Elyas regained consciousness in utter darkness.
His head was ringing with cold, pulsating pain, his body was stiff, and his strength was depleted.
He tried to blink, but his eyelids wouldn't bother.
He tried to raise his head, but it was way too heavy.
Where was he?
His memory was a bit hazy, but some indignant, wrathful feeling still lingered within.
It awakened with him, prodding his memory and guiding him back to the events of....
'When? How long have I been out?'
But it didn't matter now.
'Collin... Collin, huh?'
At least grinding his teeth worked.
At the memory of his sadistic, disdainful, calm face, Elyas almost trembled with rage.
He remembered how helpless he felt.
His effort to stand his ground was swatted away like a fly, and it tore him apart.
And it was all as it always was, ego. Yes, Elyas made the mistake of striking first, but why do people go around insulting others and spouting hideous slander so easily to begin with? Why did that bastard feel the need to insult his Dad right before his face?
Why did he instinctively feel that he was above Elyas without even getting to know him?
What the hell even was he to do that?! A bloodydamn Celestial?!
'He deserved it... and he deserves more.'
"Oh."
It was a calm woman's voice.
"You're awake."
Elyas couldn't speak, but he could at least move his head now.
"My apologies, these bandages are quite restrictive, but I'm afraid that they should stay if you want to attend the Induction Ceremony."
Elyas strained his heavy tongue and mumbled, "Can I at least see?"
There was a brief, thoughtful silence, then a soft hand reached to his eyes and removed the bandage covering them.
Soft light illuminated the infirmary, not harsh enough to force him to squint.
Elyas looked around and was pleasantly surprised.
The infirmary was spacious and warm, with an incredibly high arching ceiling. It had gothic, brick walls with gargoyles bearing their teeth in each corner.
There was a hearth at the far end of the wall, and spanning the walls were crimson curtains that looked to be silk, covering the high, intricate windows.
Between each curtain hung beautiful original oil paintings that glistened from the soft light.
And hung on the walls ever so frequently were the Rosendale banners.
Elyas forgot his pain for a moment and absorbed the regalness of it all.
"You seem to like the place," the woman said.
She was standing beside his bed, tending to his vitals.
'Of course she's beautiful too.'
She was adorned in a black gown, with a purple ribbon slung from her shoulder, and the Rosendale logo solemnly etched onto her back. Beneath the robe, she was dressed in white medical attire.
Her face itself was firm, but stunning. She had silver hair tied formally into a bun, and circular glasses that settled naturally on her nose.
"I do," he muttered weakly in a raspy voice. "How long have I been out?"
"Six hours." She then gestured to a pendulum clock on the wall without breaking her gaze from his vitals and said, "You have six hours until the ceremony."
Elyas looked around and noticed that he was the only patient in the infirmary.
He sighed and struggled to sit up.
'Ah shit!'
But his fist screamed at him, and he buckled back down.
"I'll adjust the seat," she said, shaking her head at him. "Stay still. You'll need that hand too."
She pressed a button, and his bed slowly adjusted to become a reclined seat.
He noticed now that she had a bit of a cold persona from her stern, narrow eyes to her demeanour, and seemed as serious as they come.
"Uh, ma'am, are you alright?"
She paused, turned to him, then glowered.
"I just returned from the Celestial Realm three days ago, and I was finally sleeping well. I never sleep well, but tonight I did."
"Oh... Well, I'm sorry."
He then inspected his bandages and added, "And thank you."
She sighed and turned back to his vitals.
"Don't thank me. It's my job. I get paid well," she asserted bluntly.
She then went to her PC, typed a few things, and printed a piece of paper.
"I'm heading to the Archive, so it may take me a while, but I'll be back. Don't move."
She moved to the large oak doors of the infirmary, robe fluttering majestically behind her, then paused and looked over her shoulder.
"Your buddies are worried sick. I'll call them over if you're fine with that."
Elyas tilted his head in bewilderment.
'Buddies? I have 'buddies'? Wait... Cenric and Clara?' No way! Do they consider me their buddy?! Oh hell yeah, Elyas, good going!'
He nodded, and she left.
***
Left alone, Elyas immediately rushed to the first thing that kept him on edge ever since regaining consciousness.
Name: [ Elyas ]
Coherency: [ ... ]
Coherency Level: [ ... ]
Anchors: [ Brass Mask, ... ]
Blood Potency: [ 45/1000 ]
'It went up five points! How?! What did I do?!'
Elyas wrung his memory for any possible hints, and the only conclusion he came up with was:
'So do I have to go around hitting people to reach Imitation? No, that can't be right. Otherwise, I'd have a much higher count by now.'
Elyas raised his non-battered hand and scratched the back of his head in frustration.
'This is not good. Not good at all. I have nothing, goddamnit, and everyone here is at least a bloodydamn Imitator!'
He huffed and sagged back into comfort.
It truly was a tricky situation.
'Thank goodness not many were around to see it.'
The door to the Infirmary knocked, and Elyas straightened.
"Come in," he called out, voice echoing alone in the vast chamber.
The doors swung open, and two distressed students rushed in.
Cenric and Clara.
They were still wearing the same clothes from the incident, except Clara wasn't in her apron.
"Oh, thank goodness," she said.
"You scared us, Elyas! You scared us straight!" Cenric cried.
They came to his side and immediately checked his wounds.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Clara yelled, admonishing him.
But Elyas was more perplexed by their concern than anything.
'Do they truly care that much? Why?'
Cenric leaned in and peered closely at where his wound was the worst. "Elyas, my friend, are you mad?! You don't go around throwing fists at your own whim?!"
Clara was also close from the other side, checking his wounds with a mix of relief and reprimand.
"Did you not study the prospectus before you came?!" She said.
"Right! They send it out with the acceptance letter, I believe," Cenric added.
'Well, obviously not, you fools!'
After a stumped silence from Elyas, they both reeled back and stared at him as if to say, 'Please say that you did.'
"Elyas..." Cenric muttered questioningly. "Did you?"
Elyas said nothing. He just pursed his lips and admired the ceiling.
They took his sheepish silence as confirmation, and Clara rubbed her forehead, while Cenric huffed in resignation.
"But listen," Elyas said. "Time was tight, you know! I only found out that I was coming here not too long ago, and the journey wasn't the best!"
"This is not good for you, Elyas," Cenric stressed. "People will hear, and people love to mock, I would know."
"My advice is to lie low," Clara added. "At the Ceremony, at the lectures, during breaks, at the dormitories, just try to be invisible. Let them forget and move on."
Elyas frowned.
"What do you mean? Not many people saw what happened?"
Cenric lowered his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Oh, you truly are from the desert, aren't you. Rumours, Elyas, rumours. There were more than enough witnesses, trust me."
'Eh, it cannot be that bad.'
"And you're not even an Imitator yet," Clara said under her breath.
"Oh yes, about that, was what that bastard said true? Is everyone really already an Imitator?"
Cenric adjusted his glasses and sat down on a chair beside his bed.
"Yes. Even I attained Imitation not too long ago, and believe me, I'm not the best at enhancing by Blood Potency."
Elyas let out a wry laugh, pitying himself.
"I'll be honest, my Pops gave me his blood just when he told me I got accepted. So I'm not entirely on top of all this Coherency stuff. I don't even know what the levels are."
"Oh dear," Clara muttered.
She took a deep breath, retrieved another chair and sat down.
"Well, let us bring you up to speed with the basics before the Ceremony. It won't take long."