That beautiful white powder, so beloved by old-school travelers and scholars, usually had no way of entering the borders of the Asparetto Military Academy. Not so much because of any law or regulation, but for a matter of simple common sense. In a place where time was limited and results were everything, who could be so foolish as to shoot themselves in the foot?

Well... With the clues they had obtained up to that point, many of the recruits began to seriously think that that boy named Carlo Becchi had snorted a couple of strips of pure snow. Otherwise, how could they explain to the jury the events they had just witnessed? Not even the most drunken country judge on the continent would have let them speak without interrupting.

"I see you are loyal to duty here..." the dear Carlo resumed, not having received any response from the recruits. He slowed down his tongue only to let out a brief sigh, then took that momentary pause to take a quick look at the boys in line in front of him, as Diego had done a little earlier.

Cultivation, after all, was not everything in the world. Of course, for the eye that could only observe the most superficial details, the amount of Mana stored and maintained within a human body was often a good ninety percent of the result. Reality, however, proved, as in many other cases, always much richer in details than ordinary people could understand.

"And to think that you are making do with what is left available," the boy added, turning slowly towards Diego. He also studied him without any hurry, careful not to let anything escape him that the little Aura that spontaneously leaked out of his body could tell him. Mana, after all, always tried to expand and return to the earth; for this reason, it was more than natural that even the best Cultivators released a tiny amount of it during the day.

Then he said to him, with a smile of cheerful tones: "You're doing a good job here. I expected much rougher care, but I have to change my mind. If even these kids were able to develop such a solid Cultivation Base at their age... Oh well. Maybe I shouldn't find anything strange about it," gently shaking his head towards the end of his speech as if he had just realized he had stated the obvious.

"Thank you for the kind words," replied old Diego without hesitation, not even worrying for a moment about his position as Senior Instructor. From his point of view, he was already too old to keep up with certain formalities. Moreover, as he saw it, the person who had just spoken to him carried both the authority of the Academy Rector and Tiziano, making him in fact his superior.

Whether he was just talking to hear himself talk or knew more about Cultivation than him did not matter.

"Very well," he said before giving Roberto a final glance to make him understand how he should do his job from then on. Then he briefly nodded to Carlo and waved goodbye to the recruits, finally leaving the whole issue behind, aware that, in the future, the problems that Carlo might cause would no longer be his direct responsibility.

With the curtains raised, poor Roberto Frontolli was left to handle everything. Although, to be completely honest, he did not want to have anything to do with the newcomer. Unfortunately, however, his salary had been coming in regularly for several years. So, with a heavy heart, the chubby Instructor approached Carlo, being as careful as possible and rubbing his hands as he usually did to fight off the tension.

"So... Mr. Carlo. How do you wish to proceed?" She asked with a friendly expression that the recruits had never seen before. The boy, however, tilted his head to the side, accompanying the gesture with another sigh. He looked directly into his partner's eyes and said, "Let's forget about formalities, okay? It would be a drag for everyone, right?" clapping his palms together a couple of times and fiddling with his fingers. Then, with enviable ease and lightness, he continued, "So. How are things usually handled here?"

"Ah... Well... So how are things usually handled?" Repeated the other poor soul after a series of undignified groans, taking as much time as possible to reflect on how to answer. From what he had seen, the boy certainly had the potential to ruin the life he had worked so hard for. At the moment, not knowing how best to mitigate the risk, he came to the conclusion that he had to treat him with all the honors he would give to his superior. A task that proved to be more difficult than it had seemed, despite the extensive experience the man had in that field.

Unlike the classic sons of good families, and good mothers, that little hellion was giving confidence to anyone and everyone without any care for etiquette, and worse, was demanding the same from others. Roberto thought it was a peculiar combination, at least in those parts, and finally chose his fate. He made a bet with destiny, hoping not to be used as a scapegoat at the first opportunity.

"Here in the Academy, we divide recruits into Platoons. Basically, as you can see, we divide them into groups and the way they are grouped now corresponds to their arrangement in Platoons." At that point, he scratched his head, not knowing how to proceed. After all, the directives he had always received were designed to explain those concepts to normal recruits, and the speech register he used at the beginning of the year was not appropriate for the current task.

Not wanting to waste too much time, he put together to the best of his abilities a 'highly digestible' speech that was neither too down-to-earth nor too refined. Unfortunately, he stumbled in the execution when his stomach loudly made its presence known. But let's pretend nothing happened, sometimes the effort is more important than the goals achieved.

"As tradition dictates, we Instructors are obliged to give greater importance to teachings useful to a group as a combat-ready unit rather than those that focus on the individual. For this reason, most of the time Platoon members are encouraged to stay together and separated from others." He concluded, accelerating his speech to hide his embarrassment and briefly donning the same poker face he used when he went out drinking with his superiors.

Carlo would have seriously preferred four curses and two white lies rather than being trapped, just like a nasty injury, in the chatter of his new acquaintance. However, not wanting to push the issue, he avoided repeating himself and moved on. Unfortunately, there were people in this world who never let their guard down, and trying to change their ways was almost always a waste of time and energy.

"Well, I guess I'll have to join one of these Platoons then," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning forward, scanning the crowd for someone who caught his interest. He asked shortly after while hopping with his eyes: "Although...I suppose it would be problematic both for me and the other recruits. It wouldn't make sense to compete at my age. What do you say if I stay on the sidelines and mind my own business?" Leaving, just for the sake of it, the last word to Roberto to avoid trampling too much on the authority of someone who had not done anything wrong to him. The Instructor, of course, gave him free rein on the matter. "Please, please..." he repeated several times, offering him the recruits with a broad gesture made with both hands.

Meanwhile, Carlo had already spotted a couple of guys with a friendly look. From what he could estimate, from a certain distance, the short-haired girl in the second row to the right, the guy with strange hair towards the back, and the other dark-skinned and tattooed guy, must have been those with the highest Cultivation among the recruits. All three of them were in different Platoons, and although Carlo didn't know it, they were the three teams that had made it to the podium in the last simulated Clash.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Their comrades also seemed to possess a certain character. This was news that made the new arrival's amused grin widen slightly, but it immediately eliminated all of them as possible choices. You could call it a bad habit, but most of the time, Carlo bet his money not on the horse given to win but on the one just one step below. Just for personal amusement, actually. In fact, if necessary, reconstructing the Cultivation of someone less developed required much less effort.

"So... well," he resumed as soon as he made a decision, walking step by step towards a common son of a blacksmith's shop who had lost the thread of the conversation at least a good ten minutes earlier. "Would you mind taking me for a little tour around the place? Tiziano brought me here without telling me much about it, and I don't feel like wandering around aimlessly." Carlo asked the Giulio's squad. He addressed Giorgio in particular, as he had spotted him immediately as their leader.

Just as he expected, he was the first to respond and, without even hesitating for a second longer than necessary, accepted the offer. "Certainly! Certainly! It's a pleasure for us! Indeed, it's a great honor for us!" He also raised his voice to make his Platoon's position clear before anyone could say anything about it.

Carlo appreciated the audacity but still jokingly reproved the big guy, tapping the back of his fist against his chest and saying, "It's nice to hear all this enthusiasm, but I already said I don't like formalities, right? And besides, now we're comrades-in-arms. Do we really need this bullshit?" He didn't mince words with his language.

In any case, Roberto took advantage of the situation, allowing the recruits to break ranks and continue with their day. All that drama they had been dragged into had gone on for too long and lunchtime was approaching. Escaping without attracting too much attention was the next phase of his plan; however, he changed his mind at the last minute and waved goodbye to Carlo extensively, before running away before the boy could even say half a word.

"Well, would you look at that..." Carlo commented shortly after with a certain sympathy for that chubby little man. Then, ignoring the stares of the recruits left at the training camp, he returned his attention to Giorgio's platoon, making sure to offer his hand, one by one, to all his companions.

They, still shaken by the long succession of nonsense, and personally I don't find any shame in it, responded to the courtesy by shaking his hand back almost as a conditioned reflex. However, Giorgio and Martina were the only ones who noticed how weak their comrade was and instinctively loosened their grip.

Instead of showing a painful expression, however, Carlo maintained his half-idiotic smile for the whole time, occasionally lowering his gaze without saying anything. Only when it was Giulio's turn did he seem to refuse to let go, using a little more force for the first time. Even in that case, he didn't say anything out loud. He just seemed to mumble something to himself, ignoring how he might appear to others and instead stopping for a moment to stare into space. "Well, would you look at that... This doesn't happen often," he said with a slightly louder voice.

Afterwards, once he had finished whatever he was trying to do, he let go of the blacksmith's son and asked again, addressing the entire platoon: "So, what do we want to do?" Leaving the field open to the band but suggesting, with a brief gesture of his hand above his belly, that he was hungry. It was almost lunchtime after all.

"Let's go to the dormitory first. Then we can all go to the mess hall to eat," Giorgio said, taking the opportunity to leave since, for his taste, some individuals from the other platoons were becoming too curious. "Does that sound like a good plan?" He continued to say, speeding up his speech, finding a Carlo on the other side of the barricade with a thumbs up.

Having decided on their course of action, the Platoon began to move towards their first stop: the dormitory. Or rather, Giorgio led the way while Martina tried to keep pace with the other two Sunday geniuses. Luigi and Giulio, both descendants of business owners who knew how to attract their customers, were like blocks of wood at that moment. Witnessing the arrival of the Rector's right-hand man and hearing Tiziano's name thrown into the mix with the same ease as a farmer spreading fertilizer in his fields had shaken them quite a bit.

It was quite a blow to hearts so young and full of admiration for those fundamental figures of the city.

In any case, just to get back to lighter topics, during the journey Giorgio tried to strike up a conversation as best he could, demonstrating that he had much less to lose than someone as cautious as Roberto. “Uh...” More out of self-preservation instinct than anything else, it was automatic for him to address Carlo formally, but Carlo briefly gave him a stern look. “Ah..” Understanding the message, Giorgio shook his head vigorously to recalibrate his approach. He then resumed with, “You said earlier that you're here against your will... Right? It's... It's a rather rare thing. Or at least I imagine it is. I doubt I've ever heard anything like it before... Uh... Uh... Ah... No? Maybe? I really wouldn't know…”

The conversation had started off on the right foot, but quickly ran into a wall as soon as the young man realized he had started with a personal question instead of some small talk.

A failure that, however, made Carlo chuckle. "Ah, that?" he replied after catching his breath, with both hands in his pockets as he continued to walk calmly beside his new companion. "That was bullshit," he said a few moments later with a second, slightly louder laugh, continuing with his explanation: "I mean, in general that's how I feel about it, but only because I was happy where I was. If Tiziano hadn't come to visit me, I would have stayed there enjoying the wine and tranquility. For some reason, though, I couldn't say no to him. And so here I am. You could say I have a debt of honor on my shoulders, assuming I have any honor at all," without going into too much detail so as not to bore Giorgio and the others with the story of his life.

Before the other could speak, however, he added: “I asked to be sent here. It was my whim,” raising his gaze to be able to look the big guy in the eyes. The smirk that was permanently stamped on his face became gradually wider as he said: “I find it quite interesting to witness the growth of the new generation up close. Plus, kids are the ones who make the most trouble, so there's always something to do.”

Giorgio, poor thing, couldn't say anything better than: “Ah... I see, I see,” since he had no idea how to continue the conversation. Not that it was all his fault in the end. Not to mention the strange way Carlo had just spoken about the young generation, a very peculiar expression considering where it had just come from, there was Tiziano's recommendation, in addition to the fact that, even though he was next to the boy, Giorgio didn't perceive even a bit of Mana coming from him.

As previously mentioned, a Cultivator was a sort of container and generator of Mana wandering around. Precisely for this reason, even if he tried to zero the leakage of Mana from his body, a minimal amount would inevitably escape his control. A condition even legendary Cultivators like Tiziano, who had been alive for several thousand years, couldn't escape. It was such basic knowledge that even newcomers to that world like Giorgio or Martina could realize the absurdity of a Cultivator with an Aura emission so low that he could pass as a normal human being.

A sort of contradictory condition that struck them like a bolt from the blue when they finally realized it.

“Uhm? Why so quiet?” And, in the same way, Carlo also seemed to realize the heavy atmosphere that was circulating. Maybe I should have made sure to be introduced in a less exaggerated way. I hadn't really thought about it. Oh, well. The first occasion involving alcohol will certainly make it easier to get along. He thought without trying to force a discussion, not having the slightest hurry to accelerate the pace. He had gone there mainly to have fun, not to work.

Anyway, in the end, the group reached the area designated for the dormitories. It was a sort of small square divided in half by a road made of large underground boulders held together by some kind of glue at the points where the contact surfaces did not fit perfectly. The upper part of these stones had been smoothed to eliminate any possible unevenness, a complex and expensive operation mostly useful for wheeled means of transportation.

"Oh! Old school, right? Have they reused it?" Carlo's first comment was as soon as he saw it, said with an expression on his face even happier and more cheerful than the previous ones. An unusual interest in the streets, but in the midst of the pile of strangeness, it went almost unnoticed.

"Well, I'm going to freshen up," Martina said, quickly saying goodbye to the others. Then she walked briskly towards a large wooden building on their left, also the only female dormitory in the area.

"See you in the cafeteria..."

"Later..."

"Don't stay up too late like usual..." Giorgio, Luigi, and Giulio reflexively said before returning to silence. Even Carlo also said goodbye, raising his arm upwards, but he was more interested in something else to say something to her.

In particular, he asked the three remaining boys, "So, are the dorms divided? Did you really get such bad service? Have things changed so much during my absence?" He even had the time and audacity to mimic holding a nice pair of generous breasts.