Letting go of Nero's neck, I turn and run. I finally understand hugs. In such a position, I can't see the faces of my friends. They can't see mine either. They can't see me struggle to hold back the tears welling in my eyes. They can't see the smile I force, fall from my lips. Planting one foot in front of the other, I march steadily forward. Satisfied I'm far enough away from my friends, I let go. Tears roll uninhibited down my cheeks. I let them fall and softly heave.

That's enough. Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my blood, mud, and all manner of befoulment-stained tunic, I dry my tears. Lips contort, eyes crease, my smile is restored.

Around me, the survivors roam the coliseum. Wounded boy talks to wounded boy. Wounded girl talks to wounded girl. A dance, an evaluation of strengths and weaknesses. A polite intrusion to see whether they'd make a good partner.

'That was intense', I say, walking up to a cherubic, green-haired boy. The boy looks at me in the same way one looks at a carcass rotting in a lake. He removes a handkerchief from the inside of his waistcoat and places it over his mouth.

'Your presence defiles my eyes.' Breathing heavily, the boy waves his left hand in my direction. 'Go now.' The boy says curtly. Staggered, feet shuffle instinctively backwards. I consciously halt my retreat. My smile reinforced; I steel myself to talk.

'Hi, you can call me Amy-.'

'And why would I do that?' The bastard interrupts, handkerchief rooted firmly over his mouth and nose. 'Why would I call you anything? Do you name each cockroach crawling in the dirt, or do you walk on by, or crush it beneath your boot?' Drawing his eyes down my body, the boy continues. 'Walk on by, insect, or I'll crush you beneath my boot.'

Better an insect than whatever he is. Turning around and scouting the area, a lone girl catches my eye. Fingers crossed; I make my way over to where she stands. Please be nice; today has earned me nice. Today has earned me a lifetime of nice. The boy back there must be worth a year or two. The bloodshed, no less than a decade. My friends abandoning me... I stop my train of thought. They didn't abandon me. I left them. How could they have known how much I need them? How could they have known how scared I am? I stop my train of thought. Face tightens, mouth opens, my smile broadens.

'Are you still looking for a partner?' Shifting from foot to foot, the girl looks down. She whispers. It's inaudible. 'Hey, are you okay?' Leaning forward, I shift with the girl in front of me and try to catch her eye.

'She's being polite.' A girl walks up to us. Her walk; graceful. Her clothes; dishevelled yet somehow stylish. Everything about the girl proclaims elegance. I bite my lip. Jealousy? I've never felt that way before. I've never had to. Who was there to be jealous of in Tanker Village? 'She's being too polite to tell you what should be obvious.'

'And what's that?' Squeezing the blood out of my thumb and gritting my teeth, I suppress my worst instincts. 'What is so obvious?'

'That you're a nameless creature unworthy of the air that you waste in your lungs.' What is that? A few more years at least.

'I think if you got to know me…' The girl breaks into laughter, louder and unkinder than I have ever heard it.

'Maybe next I'll get to know a rat? Perhaps I should befriend a parasite. What do you think? I could search through that hair of yours; find myself a playmate. How about it? You, me, and your lice. Best friends forever?' The taste of iron floods my mouth as my right canines puncture my inner lip. I walk away from the two girls and make my way towards another girl. Before I'm able to reach her, the rotund, self-important bastard I had talked to, greets her first. Eyes scanning the arena, I search desperately for anyone still alone.

'Excuse me, do you have a partner for the next test'. Turning to the feel of my tunic being tugged. A girl stands before me. 'I haven't found a partner yet, I was hoping- '

'Yes!' Without hesitation I embrace the stranger. 'I'd love to be your partner.' The girl smiles modestly, I match it with my own. A real smile, not a mask. 'Amy II, pleased to meet you.' Skipping a beat, my heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her reaction.

'You're nameless?'

'Is that a problem?' The girl puts both hands in the air and waves.

'No, no, no. I'm from a small clan in Area XIII, after the war we had a lot of refugees. I've met a lot of people like you, some are even my friends.

People like me… they really do look down on us. Pushing the thought to the back of my mind, I place my right hand gently on her shoulder. She stiffens as if fighting the urge to recoil. 'There aren't any people like me.' The girl shuffles backwards and lets my hand fall.

'Oh, I didn't mean it like that.' How'd she mean it? Smiling broadly to let her know that no harm's done, I reply.

'Nah, don't worry about it.' Swiftly moving on I continue. 'What do I call you anyway?

'Sasha Lundis.' Holding out my hand, the girl stares at it. Slowly she moves her hand in the direction of mine. We shake. Removing her hand, she places her arms to her side.

There's something about this girl, I can't put my finger on it. Every instinct in my body tells me "not her". I don't have any other options though, no one else will so much as let me talk.

Looking the girl up and down I take note of her appearance. Short, dishevelled, but who here isn't after what we've been through? Her hair, golden blonde, messy, and short. Her face; freckled and plane. Clearly, she's not as affluent as the highborn clansmen stood around the arena, but compared to the way I'm dressed, she's the picture of prosperity. It's no surprise. The difference between the named and the nameless… it's clear to me now. How many "people like me" even survived this trial?

Nero… He's nameless. As ragged as I am, but the strength of his arts… he really might change this world.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Most people have found their partner now, only a few stragglers remain, and they too approach one another to form their duos. The instructor from before, the lady. Nettle was her name; she walks over to the blue-haired instructor. They point in the direction of the different pairs and talk amongst themselves. Circulating Tension around my body, I enhance my senses. Everything comes into focus. Shutting out the idle chatter from the surviving applicants around the arena, I concentrate on the words being exchanged by the two instructors.

'There are more of them than usual. I was expecting half this number.' Listening to Nettle's words, the blue-haired instructor stokes his hair as if deep in thought.

'We'll need another instructor', he finally says. 'We'll make groups of three and take sixteen pairs each. We'll put them into groups now, you take yours first, I'll go find Shiro. He's the final examiner anyway so he should be close by.'

The two instructors roam the arena. Arbitrarily, they direct duos into three separate groups. Walking with Sasha, I find my group. Three more duos join our line and Nettle walks to the head of the queue.

'Follow me' The doors to the arena open. Without looking back, Nettle walks through the doors. Like sheep guided by a shepherd, we follow. Glancing behind me, I search the retracting arena for my friends. I spot them in their group. Placing my arm to the sky, I shout.

'See you on the other side!' I don't know if they hear me, but it doesn't matter. I'll see them again. 'Don't die or I'll kill you!' Turning back, I pass through the doors.

Walking through the main campus, Nettle guides us towards hulking gates. Everything about the academy is grand. The campus and the many buildings. it's like a city unto itself. Incomparable to the meek and mild village where I was raised. Until now, I had only seen such architecture in pictures. The old men of my village, they like their pictures.

They would show them to us, illustrating their "heroic adventures" in the cities they have travelled. Tall buildings, wide streets, and of course the Towers. For the travelled denizens of Tanker village, nothing could inspire their enthusiasm for storytelling like the sight of the Towers. Cylinder, vertical structures bursting from the earth around them.

Each level, a world unto itself. No, nothing could compare to their stories of the Towers. In no small way, my desire to join this academy is motivated by their stories. To see the black and white capture of the buildings that sustain our decaying world was never going to be enough. To remain outside or be forced inside as a miner is too cruel a fate. From the day I had heard of the towers and the worlds within; nothing, not my status, not my parents, not even the Five Ruling Clans and the armies they control was ever going to stop me.

I will ascend the towers and with the power therein...

I'll change the fate of Tanker village.

The gates swing open. Nettle leads us towards a domed building. The building itself is immense but annexed around the central dome, four tunnel-like extensions lead to perhaps even larger domed structures. It must have taken us at least half an hour to reach this place. Learning to navigate the academy will be a challenge by itself.

Arriving at the central dome, Nettle guides us in. The insides of the building are illuminated by gas-lit lanterns sealed into the walls surrounding us. Between the lanterns, weapons line every inch of the walls. Swords, axes, lances, spears. No life-taking tool unrepresented.

'Feel free to take anything you can use.' Nettle waves an arm unenthusiastically, presenting to us the weapons on display. 'They're all forged from low-tier Tension beasts, so if you somehow manage to make it past these tests, feel free to keep them.'

Grabbing Sasha's stiffened arm, I drag her to the walls displaying the weapons. 'What takes your fancy?' The girl pauses.

'I don't need any of those', holding out her hand, a white, curved dagger materialises. A bound weapon. Weapons crafted from Tension beasts and special items that can only be found within the towers. It's my first time seeing such a weapon. The recipes for forging bound weapons are treated like treasures within clans. I doubt even Sasha knows how it was forged and stealing it would be pointless. The weapon itself is bound to its owner, imbuing them with whatever power it was crafted to provide.

Another sign… Should I even be here? I shut down the thought. It can join the others. 'I think I'm going to pick a sword. It's the only thing I've had any practice with. I've never really needed a weapon before. Enhancing myself with Tension has always been enough to deal with the few beasts we get in my village.'

'Uhuh', Sasha replies. Placing a hand on one of the swords hanging on the wall, I feel repelled as if my hand is magnetic and the sword is the same pole. Taking the cue, I let go and repeat the process until finding a sword I feel no resistance from. A rapier, I believe. Long and thin with a circular guard. Waving the blade, it feels light. It's perfect. Placing the sword back into its scabbard, I face my partner.

'I think I'll take this one', I say. The girl responds with a half-smile. Before another word can be said, a sharp whistle echoes throughout the building. Turing to identify the source, Nettle stands, hands upfront slowly flapping in a beckoning motion.

'Let's get started,' she says. 'Through each of the passageways is a different battle environment. Normally those environments are used for training the students of this academy. Today they've been reserved for your assessments. Within each battle environment, we've placed a mid-tier Tension beast. In your pairs, your task is to kill the beast and exit the environment. You're probably aware of this by now, but there are no safety nets. You kill the beast and exit the room, or you die.' Nettle points at different duos. She points at me.

'The eight of you, you're first.'

Heart pounding, breath staggered; I approach one of the tunnel-like passages. Fists clenched; I find the resolve to walk. With Sasha by my side, I walk the passageway until reaching the domed room at the end. The entrance is blocked by metal spikes protruding from the floor to the archway of the entrance. We have time, not much, but time. I look to the girl beside me. 'What's our strategy?' I ask.

'I have an Art that allows me to draw its attention. Charge forward and I'll use the art. While it's distracted, use your sword to pierce its heart.' Never having heard of a taunt art doesn't mean one doesn't exist. I'm certain, absolutely certain there's a whole world of Tension arts unknown to me…but this girl…The spikes lower. There's no time for further discussion.

Entering the battle environment, the first thing that captures my attention is the columns. Rows and rows of pillars littering the black-grass field I stand in. The next thing I notice is the beast. A red hulking mass of muscle. As tall as two of me stacked atop myself. Its face resembles the picture of a cow my father showed me long ago. An animal, like most others, only found in the resources-rich floors of the towers. Decorating its head, two large horns protruding from its skull. Its arms, larger and more defined than my thighs. A beast unlike any I have imagined.

I circulate Tension through my body. I unsheathe my sword. 'Are you ready?' Sasha nods. No time to hesitate; no time to think. I charge.

Foot in front of foot I approach the beast. It stares at me, fury burning in its eyes. I rush closer until I can feel the heat of its enormous body. The beast, its eyes are fixed at me. 'Do it now!' I yell. Turning my head, a malicious smile defaces the lips of Sasha behind me. She vanishes.

No time to hesitate; no time to think. With my Tension enhanced body, I leap. Sword forward, eyes upfront. I aim for the beast's chest. Moving faster than anything its size has any right to move, it readies its muscle-bound arm and propels its fist forward. Turning as fast as I can to avoid a fatal blow, I move my left arm to protect myself.

Impact.

An explosion of agony consumes my arm. I'm sent flying backwards. The shattered bag of meat and bone that was once my arm flaps freely in the wind of my propulsion. Each movement of my eviscerated limb inspires a new current of unbearable, excruciating pain.

My flight ends.

I crash through a pillar.

.