Reis woke with difficulty, his head heavy and the dizziness clinging to him like a weight.
He remained on his back for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was before slowly turning toward the window.
A gray sky loomed outside, the light slipping in faintly. The clock read half past eight in the morning.
He had thirty minutes before the academy day began.
He rose slowly and sat at the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair, then stood and walked to the bathroom.
Cold water splashed against his face as he leaned over the sink. He grabbed his toothbrush and brushed with slow, tired movements.
When he lifted his head to the mirror, he saw the dark circles beneath his eyes and the exhaustion that refused to leave.
He thought: "Am I still this tired from fighting the warden?" He wasn't sure, but it felt as if the fatigue had never left his body since that battle.
He lingered in front of the mirror for a moment longer, then stepped back into the room.
He dressed in his full black academy uniform. The tight, carefully tailored fabric gave him a sharp, composed look, and the polished black shoes added a quiet strength to his presence.
On his wrist rested a black watch with golden markings, its soft gleam more elegant than what his current rank should allow.
For a brief second he studied his reflection. Nothing about his face had changed. His black hair fell over his eyes in a precise cut, and his dark gaze carried a still, cold emptiness.
He remembered who he was a first year student from Class E.
The academy divided its students by performance and ability, from Class S at the top to Class F at the bottom. Rankings were determined by theoretical results, field training, and how well students faced the trials of the Black Tower.
Reis opened the drawer of the small bedside table, took his phone and a small piece of candy, bit it quickly, then slung his bag over his right shoulder and left the room at a slow pace.
In the long hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoed against the walls. Other students were beginning to step out of their rooms. Some spoke to each other, some laughed, and the air filled with restless motion.
Reis didn't speak to anyone. His eyes stayed forward, his left hand tucked in his pocket.
As he walked, a few girls glanced his way, exchanging whispers and soft smiles when he passed. He didn't stop or look back.
His quiet expression and distant air made it seem as if he saw no one at all.
His face remained still, his voice absent. All he could think of was the headache that wouldn't fade and the faint dizziness that had followed him since waking up.
He stepped into the wide first-year courtyard. Students spread in every direction.
Noise filled the air, chatter blending with footsteps and movement, the energy of countless beginnings colliding.
Reis walked in a straight line, not bothering to look around. All he wanted was to reach his classroom without delay.
He passed a group of students wearing gold and white uniforms, the colors of the upper classes. Among them stood a girl who drew attention without even trying.
He didn't care. He kept walking, muttering to himself "Clothes alone don't mean anything".
...
Reis reached the first year academic building and climbed the stairs to the second floor, where Class E was located.
Students rushed through the halls. Some laughed, some carried books and papers. The air was loud with life.
When he entered the classroom, most seats were already filled. Everyone seemed caught in scattered conversations.
He chose a seat by the window in the second to last row, placed his bag on the desk, and sat quietly.
The classroom sloped gently like a lecture hall, the desks arranged in neat descending rows toward the board.
Reis leaned back, hands buried in his pockets, his eyes drifting toward the gray sky outside.
The same dim light he had seen earlier crept through the glass.
Inside, he felt no spark of excitement. The academy had long since become nothing more than routine.
Everyone was striving to climb higher, to fight, to win, to shine. But he couldn't stop wondering if any of it truly mattered.
He remembered overhearing other students talk about the hierarchy of the first-year classes.
The higher ranks received special treatment, intense training, and the attention of instructors. Lower ranks had to prove themselves or remain where they were until they faded away.
He also knew the academy cared little for feelings. It cared for results. Those who failed were discarded, those who succeeded climbed, and the rest were forgotten.
Reis stayed silent, staring out the window. The noise around him meant nothing.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about leaving it all behind, walking away from the academy and its suffocating order.
But he didn't move. He whispered softly:
"I don't even know if staying here matters, but there's nowhere else to go".
He raised his head slightly, watching the rows of students in front of him as they chattered excitedly about exams, clan wars, and the rewards awaiting them.
He was the only one not part of any conversation. He pulled out his cracked phone from his pocket.
The screen was empty. No notifications. No messages. Nothing.
He put it away and leaned back farther in his chair, eyes half closed.
Time crawled by. He wasn't waiting for anything, just the minutes to pass.
When the bell finally rang, he didn't move. He only let out a quiet breath, opened his eyes for a heartbeat, and whispered to himself"
"Another day.. exactly like the last".