I stared at my phone for a long moment.
[Who's ready for Pizza Night?]
That was the message Mama Val sent four days ago—complete with a photo of a pineapple-topped pizza, still warm and glistening.
It was absurd and totally unnecessary. For starters, I've never liked pineapple pizza—or any kind of pizza, really. Mama Enna and Fiona had always warned me about how unhealthy fast food was. But Mama Val? She was always the outlier, the rebel (and not in a good way).
Sometimes she'd message me with her running commentary on whatever drama she was bingeing—complaining about how the characters made irrational decisions or how the plot completely derailed.
Other times it was all about fashion. She had an obsession with cardigans.
"They're the most versatile outerwear," she'd say. "You can throw one over a T-shirt and boom—semi-formal. But it's still chill enough for outdoor events."
I never really understood the distinction. How could one type of clothing be better than another? As long as it kept me warm, cool, and presentable, that was good enough.
But that was just Mama Val—her enthusiasm for the tiniest things was her default setting.
And now, her silence? It was jarring. Almost suffocating. I knew it was a consequence of what I did… but was it really that unforgivable? Did I deserve this kind of coldness from her?
"Ready?"
Mama Enna appeared, accompanied by a man who looked to be in his fifties—tall, lean, still carrying himself with the posture of a soldier.
He introduced himself as Ebony Wood. A retired Class-A Hunter, now teaching monster ecology at Drakenshire. He was also today's practical exam instructor.
I gave a small nod and forced the most genuine smile I could muster. "Sure."
"Good. Follow me." Mr. Wood turned, leading the way toward the testing chamber.
But before I could follow, a hand caught my arm. "Remember what I told you?"
I let out a soft sigh. "Aim for the vital points. End it quickly."
"And you know exactly where to strike?"
Fiona had taught me how to fight efficiently—especially when dealing with monsters. Sure, the one from four days ago was an exception, but most lower monsters—at least the ones I'd face today—had the same weakness. "Left side of the neck, right?"
Mama Enna smiled and gently adjusted the collar of my shirt. "Good luck."
I followed Mr. Wood, who was now standing at the elevator, checking his watch with mild impatience.
The arena was located three stories underground. We'd just finished the final paperwork in the faculty office. Even though it was only three floors down, each level of the academy was massive in scale. The descent took longer than expected.
"I read about you online," Mr. Wood said suddenly.
I flinched slightly. "Am I really that famous?"
Then sudeen realization—of course. That incident.
"I didn't believe that thing was S-class at first," he continued. "But a friend of mine on the investigation team told me—its body may have been small, but the Ether channeling through it was off the charts. Enough to power a small household for two days. And that was after it was already dead."
He smiled knowingly. "It actually raises more interesting questions."
"Maybe it was already injured inside the gate," I replied, repeating the explanation Fiona taught me in case anyone brought up the event.
"That's the most logical assumption. We never really know what goes on inside those gates—not until the monsters come out. Still..." His gaze pierced through me, as if searching for something deeper.
Before he could say more, the elevator buzzed and the doors opened, revealing a vast circular room. Its ceiling was high and soared upward—so high that, for a moment, I thought we might actually be ascending.
The walls were made of soundproofed metal painted silver. As I stepped in, it truly felt like a pitch-black field—reminding me of a similar one at my old school. Except instead of a basketball court or marked lines, it was just an empty expanse.
Mr. Wood stepped forward. "We call this place the Colosseum. One of Drakenshire's founders had a thing for classical Roman history."
He tapped at a floating interface that appeared midair—full of glowing symbols and buttons I didn't recognize.
"Nowadays, we're just another private school. But back then? Drakenshire trained some of the finest Hunters in the world. And that reputation came from... let's say, less-than-civilized entrance methods."
I frowned.
"Deathmatch." He pressed a button. A new screen opened—showing a montage of brutal fights in a large circular arena.
"It was a full-scale combat trial. From ten thousand applicants, only the top hundred made it through."
The footage was violent—fighters bleeding, crying, one man begging for mercy as another approached with a metal bat.
"Those who failed weren't just bruised. Some were maimed. Others died. Back then, it was acceptable. Humanity was desperate. But when the world finds peace, when those damned demons are extinct…"
Mr. Wood shot me another inscrutable look. "People become too soft and consider our methods outdated—almost inhuman."He shrugged. "So the new headmaster decided to revamp everything—entrance exams, curriculum, the works. What do you think?"
"Me?" I blinked. Was this a test too? I thought I was here for a practical exam?
Still, I answered him honestly. "I think it's a fair change. The founders of Drakenshire responded to a crisis. Now the current headmaster is doing the same. Like you said, the world's at peace. Being a Hunter isn't a duty anymore—it's a choice. You can't live in the past forever, can you?"
Mr. Wood snorted. "Fair enough." But I caught a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
"You've got three minutes." He tapped something again, and the video disappeared. Suddenly, the ground trembled.
Or at least, it felt like it. The floor didn't physically move—but hidden nanotech sent signals through my feet, tricking my brain into sensing the vibration.
From the far corner of the arena, a horde of green-skinned, muscular creatures emerged—each standing two to three meters tall, their eyes wild and feral.
An Orc Cluster. Basic monsters—but still deadly in numbers.
"Each one gets you 10 points. You only need 150 to pass. But I hope you're not satisfied that easily." Mr. Wood smiled and stepped to the edge. The interface floated behind him like a loyal drone.
"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Vernier."
I swallowed, steadying my breath. I ran through every maneuver Fiona had drilled into me. Dropped into my stance. Reached for the prototype Mana Dagger at my side.
"I'm ready."
#
Still panting, I looked up at the scoreboard displayed on the massive interface ahead.
[300 Points]
As the Orc Cluster faded away, the interface vanished as well—replaced by a round of applause from Mr. Wood, who walked over to me.
"Thirty orcs in three minutes? That's impressive, Mr. Vernier," he said, offering me a bottle of water.
I grabbed it, unscrewed the cap in a rush, and drank half of it in one go. "So... enough to get me into Class A?"
"Well, unfortunately, we don't have that kind of discriminatory system anymore. Class placements are strictly alphabetical now... and based on registration time," Mr. Wood shrugged. "No point clinging to the past, right?"
"So... Class E, then?"
"Possibly, but nothing's confirmed yet. That'll be handled by the academic office and the student affairs department—not me." Mr. Wood then pulled out a small rectangular device, which expanded into a compact digital tablet. "You're staying in the dorms, correct?"
"I..." Honestly, home didn't feel quite like home anymore. It wasn't just the silence or the absence. Even Mama Val had handed off the whole 'drop-off and pick-up' thing—something she used to enjoy (a little too much, even)—to Mama Enna.
"...I'll need to talk it over first."
"Not too long, I hope. We need the data soon to tailor your dorm room to your preferences."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"You can request posters of your favorite comic series, a mattress that suits your back, or even a console and TV setup if you're into gaming."
This... is still a school, right?
Seeing the confusion on my face, Mr. Wood just smiled. "Our motto, after all, is: 'providing the best academic services.'"
#
Bianca:
[My documents are all confirmed~ just need a checkup, and I'm ready for the practical exam!]
I snorted and began typing on my phone.
[Glad to hear. Good luck with the practical.]
As I took another sip of my coffee, the phone buzzed again.
B:
[The practical is today, right? I heard we're fighting monsters... That sounds scary…]
I clicked my tongue.
[Don't worry. They're just holograms—they can't actually hurt you.]
Bianca:
[Still…]
I left the message on 'read'. Hopefully, she realized she was being a bit of a headache this time.
Bianca:
Anyway, I'll do my best! Wait for me and cheer me on, okay?
[Good luck.]
I couldn't help but wonder—do couples really text this dryly?
My idea of dating came mostly from Mama Val and her favorite soap operas, and those always seemed... fluffier, more sincere, more romantic. But I never really saw this as 'sincere' from the start.
I don't even know what she sees in me, but keeping her around—at least for now—is necessary. Especially after seeing Mr. Wood's reaction.
As I reached for the door, the knob turned on its own. Mama Val stood there on the other side, wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a beige semi-formal blazer.
Our eyes met for a moment—and almost instinctively, we both looked away.
I opened my mouth to say something. It's what I'd been trying to do these past few days, but all I ever got in return was either a dry response or a dismissive hum.
And frankly, I was getting sick of it. I stepped to the side and started to walk past her—
Grab!
Then a hand stopped me.
I turned back. Mama Val's eyes were just as wide and shaken as mine, but she quickly tried to compose herself.
"Can we... talk?" she asked.