In the beginning, the Earth was largely populated by humans. Many deities came from afar to fight against them, shaping the new world in all its current facets. The sun and stars shone in a different sky than the celestial vault visible today. Additionally, according to some, if it weren't for wine giving relief to people's souls, perhaps we would never have made it to the present day. Vedì voialtrì...

These were the opening words of an old poem whose remaining part unfortunately had been lost in the sands of time. The fragments recovered by scholars throughout the various ages had at least allowed those few lines to remain in the libraries of the erudite. However, even after tens of thousands of years of study, the meaning of the last two words had remained a mystery.

The language in which they had been written now existed only within the long continent of Coa. There was no one left who could understand or speak it. Yet, the shadow of that ancient language had still remained in use in some professions, in some laws of times gone by, or in some particular locations. Although, regarding this last point, nobody really knew how deep its legacy truly was; after all, the origins of many names, which most people considered normal, had simply been lost in the habit of everyday life.

In any case, only a handful of scholars per generation had pursued research into that specific field of ancient linguistics. On the contrary, the rest of the population, including the great Patriarchs who had been alive for hundreds of years, used those terms with the same carelessness and naturalness with which they had treated them since childhood. Indeed, among the beautiful lands of Coa, there was often much else to worry about.

A man with a similar approach to the matter, provided he was aware of it in the first place, was dear Giulio. Son of a blacksmith like many others, he had refused to take his father's place when the Old Lady had come to visit him. Instead, he chose to sell his soul to Asparetto's army, his hometown located in the East of the continent, less than a day's horseback ride from the beautiful sea.

It left a bad taste in the mouth to say that one 'sold their soul' to the army, but that was how enlistment was defined. Not because the pay was too low, in the end, a simple soldier brought home enough money to afford a dignified life, nor were the demands unreasonable.

No. That ugly expression was used because one could be recalled to arms even after being discharged. It happened rarely, for sure, but with all the Monsters migrating and the small skirmishes that broke out from time to time, there had been a couple of occasions where grandparents had to fight alongside their grandchildren.

However, if one really became the property of the State once they entered the army, why did the demands never decrease year by year? Also, just to make it clear, Asparetto remained one of the richest and most historic cities to ever claim the territory beyond the Alpine mountain range as its own. Not a bunch of desperate people.

Well, remember when I was talking about grandparents? Don't be mistaken thinking that they were fossils useful only as cannon fodder. When a human being passed the hundred-year mark, just one of them was enough to send an entire platoon of well-trained twenty-year-olds to the other world.

The reason? I see that we're not really from the same field. Anyway, the answer was simple. Humans had learned to emulate other creatures that inhabited the planet, capable of absorbing the energy present in the air around them. The name they had given to that particular energy was Mana, while those who spent their lives absorbing it to become stronger were called Cultivators. In other words, a human capable of surpassing human limits.

Giulio had spent his childhood admiring those individuals and their incredible abilities. He was so passionate about becoming a Cultivator that he eagerly sought out opportunities to observe them in action, even placing himself in potentially dangerous situations to do so.

That's why, trying to make something good out of life's misfortunes, he put aside his mother's worries and complaints and applied to join the army, one of the very few ways for low-income citizens to have the opportunity to become a Cultivator. Also, once his father's shop was sold, the boy had managed to save enough money to support his family for at least the necessary time.

And, it must be said, Giulio showed some talent. After passing the entrance exam and about six months of training among the recruits, his physique had already reached a sufficient level to attempt the great leap. In addition, his instructor had taken a liking to him, which played in his favor and allowed him to become a true Cultivator at the age of nineteen and to be transferred to the Military Academy of Asparetto.

There he would deepen the art of Cultivation together with all the other army recruits who, like him, had achieved reasonable results during training. After that, once they became Academy students, they would gain access to its facilities and lessons for a generally three to five year period, except in particularly rare cases. However, once transferred, he discovered that life was not too different from when he was among the recruits of the Academy. The only difference was that in the afternoon, he could train in the Techniques he preferred or attend the public lessons of the Instructors. The choice was his.

At the moment, the boy had just finished the morning training session with the rest of the students. That was the only time of the day when the various Platoons, which were the groups in which the students had been divided, gathered in the common field. “Have you decided which lesson to go to in the afternoon?” Martina, one of the few girls among the recruits who also happened to be in his same Platoon, asked him while wiping the sweat dripping from her forehead and chin.

Giulio, however, had lost himself in thought for a moment and answered absentmindedly, “Ah... No, I don't know,” scratching his nose and forcing a smile, showing himself a little down. For this reason, another member of his Platoon, a tanned-skinned boy from a merchant family named Luigi, jokingly slapped him on the back and added with a fake smile, “Don't tell me you're still thinking about it? Come on, even the good ones need one or two attempts to improve their Cultivation. And with the shitty face you have, do you think you can do better than them? Come on, the only thing you've done well lately is losing Credits in bets,” jumping back towards the end of his speech to avoid Giulio grabbing him by the sleeve, teasing his friend with feline agility.

"Come here! Come here, you ugly bastard!" Giulio shouted at him when he couldn't catch him, only able to stare at him while the other kept a safe distance. However, he knew his companion well and, wanting to both beat him up and gain something from it, he decided to target his weak points: "Always fast on your feet, eh?" He crossed his arms and, while staring him straight in the eyes, added: "And what if we went to the Arena to see if you can run away that well there too? We could make a bet between the two of us and even have an Instructor as a referee. You shouldn't have anything to worry about, since you're so good at losing Credits, right?"

Luigi stopped suddenly, interested in the offer. Actually, he was a bit low on School Credits and making some cash wouldn't hurt. Plus, betting was always an exhilarating experience; not to mention the fact that, besides betting, the only other way to get Credits were the Missions, which unfortunately were currently exhausted, and achieving certain goals or results within the Academy. So... "Well, I'd say we can do it." He replied after thinking about it carefully, clenching his fist already excited.

He then immediately raised the stakes with a: "Do we want to do it now? Or wait until after lunch?", showing confidence in his abilities, despite being mostly mediocre, and reducing the distance between them by a step. Martina could only shake her head at the childish ways of the two companions who would have to save her life tomorrow, really unable to understand how they could get so worked up so quickly.

"Again? Are you serious, guys?" Even Giorgio, the last member of the Platoon and one of the physically strongest recruits of the year, reacted with a mix of disappointment and tiredness in front of yet another dispute from the nursery. However, seeing that the two were already in their own little world, he added, this time with a more severe tone: "If you have all this time to waste, why don't you use it to come up with a plan to reach the podium in the next Simulated Battle? We've already been screwed out of third place twice. I have no intention of losing the podium bonuses again just because you two have other shit on your minds."

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Well, what can I say? The rage of the big guy was more than understandable. As the Platoon Captain, he was the one who put his face out there much more than the others. And it was also true that, if in the last two simulations Giulio and Luigi had followed the plan instead of competing against each other, their team would probably have really reached third place; but they had been outsmarted by the Platoon led by that damned arrogant woman not once, but twice. Or at least as far as the last point was concerned, Giorgio saw it that way.

Anyway, the puppet show quickly came to its conclusion. Naturally, not thanks to a sudden and newfound maturity from the two idiots, but because of the arrival of Diego Ligure, one of the Senior Instructors of the Academy. The man called over the Instructor who had supervised the training up until that point, a slightly chubby but friendly-looking guy who liked to go home early in the evening and answered to the name of Roberto Frontolli, in order to coordinate the movements of the various Platoons.

"Mr. Ligure?" the poor guy who had just finished his morning work greeted him with caution. "Am I interrupting anything?" Diego asked in response, not wanting to interrupt the training of the recruits.

"Ah...no, don't worry. They're done for today. Rather, that boy...who would he be? An acquaintance of yours?" Roberto immediately added, paying close attention not to say anything he might regret and putting himself totally at Diego's disposal. After all, he appreciated his job and certainly didn't want to get into trouble with a superior. Also, if he got into trouble, his wife at home wouldn't hesitate to bite off his balls.

"No," Diego cut him off, not finding overly-enthusiastic subordinates to his liking. In any case, after making it clear that he had something to say to all the recruits, he gave Roberto time to call and gather the various Platoons in front of them.

Oh, isn't that the Rector's right-hand man? What is he doing here?"

"But do you know who that boy is? He can't be his son, can he?"

"Why would a Major Instructor come from people like us?"

"Good question... Shouldn't he be the personal instructor of one of the Great Families? Do you think he wants to choose his new personal pupil among us?"

A barely perceptible murmur rose among the members of the various Platoons. A new pupil? God, I wish I were so optimistic in life. Martina thought, remaining silent in the second row next to Giulio; just before shifting her gaze towards the boy next to the Major Instructor.

Oh god, maybe "boy" wasn't the most suitable term to describe him. However, his facial features seemed to have retained the typical delicacy of adolescents while presumably having reached the age of majority. Even the physique semi-hidden under the tunic with frayed edges seemed to belong to a person who had never lifted a weight in his life. The shoulders and deltoids in particular were so underdeveloped that even Martina was more muscular than him in those points.

"Silence! I said silence!" Roberto shouted, mustering both breath and character to make a good impression. Once he had obtained silence, he gave his superior free rein with a wave of his hand. "Thank you," said Diego, accompanying the words with a nod of his head. Then, he turned his attention to the recruits in front of him, slowly judging their current abilities.

"Very well," he said after waiting long enough, "I apologize for interrupting your morning," before using his right arm to shift the attention towards the boy he had brought along.

"Let me introduce Mr. Carlo Becchi. Due to particular circumstances, he has been accepted as a new recruit to our Academy, even though the selection period has already ended. I would like you not to harbor any ill will about this. Mr. Becchi, can you introduce yourself to the rest of the students? The people you see here right now are the latest arrivals at the Academy, you can consider them your classmates," he said, maintaining the same composed expression from beginning to end.

He spoke to the crowd without any haste, crossing one word after another without getting flustered for a moment, even though the people around him, including Roberto, were looking at him as if they were facing a ghost.

"Mr. Becchi?"

"The Instructor just addressed a recruit formally?" "I have never heard of such a thing, not even the Great Families can hope for such treatment." The boys were so surprised that they forgot the discipline they had learned from the first day and started whispering.

Not that their Instructor was in any condition to tell them anything, as he was stuck in a state of confusion. How could you blame him though? As officers of the Asparetto army, their social position was already quite high. A Senior Instructor enjoyed an even higher rank and the respect he was owed was overshadowed only by a handful of individuals who could be counted on one hand. Not even the Patriarchs of the three Great Families, the local family clans with the most powerful cultivators and the richest chests, dared to take him for granted.

Who the hell was this kid to deserve better treatment than the firstborn of a Great Family?

A legitimate question, for sure, but the answer was not very poetic. As proof of this, I can report to you the first words that came out of the boy's wide mouth: "Oh, hello love. I was brought here against my will," stopping for a moment just to raise his arms as if he were under arrest. "Do you have something to drink? Maybe a little wine?" The boy didn't even hesitate for a moment to treat a training ground like a tavern counter.

I suppose it's needless to say, but the poor recruits gathered in front of him were particularly confused. In fact, some of the kindest-hearted ones even began to worry about the strange little boy who had just arrived. After all, Asparetto was not a rural village where you could get away with things in broad daylight, and even less so within its Military Academy, where respect for superiors was taught rigorously from the very first lesson.

However... well, since Diego had let it go without a fuss... well, what were they supposed to do exactly? Even poor Roberto was wondering about it. On one hand, not disciplining a recruit after such behavior would be a humiliation for him and for the entire Academy; where honor and discipline always had to take precedence, regardless of the social position of the person involved.

At the same time, bypassing Diego, the officer with the highest rank among them, and punishing behavior that he himself had not reported would mean ridiculing a superior in front of the recruits. In short, if their goal was to save face, then the only option was to say nothing; on the other hand, if they wanted to make a good impression, risking digging their own grave, they had to get involved in the affairs of the Rector's right-hand man.

Roberto chose the first option, staying on the sidelines like a good boy.

Diego, on the other hand, didn't seem too bothered by Carlo's nonsense, but still let out a brief sigh and a glance without much bite in his direction. "Very well," he said calmly, turning his attention back to the recruits, "From today, Mr. Carlo Becchi will train with you. Please treat him with the respect he deserves. If I were to become aware of any violence or bullying, know that the Academy will take action. Keep in mind that Mr. Carlo has been personally recommended by Mr-"

At that point, and without any warning, the man suddenly stopped talking, silencing himself and changing color for the first time since he had reached the training field.

The boys understood even less, same goes for Roberto. Their minds were too busy thinking about the warning they had just received to realize such a trivial detail. After all, within the city limits, those words would have been enough to even clear someone of a murder accusation in the middle of the square. Not even the richest merchant could hope to buy such a resource.

Meanwhile, while further confusion devoured the psyche of those present, Diego did something quite peculiar. Clearly worried, he looked carefully first to one side and then the other, studying the surroundings as if he was looking for someone.

Carlo was the only one to understand the reason behind that strange gesture, chuckling under his breath and commenting without reservation: 'We risked awakening an ugly beast. Well, my friend, I understand the issue, but do you still risk presenting it in that way? Ah... I thought you were a longtime companion of that madman. Poor Tiziano, and to think he tries so hard to make himself look good,' shooting down one of the most important names in Asparetto as if he were talking about a simple friend.

My friend? Madman? Poor Tiziano? Roberto finally connected the dots, more or less understanding who Carlo was referring to. However, for his mental health, he would have preferred to remain in the dark about everything. As far as he was concerned, the newcomer's behavior had already reached absurd and crazy levels; to the point that even a man like him, who in normal situations would have preferred to sell his own mother to avoid trouble, found himself asking: 'Who the fuck is this guy?' in a clear moment of weakness that he only realized after the fact.

Diego sighed a second time, ignoring the question and instead saying: 'Mr. Carlo Becchi was personally recommended by Miss Tiziano Targetti. This is the first time the Mayor's right-hand man has recommended someone to the Academy. I expect you to treat him with the respect that a man of his caliber deserves.' Concluding with a renewed calm in his voice and gaze, avoiding emphasizing the fact that the Mayor's right-hand man was equivalent to the position of second-in-command of the entire Asparetto, as anyone in that city was obviously aware of.

“Really? I wouldn't like to be treated with kid gloves”' Carlo jumped into the conversation, waving his right hand as if swatting flies. He chuckled and said again, “Let's all get along, okay? But if you want to give me some wine or beer, know that I have a good taste. Especially since I've had to tighten my belt on that front for a couple of days, so gifts are welcome.” Showing a friendly expression and an unprecedented ability to not give a damn about everything and everyone, including instructors and top bosses.

A good start to the day, I dare say, albeit a little stressful for the more delicate hearts.