Earlier that morning.

  05:27 am

  Room number #3, Glory Academy Year 1 Dormitory.

  *Swish* *Swish*

  A young man could be seen swinging a training sword—his eyes closed in concentration, going through multiple motions as if emulating a fight in his mind.

  *Swish* *Swish*

  Beads of sweat trickled down his face, but no matter what move he did—the grinning figure in his mind dismantled all of his moves masterfully with his bare hands.

  An overhead slash resulted in a jab to the throat before he could complete the attack.

  Blocking was pretty much useless since the opponent was using his bare hands—he would just grab the sword and yank it out of his hands.

  'And with that asshole's shitty personality, he would just break it apart and beat me up with the hilt..' The young man thought with a grimace, the mental image was so realistic, it seemed like a memory.

  A diagonal slash would result in his opponent slapping the side of the blade away, leaving him open to attack.

  A stab? Well, at least he could complete the attack, but it would just be dodged, once again leaving him open.

  'Unless…'

  As a new strategy popped into his mind, he changed his stance—his left foot forward, his right foot back, his left hand raised and open and his right hand holding the sword parallel to his head.

  A stabbing posture that allowed for recovery in case his attack failed.

  And just as he expected, as he lunged forward with a stab, his attack was easily dodged.

  However, as the figure attempted to land a kick to his abdomen—the attack was swiped away by his open left hand, allowing him to dash back.

  'Finally!' The young man thought in excitement. Although his attack was unsuccessful, this was the first time he had not been defeated instantly after his first attack.

  He opened his eyes, dismissing his imaginary fighter.

  He put down the training sword, drying off his sweat with a towel as he walked into his kitchen, running a cup under the tap.

  His white bracelet vibrates as he gets an incoming call. The young man looks down at the phone symbol on one of the beads of his connector.

  He sighed—already having an idea of who the incoming caller was.

  A deeper grimace than the one in his fight emerged on his face, he eventually relented with a sigh and answered the call after calming his expression.

  "Are you ready, Arthur?" The cold voice of his father comes through the line, although it was phrased like a question of concern—the tone he asked it in left no room for doubt.

  "…Yeah," Arthur responds, different to his determined self while training—his clear blue eyes clouded over in uncertainty.

  "Speak clearly," His father responds with a firm edge in his voice, although he didn't shout—Arthur could almost hear the clenching of his father's jaw through his voice.

  "Yes, Patriarch," Arthur responds, his determined self returning.

  The call ended without even a goodbye, not an ounce of parental love could be felt from that conversation, but Arthur was long since used to that.

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  He clenched the table in frustration, cracks could be seen forming on the counter.

  ***

  After completing his usual morning routine, Arthur looked at himself in the mirror.

  To others, what they would see was a heroic figure, though not as tall as Giuseppe or Marcus—his compact and lean figure told of his immense capability.

  His long white hair was tied into a ponytail, with sharp red highlights. His clear blue eyes were reminiscent of the summer sky.

  He is wearing an old-style three-piece black suit with red floral patterns and rose gold cufflinks. Arthur adjusts his tie and hair to look presentable, he takes out some face moisturiser for good measure.

  "Learn to live and love the lie, right?" He mutters to himself while slapping his cheeks.

  However, to him. The only thing he saw in the mirror was a scared little boy in the clutches of a family that didn't care for him.

  The sight alone caused a clench in his jaw, and his eyes narrowed in frustration.

  'Calm. Calm. Calm…' He repeats in his mind like a mantra.

  Walking out of his room, Arthur takes a glance at the time.

  [07:38 am]

  He hears a click from a neighbouring door, without even looking—Arthur already knew who it was.

  "Hey, Tandav. Do you know what classes we'll be doing today?" He asks the teen walking out of the room.

  Tandav is a minuscule amount taller than Arthur (around 6'0 tall), with tanned bronze skin, dark blue eyes and long wavy auburn hair that looks like it is straight from a hair advertisement.

  He has a thin but lean build, like a professional swimmer. Wearing a light grey long-sleeve shirt and beige khakis.

  Easily, one could tell that many would consider him attractive.

  Tandav looked at Arthur up and down with a scrutinising gaze, he eventually deadpanned at Arthur after realising what he was wearing.

  "…We have arena, you know…" Tandav says after a long pause.

  Arthur was silent, but he looked like the soul left his body.

  "Why? Just why?" That question seemed to come from the deepest parts of his very soul.

  "Come on, man. You should know by now how this school works. How do you think someone like Giuseppe was able to be ranked 1, huh? It sure as hell ain't for his academic ranking, that guy has the worst grades I have ever seen. I mean, seriously. You have to try to be that stupid," Tandav says with a chuckle.

  Arthur looked defeated as he realised how na?ve he had been.

  Glory Academy only worked under one principle: Might makes right.

  All other rules and regulations were secondary to that.

  "But still, I at least thought that since it's the day before D-Day, we wouldn't really have to do any kind of strenuous activity.

  "Argh, whatever. I can't be bothered to change clothes anyway, so I guess I will just have to fight in this," Arthur relents with a sigh.

  "Suit yourself, then. Anyway, let's go get Daniel. he should be in the library, as usual."