The lesson on shared worlds ended at eleven thirty, and the hall began to empty of its usual noise little by little.
Reis closed his transparent screen, stood up calmly, and walked with the stream of students rushing toward the exit and into the main corridor that led to the cafeteria.
The corridor was filled with a mix of footsteps and scattered conversations between groups, while he remained more absorbed in his thoughts than in anything happening around him.
When he reached the cafeteria, the scene was familiar and crowded as always at this hour.
The space stretched wide, with rows of neatly arranged tables and walls that reflected the light pouring down from the high ceiling.
The smell of food filled the air, blending with the overlapping sounds of orders and the orderly lines of students in front of the serving machines.
Reis moved forward in line with quiet steps, his eyes following the mechanical arms as they placed plates on trays with perfect precision.
He spoke to no one and did not respond when a student asked if it was still his turn. He simply nodded lightly without raising his head.
When he reached the platform, he took his tray without much interest, chose a simple meal of rice, chicken, and some vegetables, picked up a cup of cold water, and walked steadily toward the quiet corner near the window.
He sat there alone, watching from a distance the movement of students in the hall and the light spilling through the tall glass, casting a soft glow across the floor.
He took his first spoonful and tasted the food, then paused. There was no flavor. No sweetness, no salt, no trace of taste at all.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, tried again, but the result was the same.
He kept chewing slowly testing something hidden inside himself. Long seconds passed before he set the spoon down, stuck his tongue out slightly, touched it with his fingertip as though confirming something strange, then returned his mouth to normal and continued eating in silence.
A strange thought began to form in his mind: "Could this be a symptom of the first floor world?".
He simply took a deep breath, finished his meal to the last bite without tasting anything real, then stood up, carried his tray, placed it in the return area, and walked toward the drink machine.
Reis chose a cold juice with a flavor he did not even notice, drank half of it as he made his way out of the cafeteria.
When he stepped into the courtyard, the air was bright with natural light, and a soft breeze carried the scent of the academy's garden.
Students were scattered everywhere. Some were laughing, others were reviewing notes before the evening classes.
Reis walked until he was far from the noise.
He reached a quieter spot where trees surrounded a few metal benches. He chose one and sat down.
He placed the juice beside him, leaned back, and looked at the sky painted with faint gray lines.
His thoughts began to gather around what he had heard that morning, around the tower and the shared worlds, the unknown future that awaited them after the ninth floor, and around the evening training session that he knew would bring together all first-year students without exception, from Class S at the top to Class E at the bottom.
He was not excited, nor was he anxious. He was simply trying to imagine what might happen.
The bell rang from the speakers around the courtyard. It was a short, electronic chime, but clear. It was the signal for the start of the evening classes at exactly one o'clock.
Reis rose slowly, picked up his cup of juice, stared at it for a moment before finishing the last sip and tossing it away. Then he walked with steady steps away from the noise, heading toward the place that would host the next lesson.
...
After a long walk, he emerged into a vast training ground, wide as if two fields were merged together.
The ground was smooth and glossy, marked with glowing lines dividing the tracks, and the high walls surrounded the place like the walls of a giant cage.
Dozens of floating screens displayed class names and the alignment positions assigned to each group.
Reis stood in position with his class, Class E, while hundreds of students poured in from the side corridors.
In moments, the entire training ground was filled with nearly six hundred and fifty students. From above, the scene looked like a perfectly arranged human mosaic.
Each class had its own color. Class S stood at the front, their golden uniforms shining under the light as if they were meant to be seen.
Behind them was Class A in clean white, a symbol of purity and excellence.
Then came the colors in order: red for Class B, blue for Class C, yellow for Class D, black for Class E, and finally pale gray for Class F, as if their presence was fading into the background.
The rows stood in straight lines, each group holding one hundred students, except for Class S, which numbered no more than fifty, the academy's elite, said to be the ones most likely to reach the ninth floor before graduation.
At the front of the field stood the instructor, a dark-skinned man with a shaved head, powerful muscles beneath his black training uniform, and deep scars on his face that told old stories.
His name was Instructor Krayos, one of the seasoned Awakened who had climbed the tower's floors, survived multiple shared worlds, and returned alive.
He stood silently for a moment, his eyes scanning the rows with cold precision. Then he noticed the growing whispers among some students, soft laughter and side conversations, as if they had forgotten where they stood.
He lifted his right foot slightly and brought it down hard.
The entire ground shook.
The sound echoed like a low roar, and even the air seemed to tremble for a heartbeat.
The students felt the vibration beneath their feet. Many stumbled and lost balance. Some fell to their knees. Others grabbed the people beside them.
Only the students of Class S and Class A remained standing firm, no trace of panic on their faces. Their proud gazes swept over the others with open disdain, as if watching children stumble where they did not belong.
Krayos raised his head, his voice came out like an angry roar, deep and terrifying.
"Are you here to play? This field is not a playground. The Black Tower waits for you, and it shows no mercy to those who laugh before they learn how to fall".
A heavy silence followed, and no one dared to speak.
He continued walking in front of the rows, his tone sharp as a blade.
"You are here because you represent the future of humanity's climb to the upper floors. Other races advance ahead of us, and the shared worlds devour those who fall behind. If you do not become stronger, you will die before you even reach the ninth floor".
Then he paused, turned slightly, and whispered to the assistant beside him in a low voice that Reis caught despite the fading noise.
"The strength and focus of students decline every year. They are getting weaker. We must do something about them".
He then raised his voice again, now with the sharpness of a battlefield commander.
"All classes, one hundred laps around the field".
Murmurs rose and eyes widened, but he gave them no chance to object.
He extended his hand toward his smart watch, tapped it with his finger, and a holographic screen appeared in front of him, showing a countdown in blue numbers.
"Start now", His voice thundered through the field like a steel strike, echoing against the high walls.
"Anyone who does not complete the hundred laps in less than four hours will run fifty more tomorrow".
He stepped forward, his tone growing harsher until it sounded like a military command that allowed no argument.
"And anyone who falls behind after that will run until their body collapses on its own".
In an instant, movement swept through the field.
The classes began to run, the elite first, their steps steady and mechanical, followed by Class A with disciplined pace.
The rest moved unevenly, some already panting within minutes.
The scene resembled a massive human current circling the field in layered rings, each color forming its own track.
The reflected light from their uniforms created a shifting canvas of gold, white, red, blue, yellow, black, and gray.
And in the midst of it all, Reis ran in silence. His breathing was steady, his steps precise, his eyes fixed on nothing ahead or behind. All his focus rested on the rhythm of his own body.