The Academy’s curriculum was fairly straightforward.
First, there were mandatory classes — unavoidable courses that, if missed or failed, would result in point deductions at the end of the semester.
Next were optional classes. While attending these classes wasn’t strictly required, you still needed to pass them to maintain your standing.
Finally, there were elective courses, which you chose to take on your own. Failing these classes would have no impact on your academic record, but passing them earned you bonus points.
And as anyone who ever attended a college would know, bonus points were always welcomed.
But I had yet to choose my electives.
We were given a three-day break and a day off on top of it for orientation. We were supposed to use that time to finish all our admission process and select an elective.
But being the lazy slob that I had always been, I wasted all that time off and completely neglected to finalize my schedule.
Which brought me to my current predicament:
Standing outside the Office of Academic Affairs, staring at the intricate bronze plaque engraved with its name, while mentally debating whether I could just wing it for the next few days without making a decision.
“Procrastination at its finest,” I muttered under my breath.
“Talking to yourself again, Young Master?”
I turned to find Juliana standing a few paces away, her arms crossed and her expression perfectly aloof.
“Better than talking to you,” I shot back, though my tone lacked any real bite.
Juliana merely raised an eyebrow. “If you keep stalling, you’ll miss the deadline. Or perhaps that’s your plan? To wait until the very last second and then throw yourself at the mercy of the clerks inside?”
“I don’t need mercy,” I said, heading toward the door. “I need time to think. There’s a difference.”
“Of course,” she replied dryly in a barely audible voice while following behind me. “Because making last-minute decisions has always worked out so well for you.”
God, she was so annoying sometimes.
Ignoring her, I pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside.
The office was surprisingly quiet.
Rows of filing cabinets lined the walls, and clerks bustled about with an efficiency that made me vaguely uncomfortable.
Behind the main desk sat a bespectacled woman who looked as though she hadn’t slept in three days but was determined to survive on sheer willpower alone.
“Name?” she asked without looking up from her papers.
“Samael Theosbane,” I replied smoothly. “I’m here to finalize my electives.”
“Aren’t you late?” The clerk sighed, scribbling something on a form before handing it to me. “Fill this out. Electives must be chosen by the end of today. No exceptions.”
I nodded and took the form, retreating to a corner with Juliana close behind.
I unfolded the form and scanned the list of available electives. The options were… interesting, to say the least:
– Introduction to Alchemy: An in-depth study of potions, transmutations, and other arcane concoctions.
– A Study of Ancient Artifacts: A crash course in uncovering (and hopefully not breaking) the magical relics of old.
– Artificery 101: A class for those brave souls who don’t mind a thing or two blowing up in their faces.
– Mindscape Theory: A guide to exploring the realm within the mind.
The list went on for a few more pages. Each choice was more intriguing — and potentially more disastrous — than the last.
•••
In the end, I put off selecting an elective until the end of the day.
…Okay, I’m bad at decision-making! So what?! Sue me!
Besides, it was almost time for my first class.
I walked through the halls of the Apex Tower with Juliana pacing behind me, and reached the lecture hall where my first mandatory class of the day was going to be held.
The class was called Hunters Dynamics.
While everyone knew what Hunters were — they were the backbone of today’s society, after all — and what their job was, this class was supposed to teach us more on the topic now that we were on the path to becoming Hunters ourselves.
All the boring stuff, basically — like Awakened ethics, restrictions, impact on society, industry’s inner workings, and so on.
I entered the lecture hall and scanned the room. It was already half-full.
Cadets were scattered across the rows with varying levels of enthusiasm. A group near the center was whispering excitedly among themselves about the curriculum, while a guy two seats away from the front was already dozing off.
The lecture hall itself was grand, with rows of amphitheater-style seating stretching upward in a perfect semicircle. In the center of that semicircle was a lectern set up on a raised dais.
Each seat was equipped with a holographic interface and enough legroom to make you feel slightly less like cattle.
The walls were adorned with holographic displays flickering with the Academy’s crest, while the cool air smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender.
As soon as I stepped through the doors of the classroom, the buzz of conversations fainted and every single Cadet turned their eyes to me.
Ignoring them all, I climbed a few rows and plopped myself into an empty seat near the back.
Some Cadets shot me jealous looks, others glared with quiet indignation, but most just kept staring with cold hostility.
Thankfully, Juliana drew more attention than me. Before long, almost everyone went from resenting me to quickly admiring her then back to whatever they were doing.
Typical NPCs.
We didn’t have to wait long before the side doors swung open, and in strode Professor Theodore Vale.
Theodore Vale was a legend in the Hunter community, the kind of figure whose name carried the weight of countless victories in gruesome battles most of us hadn’t even heard of.
And he looked exactly like how you would expect an experienced Awakened to look — like a storm given form.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his presence commanded the room before he even spoke.
His short curly black hair coiled around his neck like restless serpents, and his dark eyes resembled bottomless chasms that had been hardened by the cruelty of this world.
A vicious scar ran down his strikingly handsome face, cutting across a cheekbone. It looked jagged and old — older than most of us in the room.
Without any preamble, Vale came in and tossed a heavy folder onto the lectern. Its sound echoed like a judge’s gavel and silenced everyone.
He turned to face us, giving us a stern look.
“Good morning, Cadets,” he greeted, his gravelly voice resonating off the walls. “You all know what Hunters are. The question is — do you know what it means to be one?”
No one dared to answer.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Vale’s mouth.
“You think you know,” he said, his tone laced with something between amusement and pity, “but you don’t. Not yet. By the end of this course, some of you still won’t. And those of you will die in the field.”
A ripple of unease swept through the room like a chill breeze.
Vale began pacing around, his boots tapping fully against the tiled floor. “Let’s start with the basics. Someone define a Hunter for me.”
Several hands shot up, but Vale pointed at a random boy in the front row.
The boy stood up in his spot and recited his answer like he was reading it from a book. “A Hunter is a licensed professional tasked with neutralizing threats beyond normal human capability.”
“Correct,” Vale said, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t satisfied. “But that’s the broad strokes. Hunters are soldiers, spies, diplomats, bounty hunters — and, when the situation demands, we’re glorified exterminators.”
A few nervous chuckles rolled through the room.
“Our primary mission is simple — protect humanity by any means necessary. That includes slaying rampaging Spirit Beasts, stopping rogue Awakened, and uncovering ancient relics capable of annihilating entire cities.”
His gaze swept the room, sharp and unyielding. “We may be seen as heroes, but we are bound by laws. Break those laws, and it doesn’t matter how skilled or powerful you are. The Monarchs will come for you. And no one — and I mean no one, Cadets — escapes the Monarchs.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, the kind that clung to the air like smoke.
Vale strode back to the lectern and tapped a button. The holographic display behind him flickered to life, displaying symbols onto the wall.
“Now, let’s talk about classifications,” he said, gesturing to the images. “Hunters are divided into six job classes — Brawlers, Sentries, Casters, Summoners, Scouts, and Supporters. You’ve all read about them in books, seen them in holovids, maybe even idolized them. But what you think you know and what they actually are — those are two very different things.”
He paused, then turned sharply to face us.
“Brawlers aren’t just muscleheads who break things. They’re the vanguard — the ones who take the hits so the rest of their squad doesn’t have to. Without them, your squad crumbles the moment things go wrong.”
He moved to the next symbol.
“Sentries are the last line of defense, the wall between your team and annihilation. But a wall doesn’t move. A good Sentry knows when to stand their ground and when to adapt.”
The third icon lit up.
“Casters are your big guns,” Vale continued. “They rain hell on your enemies with long-range attacks. Without them, you’re a sitting duck, waiting to be picked off.”
He pointed to the fourth symbol.
“Summoners,” he said, his voice sharpening. “They bring Spirit Beasts, raise the dead, or just summon ethereal creatures to the battlefield. They are versatile and powerful, yes, but far from invincible.”
The fifth icon appeared.
“Scouts,” Vale said, his tone turning a little grim. “They are fast, stealthy, and resourceful. They are the first to see danger — and the first to die more often than not. They excel in assassination, espionage, and sabotage.”
Finally, the last symbol glowed on the screen.
“And then, Supporters — the glue that holds everything together. The most protected, and the most targeted. Lose your Supporter, and the clock starts ticking for everyone else.”
Vale stepped back to the lectern and tapped the display again. He couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh as a seventh symbol appeared on the screen.
“Of course,” he began, “there are exceptions. There are powers that don’t fit neatly into any category. Tell me — where would you place someone who can summon mythical weapons and armor? He who can fight like a Brawler with his swords, defend his squad with shields like a Sentry, and attack from long range like a Caster?”
The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the hologram.
I lazily muttered the answer under my breath. “An Anomaly.”
Vale’s head snapped toward me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with unsettling precision.
“Speak up next time,” he said to me. “But you’re right. Such Awakened are called Anomalies. They are feared and sought after alike. Everyone wants to have an Anomaly on their squad but no one wants to face them in battle. Can anyone tell me why?”
A boy in the front raised his hand. “Because they’re extremely versatile, like you said just now?”
“Sure, but that’s only part of it,” Vale said.
A girl in the second row spoke next. “It’s because of their Soul Arsenal. They have more options to choose on how to build their Deck than a typical Awakened.”
“Exactly!” Vale said, clapping his hands once. “An Awakened can equip up to nine Additional Cards to make up their Soul Arsenal, but their Origin Card is still their strongest weapon — and the one they’re most familiar with. Most Hunters build their Deck around their Origin Card.”
He let his words settle for a bit before continuing.
“For example, Brawlers prioritize power and mobility. They pick Cards that help them get up close and personal with their enemies. Scouts focus on stealth and escape tools — like a smokescreen to cover their retreat if things go wrong. Supporters often go for Cards that regenerate Essence quickly so they can keep their team alive for longer. But Anomalies?”
He chuckled darkly.
“They defy expectations. You can never predict what they’ll do or what Cards they’ll have under their sleeves. Their unpredictability is their greatest weapon.”
The weight of his words pressed on us.
Every cadet in the class held their breath. They all knew this, of course.
They’d been taught about Anomaly-class Hunters, about how dangerous they were. Most had even worshiped such Hunters as their idols until now.
Because right now, sitting here and hearing it from an experienced Hunter, it felt all too real.
After all, someday, they might have to face an Anomaly themselves.
As if sensing their thoughts, Theodore smiled faintly.
“Fortunately for you, Anomalies are rare. Extremely rare,” he said. But before anyone could take a breath of relief, he continued, “Unfortunately for you… there are already three known Anomalies in your batch.”
He was right.
Any Awakened who fit three or more job criteria was classified as an Anomaly.
One of them was Michael, the game’s protagonist.
Another was my sister, Thalia.
And the third…
“Even more unfortunately for you all,” Theodore said, pointing directly at me, “your Ace, Samael Kaizer Theosbane, is one of them.”
