Over the following days, Bryan took Amir out to the training field and put him through his paces. As expected, his roommate's physical fitness was absolutely abysmal.
Not that it was surprising. If he'd had any strength to speak of, he wouldn't have been bullied without being able to fight back.
Since Amir still had injuries, they started with just running and simple stretching—a warm-up to ease his body back into motion.
Once the worst of his wounds had healed, Bryan had him train alongside him properly, pushing him to complete exhaustion every single day. As for academics… well, Bryan didn't even need to check. Zero across the board, guaranteed.
Amir went from turning pale and going weak in the knees after the first few sessions to gradually adapting. Even his quiet, withdrawn personality began to open up a little—though that deadpan expression never left his face.
During this time, more groups appeared on the training field. Beyond the ones who had no interest in training and just hung around the edges chatting, there were also people who'd finished their workouts and waited in the bleachers for their friends.
It seemed the recent wave of violence on campus had put everyone on edge. People were forming groups left and right, banding together for safety.
The strangest development, though, was a group of students who had completely abandoned physical training in favor of studying. Outside of mandatory classes, they poured every ounce of energy into their books, then headed straight to the library afterward to research. Every waking moment went into academics.
The group of bullies who'd gone after Amir also kept prowling the training field during this time, clearly looking for the Black teenager.
Getting beaten up by a little girl had been humiliating enough, but the pain from that night was still fresh in their memories. They were the type who only picked on the weak—no way they'd go after that particular hard target again.
But getting thrashed for seemingly no reason didn't sit well with them either. Easier to pick on the softer target. Their grudge quickly shifted back to the kid who'd dared to fight back.
Before his strength was up to par, though, Amir simply avoided them whenever he spotted them coming.
After a few failed attempts to track him down, the group seemed to lose interest and moved on to other victims.
Meanwhile, Bryan had Sarah pass along the information she'd gotten from the administrative office to Anna, who was outside the school zone. While the person in question was most likely Sylvia's sister, there was always a chance it wasn't—better to keep searching outside the QZ during these three months, just to be sure.
Time slipped by without anyone noticing, and the school's first exam arrived.
The monthly assessment spanned two days. To avoid burnout from multiple tests in a single day, the written exams and physical evaluations were held separately.
The written portion was brutal. Each subject had a 200-point paper with an absurd number of questions, all under strict time limits. The pressure made students anxious. There were only four subjects, but by the end of the day, hands were cramping.
Of course, those symptoms only applied to students who'd actually been studying. The ones who'd been slacking off every day? Well… never mind them.
Compared to the written tests, the physical evaluation was even more punishing. Each exercise had a set time window—do as many reps as you can, run as far as you can. No ceiling. Every single training drill was tested across an entire day. For the diligent, this was how you earned credits. For the slackers, it was meaningless.
The school didn't force anyone to learn or grow. That was by design. The harder you pushed someone to do something they hated, the less effort they'd put in. Sometimes people needed to figure things out on their own.
When the results came back, Bryan's white keycard showed a clean thirty credits.
He hadn't had any sense of what thirty credits could buy—not until he visited the school's only store, a small supermarket guarded by soldiers.
The shelves were stocked with all kinds of goods:
Basketball — 3 credits
Playing cards — 1 credit
Shampoo — 1.5 credits
Full set of clothes — 5 credits
And so on. Every item had its price clearly marked. The store carried just about everything short of weapons. The catch, of course, was that you needed credits to buy any of it.
As for theft? The military made it clear: the place was blanketed with surveillance cameras. Once you stepped inside, there was nowhere to hide. Even if you managed to walk out with something, they'd track you down within minutes anywhere in the QZ.
It was exactly as Bryan had predicted. Push yourself hard enough to earn credits on every monthly exam, and you'd be rewarded accordingly—access to things most people couldn't get. A self-reinforcing cycle of motivation.
"Holy crap, thirty credits? Are you cheating or something?!"
Allen's eyes went wide as Bryan told them his score, his voice thick with shock and disbelief.
He slowly looked down at his own keycard. A lonely ten credits stared back at him. No matter how he looked at it, it felt pathetic.
Allen looked like he was about to lose his mind. He slumped against the wall with an expression of pure existential despair. "Sarah got twenty credits. Even Dick got fifteen. How am I the lowest?!"
Sarah looked at his pitiful display and let out a little laugh. She hooked her arm around his neck in a headlock. "Oh, now you're jealous? Maybe you should've tried harder. You barely scraped by on everything. Be grateful you got any credits at all!"
"Ack—let go of me!"
Bryan watched the two of them go at it again and shook his head with a wry smile. He rubbed his chin, already turning over plans for how to spend these credits.
They couldn't buy firearms or bladed weapons, but credits could significantly improve their quality of life.
Take food, for instance. The cafeteria had daily rations, and those had been adequate at first. But as their training intensity ramped up, so did their appetites. Sometimes hunger woke them in the middle of the night. Now, with credits, they could supplement their meals.
Then there was medical care. Violence on campus was getting worse by the day. Scrapes, bruises, and minor injuries were becoming common. If you wanted fast medical treatment, you had to pay credits—otherwise, you just waited it out.
Most students had already realized how important credits were. After the exam, they threw themselves into studying and training with renewed intensity, desperate to score higher next time. That was exactly what the school administration wanted to see.
As for serious injuries—internal damage, broken bones—the administration would never let it get that far. In the apocalypse, people were the most valuable resource. They'd never allow healthy individuals to become crippled or useless. That would be an obscene waste.
As for all the other little perks and conveniences credits could buy? Too many to list. Bryan summed it up with a phrase from his previous life: money talks.
"Sarah!"
While Bryan was lost in thought, an excited girl's voice rang out from nearby.
Everyone turned to look. A round-faced, chubby girl came running toward them. She clearly knew the whole group—she waved hello to everyone before throwing her arms around Sarah in a fierce hug.
Sarah didn't resist at all. With practiced ease, she patted the girl's back soothingly, sensing her excitement. "Lulu, what's wrong? What's got you so worked up?"
"Seriously, Lulu, why are you always so hyper? You're more of a little kid than I am." Allen seemed to have some kind of grudge against the round-faced girl. His earlier misery vanished instantly as he jumped to his feet, his tone half-mocking.
"Mind your own business, you little brat!"
At the sound of his voice, Lulu released Sarah and shot Allen a fierce glare. The two of them clearly did not get along.
"Enough, ignore him." Sarah had been watching these two bicker every time they met for a month straight. She patted Lulu's shoulder with a weary look. "What were you so excited about? Good news?"
"Yes!"
Remembering what she'd come to say, Lulu quickly pulled a letter from inside her jacket and handed it to Sarah, her expression beaming. "My mom—she made it to this QZ! She's here to find me! Look, I just got this letter!"
"Really? That's wonderful!"
Sarah took the letter, genuinely happy for her friend. She knew how much Lulu had suffered—every time the girl thought about her family, she'd sneak off to cry in some corner by herself. Finding a family member in the middle of the apocalypse was nothing short of a miracle.
Bryan stood nearby, hearing everything. He gave a few claps of congratulations.
Then he sensed footsteps approaching from behind. His hands stilled mid-motion. His expression didn't change. Without turning around, he spoke:
"So—you handle it?"
...
Get 20+ chapters ahead on - P.a.t.r.e.o.n "RoseWhisky"