"How long do you intend to sleep, Deswan?" asked a voice, whose identity was still unrecognizable to my mind in this sleepy moment.

"Just five more minutes Mich," I replied sleepily, sinking my face deeper into my pillow.

Judging by the fact that I'm still sleepy and the angle of the sun entering my room, I assume it's not even seven in the morning. Who would have the audacity to wake up at this hour on a weekend? And not only that, depriving another person of sleeping too.

I heard the sound of a mantra igniting along with a possessed string enveloping my room. My instincts made me jump out of bed. I felt that if I didn't get up now I would bitterly regret it. If the person waking me up is who I think he is, last time he threw me out the window, breaking the glass. My room is on the third and last floor of this dorm. If I wasn't a wannabe Linker, I would have died here by now.

The figure in my room was the one I expected—Uncle Simeon, or rather; Professor Simeon.

"The opening ceremony for the exams is starting in 1 hour and you haven't even started to get ready!" Simeon yelled, loud enough to give me a headache for the rest of the morning.

By now, after seven years of waking up like this, I should have gotten used to it. Simeon became my combat tutor from my early days at the academy. It's been long years of being awakened this way. I wonder if he picks on other students or just I am “privileged” by this warm alarm clock.

Massaging my temples to wake myself up, I noticed a strange smell settle in my nostrils—something was burning. — Looking for the source of the odor, I had the misfortune to realize that my bed where I was lying a few seconds ago — in a beautiful dream where I became a pillar — was cut in half by Simeon's drill mantra.

“When did you cut my bed, you maniac?” I yelled as I walked away from this man unaware of the consequences of his actions. For a moment I even considered jumping out the window to get away from this bed-busting vandal.

Only certified Linkers can use a mantra in their non-ghosting mode, and this man who calls himself sane and the pride of the nation has just used such power to destroy my nest of sleep. My heart raced again. It just dawned on me that I would have been cut in half by his mantra if I hadn't gotten up.

It might seem like overkill to an outsider, but I know Simeon so well that I'm fully aware that if I didn't jump out of bed, I'd be heading to the central hospital. I can even imagine the scene with my sister in the background in tears and as I'm heading to the operating room, I'd see Simeon apologizing with a: “Sorry, I thought you'd get up as usual. By the way, that still doesn't get you out of Monday night training” and then you'd be waving at me with your “infectious” smile as my soul leaves my body.

“Don't underestimate your teacher. You are my best student when it comes to reflex and instinct. It's in your blood after all, your mother was never cut by me,” he bragged as he deactivated his mantra, which was slowly losing the black color of Simeon's string. "Well, except for that one when..." He stopped talking and widened his eyes, looked around as if he was afraid someone would hear him. “That was a close one, I forgot that even though Angel didn't press charges against Unlink, the academy's lawyer advised me never to bring it up.

"You know, the academy should be doing regular psych tests on its employees," I muttered, sure that only I would hear.

“Well, anyway” he coughed forcefully, changing the subject. “Don't forget that at eight-thirty, all students are expected to be in the central courtyard for the principal's speech and for the drawing of keys for potential titular candidates.

“Yes, yes,” I replied, dusting him with my hand for him to leave for good.

“Good luck,” he said goodbye, gently closing the door after leaving my room.

I remained motionless for ten seconds to prepare myself psychologically to survive another day inside this academy. Today begins the selection tests of the academy titular's. This time, I finally had Simeon's approval and recommendation for me to be one of the selection participants for this edition.

I went in search of my clothes drawer. I wore my normal school class uniform. For something surrounded by digital and holographic fabrics, it's kind of comfortable. However, I'm worried about the fact that I've had this same uniform for two years. I hope I still grow a little, at least enough to pass my sister's height. The men's academy uniform was basically white pants, white t-shirt and a white coat with stripes that change color according to their grade, as I was in second-to-last year, the stripes colors are green. At the same height as the heart, the symbol of two wings and a crystal glowed subtly—the symbol of our academy.

I walked towards the mirror to see how presentable I looked to leave the room. As I suspected, the face is still the same. I don't even pass any confidence to the mirror; the more for people. My hair as black as coal and wild as a hurricane; describing in a poetic way. Also, for some reason blue streaks are constantly growing on my head and at some point in my life I gave up on cutting them and let them blend in with my natural hair growth. Of course, this only increased how much the students looked at me strangely. Add that to the fact that I have heterochromia — my left eye is dark brown and my right eye is light blue, and “boom!” you have a “Frankenstein”.

Not that I currently care what people think of my appearance. I'm too busy trying to survive in this academy.

After my failed attempt to make my hair less wild, I filled my lungs with air and opened the door to leave. Most of the friendships I've made here have been lost, not all of them can handle the routine and unusual experience that we are subjected to day by day. Not that I've made many friends anyway, my looks have always turned people off.

As I leave the dormitory area, I hear a few consecutive explosions coming from what would be the E Block women's locker room. After seven years of growing up with this type of situation I can't even be scared anymore by sudden explosions, fires or students running for their lives while a creature from another dimension fled during some failed pact with one of the students.

Analyzing it better, it's even quieter today than usual if I think about it a lot. Just yesterday one of the students during lunch time hit one of the benches with his shin and well, let's say that unintentionally the anger he felt for the chair, made him create an aspect in which all the chairs combusted in a within a ten meter radius near him—actually, a very useful skill in combat—the academy had to close the place and many students were unable to eat lunch. Fortunately no one was hurt this time.

And that's the kind of situation you have every day when you unite more than five thousand children and adolescents capable of literally distorting the world around them and who are still unable to keep their body and mind in sync; just like a professional Linker should be able to.

"Hey, hey. Did you know the reason for the explosion just now?" one of the students asked another one who was accompanying him.

According to the whispers I heard between the two students, the reason for the explosion seemed to be related to some boy who tried to spy on the girls taking a shower and when discovered, was thrown by some aspect of one of the final year students.

The “Record Boy”, as we have come to call the student who has recorded all the records at the academy, was writing something in his notebook. That means some new record was made today.

“Good morning Record Boy, what was the achievement this time?” a student with a bottle of water and a towel around his neck asked.

“Human throwing distance with no apparent fatality,” he replied as he adjusted his stereotypically sunken glasses worthy of a smart kid.

I ignored the fact that no one was surprised that the shooting record was separated by fatalities. Ahead, the representative of one of the classes is upside down as if the ceiling were the floor. Even her black hair was upside down. She was talking to one of the teachers about the abandoned dorm. Students who pass close to her have their hair slightly raised, affected by the change in gravitational vectors generated by the “vampire” girl. So it's official that this is just another normal day at Sword Link.

We are free to use our aspects while in the academy — as long as no one gets hurt in any way. This is the kind of environment I live in, an environment where physical and quantum laws are broken daily.

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I chose to get out of the dorm entrances as quickly as possible, after all, it is the area with the highest flow of students in the morning, so I don't want to be in the middle of any aspect that is out of control. By coincidence or fate, the path I would take would be the same as the student who was thrown.

On the way to the gym's open courtyard, I noticed that a student was moving in the garbage can. To be more exact, the legs of a student. He was with his whole body immersed in the trash and desperately trying to get out. I confess that normally I would ignore such a situation, but those gray shoes revealed to me the identity of the student in question.

The pathetic person bouncing around in the dumpster in front of me was James Smash, if I had to introduce him with one word, “pervert” would be the one. But, if two words were needed, “good friend” would be the one. There are also those who say that he is a promising Linker. He uses two brass knuckles on each of his fists. I find it quite ineffective compared to blade mantras, but as this style of combat is a family tradition, I'm one to avoid criticism.

"Good morning, James!" I greeted him, with a grunt in response and his frantic movement of legs. I believe he had become hopeful when he heard my voice. "This dump is for organic waste only, so before you jump into it, be conscious of taking your clothes off to make the cleaning staff's job easier. See you later."

I waved and walked even though I knew he wouldn't be seeing me. Hearing my footsteps moving away from the trash can, James started shaking and grunting more than before, he was yelling something impossible to understand because of the trash burying half of his body. It doesn't take a genius to understand that he was asking me to help him. I breathed out. I was about to get my freshly washed clothes dirty to get out a student trapped inside a dumpster.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

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It took a few minutes to get James out of the bin in a safe way. His white clothes were now yellow due to garbage residue. At least I was the one who found him in this deplorable situation, not Simeon. On second thought, I would like to see the reaction of a teacher seeing such a scene.

At first glance you don't notice any presence in James. Brown hair and short, white skin and eyes of an innocent child, and he was not innocent at all.

“Th-Thanks Kailan, I thought I was going to die in there,” he blurted out as he caught his breath, leaning on my shoulder.

"Well, not touching my coat with that hand from James is a good way to say thanks," I said, removing his hand from my shoulder with just my index finger and thumb, avoiding as much contact as possible.

"You mean, trash hand," he retorted with a sad face, "right?"

“What were you doing over there in the…” I stopped talking and frowned, tilting my face slightly and crossing my arms, changing my posture. “Where were you earlier?

At my question, he widened his eyes. He knew what I was wanting to know. It is not the first time that he has suffered the consequences of his somewhat questionable personality for society.

“I don't regret anything and I would do it again, that's all I have to say,” he replied with a tight smile, even though he let a sweat break out on his face just remembering flying several meters.

Two students were walking past us at this moment. I recognized them from earlier, they were at the entrance to the girls' dorm that was in front of my block. I believe they were one of the victims of this pervert's eyes. Well, since he doesn't regret anything, then it's okay for me to have fun with it.

"Hey, girls," I called to them, causing James at that very moment to desperately sign for silence so I wouldn't draw their attention. He's known me for a few years, so he already knows my kind of humor. "Did you know this is the boy who was spying on you earlier?" He turned pale with despair and gaping. "Oh, he said he doesn't regret it and will do it again tomorrow," I added, lifting my finger indicating this remark.

James started shaking his head in denial as the two girls gave off string and a murderous aura. They both snapped their fingers with their hands in sync. I believe that now they will make a regret rise in this boy's heart.

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After we had our breakfast, James and I headed out to the courtyard, at least half of it that wasn't purple from punches and kicks performed by the girls. The girls at this academy aren't helpless at all. Ever since we were little, we've all been training in martial arts and muscle strengthening using string, so muscle mass or gender doesn't make that much difference in combat.

He should thank me for convincing them not to press charges to the teachers. Okay, as an argument I said he was so pathetic that he was looking for women's underwear in the trash can and that's why it was dirty. The two called him sick and sent him to see a doctor for treatment. I could swear one of them even cried for him. Surely they'll tell the other girls about it and his popularity with the students will plummet from zero to something negative. Well, at least he won't be expelled.

Finally we arrived at the courtyard. James was still staggering. The gym's open courtyard had a huge crystal clear water fountain at its center, similar to what we have at the gym's main entrances. On the ground, the sparse grass and a monochromatic light green predominated in leisure areas so that students could relax lying on the grass. Parts of trails to other academy buildings were filled with white tiles that never seemed to wear out over time. The courtyard itself was one of the few places where there were few trees around. A pentagon-shaped tile area accommodated the feet of students who anxiously awaited the announcement of the draws after a speech, always given by the academy's regent director — Roosevelt III. A gentleman who used a mantra in the form of a cane. Not that he would still be able to participate in an ordeal at the age he must be.

An unprecedented wooden stage had been set up for today. I couldn't remember which row my grade was assigned to, so I looked for students I shared classes in, joining one of the fifteen rows formed. James followed my movements. Each row had about a hundred students and more were arriving. It is clear that most of these students will not participate in the selection. Students are nominated by the teachers or by the academy's shareholders in advance so that the students are assembled and drawn.

“All students go to the courtyard, the opening ceremony will begin,” the female announcer announced through loudspeakers scattered across the streetlamps throughout the academy.

"That woman's voice is still beautiful, don't you think Kailan," James commented.

“James, you could at least disguise that you're a pain in the ass. Every day it gets harder to tell others that we're friends,” I said without bothering to look back and see his reaction.

"H-How dare you! I'm not, I just know how to appreciate the female body more than others, it's a gift."

“Yes, yes,” I replied with no hope in my voice.

“Anyway,” he put his hands behind his head, completely breaking out of the posture we're told to take during the speech, “this year it's going to be pretty tough for us to be selected to participate. Many starting favorites have been transferred in recent months just to make the selection.”

I was already sure to participate thanks to Simeon's nomination, so James would need that his talents during training and test scores - this one I think is more unlikely -, had been impactful in the eyes of the academy teachers. In fact, I hate to admit that it would be stupid of Sword Link not to even test James' potential in a starter selection test.

“I wanted to know if we would face each other, Kailan. It would be great, well that's if I get selected.”

“No thanks,” I replied instantly without hesitation.

As much as I found James' fighting style uncomfortable, it was a very inconvenient style to face. Unlike mantras that have blades, brass knuckle mantras did not have a setting that limited pain and force in contact with human skin. His punches might not cut, but they hurt like hell. Getting punched by James' mantra, speaking from experience, was like slamming your thumb into the corner of a piece of furniture. A sharp pain that makes you hate life and the furniture responsible for it, which in this case would be James.

I met James when I was thirteen. He had flirted with a mutual friend of ours; Sarine. I was pretty impatient at the time, so I didn't hold back and got into a fight. Unfortunately I got punched in the face by James' mantra, of course I fought back and in the end we were separated by the teachers. We both received severe punishments from Simeon and ended up becoming friends during the punishments.

“Shh!” James whispered. “He's here.”

Roosevelt who was taking the stage, with the speed that his body, worn out by years of service, allows him. He continued in the same way as five years ago when he spoke at the last edition of the starting lineup. His white hair slicked back and those good lord eyes. Always smiling and with that wrinkled skin of age. Looking at him brought a kind of comfort, it's like looking at someone who looks like they've fulfilled all their dreams.

“Good morning wannabe Linkers!” Roosevelt announced as he took the microphone.

All students responded in a unique way with a resounding “Good morning”. A silence took over the environment that a few moments ago was filled with teenage worries and random conversations. If I concentrated, I could even hear the heartbeats of the most insecure students.

“I'd like to wish good luck to all of this year's Sword Link students who will be selected to compete for the starting slot for the regionals. Ratings remain the same as in the last edition. Regardless of whether you win or lose, your evidence will be judged by the academy and shareholders on performance scores. Before we draw the first proofs, I want you to remember what we taught you during these years.” He paused briefly to cough. “Don't use your aspects to hurt your opponents, make an aspect to strengthen them and yourself. I would also like to remind those who are not chosen this year, not to get discouraged, keep up the hard work and take advantage of the internship opportunities during the World Cup period to acquire new experiences.”

The student audience began to applaud with a round of applause that started slowly and gradually became loud and harmonious as Roosevelt smiled and waved.

"The old man with his motivational speeches, I never understand what he's saying," James grumbled.

"What he meant is that if we dedicate ourselves with all our might; we are teaching our opponent. And if he does the same, he will be teaching us" at least that's what I understand.

When two students are drawn for a duel, the name of our counter duelist appears on our bracelets. It wasn't long before James and I noticed the bracelets of students around us blinking and projecting names. Most of the people I noticed being chosen were popular faces at the academy.

A mixture of feelings took over the atmosphere. Students began to congratulate the chosen ones, while others simply got down on their knees and started crying because they knew they would not be chosen. Some who did not want to pursue a career in the official dueling business were already retiring to their quarters. Of course, only those selected by the academy would run for the titleholders, so only the best of the best were chosen.

Out of the corner of my peripheral vision I could see that James' bracelet had started to flicker. I thought about letting him see for himself, but his distress and nervousness at seeing other students being selected began to bother me.

“James, your bracelet,” I informed him.

He was surprised, rubbed his eyes and slapped himself, in order to confirm he wasn't dreaming—though it wouldn't surprise me that he was now a masochist.

“Of course, you had doubts that I would be one of the chosen ones?” he said louder than he should have.

It wasn't what it felt like a few seconds, but I accepted his reaction. He placed his hand on his chin and closed his eyes, giving an air of superiority to everyone around him. Anyone who didn't know him, seeing him with all that thoughtfulness and confidence, would think he's a… idiot. Yeah, maybe you don't need to know someone better to draw correct conclusions.

"Who will be my first counter duelist?" James asked himself before checking the bracelet data.

After that whole unfailing scene, James changed his face. From someone who exudes confidence, he began to exude fear in the form of a string after reading the name on his bracelet. His reaction scared me to imagine who his opponent would be.

“It doesn't even look like you. Who will you face?"

"Luna," he said with his head down, kneeling on the floor.

“Luna? What Luna, James?” I asked trying with all the world's efforts to remember this name, but nothing came to mind.

James began to drag down the skin of his face with the palms of his hands. He was losing his sanity.

"Luna Stirling," he finally said.

With a flash of memory, I remembered which person James would face thanks to his last name. Luna Stirling was ranked one of our academy's favorites for this year. At just sixteen years old, she had already participated in professional winter tournaments at the Grand Link academy. She transferred earlier this year following a personal invitation from our director. I didn't remember her name because everyone already calls her by her strap — Baioring Queen.

James was depressed and huddled on the floor, looking at his gray shoes.

“Don't be like that James. You can beat her.” Having no reaction from him, I continued. “Your fighting style is quite unusual, it might come as a surprise to her.”

The reason for James' fear beyond the fame that predates the Baioring Queen is his direct descent from Lind Stirling — a three-generation Linker that James and I both looked up to. Lind Stirling was a highly flexible violinist and one of the Linkers to revolutionize the way strings can be manipulated; with music. Lind took the form of violin mantras to its height and established the Stirling family as one of the most influential families in the world in the Linker environment. Many other Linkers who were inspired by Lind tried to copy her fighting style, however, it seemed that only those who carried her genes were able to easily utilize aspects of her.

I wonder if James would be all right. Luna has always shown formidable skills and in the first days at the academy she was already popular, after all her beauty was very flashy and difficult to go unnoticed, besides being skilled and having the Stirling blood running in her veins. Her shoulder-length orange hair and dark blue eyes were quite unusual for Marmontrius, they set her apart in a positive way.

Even with all her experience, I feel like she never really showed her true potential in the few duels and training I've had the opportunity to attend since her transfer to Sword Link. The fact that she always wore a pair of black gloves bothered me too. Did she have some sort of germ phobia or was it just style?

“Hey, your bracelet didn't show any names, Kailan.”

James seemed to have come to his senses after seeing some girls in girls' gym uniforms walking past us, making me regret that I even cared about his condition.

“Yes, there's nothing for me to worry about. I should be in tomorrow's draw. At least this way I can watch your exam today and see you beating the gym favorite.” I held out my hand so he could get up. “Come on. You need to stretch.”