The common area of the dorm was a lively affair. The potentials excitement about their first day on campus was evident in the enthusiastic chatter that floated throughout the room. A large board had appeared on the wall, and everyone buzzed about what the rankings would be. The savage battle that had taken place but only a few hours ago now discussed like an old war story. Each potential with their own heroic battle to tell.

Layla felt none of the excitement. Her mood was dark and radiated off her in waves. Not a single person or group had approached her since she came down the stairs. The other potentials had sensed that she wanted to be left alone.

It was the exact opposite of what she needed, but it was also exactly what she wanted. Atom’s stunt had probably ruined her relationship with the first set of friends she had ever made on her own. Her insides twisted at what they must be thinking about her right now. The years they were currently spending in a mindless haze of focused training were probably the only thing holding back the growing hatred they had for her.

She only brought suffering to those around her, it seemed. Her parents, Jogen, and now… It wasn’t fair. Why was her life so crap. Why did so many bad things keep happening to her? Was this not supposed to be a fresh start. A new life that she could enjoy to the fullest. A place where she could gain control over her future.

The jovial chattering around her did not fit her mood. She was depressed, she was hurt, and most of all, she was angry. The more the room filled with bright excitement, the darker her thoughts became. Layla wanted pain, and she wanted to inflict pain.

A new fire inside her mind space was growing. It was a morose and hateful thing. She did not know when it had come to life, but she fed it all of her feelings. With each ephemeral log of her vengeful emotions thrown on the fire, the more her anger amplified.

Her earlier session of destruction in the room wasn’t enough to sate her. Layla needed to break something or… someone. Yes, a fight would be perfect now. She looked around. The mohawk guy had been eyeing her earlier, hadn’t he?

No, she… she shouldn’t do that. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she control herself? A feeling in her chest rose up inside. A pain that had been buried deep. A wound that refused to heal. She was so… alone. Alone like she had never been before. No one she could trust if she needed help. She felt hollowness inside her chest so deep that it seemed limitless. Her only friend was an aching throb. She needed her brother. She needed to cry and for him to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay. That she wasn’t alone.

That would never happen, though. He’d never make stupid jokes or laze about while she did all the work. He’d never drag her out of her room to watch stupid AAC matches or make her be his personal encyclopedia. They would never sit atop the tall buildings on the outskirts of town and just stare off into the desert sands as the sun went down. Neither saying anything. Just enjoying the presence of family and a beautiful scene. He would never make her sausage and… and… and… it was all Praxis's fault.

She felt this way because of Praxis. Yes, that’s why she was here. Her feelings of emptiness were brushed away by the dazzling and glorious bonfire of rage. It was both scorching as the sun and cold as the darkest void. The unchecked rage felt intoxicating. It was powerful. It desired action.

Her eye’s narrowed as she searched the crowds looking for… Ah, there he was. Janice or something right. A woman’s name. It was fitting. Of course, mohawk was watching her. Of course. This was perfect. She locked eyes with him. She mouthed a word that she knew would insight him to rage. They would rage together.

“Coward,” she mouthed.

His eyes bulged, and his face started to turn red. He took a step forward but stopped himself. Oh, he needed more. She made an expression of disdain and mouthed “Trash,” then looked away as though he wasn’t worthy of her concern. She watched him out of the corner of her eye blow his top. She laughed.

“You know. You really shouldn’t make an enemy of the Cellini family.” Said a voice behind her. His tone felt exhausted.

She turned around and sneered at the voice's owner. “What do you know?”

A powerfully built man stood before her but not so much that it would restrict its movements. He was a bearded guy of probably twenty-five stood relaxed.He had a stylish flip of chestnut hair in the front. He had eyes of gold with red. They looked exhausted and weary. As though they couldn’t be bothered to do anything ever again. For all the tiredness in his eyes, he held himself like a taught springboard. Ready to do violence at the drop of a hat. She could appreciate that.

“I’m just saying. You aren’t in one of the elder families or a major faction. You aren’t powerful enough to protect yourself yet. But do whatever you want. I don’t know why I even bothered. No one ever listens to me anyway,” he said. His deep, sluggish, overtaxed tone was off-putting to the warrior she saw before her. He walked away, his gait controlled and solid as if he were fully cognizant of everything around him. No wasted movements.

She would need to keep an eye on that one. He knew what he was about. Why hadn’t she seen him in the battle this morning? He probably laid down. She certainly should have.

Dismissing the bearded guy, for now, she turned around to see if Janice had taken the bait. Mohawk Janice and his lackeys were making their way toward her. The thrill of the upcoming battle thrummed in her chest harmoniously with the rage. The feeling of emptiness and heartache was suppressed. That was what she wanted… right? No, the bearded man was right. She shouldn’t make enemies. Not so soon.

The rage pulsed around her promising a release, promising joy, promising relief from pain. All she needed to do was embrace it, and she would be free. And she hesitated no more. Smashing the small voice of reason away for the promise of rewarding violence.

As Mohawk Janice and associates were about to break through to her tiny island of isolation, a loud and commanding voice filled the room. Everyone’s attention was diverted to the owner of the voice. A small stage was now beside the wall that held the cohort's rankings. The board was still blank.

Layla thought she recognized him as the Master that sat beside Atom in this morning's conflict. His messy brown hair ran counter to the pristine Master's garb. She kept Janice in the corner of her eye but focused on what the Master had to say.

“My name is Master Lockheed. I’d like to wish you a good evening potentials. I see that everyone is getting along. That is good. The next four weeks will be a harrowing time. Don’t hesitate to make friends. This is not a competition. You have already been accepted. It is for you alone to pass your Agoge Trial.” The Master paused to let that sink in.

Layla looked around, but it looked like everyone already knew that in advance. She wasn’t surprised. Why would her useless Master deign to bring her anything but confusion and zero information?

Master Lockheed continued, “This meeting serves a few purposes. Listen closely as I will not be repeating myself. Nor will I be accepting questions at this meeting. Feel free to take notes.” He paused and gave everyone time to pull out their slates. Layla pulled up her audio record function on her wrist unit. Not having a slate anymore put her at a slight disadvantage. Fortunately, they were cheap, so she would need to acquire one. The wrist units could do everything a slate could, but there was something about having tactile touch and the act of physically writing that made retention easier for her.

“Firstly, I will give you a run down of what you will be doing in preparation for your trial. The next four weeks are progressive. Each week more and more items will be placed on your schedule. Use this first couple of weeks wisely to prepare. The times and schedules all classes will be posted at the front desk.” The Master pointed to the area where Layla had met Master Ash. The Master didn't seem to be present at the moment.

“Week one, physical conditioning, Intro to Combat, and Intro to Meditation. Physical conditioning or PC is self explanatory but for those geniuses out there. In PC we will push your bodies to their limit and then we will take you further. We have learned over the years that these four weeks of conditioning has vastly improved the survival rate of potentials in their first trial.”

“Intro to Combat. This class will cover a range of area’s involving personal combat and how you as the individual should respond to varying combat oriented situations. Intro to Meditation. I cannot stress enough how important this class is. Most already know and most likely have been trained by their organization or family. But this isn’t always the case. Nexus only accepts those who have yet to step on the path of Ascension. It’s not uncommon for your prior instructors to avoid this subject so that you do not accidentally disqualify yourself from training at our prestigious academy. They will expand more on that in class.” Master Lockheed paused and adjusted his robes.

“Now for week two, Intro to Weapons and Intro to Anima will be added. The weapons class is self explanatory. In this class you will learn the foundations of wielding the classical weapons, and how to care for them properly.”

“Intro to Anima. Intro to Anima. This class is where your journey starts. This is where you learn the basics of building your foundation. The first step… on to the path of Ascension. To power. To immortality.” Master Lockheed, let that sink in for the potentials.

Layla could see the excitement in everyone's eyes. The jubilation at finally starting on the path. So many years of training, blood, sweat, and tears. All to get to this point, and in a week, they would begin.

“Now you might be asking yourself. Why not start this from the beginning. Day one. I want to start right now.” The Master paused and gave a sly smile. Layla could see all the bobbing heads in agreement with all the Master had just said.

“Look to the left and right of you. Go on now. Do it.” Everyone followed his instructions.

Layla took this moment to rile up Mohawk Janice. Their eyes met. Layla tried to convey in a single look how little she thought of the dark skin red-haired man. By the sizeable pulsing vein on his forehead and his two buddies restraining him, she figured the look did its job. She looked away, ignoring Janice, for now.

“40.” The Master declared as though the number should be meaningful. “Forty percent of you will be gone by the end of the first week. Some of you will ask to leave and some of you will be asked to leave. I know, It’s a shocking number but it’s held true for the last thousand years.” Master paused to let the reality of the statement set in.

“The first question most potentials want to know is why would I be asked to leave. That’s quite simple. For your safety. This Academy is not a slaughter house where we throw our students into the meat grinder and hope for the best. No, if we ask you to leave it’s because we are confident that you will die in the trial. This isn’t the end though. You will be able to come back and attempt the preliminary weeks again, once you’re ready. That is at least those asked to leave in the first week.After week one, you would have stepped on to the path thus disqualifying yourself for entrance into Nexus. Which is why other potentials ask to leave.” Master Lockheed pushed back his mess of hair and continued.

“The path and those how chose to climb it is a dangerous one. There will always be a chance of death in any of the many trials you will need to complete to advance here at Nexus. You are here because the academy saw potential in you and thus we call you potentials. We are not here to snuff out your future so that those with a higher potential can rise. That is a ridiculous notion that would only weaken our school in the long run. Not every potential was chosen for their combat ability alone. There are thousands of other jobs that Ascendants can do beside beat up another Ascendants. We want to cultivate talent in all aspects of Ascendancy. Anima Technology advancements, Soul trinket creation, Alchemy, Elemental Smithing, and many other area’s of expertise. When you leave here Alumni you will make waves that will ripple across the planes.” He waved his hand out excitedly. Layla could tell that Master Lockheed cared a lot for the NAA. The man spoke with passion, and the belief in what he was saying shined through his eyes.

The Master sighed, “But alas that a whole other conversation. Just know that we want what’s best for you and won’t be throwing away your potential.”

He cleared his voice, “Now were was I… ah yes. Week two is the exciting week the start of your foundation. Week three is combat week. Constant endless combat on top of your other scheduled classes. And finally week four. Hell week. You will receive no information on this week. It exactly what it sound like. You will understand if you get there.” A sadistic grin was on the man’s face. Layla shuddered. That didn’t sound like something she wanted to go through, and she didn’t even know anything about it.

“Now for the Rank Challenges and fighting. All fighting that is not inside the class room or is sanctioned by the staff will be severely punished. Worry not though. We understand that you will want to temper yourself against your fellow potentials. How else would you grow. Thus we have the challenge hall. This facility can be accessed through the elevators in the cafeteria. The sparring and training rooms can also be found down there as well.”

So that’s why the lifts were in the cafeteria. She guessed it was to save space, or maybe the Academy had an underground network or something. She would have to ask about it at some point.

Combing back his mop again, Master Lockheed continued, “Rank challenges will need a Master to officiate. Regular challenges can be officiated by what ever upperclassmen is on staff. Now the rules. You may only challenge someone that is within five ranks of you. The challenged sets the time and the scenario. A person can only be challenged once per day and have the right to refuse three times in a week. You may not challenge anyone below your current rank. That’s not to say you can’t challenge them, only that you can’t challenge them and use up there rights to refuse. Those below your rank have the right of refusal without penalty. If they choose to accept it cannot be a Ranked match. This is to help prevent… over eager people.”

“You mean bullying,” Layla muttered. She looked over at Mohawk Janice. He went down early, so he would undoubtedly be below her rank. She didn’t think that would be a problem, though. The murderous bloodshot gaze he was aiming her way made her confident of that. He would challenge her. She gave him a wink that looked to have sent Janice into a seizure. She snickered and gave her attention to the Master once more.

“If it is not a rank match then you are free to challenge anyone as long as they agree. With one exception. This mornings Champion and current Rank number one. Which brings me to my final purpose. Your current rankings.” Master Lockheed said as he gestured to the board behind him.

The blackboard lit up, and one name was filled in at the top. Her name. She was relieved it was only a name and not a photo or something. If they didn’t know who she was, then she didn’t have to—

The thought was cut short when Master Lockheed called out, “Layla Breezewalker please come join me.”

She hesitated but only for a moment. She could use this. It was bound to happen, but she could use this.

Layla strode confidently through the crowd. A neutral expression on her face. Everyone quickly made a hole for her to move to the small stage the Master stood on. Once she was beside him, he gave her a mischievous smile and a friendly pat on the back before looking back to the potentials. Bastard.

“This is Layla Breezewalker. Raining champion. Rank number one. Her prize for being the last one standing this morning is that she can refuse all challenges. She has already proven herself superior to you all in combat. This gift is so that she may continue to improve herself without the hassle of being challenged constantly.”

“But without further ado. The rankings.” He said.

Names populated the board with numbers to the left of them, denoting their ranks. Everyone started to push in, but Master Lockheed cleared his voice making the eager potential's pause. “Now you my find your rank lower or higher than you expected. This is because we took into account your combat ability along with several other thing such as bad luck. There is no big prize at the end for who is rank one or fifty. This is for combat ranks and bragging rights. At least, while you are potentials. Once you become Neophytes the rankings have perks. But you will find that out if you make it through your trial.”

“I look forward to seeing you in PC. Now, go eat and get some rest. Your future begins tomorrow,” and Master Lockheed shifted out of existence.

A rage-filled broken voice shot across the crowd. “Layla Breezewalker, I challenge you.”

She looked around in puzzlement as though she didn’t see the redheaded Mohawk making a b-line straight for her position on the stage. The other potentials looked shocked at the outburst. Most hadn’t even seen their rankings yet. The ones that had started rushing in to look at the board paused to watch the commotion.

Layla stood on the stage, repeatedly looking over the raging main. She put on a concerned face as though she didn't understand what was going on. Mohawk Janice made it to the stage, and Layla finally looked at him. The man was moments away from frothing at the mouth, from what she could tell. She cocked her head to the side as though he was a curious bug she wanted to study.

Mohawk Janice pushed out his chest once he saw that all eyes were on the two of them, “I, Jano of family Cellini Challenge you, Layla Breezewalker.”

Layla scratched the side of her face with a finger before saying, “I thought your name was Janice. Huh.”

And that’s when Mohawk Janice lost it. He abandoned all sense of reason and rushed her. Layla’s rage-filled heart overflowed in excitement. She felt drunk with it. Her hand began to shake in need. The need to pound flesh. How considerate of Mohawk Janice to aid in satisfying her needs.