Assassin's Club

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the return to the school routine. I was already in the classroom, one of the first to arrive, and soon the hallways filled with the buzz of students. The main characters didn't take long to appear, bringing with them a wave of excitement. Neo's ability displayed in the coliseum was still the talk of the moment, and everyone seemed to vibrate with the energy of that demonstration.

Peter entered the room with his usual serenity, and everyone quickly took their seats. The class began, and the topic was fascinating: "What caused evolution in humans?" The discussion revolved around human peculiarity, the only species capable of evolving in such a unique way. The brightest minds in the world had already delved into this mystery, but no scientific theory could fully explain the phenomenon.

It was a known fact that only a select group in society experienced this evolution, awakening extraordinary powers that became their trademark, their signature in the world.

The school bell echoed, announcing the end of class and the start of the afternoon break, followed by club activities… I hurried out of the room, carried along by the stream of students toward the training center. Upon arrival, the place was already buzzing with the energy of those preparing for practice.

As I made my way to the shooting range, an arena caught my attention. Two figures faced each other with katanas, their movements a ballet of precision and grace. The metallic sound of their blades colliding reverberated through the space, but I only spared a fleeting glance before continuing on my path.

I reached the door of the shooting range and pulled the key from my pocket. "This place… I feel like I'll have good memories here," I murmured, turning the key in the lock. The door opened with a soft creak, and I stepped inside, sensing a strange feeling of belonging. "Let's see what you have for me today," I said to the empty range as I prepared for another training session.

---

"100 meters…" I exclaimed, a mixture of surprise and pride vibrating in my voice.

I stepped away from the iron sights, placing the AK-101 on the metal table beside me. The weapon, a specimen of Russian engineering, was a combination of polymers and metals, designed to be lightweight and deadly accurate

As my eyes scanned the humanoid target in the distance, marked by precise impacts, a thought invaded my mind: "Incredible… hitting every shot at this distance…"

I glanced to the side, where a chaotic collection of weapons rested on another table, all already used and now silent. "Time for the next one," I murmured, but before I could take a step toward the arsenal, the bell rang, pulling me back to reality.

"So, is it time for the clubs?" The question echoed in my mind as the afternoon break bell resonated through the hallway. There would be no more classes; it was the moment when students dispersed to their respective clubs.

I was a member of the assassins' club, an exclusive group where lethal skills were as valued as life itself. And it wasn't just me; Say was also a part of it.

With a resigned sigh, I began my walk toward the exit. The clutter of weapons and ammunition I left behind in the shooting range would have to wait.

The Battle Academy is an imposing complex, divided into meticulously planned sectors to meet the needs of students at different stages of their training. Each sector is a vital gear in the well-oiled machine that is the academy, and together, they form an ecosystem where future warriors are forged.

First-Year Sector: This is the starting point for all newcomers, where foundations are laid. Classrooms equipped with the latest interactive technology and virtual training labs make up this sector. Here, students learn the fundamental theories of battle and begin shaping their physical and mental abilities.

Second-Year Sector: The intermediate sector is where theory meets more intense practice. Outdoor training fields and simulated combat arenas allow students to test their skills in almost real scenarios. The curriculum becomes more specialized, allowing students to focus on their areas of interest.

Third-Year Sector: This is the domain of veterans, where students are refined into warriors. With access to advanced equipment and high-risk training missions, they are pushed to their limits. It's here that the assassins' club meets, in room 3-C, a place shrouded in mystery and reverence.

Each sector is interconnected by a network of corridors and open courtyards, allowing students to move freely across the campus. The academy's design ensures that despite the separation by years, there's a sense of unity and shared purpose. After all, everyone is there with a common goal: to become the best warrior they can be.

As I locked the door to the shooting range, checking my two pistols in their holsters, I joined the sweaty crowd of students eager to escape the congestion that had become the training center exit.

"Alright, let's go…"

The short walk to the third-year sector felt longer than usual. The buzz was palpable, with the wizard's club drawing a crowd of aspiring magicians and curious onlookers. But my destination was different: the assassins' club. I was determined not to cause a scene, or at least avoid any unnecessary commotion.

Facing room 3-C, the door opened into a different world. The futuristic interior, bathed in white and adorned with elegant minimalism, starkly contrasted with the rest of the academy. Modern sofas replaced traditional chairs and tables, and people were already there, immersed in their own conversations.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Barely had my foot touched the cold floor when all sounds seemed to cease; I felt the gazes turn toward me. It was as if my perception expanded, my field of vision widened, and I could see every pair of eyes fixed on me—a mix of curiosity and seriousness in their expressions.

Paralyzed for a moment under the weight of that collective attention, I swallowed hard. But gathering courage, I continued walking, feeling the stares accompany me with each step. It was an unofficial initiation ritual, a silent test of resilience under the scrutiny of the most skilled. 

I found refuge on an empty sofa, sinking into its promise of anonymity. "How long will they keep staring at me?" I wondered, feeling the weight of their inquisitive gazes.

But then, as if responding to my silent plea, someone entered through the door, and all eyes were torn away from me. She walked in—a presence that diverted attention like no other. Say, with her blond hair streaked with blue, moved with the confidence of someone who knew her own power. The headphones were her barrier against the world, and her expression was a clear warning: "Don't provoke me, or you'll regret it."

She didn't need to say a word; her reputation preceded her, and her gait was that of a predator among her prey. I couldn't help but smile; with Say in the room, I knew the dynamics were about to shift.

Say surveyed the room with an analytical gaze, her impassive expression hiding the surprise that sparkled in her eyes as she observed the assassins' club members. "They all exude a lethal aura," she reflected, a subtle smile tracing her lips. Among equals, she felt in her element.

Her gaze then settled on Nam-sam, the black-haired boy with a penetrating look that seemed to exude a calculated coldness. However, upon studying his posture, Say realized that he didn't pose a real threat. He was an enigma, an intriguing contrast to the environment around him.

Neo, for reasons she was still trying to comprehend, had chosen Nam-sam as a friend. Say saw nothing exceptional about him at first glance, but she trusted Neo's judgment. There was something about Nam-sam that had captured Neo's attention, and that was enough for Say to maintain a cautious interest in the boy. Perhaps, amidst Nam-sam's quiet demeanor, there was a depth that only Neo could perceive. And Say was determined to uncover what it was.