Deterioration

Outside dorm room one, Anon closed the door behind him with a click.

Seth simultaneously stepped out, staring intently at Anon with a broad smile. His eyes did not show a smile though.

"What's up with you?" Anon asked whilst squinting his eyes when he saw Seth's expression.

Seth scratched his chin, "Do you not feel it? The pains and sufferings of others..."

"Today is a great day, I feel brilliant."

"Alright," Anon sighed.

The events of last night still occupied most of his mind.

He had forgotten half of what occurred, including some of the things he had said. Yet, as he reflected on what he did remember, he found himself at a loss for words.

When he acclimatized to his nightmares, they often returned stronger and more painful. But last night, he felt no pain at all.

'It was as if there was a hole in my mind,' Anon thought, using the word "hole" in a metaphorical sense.

There was a feeling that something essential had slipped away from his mind, leaving behind an incompleteness that was almost unbearable.

"Incompleteness" might not even be the most accurate word. It felt as if his mind had once been contained within a box, but now a hole had appeared in that box.

His thoughts seeped out into the world, which was far too vast. He stretched and stretched to encompass it until he finally snapped.

Yet, even that wasn't a precise description.

The word that best captured his experience was: indescribable!

As the duo trotted down the hallway, a couple of doors opened, revealing some of the newer students.

"Good morning," greeted a black-haired boy with bushy eyebrows.

But Anon was lost in thought; the events of last night were simply too incomprehensible.

Seth, on the other hand, glanced at Anon with a smile, his own thoughts swirling in his mind.

The boy had a pair of black eyes that seemed like two abysses.

As he watched the duo pass by without acknowledging him, a smile tugged at his lips, unfazed by their indifference.

"Geniuses are geniuses. They're two of the six who appeared in the earlier program and are stellar geniuses," another student approached him and said.

"Is that so…"

The boy's black eyes shifted to the corner of his sclera, locking onto the incoming student. Under that gaze, the student felt a strange sensation welling up in his heart.

He stood silently, almost like an idiot, as the black-haired boy closed the door to his room and made his way down the hallway, and up the stairway, toward the cafeteria.

'What's wrong with him?' The student thought.

There was nothing particularly odd about his actions or words, but there was something indescribable about it, maybe it felt weird or just wrong.

…

Before long, it was already nine in the morning.

Walking inside one of the many buildings in military zone #91, Anon was slightly taken aback.

There were many more individuals which made the place crowded. Some were visibly confused, searching all around for the classrooms that they were assigned to.

When the duo reached their classroom, the two instructors and three of the four stellar geniuses were already present, with only Nickyle missing.

But there weren't any new students, confusing Anon.

After all, Rolan and Parkinson were the instructors for the camp of ten thousand, at least, that was what they had said.

"Where are the other students of this class?" Anon turned to Mr. Park and asked.

"Other students?" Mr. Park smiled, "Besides Nickyle, there are no missing students."

Rolan grinned, "We're instructors of the camp of ten thousand, tasked with instructing stellar geniuses, and stellar geniuses alone."

"Basically, if there aren't any stellar geniuses, then we wouldn't have any work to do."

Rolan continued, "But we were directly in charge of the genius program hence, even though Andrew and Melissa weren't stellar fighters, they were students of the genius program, so we still taught them earnestly."

Compared to two weeks ago, Rolan was visibly and obviously much calmer and endearing, but this was a momentary calm.

Soon after, Nickyle stepped into the classroom.

At first, no one really took him on, after all, they had grown accustomed to one another's presence.

But not much time passed when they began glancing at him with strange gazes.

His skin was sickly pale.

Not to be mistaken with Seth's unusually pale skin, this complexion did not add to his charm, in fact, right now, nothing about him was charming.

Under his eyes were dark circles that hinted at a night filled with restlessness.

His eyes were reddish and watery as he sometimes sniffled, seemingly suffering from a case of rhinorrhea.

Rhinorrhea was a fancy way to say runny nose.

More importantly, Nickyle had a dry cough and though subtly, during this class, his body would sometimes tremble in what appeared to be pain.

Mr. Park glanced at him and frowned.

In this day and age, humans, for the most part, did not suffer from sickness and disease, stellar fighters especially.

But when he called Nickyle out of class and asked him what the matter was, the boy claimed to be fine and began actively ignoring Parkinson's worries.

Like this, time passed.

July the second quickly became the seventh.

During that time, many things took place…

For the stellar geniuses, they were ruthlessly hammered under the pressure of the gravity chambers, with the gravity within becoming more and more overbearing as the days went by.

It seemed as if the two instructors had turned over a new leaf with the commencement of the camp of ten thousand, and were determined to see how far they could push these geniuses before they died of exhaustion.

Especially Rolan, who at times, argued with Parkinson, saying things like, 'you should stop being so soft,' and 'let them die, it just means they weren't really geniuses.'

At the same time, Nickyle's condition had worsened significantly over the past few days.

Seth and Anon were in a league of their own, while Catharina and Andrew were closely matched in strength. Nickyle stood as a bridge between these two pairs.

However, as time went on and his condition deteriorated, much less confronting Anon and Seth, he was no longer Catharina's equal. Now, he struggled to put up a fight against Andrew, ranking just above Melissa in terms of strength.

At times, he would rush out of ongoing classes, emptying his insides into the washroom sink or toilet.

When he vomited, it was a mixture of blood and obvious lumps of meaty substances.

Yet, this wasn't even the worst of it.

At night, things truly became chaotic for him.

He spent most of his time not sleeping but in the bathroom as blood leaked from his nostrils, a steady crimson stream staining his lips and dripping onto the ground.

He wept a disturbing shade of red that trickled down his cheeks, mingling with the crimson fluid seeping from his ears.

Seeing his own form brought back memories of that night.

At times, he could see them—the pair of crimson orbs staring at him from the darkness.

Just thinking about it made him shiver.

"Anon…!" he growled in wrath.

But soon after, he coughed up another mouthful of blood and fell to the ground, clutching his heart in wrenching pain.

His eyes seemed to burst with veins, bloodshot and swollen. "Curse you, Seth!" he shouted, knowing full well that this would only bring him more pain.

His arrogance had yet to die.

The death of his ego would truly be the death of his mind.

And the death of the mind was the truest form of death.

Naturally, his pain intensified as blood oozed from his pores.

Across his body, runic characters painted in blood-red slithered over his skin, flesh, and bones. They glowed, and as their brightness intensified, so did the pain he felt.

After enduring this every night, when July seventh arrived and he lost to Andrew in a spar, Nickyle did not resist when Mr. Park, unable to hold back any longer, ordered him to follow him to the infirmary.

Truthfully, he couldn't voice his desire to enter the infirmary, but that was what he wanted.

He truly couldn't handle it anymore.

He couldn't reveal this matter to anyone; just the thought of doing so intensified the movements of the runic characters, making him feel as if they were wrapping around his heart.

When they wrapped around his heart, he subconsciously knew that with one wrong move, he could instantly die.