Thirty minutes passed in complete silence.
The students sat in the dirt. They pulled the ambient Aether into their lungs. The sharp, tearing pain in their muscles slowly faded. It turned into a dull, heavy ache.
Instructor Thorne stood like a giant stone pillar. He finally opened his eyes. He looked at the large clock hanging high on the steel wall. The thick iron hands clicked into place. The scheduled practical block was officially over. Next on the schedule was the lunch break.
"Class dismissed," Thorne said simply.
He did not wait for them to bow or say thank you. The air around his massive body warped violently. He vanished instantly, leaving the dirt arena empty of his heavy, crushing pressure.
The students let out a collective breath. They stopped their breathing techniques. They tried to stand up.
It was a miserable sight. Their torn muscle fibers were repaired by the Aether, but their physical stamina was still completely empty. Their nerves were fried. Their legs shook violently. Their knees knocked together. Some managed to stand on wobbly legs, leaning heavily against the cold steel walls to keep from falling over.
Others could not even manage that. Their legs simply refused to hold their weight. They dropped to their hands and knees. They started crawling across the hard dirt toward the open iron doors. They looked pathetic, but they did not care about pride anymore. They just wanted to leave the arena.
Outside the heavy iron doors, the group of late students was still waiting in the corridor.
They had heard the screams earlier. They had heard the heavy thuds of the endless run and the terrifying sonic shout from Instructor Thorne. They knew the students inside were going through absolute torture.
The latecomers were smiling. They felt incredibly lucky. They thought they had dodged a massive bullet by showing up after the doors were locked. They were fresh, clean, and completely rested. They leaned against the stone walls and chatted casually.
Then, a sharp, synchronized sound echoed through the hallway.
Bzzzt.
It came from their left wrists. Every single late student looked down at their dark metal Aether-band. The smooth metal vibrated against their skin. The holographic screens flared to life automatically.
The glowing blue numbers on their screens shifted. Their starting balance of zero Merit Points vanished. The number blinked red.
It changed to -1.
The smiles completely died. The hallway went dead silent.
Inside the Academy, Merit Points were the absolute law. They bought food, shelter, and medical supplies. A balance of zero meant you were poor. A negative balance meant you were in debt to the Academy. It meant your daily food rations would be strictly cut until the debt was paid. It meant you were starting your survival from the bottom of a very deep, dark hole.
A student crawling out of the arena saw the red numbers glowing in the hallway.
The crawling boy was covered in dirt. His arms were shaking. He was in terrible physical pain. But when he saw the panicked, horrified faces of the late students, he started to laugh.
He pointed a shaking, filthy finger at them. Another exhausted student leaning against the doorframe saw the red screens and joined in. Soon, all the battered, broken students leaving the arena were laughing weakly at the clean, rested latecomers.
Physical pain was temporary. It healed in an hour. Debt in a ruthless system was a permanent chain around the neck. The students in the dirt had paid their toll in pure sweat. They were the lucky ones now.
Jin sat in the dirt near the back wall. He opened his dark eyes.
He ignored the laughing students. He ignored the panicked latecomers staring at their red screens. The drama was a waste of energy. The class was over. The next objective was food. His body was starving for raw fuel.
He planted his hands on the ground. He pushed himself up.
His legs wobbled violently. His thigh muscles felt like heavy, uncooperative blocks of wood. But they held his weight. The Aether had successfully repaired the micro-tears. He was slightly heavier and stronger than when he walked in.
He looked down. Luna was still sitting cross-legged. She looked up at him with tired, pale eyes. She tried to stand, but her small legs gave out immediately. She fell back into the dirt with a soft thud.
Jin did not offer kind words of encouragement. He just reached down and grabbed her thin arm.
He pulled her up roughly. She gasped, grabbing onto his black uniform to steady herself.
"Walk," Jin ordered.
He slung her left arm over his shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around her waist to support her weight. It was not a gesture of deep friendship. It was a practical necessity. She was his asset. She held the space legacy. If she stayed on the floor, she would not eat. If she did not eat, she would fall behind the required metrics.
Luna leaned heavily against his side. She was very light, but carrying even a little extra weight made Jin's legs burn.
They walked together. Two slow, battered scavengers leaning on each other for physical support. They moved past the laughing students and the crying latecomers. They merged into the slow, miserable march heading down the wide stone corridor toward the main canteen.
The canteen was a massive, open hall with high vaulted ceilings. Long rows of dark wooden tables stretched from wall to wall. The smell of roasted meat, thick stew, and warm bread filled the air.
The hall was already packed. It was not filled with freshmen. It was filled with second and third-year students.
The seniors were eating their lunches. They looked relaxed and confident. They wore customized uniforms and carried expensive steel weapons on their belts. They were the survivors of the previous years. They had already passed the baseline tests.
The massive double doors of the canteen opened.
The first wave of freshmen stumbled inside.
The seniors stopped eating. They looked up from their bowls of hot stew. They watched the new students limp into the hall. They saw the shaking legs, the pale faces, and the black uniforms covered in dirt and sweat. Some freshmen were practically crawling toward the food lines.
A collective sigh rolled across the senior tables.
They did not look at the freshmen with respect or fear. They looked at them with deep pity.
A senior with a long scar across his cheek shook his head. He took a bite of bread and mumbled to his friend sitting next to him.
"Look at them," the scarred senior said quietly. "Another batch of fresh meat becomes the victim of Instructor Thorne's bullying."
His friend laughed darkly. He leaned back on his wooden bench and crossed his arms.
"It happens every year," the second senior replied. "Thorne breaks them on the first day. He crushes their legs and ruins their pride before they even get to eat lunch."
The scarred senior sighed again. He looked at Jin and Luna limping past their table, clinging to each other just to stay upright.
"It is a complete waste," he mumbled, shaking his head in disappointment. "Thorne should at least leave some of them intact. How are we supposed to bully the new kids and steal their Merit Points if they cannot even stand up to fight back?"
Jin heard the whispers clearly. He kept his face completely blank.
The hierarchy of the Academy was clear. It was not a safe place to learn. It was a pyramid of predators. The instructors broke you from the top, and the senior students preyed on you from the middle. You were either hunting, or you were food.
He tightened his grip on Luna's waist. They kept walking slowly toward the food line. His legs shook with every step, but his mind was cold and perfectly focused. He needed to eat. He needed to recover his strength. The real fights in this mountain had not even started yet.