As the shower room doors finally closed behind Tariq and his lackeys, I took a deep breath.

  Shit… That was not fun.

  I ran a hand over my ribs, feeling a dull ache. My stomach throbbed a little too, and the impact on my back would probably linger for a while. Well, it happens. I’d have to message the doc to check me over, but first…

  "Thanks for pulling me out of that mess."

  Denis snorted and gave my shoulder a shove—not hard, but enough to make me stagger slightly.

  "You’re sharing your tea, Sullivan."

  I smiled, though Kate’s voice immediately echoed in my head: "Don’t share." But after what had just happened? Ah, screw it.

  "A serving of Clear Thoughts for each of you," I agreed.

  Denis immediately lit up, though his eyes still held some doubt. Marlon, on the other hand, voiced it outright.

  "Seriously?"

  "Seriously."

  "Ha!" Denis’s scepticism vanished in an instant. "The next cultivation session in the Flow Chamber is going to be fun!"

  Marlon, however, remained more reserved. He seemed to be thinking something over, then gave me a look.

  "You haven’t actually tried it yourself yet, have you?" he asked.

  "Novak served me some."

  "I mean not just tasting it as tea, but using it as a tonic before cultivation."

  I shook my head, and Marlon nodded.

  "Alright then. I’ll take the tea, but I’m not using it until you share your own experience first. I don’t want to experiment blindly."

  Smart.

  We returned to the room together. I changed into a fresh jumpsuit, took out one of the tins, grabbed the scale, and carefully measured out three grams of dried leaves for each of them. They wrapped the portions in chocolate bar wrappers—since they couldn’t find anything more suitable.

  "Just don’t go blabbing about this to everyone. I’d rather not have Kate break my spine."

  "We’re not idiots," Denis scoffed, tucking the tiny packet into his locker. Marlon did the same.

  With that sorted, I opened my interface and sent Kate a message:

  “Can we talk?”

  The reply came almost instantly—in the form of a call.

  This time, I tried activating the connection purely with my mind, without using my fingers. It didn’t work right away, but it didn’t take too long either. I just focused on the holographic button, and it pressed itself.

  "What happened?" Kate asked.

  I gave her a brief rundown of the situation without going into too much detail. Bullying, a beating, penalty points—everything she needed to know.

  Kate sighed.

  "Same as always. Punishing both sides is standard procedure."

  "Regardless of who started it?"

  "Exactly. The school wants to see who will submit to the bullies in hopes of keeping their points and who will resist. Those who submit lose in the long run—they won’t be able to grow."

  I frowned.

  "Sounds like blatant cruelty. Or an incentive to use dirty tactics."

  "I don’t like it either, but I don’t make the rules. It’s a filter, Jake. The elimination process isn’t about selecting the strongest—it’s about keeping those who have the potential to grow."

  I thought about that.

  "And how is that supposed to work? If you ask me, this kind of system will just lead to an infestation of unreliable scumbags in the second period. We’re being trained to defend Earth, aren’t we? At this rate, instead of an army of defenders, we’ll have an army of selfish pricks who only care about their own survival."

  Kate let out a short laugh.

  "You’ve just made a whole bunch of incorrect assumptions."

  "Oh? I eagerly await your wisdom, mentor," I said, slightly irritated by her mocking tone.

  "First of all, we’re not an army—we’re just the crowd. They’re not training us for organised resistance, but as individual fighters. And like it or not, even the selfish pricks will have to fight when the time comes. The demons won’t go easy on them.

  Second, there aren’t actually that many of them in the second year. In fact, most of the bullies don’t make it through elimination. Do you know why?"

  I waited silently for her answer.

  "They feed off the weakest, and the weakest don’t have much to offer. The moment the rankings become clearer, the thugs start stabbing each other in the back."

  That made me think.

  She was right. People who only play for their own gain rarely make reliable allies. And when the stakes get higher, they turn on each other.

  "So don’t worry too much," Kate said. "Their ‘place in the sun’ is actually a pretty miserable one."

  I exhaled.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  "Thanks for the wisdom, but I’m more concerned about my place in the sun."

  "Not much I can advise you there… Just always be prepared for this kind of thing. This won’t be your last fight. Get through the first bottleneck quickly, and it’ll get easier."

  "I have to survive that long first. Now tell me—how much damage can I deal to a bully without getting punished too badly?"

  Kate paused for a few seconds.

  "You really want to go head-to-head with them? That’s not always the best tactic."

  "And yet… Let’s say I break his arms…"

  "How about waiting for duel season and challenging him officially?"

  "No, I promised to make him shit blood."

  "No internal injuries!" Kate snapped. "If you accidentally kill him, you’re out." She sighed. "Are you sure you can beat him?"

  "Yes."

  I wasn’t planning to duel this bastard. I wasn’t going to warn him. I wanted every advantage I could get and to beat the crap out of him.

  "You’ll get two or three penalty points for a fracture."

  "For each one?"

  "For God’s sake, Jake! What the hell are you planning? Don’t do anything stupid!"

  "That’s exactly why I need this information," I reassured her.

  "The highest penalty I’ve ever seen after a fight was ten points, but that cadet got beaten so badly he ended up in a recovery pod for a week. So that’s roughly your metric—one day in the pod equals one penalty point."

  "Got it… Thanks!"

  I was about to end the call, but Kate stopped me.

  "Go to the infirmary. Get checked out. Send me the results. If there’s anything serious, no Flow Chambers for you tomorrow."

  "I was going to anyway—"

  "Do it now," she insisted, then hung up.

  The conversation ended, but I just sat there on my bed for a few seconds, staring into space. Fatigue crept up with every heartbeat.

  The world felt dim and distant again, like after removing the armour. Sounds were muffled, movements sluggish, and my body’s sensations uneven. I knew I was sitting with my weight on my hands, but my palms barely registered the texture of the bedsheet beneath them. Even my arms felt heavy, foreign.

  A hollow emptiness, as if something inside me had burned out, threatened to swallow me whole—if not for the dull pain.

  The heaviness in the lower right side of my back stood out the most. Still distant, but pushing through the fog surrounding me. And that… worried me.

  I closed my eyes, held still for a moment, then took a slow breath in and out.

  Enough. Sleep later.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw Denis watching me.

  "I take it your call is over?"

  "Yeah."

  "And? What’s the verdict on penalties?"

  "Breaking someone’s bone—two or three penalty points. A day in the infirmary—one point."

  Denis stroked his chin thoughtfully.

  "Hmm… That’s not that much…"

  "Every point will matter in the end!" Marlon stressed.

  "But if it comes down to it…" Denis mused.

  Marlon sighed.

  "Just remember, there are other ways to get revenge. Ruin his reputation, make sure he hits someone in front of a supervisor, or set him up some other way."

  I smirked.

  "Oh? Have we got ourselves a little master manipulator here?"

  "Cultivation isn’t just about violence, Jake. You can use your brain too."

  Denis snorted.

  "I promise to use it," I said. "But right now, I need to head to the infirmary. Kate’s orders."

  "Good call," Marlon said, unwrapping another chocolate bar. "Try not to get into any more trouble on the way."

  I opened my interface and messaged the doc.

  Turned out Robinson wasn’t on duty, so I didn’t bother him, even though he offered to help. No need to waste his time over a few punches—I could find the infirmary myself using the map.

  The waiting area was nearly empty. Only two cadets sat on a bench near the entrance—one clutching his arm like he’d dislocated it, the other looking like he’d just been yanked out of the Flow Chamber before he had a chance to crush his cultivation.

  I approached the reception desk, where a thinhorn medic in a grey coat was stationed.

  "Appointment?"

  "Post-fight check-up."

  He quickly swiped through his interface, checked my profile, and nodded.

  "Proceed to room seven. The doctor will see you shortly," he said. Then, turning to the cadet with the dislocated arm, he added, "Kowal, room four."

  My examination was relatively brief.

  The doctor started with a handheld scanner for a preliminary assessment. Something in the readings must have caught his attention because he followed up by testing my reflexes, asking me to inhale and exhale, and pressing in a few spots on my chest and stomach—one of which sent a sharp pain shooting into my back.

  Next, they put me through a full-body scanner, and that’s when I started to worry…

  "Nothing critical," the doctor finally said. "Bruising on the ribs, muscle strain in your back, and some kidney trauma. Nothing that requires serious intervention at this point."

  I exhaled in relief.

  "So… I can go?"

  The doctor looked at me like I’d just made a joke.

  "Nothing serious—if we treat you. You’ll be spending the next three hours in a recovery pod."

  Well, that wasn’t too bad.

  "My mentor wanted to see the examination results."

  He gave me a more scrutinising look.

  "No cultivation for the next 24 hours. No chambers, no crystals. No qi absorption of any kind. That’s what your mentor was concerned about, wasn’t it?"

  Shit.

  "Yeah."

  "Don’t pout. One day won’t make a difference."

  I could have argued—because I’d heard the exact opposite plenty of times before. But fine, ignoring a doctor’s orders wasn’t a great idea.

  "Oh, one more thing," the doctor added. "This was a fight, not a duel, correct?"

  "Yeah," I confirmed again, a bad feeling creeping in.

  "Then you’ll be charged a point for using the pod."

  "A point? I already got penalised!"

  "Penalties are separate from medical treatment."

  I flinched.

  "Seriously?! So I, the victim, have to pay more than the asshole who caused this?" Just brilliant. Earned two points in the garden—threw them straight in the bin the same day.

  The doctor shrugged. He clearly didn’t care about the social injustice of it all.

  "Are you going to keep whining, or can we start the recovery procedure?"

  I stopped whining—there was no point. I was exhausted and pissed off.

  "Can I pay in units?" I asked.

  "For standard procedures, payment is points only."

  "What if I didn’t have any?"

  "Then you’d have a negative balance. Are you done wasting my time?"

  Seemed like this doctor had way less patience than Rogers.

  "I surrender," I said. "Where’s the pod?"

  The pod was in a ward further down the corridor, an exact replica of the one I had crawled out of when I arrived in this world. The entire room was identical, except this time, instead of having a hospital gown handed to me, I was allowed to store my jumpsuit in the drawer. Oh, and I was allowed to keep my underwear.

  "Can I sleep in there?" I asked.

  "Are you joking? Try not to fall asleep!"

  I just wanted a proper rest—then I’d turn Tariq into a bloody steak. Let him pay for a recovery session.

  That thought warmed me as the pod’s cold gel wrapped around my body and pulled me into Morpheus’s embrace.