Since that day, I've been having the same dream.
A man—tall, silent, with long black hair—suspended by black chains. I can never see his face… only those eyes.
Glowing. Purple. Piercing through me like they know something I don't.
"What's happening to me...?"
That thought haunted me again as I walked the long road to Babylon Academy—the only combat academy in all of Babylon.
Here, they teach real fighting. Combat theory. And most importantly, only the top 20 students are given licenses to explore the gates.
Gates that have already been discovered and claimed.
So… this dream can't mean anything. Right?
---
After hours of theory class, the moment every student anticipates—or dreads—arrived.
Practical Combat.
Today, it was my turn to face someone in a mock battle.
And not just anyone.
Andriya Snops—the number one delinquent in our class.
The guy who won his match yesterday without breaking a sweat.
I heard his voice before I even saw him.
> "Yo, Ryen... how ya feelin' today?
No one's gonna save your rat-ass now."
His voice dripped with venom.
> "You were gettin' real cozy with Serina yesterday, huh? You got a death wish or somethin'?"
"I… I wasn't doing anything," I stammered. "We were just talking."
> "You're even talking over me now?" he snarled.
"Enough!" our instructor barked.
"All right, students. Today's match: Ryen vs. Andriya Snops. Begin!"
---
[Mock Battle Begins]
The circle formed. Everyone stepped back. The atmosphere buzzed with tension.
Andriya moved first—fast, aggressive, confident.
He came at me with a low sweep aimed at my legs. I jumped back just in time, barely keeping my balance.
Then came a left jab—faint. I ducked, but his real attack followed: a roundhouse kick aimed at my ribs.
Thud!
I blocked with both arms. Pain shot up, but I stayed on my feet.
> Don't try to win.
Survive.
I focused on dodging, weaving side to side. His punches were fast, but not unpredictable.
He threw a spinning elbow—I ducked and countered with a desperate right hook.
Blocked.
He smirked, then slammed his knee into my gut.
I gasped, falling back, skidding on the floor.
> "C'mon, fight me, you coward!" he shouted.
I stood up, barely. Blood in my mouth.
I threw a punch—it grazed his cheek. His eyes narrowed.
Then he charged.
Three quick jabs. One I dodged. Two landed.
Another heavy punch. I blocked. But he swept my legs.
I hit the ground hard.
Andriya stood over me, victorious.
"Match over!" the instructor called.
I coughed and looked up at the ceiling.
Why do I keep seeing those eyes?
Why do they feel... familiar?