As the arrogant woman and her entourage left me alone, I began searching for the owner of the piercing gaze directed at me. My eyes scanned like those of a hawk, seeking out the culprit.
There.
A man walking among the trainers noticed my movement. At first, all I saw was someone approaching me, dressed in dark clothing, his movements confident and determined. As he reached a close enough distance, he stopped and looked straight into my eyes.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. His voice was deep and cold, just like his eyes.
"I came for the training," I answered directly, trying not to show that his gaze had an unsettling effect on me.
"What kind of training?" he continued. "Not everyone belongs here. And you, for sure, are not someone who should be in this place." His voice was deep, raw, and unlike anything I had heard before.
His stare felt like it was burning me, scanning my face so intently as if trying to uncover a secret that existed only in my own mind. I could only see his poison-green eyes—the rest of his face was covered by a mask. But only his.
"So you do know where you are, don't you?" he added, pausing his steps for a moment. "Not everyone finds their place here. If you're not strong enough, you'll leave quickly. But if you want to stay, you'll have to prove yourself."
I didn't answer; I just looked at the man. I knew why I was here. I knew that in the coming weeks, I would do everything to show what I was truly capable of.
And as I observed him, something told me he wasn't the kind of person who would allow anyone to pass through the obstacles set before them so easily.
He cast one last deep glance at me before turning and walking off toward the trainers.
The cold sensation on the back of my neck faded for a moment, but something told me this man was no coincidence. I had the feeling that the real challenges were only just beginning.
Since no one paid attention to me after I was brought here, I adapted to the situation, quietly slipping through the massive double doors, ignoring the occasional curious glances thrown my way.
"Avarka Rozinay!" a deep female voice rang out. "My first command: do not wander around as if you're on a group excursion! Follow me!"
"I apologize!" Though it was difficult to get used to the fact that politeness wasn't exactly a trend here, I tried to remain respectful. I had chosen to come here, so I needed to adapt.
"Come!"
With that, she set off with determined steps, and I hurried to keep pace with her.
The hallways were long and somewhat oppressive—not a surprising turn of events. The walls were covered in gray stone, illuminated by modern, cold-toned lights. Our footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm, as if the very walls were listening to our every move.
We arrived at a massive double door. The woman firmly pressed down on the old metal handle.
As we stepped inside, an overwhelming cacophony hit my ears. The room was enormous, the ceiling so high that it was difficult to make out its details. Long tables stretched across the space, surrounded by chairs occupied by dark-clad figures—some sitting in orderly fashion, others more chaotically.
Some ate in silence, while others spoke loudly or joked with one another, yet the whole scene had an inexplicable order to it. As if the chaos itself operated by some unspoken rules.
I noticed a few people glance at me briefly before returning to their meals or conversations. Perhaps they had already heard of me. Or maybe they just saw me as another outsider who had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. Either way, it was best if I remained in the background for now.
The woman did not stop; she cast a glance at me and then continued forward. I followed as she led me through the hall and into another corridor through a different door. As we walked, she stated dryly:
"Breakfast is at six every morning, lunch is at one, and dinner is at seven. Do not be late!"
With that, we continued on, and I slowly began to grasp just how vast this building truly was. We crossed long corridors, doors opened to the right and left, each hiding a separate world within. In the training rooms, guardian angels were exercising—lifting weights, practicing combat moves, testing weapons, or sparring with each other. The scent of sweat and concentration filled the spaces as we passed by.
The library was enormous, its walls lined with endless shelves packed with old volumes and modern folders filled with notes. A few figures sat quietly reading at tables, while others were hunched over papers, as if immersing themselves in some mysterious knowledge.
Finally, we arrived at another door. The woman stopped, scanned me once more, then pressed down on the handle and entered.
Inside, an entirely different world awaited me. The room exuded a rustic atmosphere, blended with modern elements. The bed was made of solid wood, yet it was arranged with military precision, as if every inch of the space adhered to strict regulations—but that description applied to everything here. The elegance of the angels and the survival instincts of humans were seamlessly woven into every detail.