"Welcome to the Guardian Academy."
"This institution will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Hardships will shape you, molding you into a stronger, better version of yourself. Here, there are only two kinds of students: the Talented, and the Trash."
"You were admitted here without any form of examination, not because you are special, but because you were given a chance—a chance to prove yourself worthy of the position you now hold. Some of you may have entered through connections or sheer luck, but that won't carry you far. You must earn your place. Stand on your own two feet and defend it."
"In one month, the grading exams will determine your future here. Prepare well, for they will shape your life in this Academy. Good luck."
…
…
A young man walked down the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. His head hung low, blueish-white hair falling across his face and obscuring his ash-colored eyes. His uniform—a crisp white shirt under an oxblood blazer, paired with white trousers—was incomplete. He had foregone the sleeveless cardigan and tie, making him stand out even among the first-year students.
"Hey."
The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He stopped and looked up slightly, his gaze meeting a young man sitting on the stairs leading to the lower floor. The other student wore the same uniform but carried himself with an air of arrogance, flanked by several others who shared his shady demeanor.
'Damn it. Even like this, I still look like an easy target,' he thought, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior.
[Dressing like a third-rate delinquent won't stop them from noticing a weakling,] a voice mocked in his mind.
'Shut up,' he snapped inwardly.
"I said, come over," the seated boy called out, his tone leaving no room for refusal. His lackeys began to close the distance.
"Why should I?" the blue-haired young man asked coldly, shoving his hands into his pockets. His ash-colored eyes narrowed as he met the other boy's gaze.
[Oh, now you're just embarrassing yourself.]
'I swear, if you make me break character, I'll kill you.'
The group's smirks widened at his audacity.
"Oh, you've got nerve," the leader said, rising from his perch. The lackeys began to close in.
"Do you think acting aloof will make you less of a target?" the leader sneered.
'I really need to rethink this strategy,' the young man thought, his annoyance masked by an indifferent expression.
One of the lackeys grabbed him roughly. "You don't know your place, do you?" he hissed, before delivering a sharp blow.
The punch landed hard, and the young man stumbled, biting back a curse.
"Do you even know who I am?!" the leader bellowed, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Boss," one of them muttered, his raven-black hair gleaming under the hallway lights.
"What?" the leader snapped, irritation evident.
"He's… a Level 1," the lackey said, his tone dripping with disbelief.
'Damn it! This useless Meta-watch! Why is the User's level the default display?!'
A hush fell over the group before one of them broke into laughter.
"Level 1? Those still exist?"
The leader sneered, his expression twisting with mockery. "A Level 1 dared to act bold in front of me?" He walked towards the young man, his lackeys stepping aside to give him space.
"Teach him a lesson," he ordered. "And take every last point he has."
The lackeys grinned maliciously, their fists tightening.
[This is your chance. Merge with it already.]
'No.'
The blue-haired boy remained silent, his head bowed as if in resignation.
"Tsk." The leader clicked his tongue. "I was in a good mood today. I would've gone easy on you—taken maybe a hundred points. But now? You'll regret ever stepping foot in this Academy."
Blow after blow rained down. The young man didn't cry out. He refused to give them the satisfaction. But as darkness crept into the edges of his vision, one thought lingered in his mind.
'I hate this fucking world,'
…
…
When he woke, the world was cold. He groaned, pushing himself up from the tiled floor. His body ached with every movement.
"Those bastards," he muttered, clenching his fists. "They took everything."
He glanced around. The hallway was dark and deserted. Night had fallen, and with it came another problem.
'I missed curfew,' he realized bitterly.
He chuckled dryly, leaning his head back against the wall. No one had intervened. Dozens of students had walked by, but not one had spared him a second glance.
"It's every man for himself here," he whispered to the empty corridor.
[You're foolish. How long will you keep letting your pride and emotions control you? Merge with it already and stop all this stupidity.]
'I told you, I'm not using that cursed power,' he retorted silently.
The voice faded, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
"Sigh. Just a little more rest," he muttered to himself, lying back down. The coldness of the floor seeped into his bones, but he didn't care.