For Faoros, it was his first time visiting the upper floors of the Etal Academy. The narrow corridors were decorated with white marble flooring and portraits hung on the wine-colored walls. The art sparked his interest. The paintings depicted various former Principals of the academy. Their firm expressions against the black background emitted an aura of past majesty. He recognized a few figures from his science classes, inventors who were forgotten in name, but their creations lived to this day.

  “It is an honor meeting the higher-ups.” The Vice-Principal chose to break the silence. His voice was warmer than before. He wore a black suit with a white shirt that matched his silver hair and black eyes. His tie and shoes matched the suit, and an old-fashioned watch adorned his left wrist. Time had left its mark on his face, but he kept a firm expression. “You are an unruly student well-versed in science with an honest obsession regarding the Curse. Better forget that for now.”

  “You honor me, but I will keep on my road.” Faoros lowered his head. “Principal Wineom is a role model for me.”

  “A solid role model. All forms of order demand their anchors to function, and so does our School. We were lucky to have Principal Wineom.” The Vice-Principal nodded. The wrinkles around his eyes softened. “You might call me Mr. Rino, junior Faoros. Our institution recognizes talent.”

  Faoros frowned upon hearing those words. No Vice-Principal was ever known for his kindness. Especially their current one, Rino, was rumored to be strict and ruled the academy in a manner that most of his predecessors would disapprove of. He was eccentric and actively promoted history lessons and literature, even offering privileges to those who attended such classes. Faoros was not one of them. “I am humbled… Mr. Rino.”

  “You are confused. That is understandable.” Mr. Rino paused in front of a painting. He stood still, staring at the person in it.

  “That’s Principal Wineom.” Faoros pointed out. “He was a common theme in the painting classes.”

  “Indeed. This is your role model. A painting is proof of our history. You have certainly learned this in your younger years.” The Vice-Principal caught a glimpse of his troubled expression before adding. “Nonetheless, you did well to turn to another subject. A portrait is nothing more than an object. It is used to remind us of Wineom’s majesty but cannot help to find a successor. Even now, his icy-blue gaze sends shivers down my spine. His refinement of the Game is a legend amongst his predecessors. But there is another reason he holds a special place in our hearts, even after so many eons. Guess.”

  Faoros didn’t want to reply. “I am ignorant.”

  “You sure don’t enjoy orders.” Mr. Rino sighed. “There wouldn’t be a need for this academy if you already knew the answer. Wineom fought for the sake of the Etal. He focused the Academy’s efforts toward the path he had envisioned, and succeeded.” With his words echoing through the long corridor, he pressed forward until they reached a wide hall.

  It was decorated with sculptures, with Principal Wineom’s statue towering over the rest in the center. The sculptor had chiseled a long line in the white marble, starting from his neck and leading up to his lips. Rumor had it that the old wound was a symbol of his role in the great wars of the past, but Faoros had never paid attention to such knowledge. The hidden lights gave the hall an otherworldly feel. There were no lamps, yet he could see clearly around him.

  “Here we are.” Mr. Rino pointed at a wooden door. His name was written on the sign, but he did not take a step inside. “The top of the academy is no different than a mountain’s peak. It’s the most treasured spot. Be honored. Your host awaits you inside. Do me a favor and do not anger her. I hope I made myself clear.”

  Faoros could sense the hostility in the air, but did not object. His legs were shaking, and he didn’t dare ask about this so-called host. He had to trust his instincts and overcome this hurdle. After all, the unknown always went hand in hand with opportunity. He stood in front of the door for a moment, and, taking a deep breath, he pushed it open. The bright light blinded him. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the office and the spectacular view. It overlooked most of the academy’s grounds, with the various facilities visible at a glance. The desk in the office was huge and made of marble. Various books and a wooden casket were placed on top of it. It was probably the sole office in the entire academy without a single device or piece of equipment. Instead, it was filled with tattered notebooks, pens, leatherbound books and portraits. The room lived up to Mr. Rino’s eccentric nature.

  “Welcome, student of Etal Academy.” A young voice broke him out of his daze. In front of him stood a lady with chestnut hair that reached her shoulders. Her big, round eyes betrayed her curiosity. They had the color of lead, plain and demanding. Faoros recognized such a gaze; after all, he was no different. His curiosity was his biggest strength and greatest weakness.

  “Excuse me for my rudeness. I am Faoros. I believe you called for me.”

  “That’s right. Please don’t stand still.” Her lips curved slightly, and her iron-forged pupils trailed his every move while he made himself comfortable. “Introductions are in order. I am Vione Unbound.”

  “Unbound?” Faoros exclaimed and jumped up from his chair. No Etal had any epithet apart from a particular group; the Lords. Mere students like him did not even know their exact number; for all Faoros knew, this could be the sole Lord overseeing the Gem. He was stupefied. “Like the Unbound Lords?”

  Vione Unbound smiled wider and gestured for him to sit again. “It is shocking to catch a glimpse of the greatest heights. Rest assured, we did not call you out of enmity.”

  Faoros gulped hard and almost choked, but forced himself to nod. The coincidences were getting worse. With a real Unbound in front of him, Faoros’ breathing grew labored. “It is an honor.”

  “This is a nice expression you wear, hatchling of our academy.” She paused momentarily and studied Faoros. Seeing that he was cautious, her tone turned softer as she leaned back in her chair. “I appreciate students who respect my time. You witnessed the accident. The academy will offer you valuable knowledge about the Game’s mechanics. In return, you must fulfill three requests regarding the Unbound that were murdered in there.”

  Faoros’ eyes shone brightly. “And what are those?”

  “That is not part of the deal,” she replied sharply. “You are a prodigious student of our science classes. I don’t care about your personality. Inspect this.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Miss Vione pushed the wooden casket toward him. He hesitated before reaching for it. His fingertips trembled. From the casket emerged a tiny white patch on a coral-hued pillow. His teachers called him a genius one too many times for his distinct instinct on the fine workings of contemporary machinery. His eyes glittered with anticipation the moment he touched it. “Electricity runs through this model. Is it powered through the atmosphere? No… there is some sort of connection—”

  “The clock is ticking, hatchling,” Vione Unbound warned. “This is upfront payment. I will reach out to you through it. The Unbound wield technologies not known to most Etal. After our collaboration is over, you can study this device. It is a prototype after all.”

  Faoros hesitated. “I…” He shook his head. Troubling thoughts refused to let go of him. This was what he hated most about their academy; and the higher-ups proved no different. “Can I remove it?”

  “Hatchling, stop dreaming of freedom. Every Etal is trapped in this large cage that we call the Gem.” Vione sighed. “Do your tasks well and accept the payment. The Game waits for no one. You will understand your privileges soon enough. For now, let the Vice-Principal guide you to the ceremony. I wish you the best of luck.”

  Faoros accepted the device. A lingering feeling of defeat grew inside him. He stood up, bowed slightly, and reached the door. Before he could leave, Vione’s words raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “We are the Lords. We inspect, lead, and change our confined world. Follow our instructions and even the Curse will be yours to research.”

  *

  “I’ll have one chocolate and a dark coffee, Miss Ifas,” Faoros greeted her. He held out his ID card and smiled at her. The old lady with short gray hair was none other than the owner of his favorite cafeteria at Etal Academy, built near the front gate.

  Ifas accepted his ID and charged him the corresponding amount. “I’ve known you since your first day of school, and you were late then. Do you really have time for coffee now?”

  Faoros didn’t bother looking at the balance of his evaluation points; he had done wonders in last year’s labs despite his behavior. “Arom is waiting for me. There’s enough time for a drink.” He pointed at the golden-haired boy sitting at a small wooden table near the register.

  “I see now. Let me guess… you want to recharge before dominating the Game?”

  “Perhaps I will do just that.” He accepted his drink and ID. His eyes lingered a moment longer on the young man pictured on his card. How had time flown by so quickly?

  “Don’t let it trouble you. You’ve grown a lot. You will always be one of my favorite students here.”

  “I hope I can visit you more often in the future, Miss Ifas,” he said and placed his ID back in his pocket. As soon as Faoros arrived at their table, Arom grabbed his chocolate. He drank greedily, his eyes locked on Faoros.

  “Sorry for calling you here now,” Faoros muttered. “I needed some time to calm down before heading to the welcoming ceremony. Meeting with Fablo was enough to make my nerves tense.”

  “That’s fine. I have the honor of meeting you before even Belo! The moment I saw your message, I knew I had an excuse to leave the classroom early. I will have to thank Fablo personally.” Arom threw his phone on the table and set the half-empty cup down. “Wait—is it time for the big reveal? Don’t tell me you’re keeping the best part for Belo. Come on, admit it!”

  “Don’t tease me. Once I’m done, we can meet in the glade. Belo will join us. I don’t want to leave him out.”

  “Lords bless you. You found the day to be tight-lipped,” he finished his remaining chocolate before asking. “How are you feeling? Are you ready to dive as deep as you can into the Game? Are you managing your EPs well?”

  “Don’t bother me now. My points are fine. I won’t go bankrupt. I have over three thousand in my account.” Faoros tasted his coffee, his lips curling upward. “I’m worried about my previous research though. Fablo wasn’t wrong. It will go to waste for a whole year.”

  “That’s where I come in.” Arom smiled sheepishly, his chest rising slightly. “I’ve already enrolled in a few history classes about the Curse. The Vice-Principal offers generous EPs for any student that joins these classes. I will keep your work alive.”

  “You did?” Faoros was stunned. He never expected Arom to voluntarily enroll in any classes. Mr. Rino had done a fine job promoting his favorite subject. “That’s good to hear.”

  “Not much, really,” he admitted. “I know it’s a remnant of that old war we lost, yet no Principal has found a cure. It’s supposed to be a divine punishment of some sort; I doubt this helps though with your research.”

  “Perhaps it does. I have neglected history too much. Our technology has the power to alter the world and create wonders.” Faoros pointed at their academy phones. His smile had vanished. “Tite said that the Game is our anxiety once our fear of the Curse is gone. There is deeper meaning in this.” He held his breath, focusing his mind on the matter at hand. “I promise every Etal that I will find the cure and free every student from this accursed fear!”

  “That’s the spirit.” Arom jerked his head, but his next words turned into a whisper. “No one will close his eyes suddenly again. I—” His phone rang loudly, and the word ‘Teacher’ emerged on the screen. “Dammit, I have to go. I said I would return to the dorms to grab my lunch. I’ll be waiting for you to return. Good luck in there!”

  “How typical of him.” Faoros sighed. Arom was never good at making excuses or telling lies. He would have to teach him sometime. He drank the last bits of his coffee and braced himself for the ceremony.

  *

  Faoros had brought trouble upon himself by dealing with a Lord. His desire to learn more about the raven-haired from the gallows led to further complications. However, he was more aware of the opportunity that was unfolding before him at that moment. He was a tiny dot in the vast banquet hall where the entrance ceremony for the Game was taking place.

  “I must remind you again of the divine favor that each and every one of you holds. The Lords themselves have chosen you to continue on your path to adulthood and escape the Curse’s clutches. Life there is no different than this academy; the dedicated will rise while the guileless will lag behind. The first step for you is today. It is the Game of Life. It is an opportunity to hone your skills, learn about our past, and accept the gift of our present.” Vice-Principal Rino declared to the students gathered in the hall. His voice echoed through the hall, clear and loud. “Many mysteries shroud the Game of Life in your minds, but very soon it will become your reality. It will be—”

  “Ignore the formalities directed at the public. The Game of Life is a constant struggle. In truth only merits matter.” Vione’s voice spoke directly to his mind, louder than Mr. Rino’s words. “Don’t waste time. Single out the territories where merits accumulate faster. The more you offer at the Central Bank, the greater your evaluation. Don’t let yourself be distracted by the fact that the Game resembles real life. No matter what everyone wants you to believe, it is a lie. Your first task aligns with this purpose. You are to infiltrate the Scavengers. Make a name for yourself. They will teach you numerous ways to gather and use the merits. Do this and please us.”

  Faoros wore a sheepish smile while he pretended to listen to Mr. Rino. He took Vione’s tips and suggestions to heart. His advantage was evident. Her information would lead him to an easier life inside the Game and ample time to continue his research after it. He was now confident that he would succeed. Faoros gleaned a simple truth from her advice.

  “In the Game, winners take it all,” Vione warned him. “Losers are stuck in a life of obligation. You will maintain the Game for future generations. That’s the Lords’ order.”

  He had despised that kind of order since he was young; it was the same order that had caused his schoolmates to close their eyes in ignorant bliss. Yet it was the same order that kept him moving. “I understand.”

  “You will understand the truth of our present!” By the time Faoros paid attention again, Mr. Rino was shouting fervently. He had turned fiery in the face, and his veins stood out on his neck and forehead. “The Game commences! Prepare for the harsh reality of our past; feast your eyes on this brutal truth from which we escaped to reach today. Honor our ancestors and experience life to the fullest! Live and learn, learn and live! Imagine to the fullest, my former students! Welcome to the Game of Life!”

  ?? From the Desk of Schwarzburg:

  You are dedicated to the task at hand, mark me surprised. Faoros is a rebellious young student but so are you for following this plot along!

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