Six years.
That was the longest Thir had gone without eating, and he was nearing his limit. Just as he thought that, his left eyeball slipped and half of the world turned upside down.
'Oops.'
Thir looked down, rubbing his eyes as if he was simply trying to get rid of an itch and smoothly rotated the eyeball back in place. As he was saying, hunger was getting to him.
If Thir lazed around any longer, sleeping on his empty stomach to read web fictions twenty hours a day, he'd die of starvation. But before he died of starvation, he would expose himself by accidentally dropping things that shouldn't be dropped— the skin over his face for example— and the Patrons would send their Proctors racing to impale his head on a spike for display at the city square.
Three months ago when he sneezed his nose off in front of someone, Thir had, at long last, decided that it was time he go hunting— that person, somehow, hadn't noticed but he wouldn't be so lucky every time.
As for where he should hunt, everyone knew the Doors were his best options. First, he would be in a completely isolated world meaning he didn't have to worry about being caught. There was also that the Patrons couldn't reach their grabby hands inside the Doors.
The Doors, however, didn't open to anyone. Any verified Proctor who wanted to go inside the Doors had to take the mandatory training before their first time. There was no exception— not even for the adopted son of the retired Proctor with twenty-four Doors under his administration.
So, three delayed months later, Thir stood inside an assembly hall that could fit up to 300 standing people before a stage. The hall was dedicated to graduation ceremonies, at the end of which the graduates would perform their first Unsealing of the Worlds within the Doors.
This batch had a smaller crowd than average— with only 20 rows by 12 columns. All of them were dressed in the same all-white uniform provided by the Institute. Thir had seen recordings of the previous ceremony and how they looked from above. It reminded him of messily placed rice grains, and the hall had started to smell like rice at some point. Each one on their own didn't have much scent that lulled him over, but with hundreds of them packed together, their smells mixed and amplified each other.
Thir pressed his hands over his eyeballs in case they popped out of their sockets, puffing out the smell with a decisive no. He would not settle for a bowl of plain rice when he would soon be having the feast of a lifetime.
He wasn't the only one with thinning patience, soft rustling and shifting coming from further back where there was more room for movement. Much to everyone's dismay, no chair had been provided during this waiting time before the turning point of their life. That'd be too much work for a 2-hour-long ceremony, especially when another one was scheduled within the next hour.
Thir's spot was at the second row from the front, the last column at the furthest right. A gray-headed lady stood before him, whispering a few words of prayer under her breath. He contributed to the crookedness of the line by leaning against the cold wall beside him with his arms crossed. He wasn't trying to look cool or act rebellious, as many would assume; rather, he was merely spreading kindness toward the boy behind him by not blocking his view.
It was hard to believe that this scrawny boy— barely reaching his shoulder— was fifteen. The minimum age limit meant the boy couldn't be younger, though he looked way too tiny next to Thir who was supposed to be just a year older than him.
'Did I make myself too tall?' Thir considered, but he didn't want to be small, at least not below average.
The announcer on the stage read out one name after another belonging to those in the front twenty rows who hadn't formed groups of five on their own. This was the most tedious part of the ceremony, having gone on and on for the past one and a half hours.
Thir still hadn't heard his name being called. Though, it could be that he just wasn't paying attention at that time. He rubbed his grumbling stomach as the announcer read out the last five names.
"And, that's it for the grouping. Please wait for your respective instructor to lead you to your assigned Door after the ceremony," the announcer said, moving to the side of the stage before continuing. "For the last section of the ceremony, the headmaster of our Institution, Sir Johan, who had freshly ranked up as a Stage 3 Awakened, will have a short interview with two students personally selected by him! Please, a round of applause for our charismatic headmaster, Sir Johan."
Enthusiastic clapping echoed throughout the hall as a burly man with a clean-cut beard strode onto the stage, flashing a bright smile. Just his appearance alone brought such a contrasting change to the previously gloomy atmosphere.
"Please, welcome Aproth Kaelen, who graduated with the highest honors!"
A striking young man walked up to take the seat opposite Johan. Somehow, this Stage 1 Astir managed to keep his air despite the huge gap between himself and the person beside him. No need for DNA test to prove that he was the grandson of a Stage 2 Ascended, the highest rank any Proctor had ever achieved.
Thir sneered at the guy whose "holier-than-thou" aura was peaking with his debut as a Proctor around the corner. This red-eyed bastard had refused his request to team up for the Unsealing. Curse him and his ever-sharp intuition.
"Ah, Aproth, welcome and congratulations! Just don't blame your uncle too much for bringing you up to the stage," Johan snickered. "You've got to forgive me, for I've got a curious crowd to please. Now, why don't we start with you sharing why you chose to go through the Doors for all the reasons against it?"
Aproth brought the mic near his mouth. "Grandfather passed away after sealing 433 Rifts; I plan to finish what he couldn't. I will have all remaining Rifts sealed before I die."
Thir took his phone and rushed to the Internet. 917 active Rifts on Earth. The hall exploded at Aproth's insane declaration. This was bound to become the first line of humanity's new chapter after the passing of the Stage 2 Ascended— time will tell whether he'd become the main character of the chapter or someone else would take the crown.
Cacophonic voices pierced into Thir's eardrums. The world around him distorted into twisting blobs of colors with the outline of a human one moment and that of crispy fried chicken drumsticks the other. Flickering black spots soon filled the edges of his vision, twitching in excitement.
Thir alternated between digging his nails into his palms and clawing them along his forearm. All of his senses had gone numb, losing all signals except the mouthwatering scent of an all-out banquet in preparation. It was too cruel of a tease for someone whose stomach had been empty for the longest time. When was the last time he caught a whiff of a proper meal?
A hesitant tap on his back snapped Thir out of his stupor. Thir looked back to see the timid face of the boy pointing towards the stage.
"They're calling for you..." The boy said, his voice a whisper.
Thir turned to face hundreds of pairs of curious eyes. Oopsy. But what were they even calling him out for? The announcer repeated as if to answer his thought.
"Please, another round of welcome for Thiren Valen with the shortest average clearance time across all simulations!"
Johan clapped along as Thir scurried up the platform. "Oh dear, both of the two people I chose don't look too happy to be picked. Birds of a feather sure flock together. So, Thir, do you happen to share the same reason with your childhood friend as well?"
Thir tapped on the mic a few times, pondering. "The process might overlap at some point, but my reason's totally different. You see, I'm just hungry."
"Hungry?" Johan repeated as if that'd help make any sense. The next second, he burst out laughing, seeming to have reached his own conclusion. He wiped a tear at the corner of his eye and continued once his snorts had died down.
"There are countless rumors regarding a certain Stage 4 Awakened who retired on the day he was supposed to ascend. Insiders say that the now-retired Proctor's highest expenses are none other than grocery bills. Old Chester has his hands full of you!"
The graduation ceremony wrapped to an end after a few more questions once they reached the two-hour mark. The crowd dispersed, breaking into smaller groups led by instructors in blue overcoats.
Mr. Lester picked Thir up by his collar once he walked down the stage, herding the group of 25 under him responsible for toward Block C within the high-security area hosting the sixty Doors under the national property. He stuffed the other twenty into a monitored waiting room as he brought the first group into the White Room, where their Door rested.
Thir straightened up his coat as Mr. Lester finally let go of his collar. And there it was, in the center of the room was the Door. He felt a bit stupid to find the Door was just a door, a literal door, an ordinary panel door made of oak. To think something so normal could allow them to freely walk into another dimension.
Mr. Lester snapped his fingers at the five Astirs, gawking their eyeballs out at every speck in the White Room.
"Alright, I have five minutes with each group to get any last questions out of the way," Mr. Lester said. "Thir, what's the difficulty of the Door?"
"Oh, I thought we were supposed to ask you the questions." Thir pouted, making an exaggerated duck face at the instructor who had been putting up with his crap for the past three months. "We graduated already, sir. I don't think you have the right to pop-quiz us anymore."
A third voice cut in. "Using Demi's Formula, D = Σ from i = 1 to 5 of (Main_Stageᵢ + (Sub_Stageᵢ − 1)/4)² for five Proctors going in, our group's D value is exactly 5— which lands us right on the inclusive lower boundary of Rank 1 difficulty for the Door."
Damn, bro.
Thir had regarded all four of his teammates as new faces, but now he realized he knew this one wearing glasses. It was the bow-tie guy— the guy who answered every single question asked during the theory classes and the discussions after each simulation. Whoever asked it to whomever didn't matter; if they didn't answer fast enough, bow-tie guy would.
Thir didn't recognize such a memorable person a moment before because he wasn't wearing his usual bow tie.
"Yes." Mr. Lester nodded. "Rank 1 will have approximately the same degree of struggles you faced during your simulations. But if things go south, don't forget to cut the string!"
The Door would tie a string around the Proctor, who was expected to complete the Unsealing. Cutting the string before the seal had been undone would result in dire penalties, but it was a valid alternative to death.
A familiar fist landed on the top of Thir's head with an appropriate amount of force.
"Ouch! Can't you hit somewhere else? You're going to turn me stupid," Thir said, patting his tousled hair down.
Mr. Lester ignored him. "Alright, that's five minutes with you chicks. As always, remember, there are only five living beings inside the Doors— everything else only serves towards the Unsealing!"
"Yes, sir!" The five Astirs echoed.
Mr. Lester waved them off. "Get moving; I'll meet you again in my office to sign your Unsealing completion documents afterward!"
Thir watched his ill-fated teammates going through the Door one by one. He silently promised them that he wouldn't be too greedy— he'd eat one only, or maybe two at most, just enough to fill him.
Thir gave a short salute to the instructor behind him before he, too, stepped through the Door.