Clara had left a while ago, and Cenric followed suit not too long after.
Cenric apologised, saying he needed to get some sleep before tomorrow's Induction, which he didn't seem too enthusiastic about.
Elyas thought it had something to do with his already sour relationship with some of the students in the same year as them, but decided against prying. It was never in his nature to pry anyway.
If Cenric ever wanted to talk about it, he'd bring it up himself.
Anyhow, the doctor, whose name turned out to be Doctor Melissa, a Healing Coherent, returned at 4 am, with a cynical smile.
"So you punched him on the face because he badmouthed your father, the night before your Induction? And then you got humiliated right after?"
Elyas nodded...
And she laughed.
"Oh, you're gonna have a tough year, kid. It's almost like you hate yourself. Just why would you do something so stupid?"
"Can... can teachers say that to students?"
"Oh, shut up, would you?" She muttered hysterically.
She then handed him a piece of paper that Elyas didn't care to read and said,
"Here. Felt a little bad, so I went ahead and completed your dorm procedures. Get yourself settled and try to get at least an hour of sleep. Oh, and try not to summon any Anchors, would you?"
Elyas nodded gratefully.
"Thank you very much, ma'am. And don't worry, that won't be a problem."
***
By the time Elyas left the room, Dr. Melissa was still hunched over his bed, laughing her guts out with a cigarette in her hand.
'Strange woman.'
He really didn't like the constant reminder of how screwed up he was before even starting, but anyway...
It was good that Elyas at least understood the rule Collin was talking about.
Under the Rosendale Rulebook, if one initiates a physical altercation with another student, they would bear the full consequences while also giving their opponent the right to fight back without any accountability.
This would compel students to seek out a duel in the Amphitheatre instead, where they could battle before an arena of students and a panel of judges.
The purpose of this was quite simple.
Rosendale accepted the fact that they would not be able to prevent fights, especially with all the scions of conflicting Houses being gathered in one place, so they just sought to control them in a befitting and engaging manner for the sake of the students and for their pursuit to become more powerful.
Another intriguing question Elyas had was the First Year Tournament that Collin mentioned. And as it turned out, it was an annual tournament to rank the students from weakest to strongest and gain insight into their abilities.
This had a few purposes:
The first purpose was to assess how each student would be dealt with academically based on their Coherency Abilities and fighting capabilities. They would be assigned to specific classes and provided with different perks depending on their performance.
The second was to foster competition among the students, pushing them to become as powerful as possible, as soon as possible.
The third was for the Lord Amalgamates - the PMs of the House of Commons in the Celestial Realm and the Union - to fish for the most valuable talents or foster the potential they see.
And so, Elyas had been uneasy for a while.
Not only did the Twins record his humiliation and share it across the Rosendale web, but he was also at the bottom of everyone else, as he was not even an Imitator yet.
As he walked down the arching, gothic hallways of the Infirmary, Elyas forgot even to admire their prestige and only rubbed his head stressfully.
'Pops, this isn't looking good, isn't it?'
But at least he would be sleeping in his own assigned dorm, and...
'Free breakfast! There is always a bright side to everything, just like Dad used to say.'
He eventually left the Infirmary and found himself on a cobblestone pathway in the middle of the night, drowning in thick trees. There were no buildings around, and it was too dark to see anything, so all he did was stand there cluelessly, listening to the crickets chirp and the soothing sound of trees as they hushed from the wind.
He turned back to the infirmary and admired its classiness.
The Infirmary was just like any building in Rosendale, except it had a spire with the Rosendale flag fluttering high above, and was wreathed by a brick wall with-
'Oh, signs!'
There was a metallic plate on the wall with directions.
'Ah, the dormitories are... that way then.'
Elyas followed the cobblestone pathway uphill for a while, passing a few other Academy buildings with spires peaking out from amongst the forest that surrounded him.
Eventually, the trees thinned, and he found himself standing before a high, imposing metal gate bristling with spikes, and the Rosendale logo stamped in wrought iron in the middle.
Sprawled before him, behind the gate, and illuminated by the enchanting moonlight, were magnificent and incredibly tall buildings with countless spires peaking out of them.
Elyas was even more astounded than he was when he saw the airport.
It was not only the size, but also the intricate facade of the buildings, the reliefs, the friezes, and the statues of the prominent figures who pioneered the Celestial Realm, looking mournfully down at him as if warning him of all the calamities he would encounter.
It was all so mythically gorgeous.
And they were all, yet again, consistent with the Rosendale architecture, if not much more ostentatious.
"Hello there!" A voice called out from the darkness, startling Elyas almost to his buttocks.
"Oh, I didn't mean to scare ya. Many apologies! What can I help you with, young man?"
Elyas looked about him frantically, trying to locate the mysterious voice. Then he finally saw him, with one foot in his booth and the other stepping out.
He was the gatekeeper. A tall man with a long, braided orange beard and a burly build.
'But why is his booth inside the forest?'
"I'm here for uh... my dorm, I guess." Elyas brandished the paper that Dr. Melissa gave him, hoping it'd do the rest of the talking.
"Bring it here, then? It'd be quite difficult for me to read it from here now, wouldn't it, young man?"
"Oh yes, of course."
Elyas scurried to the booth and stood like a lanky dwarf before the tall man.
The gatekeeper scrutinised the paper with narrowed eyes and rubbed his beard.
"Hm. Alright then. You're in building A9. Go to the receptionist and she'll hand you the keys to your room."
But then, the gatekeeper suddenly started flicking his gaze from the paper to Elyas's bandaged face more often with a sceptical frown, until he eventually softened and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
'Huh? What's he doing now?'
"It'll get better," the gatekeeper said consolingly.
'...oh...'
He must've seen the video too.
***
The foyer to his building was quite a place. It was cavernous and adorned with the same crimson silk curtains as the ones in the infirmary, and there was an endless array of paintings here too.
A beautiful, large chandelier dangled from the arching ceiling, warming the place with a soothing yellow light, and Persian rugs were placed sparingly on the marble floor.
Every step Elyas took to the Reception desk echoed solemnly all around, giving him more weight than he harboured. Behind the desk, two dark-oak winding staircases ascended dramatically to the first floor.
The receptionist was an old woman, seemingly in her eighties, and was too distracted with something on her computer to notice him.
And so when Elyas reached her, he felt guilty at how much he startled the poor old lady.
"Hello," he said, both hands on the counter, and his suitcase at his side.
"Oh, sorry there, dear. I didn't hear you."
But then Elyas heard something familiar coming out of her computer, and sagged despondently.
She was at the part right before Clara intervened.
The receptionist once again flicked her gaze from the video to Elyas, then to the video again. Then just before she could rewind to see the humiliated fella's face clearly, Elyas huffed and said,
"Yes, yes, that's me. Can I just get my room number and key, please? I've had a horrible last few days."
All in all, the receptionist was very nice, but Elyas had his suspicions that it was partially due to pity.
'Well, if pity gets people to treat you nicely, why not?'