating platform.
The collective heartbeat of every male in the area paused.
Her hair shimmered like liquid wine. Her golden eyes gleamed like molten suns. Her outfit—a sharp high-collared coat split at the sides—left just enough to the imagination and everything else to helpless fantasizing.
To say she was beautiful would be a crime of understatement.
"Oh no…" Aviel whispered, panic rising.
Something else was rising too.
The guy up front turned tomato-red as she looked his way.
'Don't get a boner. Don't get a boner. You've beaten all the heroines in those dating sims. You are the ultimate degenerate. You cannot fall to this final boss!'
"Aviel..." came the low, cold voice to his side.
He froze.
Avael's glare could've turned lead into ash. It screamed:
"You stared too long."
"U-Uh… Sis?" he offered.
She turned away with a dramatic huff, ignoring him.
"She's definitely angry…"
The woman on the stage raised a hand, and the field fell silent.
"I am Professor Chelsea," she said, voice smooth, commanding, and laced with unexplainable allure. "Welcome, cadets, to your first day at the Tutorial Academy."
A lone soul in the back yelled:
"WHOOOOOO—"
Silence. Every head turned to look at him.
Then turned back.
Professor Chelsea continued, unfazed.
"Today, you will undergo your entrance exams. The tests are split into three phases: Physical Performance, Combat, and Willpower. Failing two out of three results in a one-month delay before you are permitted to hunt or proceed to Floor 2."
Aviel whispered to Avael, "Damn, that'd be a pain."
Avael, now appeased, gave a small nod. "Then we must pass."
"Yeah, but that physical test though…" he muttered, eyes already scanning the field for shortcuts.
She turned to him, expression flat and sharp.
"You're going to give it your all, right?"
Aviel blinked. Sweat beaded. "Of course."
"…Which means you'll do the bare minimum doesn't it?" she sighed.
"Ugh."
"Sloth."
"Hey, this sloth woke you up this morning."
She turned her glare to him.
He shut up instantly.
---
Fifteen minutes later, the cadets lined up.
Stone tracks stretched forward into twisting paths—wooden walls, rope climbs, muddy ditches, and a glowing water channel. It looked like a deathtrap dreamed up by a gym coach with a vengeance.
Professor Chelsea stood at the front, arms folded.
"The tower is vast. Its terrain is unpredictable. If you can't adapt, you die. Now..."
"BEGIN!"
Everyone bolted forward.
Aviel jogged. Calm. Focused.
A mocking scoff caught his ear.
Next to him, a tall girl with jet-black hair and crimson eyes shot him a disgusted look.
"I can't believe they let kids into the Tower," she spat.
"Hey—I'm not a—!"
"Move it!" she shouted, dashing ahead like a bullet.
Aviel grumbled. "Why do I always attract the tryhards…"
---
Five minutes in. He was still alive. Not fast. Not flashy. But alive.
His sister? Already halfway through the course. Leaping across gaps. Swinging from ropes like she'd been born on a jungle planet.
Aviel ducked a swinging log.
His stamina was garbage. Always had been. His creator once said something about a terminal core regulation limiter. Translation: push too hard, get rebooted.
But he had a plan: just don't die.
The swimming section came up. He dove in—and for some reason, he swam like a shark on an energy drink. Natural swimmer? Who knew.
As he dragged himself out, he spotted a familiar lump on the grass beside the trail.
Wheezing. Face-down. Defeated.
"Ugh… you okay, man?"
"...Five-minute nap... just a tactical recharge..."
Aviel blinked. Hazel-brown hair. Red bandana.
"Oh hey—my fellow sloth."
The boy looked up, dazed.
"Oh. It's you. The hoodie guy," he grinned. "Good to see another refined man of culture. Name's Dennis."
"Aviel." He reached down.
They clasped hands like brothers who had just survived a war—because maybe they had.
"Let's finish this thing together," Aviel said.
"Ugh. Fine..."
And so they did.
Just as the warning bell rang, they stumbled across the line.
"WE LIVED!!" they screamed in unison, collapsing.
The other cadets watched them, unimpressed.
"They're useless…"
---
The Leaderboard was revealed.
A screen lit up with the top 10 cadet scores.
TOP TEN — PHYSICAL PERFORMANCE TEST
1. Raye Darenthal (Tower Noble)
2. Korr Talveran
3. Vixa the Crimson Thorn
4. Juno Rainhart
5. Kai Velros
6. Mika Serden
7. Alynn of the Glade
8. Dren Vassel
9. Avael [Ø]
10. Saren Malthis
The crowd murmured.
"A Tower Noble got first place again…"
"Figures. Her dad's on Floor 38."
"Wait… who's Avael?"
"The kid with white hair?"
"…Damn."
Aviel smiled from the ground. "You did great, sis."
She beamed, then offered her head like a cat. "Praise me more."
"Yeah, yeah... you genius gremlin."
He turned to Dennis.
They locked eyes.
Dramatic wind blew despite the lack of any weather magic.
A silent understanding passed between them.
Then, they both raised a hand and—slap. Perfect dap.
"My brother…" Dennis said, mock-serious.
Aviel grinned. "Through laziness and struggle… we ride together."
Dennis nodded. "We nap together."
And so, the Sloth Alliance was formed.
The Physical Test was over.
Two tests remained.
And the legend of an chaotic duo... was about to take form.