The mattress smelled like damp straw and forgotten things.
Eryx opened his eyes to a ceiling stained with water rings. It took a full three seconds for him to realize he was breathing. Another three to notice the weight in his limbs. Heavy and Dead. Like someone had filled his veins with wet sand and chained them.
He tried to sit up but his arms shook and his ribs protested to him. He collapsed back onto the thin padding with a soft grunt from his mouth.
"Okay," he muttered while looking to the cracked plaster above him. "New day and a new bed. Same mysterious inability to remember who I am or i was or how I got here."
Nothing came back ,not even a name, not even his own face and not even a stray memory of breakfast he ate . Just a hollow space behind his eyes and the quiet, creeping panic that usually followed it with him.
He swallowed it down ,he knew that panic was expensive and he didn't had the luxury of that currency.
Instead, he focused on the cold room. The room was small, barely wide enough to stretch his legs. One cracked window letting in pale morning light on his face. A rusted iron locker, a wooden chair missing one of it's leg and a faded stencil on the door written was 'G-CLASS' in peeling black paint.
He didn't know what G-Class meant and he knew nothing of it. But the word fit the room. Bottom tier, Forgotten and Disposable.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the room.It was heavy boots with confident strides and voices followed, they were sharp and casual, the kind that belonged to people who'd never questioned their place in the world.Like they own the world.
"—told you they put the dead weight down here."One voice spoke .
"Disposal bins, honestly. Why even bother with them? The mana test barely registers."another voice spoke.
"Let 'em rot. Less competition for F-Class next cycle."The voice carried a hint of disdain.
Laughter and footsteps were slowing Fading. The rhythm of boots moving toward the main hall.
Eryx lay still,he listened to the silence that followed him.
Disposal bin, Dead weight,F-Class and Mana test.
"What are this?"
The words clicked together in his head like loose gears catching for the first time. He wasn't just lost. He was at the bottom of something. A system, a hierarchy and in a place where you either had power or you had nothing.
He flexed his fingers they were weak and untrained. No strange hum in his chest. No latent energy waiting to spark. There was just flesh, bone and a pulse that felt entirely too ordinary.
"Great," he whispered. "Born with nothing and reborn with even less. I'm really winning at this."
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. His boots hit the wooden floorboards they were Cold. He stood, his knees trembled, but held. He took a
step,then another. The shakiness didn't vanish, but it didn't break him either.
He walked to the iron locker. It groaned when he pulled it open. Inside a plain gray uniform, slightly too large, smelling faintly of soap and dust.The uniform had no tags, no name it was just fabric.
He pulled it on. The sleeves swallowed his wrists. The collar sat loose against his throat. He looked down at himself. Unremarkable and Lean. Built for surviving on half-rations and on bad luck, not for standing tall in a line of elites.
He found a cracked mirror propped against the wall. The glass caught his reflection. He looked Seventeen, maybe with pale skin, dark hair that hadn't seen a proper comb in days. Even his eyes that looked older than the face they sat in were tired, alert and calculating.
He stared at them. "You're someone," he told the glass. "Or you were. Doesn't matter right now, you're just meat in a room with a draft."
The mirror didn't argue. He didn't expect it to argue with him.
A low chime echoed through the dormitory walls. Once, Twice, Thrice. Then a mechanical voice crackled from a rusted speaker in the ceiling.
"G-Class cadets. Report to the courtyard for placement assessment,tardiness results in point deduction and point deduction results in reallocation , now "Move."
Eryx exhaled slowly. Placement, Assessment and Points. More words for a game he didn't know the rules to. But the tone was clear. This wasn't a request. It was a filter.
He grabbed the thin gray blanket, shook out the dust, and draped it over the mattress like an afterthought. Not that anyone would care. He turned to the door,his hand hovered over the iron handle, they were Cold metal,real and grounding.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let's see what happens when the bottom tier tries to walk."
He pushed the door open. The corridor was already emptying. Lockers slammed. Voices called out in rushed tones,he fell into step behind the stream of students, keeping his head down, his stride measured. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know who he was. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Survive the day, figuring out the rest later.
The courtyard gates loomed ahead, wide and iron-banded. Beyond them, he could already hear the murmur of a crowd. The sharp crack of a training staff. The heavy, rhythmic thud of boots on stone.
He stepped into the light. The air felt heavier out here. Charged,like the ground itself was waiting to judge him.
A voice cut through the noise, crisp and commanding. "Line up by designation, G-Class to the left and assessment will begins in five minutes."
Eryx found his place near the back. He kept his breathing even. He watched the instructors,then he watched the students and after that he watched the space between them.
No memories,no magic,no advantage.
Just a pulse,a brain and a very strong desire to stay breathing.
He leaned against a stone pillar, feeling the rough texture bite into his shoulder. His legs still felt like they were filled with wet sand. His lungs still pulled in shallow, uneven breaths. He closed his eyes for a second, listening to the rhythm of the academy waking up around him.
Someone bumped his shoulder,it was hard,the person didn't apologize and didn't look back.
Eryx didn't react. He just adjusted his stance, shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, and kept his eyes open.
The head instructor raised a crystalline rod. It caught the morning sun, throwing sharp blue light across the stone.
"Step forward when called," the instructor announced. "Place your hand on the plate. Do not force it. The stone reads what is already there."
Eryx's throat went dry. He didn't know what "what is already there" meant. But he knew he had nothing to give.
The line shifted. The first name was called.
He took a slow breath. The cold air burned his lungs. The stone floor felt unyielding beneath his boots.
He wasn't ready and he'd never be ready.
But the bell had rung and the world didn't wait for people.
He stepped forward.