The ssroom fell silent as Mr. John shuffled in, looking even more worn than usual. His clothes were slightly wrinkled, and his eyes held that familiar, sunken expression. He dragged his feet to the front of the ss, cleared his throat, and, in a tired, monotonous voice, said, "Good morning, ss."


    A few half-hearted responses echoed back as students settled into their seats, anticipation hanging in the air. Mr. John ced a stack of papers on his desk and rubbed his temples before continuing, "Today''s lecture is about the military academy… where you all will be spending the next three years."


    A hush swept over the ss, and eyes widened, the gravity of it sinking in. Three years in this academy. Some of the students shifted in their seats, ncing at one another, as though silently questioning if they''d make it that long. The tension was palpable.


    Mr. John''s voice picked up, a hint of excitement—or perhaps pity—slipping in. "During your time here, each of you will receive a monthly allowance of $5,000."


    The moment the number left his lips, the ssroom buzzed with excitement. Whispers bounced off the walls, and many students exchanged grins, already nning how they''d spend their monthly fortune.


    "Five thousand dors?" one girl whispered, wide-eyed. "We''re rich!"


    Others nodded enthusiastically, and someone in the back cheered, "Yes! No more eating ramen noodles every night!". But some students like Billy and Eleanor were clearly not amused by the money, to them, it was just a little amount.


    William''s eyes lit up. His mind spun with calctions, then drifted to the $50,000 the general had given him as a personal ie for agreeing to work as a spy. With both ies, he''d be receiving a total of $55,000 every month. His heart raced, and his vision blurred with dor signs. "I''m rich," he thought, barely containing a grin.


    He could almost feel the cash in his hands, the power and freedom it represented.


    Mr. John''s voice cut through the chatter. "There are also more rewards to attending this academy," he continued, his voice steadier now,manding their attention once more. "But the most important of them is the reward awaiting you at the end of three years: every student whopletes their training here will be granted 50 contribution points."


    If the ss had been buzzing before, it was roaring now. This announcement hit them harder than even the promise of money. Contribution points were rare, valuable, and crucial for those who wanted to ascend the tiers of citizenship. With 50 points, they''d be a significant step closer to moving up in status, gaining more privileges, and securing better opportunities for themselves and their families.


    William''s heart thudded in his chest. While the other students looked at one another in amazement, he silently calcted his own fortune: he already had 100 contribution points, thanks to the general''s reward for saving lives during the attack in the tunnel by killing the tier one beast. If Iplete my training, he thought, that''ll be a total of 150 contribution points.


    But then, his excitement faded, that''s if he managed to survive the next three years, it was a well known thing that students die at the academy regrly. He''d seen the risks. He still remembered the faces of the students who hadn''t survived that horrific attack—their vacant stares, the finality of death painted across their expressions.


    For those who died, there''d be no contribution points, no money, no future. And worse, their families… he imagined the crushing grief their parents must''ve felt when they received the news.


    He clenched his fists. He didn''t want that fate. Not for him, not for the Mr and Mrs Beth—the closest thing he had to family. They''d raised him from the time he''d been abandoned on the orphanage doorstep, and he couldn''t bear the thought of putting them through that kind of pain.


    "I have to get stronger," he vowed, feeling a surge of determination.


    Just then, his thoughts were broken by Mr. John''s voice. "For those of you without abilities, today will be… significant." The teacher''s eyes drifted over William and a few others who still hadn''t unlocked their powers. "As you''ll be getting your ability today." He continued.


    He reached down, grabbing the stack of papers he''d brought, and began handing them to the students seated at the front row. "Pass these back," he ordered. As the papers circted, students craned their necks, eager to see whaty ahead.


    When the paper finally reached William, he saw a neatly printed form, sections lined with options. Mr. John continued his exnation as the students skimmed through.


    "Starting next week, the real sses will begin," he announced. "What you have before you is a list of sses avable here at the academy. The sses are divided into two types:bat and special sses. You''ll each be required to choose one from each category."


    A student near the front raised his hand. "Can we choose more than onebat ss?"


    "No," Mr. John replied sternly, his gaze sweeping across the ss. "Only onebat ss and one special ss. However, for the next week, you''ll have the chance to observe and test out each of these sses before making your final decision."


    The room filled with quiet murmurings as students looked over their options, sizing up the paths thaty ahead. William took a deep breath, scanning down the page. His eyes fell on the first option under thebat sses: Elemental ss. Judging by the name, it was clearly intended for students with elemental abilities like Liam''s fire power and Eleanor''s ice.


    Next, he saw Defense ss. William assumed it was a choice for those with abilities like earth maniption or other defensive powers.


    Support ss came next, likely intended for those with healing or supportive powers, like Sofia''s light ability.


    Thestbat option was Martial Arts ss, likely meant for those with physical abilities or those that didn''t fit into the previous categories—Gavin''s speed ability, for instance, would be well suited here.n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    William''s fingers drummed against his desk as he considered his options. It was hard to choose; he didn''t yet know what ability he''d gain, and that would heavily influence his decision.


    His eyes wandered down to the special sses, and the first option made him pause. Cooking ss. At first nce, it seemedughable—what good was cooking in a ce like this? But as he thought more, it dawned on him. With the military constantly fighting heretics and fending off beast hordes, soldiers often went days in the field.


    Good delicious food kept them strong, nourished and kept their spirits up. And on distants with limited supplies, knowing how to prepare edible meals from dead beast could be crucial. Thest thing anyone wanted was to choke down an inedible beast organ out of desperation. Still, William smirked.


    He had no interest in spending his time chopping up ugly beasts to learn the best spices for mutant stew.


    Little did he know, though, that in the years toe, his path would lead him to things far more gruesome than chopping up ugly beasts.