As Jian Xing handed out the last brooch, he raised his hand, signaling the students to remain silent. The room immediately hushed, and the teacher positioned himself at the center, opening his eyes for the first time that day. They were a striking crimson, like glowing embers, amplifying the enigmatic aura surrounding him.

“Let’s get to the point,” he began, calm yet firm. “Now that you are officially part of the elite class, it’s time for you to understand the world you live in and what lies ahead for you.”

He moved toward a large, detailed map that suddenly unfolded on the board behind him. It depicted a modern Poland—one unlike anything they could have imagined.

“Poland, as you know it, ceased to exist in its former state long ago,” Jian began, pointing at the map. “Major cities such as Warsaw, Krakow, Wroclaw, and Rzeszow are now fortress cities. They are surrounded by laser walls designed to protect the population from external threats.”

He gestured toward numerous areas between the cities marked with dark blotches.

“Outside these cities lie the forbidden zones—former villages, towns, and rural areas. They’ve all been devastated by mutants, anomalies, and other dangers. Only special forces or individuals with the proper licenses are allowed to cross these borders.”

The students listened intently, their eyes fixed on the map. Lucja raised her hand.

“Are these zones completely abandoned?” she asked.

Jian looked at her with a faint smile.

“Not entirely. Some are studied by scientists, others patrolled by border guards. But for the most part, they are places no sane person would dare to enter.”

A shiver ran down everyone’s spines. Jian pointed to several spots on the map marked with red circles.

“As members of the elite class, you’ll have the opportunity to leave the permitted zones. As part of your training, you’ll embark on expeditions beyond the walls, where you’ll learn how to survive in extreme conditions and face these threats.”

Anna raised her hand, her voice soft but curious.

“Will these expeditions only test our skills, or do they have a greater purpose?”

Jian looked at her, pondering his answer for a moment.

“Of course, they’ll test you, but not just that. Each expedition has a mission—discovery, protection, elimination of threats. What you take away from them depends on your determination and abilities.”

“But before we get into that,” Jian continued, shifting to the next point, “you must understand the forces that maintain order in our country.”

The map transformed into a hologram displaying various formations.

“The first and largest group is the city guards. They maintain law and order within the cities.”

The hologram shifted to show a red cross symbol.

“Medical services—doctors and medics. Without them, no one would survive even the shortest encounter with mutants.”

More symbols appeared one by one.

“Firefighters, border guards, Knights of the Church—exorcists dealing with spiritual anomalies—inventors responsible for technological advancements…”

Jian paused, scanning the students.

“Then there are the couriers, criminal task forces specializing in tracking and capturing offenders. There’s also the special forces, handling intelligence and covert operations, and the royal guard—the elite group tasked with protecting the monarch and key figures in the state.”

Makoto raised his hand.

“Will we get to join one of these groups?”

Jian smiled faintly.

“In time. Over the next four years, you’ll have internships with each of these services. By the end, you’ll choose your path.”

Makoto nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

Jian paced slowly across the room.

“In a week, there will be an orientation trip to the mountains. It will be your first trial. Until then, you must move into the special dormitory on campus.”

“Move?” Maja asked, surprised.

“Being part of the elite class comes with both privileges and responsibilities,” Jian replied. “You must be close, as you can be called upon at any time.”

A few students began whispering, but Jian silenced them with a single gesture.

“That’s all for today. Report to the dormitory,” he concluded.

As the students began leaving the room, heading toward the dorm, they encountered a man carrying a massive sack full of tools on his back. It was Borys—the janitor and handyman, a nearly mythical figure within the school.

He mumbled something to himself, eyeing the students.

“Ah, a new year,” he said as if speaking to himself. “More strong people. Finally!”

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He approached them and started sniffing the air near the students, leaving them bewildered.

“What’s he doing?” Lucja whispered.

“Don’t ask,” Izak replied.

Finally, Borys grinned widely and burst into laughter.

“The principal sure has an eye for strong folks!” he exclaimed before walking off in his peculiar way.

“Weirdo,” Maja muttered, and the group moved on.

The dormitory turned out to be spacious and modern. The girls were assigned rooms on the right side of the hall, and the boys on the left. Each had their own room. At the entrance, they were greeted by their caretaker—a kind elderly woman named Tereska, who immediately began offering them homemade cookies.

“Welcome, dears. I hope you’ll feel at home here,” she said with a warm smile.

Looking around, Izak felt a sense of something new. Something greater.

The evening bathed the streets of Rzeszow in a soft orange glow from the streetlights. The city buzzed with life—people still sat in cafes along the boulevards, street musicians played on the corners, and the sounds of conversations and laughter echoed between the buildings. Yet, in one of the side alleys, far from the bustling crowds, a completely different scene unfolded.

A man in his fifties, dressed in an impeccable suit, ran nervously, weaving through pedestrians. His face was calm, oddly at odds with the urgency of his situation. He glanced over his shoulder—he saw them. A group of six men in leather jackets was forcing its way through the crowd.

“Split up!” barked the leader, a tall brunette with a scar on his left cheek.

Their steps were heavy, and each of the gangsters held something resembling an improvised weapon—baseball bats, knives, and even chains.

The man dashed into a narrow alley. The walls were covered in graffiti, and broken glass crunched underfoot. Shadows of rats scurried between piles of trash. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of dampness and rotting waste. The alley ended in a brick wall—a dead end.

“Hm… looks like I won’t need dinner tonight,” he muttered, gazing at the tall brick wall in front of him.

Seconds later, his pursuers entered the alley. The leader eyed the man and let out a quiet laugh, tapping a baseball bat against his open palm.

“You thought you could outsmart us, old man? Your tricks don’t work anymore.”

The man turned slowly, a mocking calmness on his face.

“Oh, they work… but they require time,” he replied in a voice so steady it was almost unsettling.

The leader spat on the ground, his face contorting in anger.

“I don’t give a damn about your time! You’ll pay for wasting mine!”

The older man raised an eyebrow as if the entire situation amused him.

“Or perhaps it’s not about time, but your complete lack of talent?”

“Take him down!” snarled the leader, unable to bear the man’s derisive tone any longer.

Before the gangsters could act, two figures emerged from the shadows on either side of the older man. A woman and a man.

The woman had dark green hair tied into a high bun and cold, blue eyes. She was dressed elegantly, wearing a black coat and leather gloves. The man, with tousled blond hair tied in a short ponytail, had a casual demeanor, exuding confidence and ease.

“Sir Rascal,” the woman said in a calm, icy voice. “These insects are unworthy of your attention. Please, allow us to eliminate them.”

Rascal glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a slight smile curling his lips.

“No need, Marta. I haven’t eaten in a while.”

His body began to change. He grew taller, towering over three meters, his skin transforming into scaly armor. His gray hair lengthened, turning a deep navy blue, and long black horns sprouted from his head. His eyes glowed with an orange light, and his mouth revealed rows of sharp, shark-like teeth.

“Marta, create a sound barrier,” he commanded, casting her a brief glance.

“Understood,” she replied, raising her hands. Moments later, the air around them vibrated, muffling every sound that might escape the alley.

The gangsters stood frozen, their faces painted with sheer panic. One knelt and began whispering a prayer, another tried to run, but the narrow alley left him no chance.

“Run!” shouted a third, attempting to climb the wall.

Rascal lunged at them with inhuman speed. His claws tore into the first gangster, who collapsed to the ground, letting out a blood-curdling scream. With one swift motion, Rascal ripped off the man’s arm before sinking his teeth into his neck. Blood spurted onto the cobblestones, and the sound of crunching bones filled the air.

Another gangster tripped over a trash bag, falling backward. Rascal leaped onto him in a single bound, snapping his spine and tossing the body aside like a discarded toy.

The leader pulled out a pistol and fired several shots, but the bullets bounced off Rascal’s scaly skin as if they were made of paper. Rascal looked at him with amusement, licking the blood from his lips.

“That’s adorable, how hard you’re trying,” he said, his deep voice rumbling like a predator’s growl.

The gangster’s hand trembled, and the pistol slipped from his grip before he could fire again. Rascal lifted him effortlessly by the neck, holding him like a rag doll. The leader let out a muffled whimper, which was abruptly cut short as Rascal tore out his throat with his teeth.

Within minutes, the alley became a scene of carnage. Pools of blood spread between the remnants of the bodies, the stench of death saturating the air.

Rascal wiped his face clean of blood and glanced at Marta and Aleksander.

“I didn’t even get a proper meal,” he muttered irritably.

Aleksander shrugged, surveying the massacre.

“Boss, there’s nothing left but scraps. How are we supposed to clean this up?”

Marta shot him a look of disapproval before turning to Rascal.

“Sir Rascal, may I remind you that you have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

The beast sighed, his body beginning to revert to its human form.

“Ah… I need to change. Aleksander, handle this,” he said, gesturing to the bloody alley.

Aleksander looked at the mess and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Got it, boss.”

Rascal turned and walked toward the exit, his footsteps echoing in the now silent alley.

Every day, reality revealed its darker facets, blurring the line between predator and prey. This game, where humans were mere tools, was just beginning, and the worst was yet to come.

End of Season One