It was a pleasant morning—my second day of college. Another round of classes waited ahead, but the sky was bright, the weather calm, and the walk to campus felt lighter than usual. Students in the same uniform passed by, blending with office workers in their neat attire, while vehicles and jeepneys rumbled along the road carrying their early-morning passengers.
But today had one small difference. Kairi was walking beside me. Since we're classmates and neighbors in the same apartment building, it seems like this might become our daily routine—unless one of us oversleeps, which is very likely.
"What do you call metal that joins a marathon?" Kairi suddenly asked out of nowhere.
A metal? Running a marathon?
"I don't know," I replied.
She smirked proudly, clearly excited to deliver the punchline.
"It's I-run!"
…
I stayed completely silent. It was too early for this type of corniness. Was the day really starting with this?
"Get it? Because… Iron? I-run?" she repeated.
"Oh, yeah. Iron. A metal that joins a marathon. I-run," I said, purposely sounding as sarcastic as possible.
"Right… right. I-run… haha… because it sounds ironic." I added, turning her joke into a painfully corny explanation.
Kairi's face instantly turned red, embarrassed by her own joke—and by the fact that I somehow made it even worse. Yet despite that… It strangely made the morning feel livelier.
As we continued walking, the university finally came into view—its familiar, towering structure rising proudly in the morning light. Finstel Hall looked as impressive as ever from the front entrance. Seeing it again brought a strange sense of relief, even if it's a bit dramatic considering I'll be here every day from now on.
Kairi and I crossed the road and stepped into Sora Street once more. But unlike last night, the night market was completely gone. It was as if it had vanished without a trace. Only an open stretch of road remained, busy with passing vehicles. A few workers were already cleaning the street, clearing out the last bits of garbage from last night's crowd.
Just as we were about to cross toward Aurelius, something caught my ear.
"I heard Aurelius is full of smart and nerdy people, but I didn't think they'd be this pathetic. Look at your face. You scream 'dork,' four-eyes."
Those words were sharp enough to pull my attention immediately. I turned toward the voice coming from the edge of Sora Street—far too early in the morning for something like this.
"You really look hopeless. Give me your ID. Let's get to know each other… You'd make a perfect pig for us."
…Yeah.
No question about it.
Bullying.
How mature of them. College students, supposedly old enough to understand real responsibility, and yet this still happens? In a place like Aurelius, of all schools?
Three students in Aurelius uniforms had cornered a lone fellow student. The sight was almost ironic—a prestigious university with people like that inside its walls.
One of the bullies clenched the victim's collar so tightly that the poor guy was forced down to his knees. He couldn't resist—his body was frozen in fear, completely helpless. The bully yanked his student ID from his lanyard and read it out loud with a mocking tone.
"Rey Saragana. First Year? Information Technology 1-C?" He smirked.
"What luck. We're both first years, huh? But you're from Computer Studies. No wonder you look like this—pathetic, lonely, and dirt-poor."
Kairi flinched at the sight. The moment she saw the student being cornered, her expression instantly shifted to worry.
"Joshua… shouldn't we help him? He's seriously getting bullied," she whispered, her voice trembling a bit.
Honestly, the usual reaction from passersby would be to look away—to pretend they saw nothing. That thought crossed my mind, too. Everyone here is old enough to know right from wrong, yet some still act like this… and because of that immaturity, the innocent end up suffering. People who did nothing wrong become prey for people with rotten minds.
"What we should do is stay out of it for now," I said quietly. "It sounds messed up, but it's the safest thing to do."
Kairi looked at me, confused, almost offended. She opened her mouth as if to argue, so I continued before she could.
"We can't get involved directly. It's just the two of us here. If we step in, we might become their next targets. And if they call us out, what can we even do? Reporting this to the university would be the smarter move."
She didn't like it—but reluctantly, she nodded.
Rey, the student being bullied, was trembling. The bullies tossed insults like it was a game. Soon, it escalated.
"Give us your money, dorkface!"
At that moment, something inside me twitched. My patience was thinning. This wasn't just teasing—it was straight-up extortion. And I knew I had to do something—anything—before this got even worse.
…
Suddenly…
"It's very early in the morning and you guys are already this loud? Give me a break."
A calm voice sliced through the chaos—too calm. The three bullies froze and slowly turned around. Standing behind them was a boy in the same uniform, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded as if the whole situation mildly annoyed him.
He surveyed the scene. His gaze lingered on the trembling student on the ground.
"Oh? So you guys were bullying him." His tone was light, almost cheerful. "No, no… that won't do. That's a disgrace for an Aurelian student."
There was something unnerving about the way he smiled—gentle, yet sharp. The bullies exchanged looks, feeling an unfamiliar pressure. They stepped toward him, ready to make him regret speaking up.
"Are you for real? Do you want to end up like him?" one bully spat, jabbing a finger toward the frightened student.
The boy tilted his head. His eyes, once soft, narrowed—calculating, cold.
"Absolutely not." He shifted his gaze to the bullied student.
"Actually… because of this, I've grown kind of interested in you three."
He took a step forward.
"How weak you must be… to prey on someone who can't fight back. You act tough, but inside? You're just trash."
The air grew heavier—like the street itself held its breath.
The three bullies glared at him with pure fury. But the boy only smiled wider, raising his chin as if looking down at insects.
"You're asking for it," one bully growled. He reached out, yanking the boy by the collar, pulling his ID up to read it.
"Karma Codilla… Computer Sci—"
He never finished. A fist came out of nowhere.
A clean, sharp crack exploded in the street as the bully's face snapped sideways, his whole body lifted off balance and sent crashing to the floor. The other bullies staggered back, eyes wide. Their friend was down. And that punch—no one even saw it coming.
Karma shook his hand lazily.
"Good riddance. And don't pull my ID like that. My neck hurts."
His expression shifted—joyful mask gone. What replaced it was something fierce. Something dangerous. He stepped forward with a predator's calm.
"You bastard!" another bully shouted, throwing a punch fueled with rage.
Karma moved instantly.
He caught the punch mid-air—gripping the bully's wrist like steel. Before the bully could react, Karma dropped his weight and drove a brutal punch into his stomach. The bully gagged, folding in pain.
The last bully yelled and rushed forward, desperate to land a hit.
Karma pushed the wounded bully into him, making them collide. In that split second of imbalance, Karma grabbed the attacker's arm, twisted, and pulled him in—driving a powerful kick straight into his abdomen.
A choked sound escaped the boy as he crumpled backward.
Both bullies hit the ground, groaning, trying to regain their breath. Karma straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his uniform as if the entire fight was mildly inconvenient.
"You guys came in so confident…" he sighed. "Now look at you."
One bully, still clutching his stomach, glared up at him with shaking fury.
"You… bastard…"
He forced himself up, legs trembling, and charged again with a reckless swing, fueled only by pride and anger. Karma didn't even flinch.
He sidestepped smoothly, grabbed the bully's arm, and twisted it behind his back. A sharp cry escaped the bully as his knees buckled. Karma leaned in, voice low.
"You rely too much on brute force. No technique. No brain."
With one fluid motion, he shoved the bully forward, sending him crashing face-first to the floor.
The last conscious bully—the one who'd been kicked—gritted his teeth and forced himself onto his feet. His breath was ragged, his fists trembling not in fear, but in desperation.
"I'm not losing… to some random guy!"
He sprinted at Karma with everything he had. Karma's eyes sharpened.
"Tsk."
As the bully threw a wild punch, Karma ducked under it, grabbed him by the shirt, and pulled him forward—driving his knee into the bully's gut. The impact echoed. The bully's legs gave out, but Karma didn't let him fall.
He held him up by his collar.
"You talk too much."
Karma twisted his body and slammed the bully against the wall with a thud that vibrated through the street.
The bully slid down, defeated.
A sudden growl came from behind—another one of them had gotten up, stumbling but furious. He grabbed Karma from behind, attempting to lock him in a chokehold.
Karma's expression hardened instantly.
He grabbed the bully's arm, lowered his stance, and with a clean pivot, flipped him over his shoulder—a perfect throw. The bully hit the ground flat on his back, air knocked out of him.
Silence fell. Only the strained breaths of the defeated bullies filled the corridor.
Karma stood there, catching none of their desperation, none of their struggle. His breathing was calm. Controlled. His knuckles were slightly red, but he didn't seem bothered.
He looked at the three bodies on the floor—writhing, exhausted, broken.
"Next time," he said, cracking his neck lightly, "pick someone your own size."
This student—Karma, from what I heard—brutally punished those bullies with nothing but his bare hands and legs. Every movement he made was sharp, precise, almost practiced. It was obvious he knew martial arts. I was so impressed that I felt a strange rush through my chest; even Kairi, who never runs out of words, stood frozen in disbelief. None of us expected it. And yet, there he was… defeating all three of them alone.
The victim remained kneeling for a moment, trembling from fear rather than pain. When he finally found the courage to speak, he managed a small, shaky "thank you." Karma only stared at him for a second—expression unreadable—before turning away without a word, as if saving him had been nothing more than an inconvenience.
Karma began to walk in our direction, wearing that calm, almost friendly smile from earlier. For a moment, I thought he was actually approaching us. But instead, he shifted his body toward the pedestrian lane while keeping his eyes on us.
"Good morning, classmates," he said casually—then crossed the road.
…Classmates?
Kairi and I were left speechless. We both turned to each other as the word sank in. I didn't recall seeing him in class yesterday. Then again, maybe I just didn't bother paying attention to every face. I still wasn't familiar with most of my classmates—only the ones who stood out.
"Do you know him, Joshua?" Kairi asked.
"No. I don't. But… he's our classmate?" I said, confused.
The poor fellow who had been bullied approached us hesitantly. He looked shaken but unharmed, just overwhelmed by the fear lingering in his body. We asked if he was alright. He nodded, saying he needed to rush to the university or he'd be late.
"Hey," I told him gently, "you have every right to report what happened. The choice is yours."
He seemed to understand and bowed, then left.
If Karma really was our classmate, then this incident could blow up into something bigger. Karma jumped into a violent fight on campus property. As his classmates, should we report it? Should we pretend we saw nothing? I didn't know. I shared my thoughts with Kairi and she reluctantly agreed. In the end, the safest option was to leave the decision to the victim.
We walked down Sora Street, leaving the three beaten bullies behind. Neither of us looked back.
Crossing the road, we reached the entrance of Finstel Hall, greeted with the bright shine of the campus. We scanned our IDs at the gate, and the guards checked our bags as usual. And through all of it…
Not a single word passed between us about what we had witnessed just minutes ago.
…
A few moments later, Kairi and I finally arrived at our designated classroom. The atmosphere felt noticeably brighter than yesterday. Back then, the room carried a heavy, gloomy aura—no one talked, no one moved much, everyone kept to themselves. But today… the energy had shifted. My classmates were beginning to warm up to the environment, chatting in small clusters, smiling, adjusting.
"Hey, Joshua! Kairi!"
A familiar voice called out.
It was Marc—energetic as ever. The moment we saw him, we waved back as if nothing strange had happened earlier at Sora Street. It felt comforting, almost grounding.
"Oh, by the way," Marc said, scratching the back of his head. "I'd like to introduce someone—or, well… I guess you already know her. I mean, she was late yesterday."
Her?
Before I could ask, someone stepped out from behind Marc. A girl with soft bangs framing her face, her presence bright enough to steal attention without trying.
"Hello! I'm Elle! It's nice to meet you two!"
Kairi practically lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Oh my god! It's so, so nice to meet you, Elle! I'm Kairi! Yesterday, the way you greeted everyone—it was so… Ack! I loved it!"
Elle burst into a small laugh, cheeks turning a shy shade of pink. "Stop it! You're making me feel like I'm some kind of celebrity."
"Oh, please!" Kairi said dramatically. "In my eyes, you looked like a celebrity. An angel even!"
I almost choked at her choice of words. Somehow, things always escalate when Kairi's involved.
As the two talked, I zoned out for a moment. Everything was happening too fast—again. Ever since yesterday, it's been like this. One moment calm, the next moment chaos or surprise, and now I was suddenly face-to-face with Elle like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Trying to keep myself composed, I looked at Marc. "It's odd… why is Elle with you?"
Marc puffed up his cheeks in embarrassment. "Well… earlier, I was lost. Again. And I happened to run into Elle. I recognized her immediately from yesterday's introduction. I was actually looking for you and Kairi, but since I found her first… we talked a bit and walked together."
Sounds very Marc-ish. Of course he got lost.
"What about you?" Elle asked.
She stepped closer—too close—and instinctively, I took one step back. So this was Elle up close: bright eyes, energetic smile, completely unfazed by personal space. My heartbeat jumped a little, but I kept my expression neutral.
"I'm Joshua Montaro," I answered, steady and calm. "Just call me Joshua."
Elle clapped her hands in delight, cheerful as ever. For a moment, I remembered her dramatic introduction yesterday—the bubbly, cutesy student who greeted the class like she owned the stage.
Yep. This was exactly her.
So here I was, talking to Elle. I didn't expect it to happen so casually, but I couldn't deny I was glad. It felt refreshing… a good start to the day. Except—she wouldn't stop staring at me.
Her eyes lingered on my face for way too long. Out of instinct, I touched my cheek and rubbed it, thinking maybe something was stuck there.
Elle suddenly burst into soft, genuine laughter. I stared at her, confused.
"Why are you rubbing your face? There's nothing there," she said between laughs.
"Then why are you staring at me like that? It's kind of weird," I replied.
At once, her expression changed. She panicked a little, bowing her head as she apologized. Great. Now I look like the bad guy.
"No, no—stop bowing," I said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."
Kairi crossed her arms, sighing dramatically. "Seriously, Joshua? You just met Elle and you're already making her feel bad?"
That ticked me off. I wasn't trying to upset Elle—I was just confused. Why would she stare at me? Did she see something odd? Did I look… weird? Ugly?
But then Elle lifted her head, cheeks red.
"It's nothing bad, really. I just think your face is… pretty. You know?"
Pretty? Before I could respond, Marc snapped his fingers as if remembering something important.
"Oh wait! Joshua's pretty—right! That means my guess yesterday at Miguel Library was correct! Joshua is gay!"
And just like that, he triggered something inside me.
Reflexively—like déjà vu from that moment in Miguel Library—I reached out and wrapped my hand around Marc's neck. Not violently, but just tight enough to show my "I will end you" energy. Marc wheezed dramatically, flailing like he didn't see this coming.
Some things never change.
"Uhh… are they always like this?" Elle whispered to Kairi while Marc was still being choked for the second time.
"Well, we only met yesterday," Kairi said, rubbing the back of her neck, "but yeah… this is pretty normal for them. Even for me sometimes."
Then something clicked in her head. She looked at Elle with narrowed eyes.
"Wait—what do you mean by Joshua's face is pretty?"
Elle didn't even hesitate.
"Oh! I mean he's… attractive. Not just handsome—though he definitely is. It's more like… his face has this soft, pretty charm to it. Not in a gendered way. Just… pretty."
I froze mid-choke.
Pretty? Attractive? What does that even mean?
"I don't follow," I muttered, genuinely confused.
Marc coughed dramatically and pointed at me like he just solved a major case.
"Nah. You're definitely gay, Joshua."
I am not. So, naturally, I tightened my grip around his neck again.
Kairi and Elle watched the whole scene unfold—half concerned, half amused—like they were witnessing some weird sibling rivalry they accidentally adopted on day two of college.
…
Then, out of nowhere, the classroom door slid open.
But this time… That feeling— That aura— I've felt it before.
The class didn't care, Elle and Marc kept chatting like nothing happened. But Kairi and I? We stiffened almost instantly. That presence was too familiar.
"Joshua… he is our classmate," Kairi whispered.
Yeah. I figured.
The student we met earlier at Sora Street walked in like a ghost slipping into a room—quiet, unbothered, and giving off an emptiness that made the air colder. The calm expression on his face didn't match the brutality we witnessed earlier. It was as if the whole incident never happened.
Karma Codilla.
Just as he said at the crosswalk—he's our classmate.
Kairi and I watched him enter, almost synchronized. To her, he was something out of the ordinary—too dangerous, too unreadable. I could feel the fear pulsing from her as she subtly moved closer to me.
But me? I wasn't scared.
Something about him drew my attention. Something sharp. Something… intriguing.
Karma dropped his bag on a desk and sat down without a word. His eyes then shifted—calmly, coldly—locking directly onto us. Kairi flinched hard, instantly turning her back toward me like she wanted to disappear.
I didn't move. Didn't flinch. I stared right back, holding his gaze with the same calmness he had. My curiosity grew even stronger.
What are you, Karma?
3.1
Class was about to start. The clock kept ticking, each second drawing us closer to the scheduled time. One by one, everyone settled into their seats, posture straight, voices hushed. My classmates were surprisingly well-mannered—almost unnervingly punctual.
Kairi, Marc, and I sat together as usual. When I glanced around the room, I spotted Elle a few seats away. She waved at us cheerfully, her eyes closed in that cute, bubbly way of hers. I couldn't help but smile back.
Today's subject: Introduction to Philosophical Methods.
The one class with the most twisted logic, the most abstract thinking, and the most confusing concepts known to mankind. People can romanticize it all they want—deep, profound, meaningful—but for me? It's a labyrinth of thoughts that makes my brain want to retire early.
For some reason, the atmosphere shifted. The earlier liveliness vanished. Silence settled over the room like a blanket. Everyone was still, as if synced with one thought— It's coming.
Am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on?
"Why is everyone so weirdly quiet?" Marc whispered to Kairi.
Good. At least I'm not the only clueless one.
Kairi leaned in, her voice dropping to a secretive tone.
"Did you know? Philosophy is the most feared subject in Aurelius. Like… the most terror subject. Alumni talk about it everywhere—on social media, forums, even rumor threads. Philosophy here is unforgiving. No mercy. At all."
Now that caught my attention. Philosophy? That scary?
"I mean… how bad can it be?" I said. "It's just learning, right?"
Kairi slowly shook her head.
"Joshua, this is college. Nothing is ever 'just' learning."
She hesitated, then added:
"I heard that… no one has ever gotten an A. Ever."
…
Marc and I froze for a moment. Nobody… ever?
The word echoed in my head like a warning bell.
Before I could ask anything else, the classroom door slid open with a sharp metallic sound.
Clack.
Every student straightened at once. Bags were nudged under desks, pens were gripped, backs stiffened. The sudden shift in the room's atmosphere felt like the air tightened and folded into itself.
A woman stepped inside—black slacks, charcoal-gray coat, and a pair of cold, unreadable eyes hidden behind rimless glasses. Her footsteps were slow but heavy enough that each one felt like it carved itself into the floor. She didn't need to raise his voice; his presence alone commanded silence.
The professor placed her folder and a laptop on the table with a dull thud.
Her gaze swept over the room, one student at a time—measured, dissecting, judging. It felt as though she could read through us, past us, into the parts of us we didn't want anyone to see.
She opened her laptop and connected it to the projector, turning it on with a soft click. A bright beam shot across the room, illuminating the whiteboard as the first slide appeared—her photograph beside her name in clean, bold letters.
"Good morning everyone," she began, her voice calm but firm. "I will be your professor for your Philosophy course. I am Monica Castro, but you may address me as Miss Monica."
The room fell completely attentive. Even Marc—who usually had a hard time pretending—sat straighter, though his expression showed he was forcing himself a bit. Kairi listened earnestly, and I did too, my posture stiff as if matching the seriousness of the subject.
Miss Monica clicked to the next slide.
"So, what will you expect in this Philosophy class?"
The slide displayed the AurelianSite interface, glowing on the board.
"Our mode of answering assessments and accessing lessons will be through our online platform, the Aurelius website known as 'AurelianSite,'" she explained.
"I hope some of you are already aware that all your curriculum details, personal information status, balance, enrollments—everything tied to your academic life here in Aurelius—are consolidated in this one platform."
I took out my phone, tapping the AurelianSite app that had already been pre-installed for freshmen like me. The dashboard popped up, showing the list of subjects I'm taking this semester—Philosophy included. There was also a tab summarizing my personal academic standing since enrollment, complete with evaluations.
Interesting… but not what I needed to focus on right now.
Miss Monica continued, her expression becoming more serious as she folded her hands in front of her.
"Philosophy isn't a subject you memorize," she said. "It's a subject you engage with. And here in Aurelius, we expect you not only to understand concepts but to challenge them. Your answers will reflect how you think… not how well you recite."
Marc shifted in his seat. Kairi leaned forward, already intrigued. And I felt something stir in my chest—a mixture of curiosity and a hint of uncertainty.
…
"Doing philosophical reflection is not only this course's learning target," Miss Monica continued, pacing slowly in front of the projector, "but also its learning strategy."
She paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch—long enough for the weight of her words to settle in the room.
"As the Filipino philosopher Fr. Roque J. Ferriols, S.J. advises students being introduced to Philosophy…"
A single quote appeared, centered and bold:
"Like all activities, philosophizing is something which is easier to do than to define."
Some students quietly murmured to one another. Others simply stared at the quote, unsure how to even react.
"So, how do you actually do philosophy?" Miss Monica continued. "You analyze philosophical materials, you practice the philosophical methods you find in them, and you complete meaningful philosophical missions."
She clicked to the next slide.
"This is what you'll be doing for the entire semester…"
First: Analyze philosophical materials. There will be two sets of materials: Asking Philosophical Questions and Answering Philosophical Questions.
"These aren't lessons I will lecture to you. They are examples—demonstrations of methods—that you must study and break down."
…
I blinked.
Huh? What?
So basically… We're supposed to figure out how to do philosophy by analyzing how other philosophers do philosophy? This is getting more confusing by the minute.
…
Second: Answering philosophical questions has two levels: Doing Primary Reflection and Doing Secondary Reflection.
"These specific ways of doing philosophy are practiced through frequent testing of content-knowledge. The practiced methods, then, are refined by teacher feedback consultations and retesting."
Third: Complete Philosophical Missions. Four philosophical missions are offered for independent application of the practiced philosophical methods.
"Each mission has three parts, identifying the philosophical questions, Primary Reflection answers, and secondary reflection answers."
…
The classroom fell completely silent after Miss Monica's explanation. Some students seemed to grasp the idea right away, while others looked confused and unsure. Seeing this, Miss Monica decided to clarify further.
"This course, Introduction to Philosophical Methods, is all about how philosophers ask and answer questions," she explained.
"Now, let's talk about how you'll be doing your assessments."
She went on to describe the strict weekly schedule: assessments would open each week and then close promptly. This routine was set to keep everyone on track, making sure no one fell too far behind and that the class moved forward together.
"If you don't try to answer within the week, you'll get a zero for that assessment," she warned. This rule was meant to encourage timely participation and keep everyone engaged with the material.
"But don't worry," she added quickly, "you'll still be able to access missed assessments during the next cycle. So while you'll get a zero for missing the original deadline, you'll have another chance to catch up later."
It was a system designed to balance fairness with discipline—acknowledging that life can get busy, but still encouraging everyone to stay involved and keep learning.
Students tried to understand the system of philosophy because the more it is explained further, the more it confuses everyone. It's getting complicated. But, there are particular students who tried their best to follow what was conveyed.
…
"Alright, now I'm going to explain how you'll be answering your assessments on AurelianSite," Miss Monica began. "There are some major changes this year compared to last year's system."
Major changes?
"Well, last year, this was how things worked..."
100% Needed to Move On. You have to get a perfect score to move to the next assessment. This rule is there to make sure you fully understand the basics before tackling harder topics later. It helps build a strong foundation, so you don't struggle down the road.
Unlimited Attempts. You can try as many times as you want. This takes the pressure off and gives you plenty of chances to learn from your mistakes and improve at your own pace.
12-Hour Wait Between Tries. After each attempt, you'll need to wait 12 hours before trying again. This break helps you really think about what you got wrong and review the material, instead of just rushing through without learning. It gives your brain time to absorb the info better.
…
The students were left speechless, Kairi was shocked that our seniors have to go through all these struggles. No wonder why Philosophy in Aurelius is that difficult and terrified many alumni. It was jaw dropping indeed.
…
"Currently, the department of Philosophy implemented this new system for all first year students for this year…"
60% Passing Score to Move On. This year, you only need to score 60% to move on to the next assessment. The change came from feedback and the need to speed things up. While aiming for 100% mastery is great, it sometimes causes delays. Setting the bar at 60% strikes a balance—it ensures you have a solid foundation but lets you progress faster, so no one gets stuck too long on one part.
Only One Attempt Allowed. You only get one shot per assessment now. This raises the stakes and encourages you to come prepared. The goal is to get you to study well ahead of time and give your best effort in that single try, rather than guessing repeatedly.
No Waiting Between Attempts, But the Same Quiz Repeats Next Time. There's no more waiting period between assessments anymore. You can move on immediately after finishing. But here's the catch: the same quiz will show up again in the next assessment cycle before you can proceed further. This acts as a review and makes sure you really remember and understand the material before moving on to new stuff.
How the "Check Button" Works for Fill-in-the-Blanks. The "check button" helps you learn during the quiz but comes with penalties to keep things fair:
First click: Removes some wrong answers but deducts 0.5 points. It's like a gentle hint—you get help, but it costs a bit.
Second click: Removes more wrong answers and deducts another 0.5 points, showing you're relying more on hints.
Third click: No more points can be deducted, but if you need this much help, that question scores zero. It means you didn't really know the answer and were just guessing by elimination.
…
This system encourages you to think carefully before using hints and rewards real understanding.
12-Hour Time Limit to Finish the Assessment. You have 12 hours to complete each assessment once you start. This gives you enough time to work through the questions without rushing but prevents you from dragging it out for days. It's designed to help you focus and manage your time, much like real-life situations.
Points Are Averaged for Your Final Score. Your final score is an average of all your answers. This way, every question counts, and you can't just rely on a few perfect answers to mask weaker spots. Using the check button a lot will lower your score since those hints reduce points on individual questions. The average shows how well you truly understand the whole assessment, rewarding consistent knowledge and problem-solving skills.
…
The whole system sounded like a mess—too confusing to make sense of just by listening in class. Honestly, it felt like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.
It would've helped a lot if Miss Monica had shown some clear example on screen or something, so everyone could actually see what answering those twisted assessments looked like. Instead, it was just a flood of rules and pressure that made heads spin. Why did it have to be so complicated? The stress was real, and nobody wanted to feel like they were drowning before they even started.
"Now, here comes the disadvantage, abusing this system with other fellow students." Miss Monica said.
…
She explained…
Imagine this: Student A begins his assessment, the 12-hour timer already ticking away. He does his best, answers everything he can, and finishes with a total score of 2.16 points for the week.
Later, Student B comes along, asking Student A for his answers. But Student B is smart about it—he looks at which of Student A's answers were right and which ones weren't. He copies the correct ones and changes the wrong ones into what he believes are better answers.
When Student B submits his assessment, he ends up with 2.89 points—much higher than Student A. All because he waited for Student A to go first.
Miss Monica looked at the class and asked, "If you were in Student A's position… would you share your answers?"
…
The students looked down in disbelief, some left no words and showed a face of discouragement. Kairi felt the same. The classroom was in sheer silence.
…
"Let's talk about the grading system for this course."
After learning the philosophical methods, we finally got to face the Philosophical Missions—tasks that dove into questions about human life. But there was a catch: everything depended on points. The missions you were allowed to take were based on how many points you earned in the previous week's assessment.
Do well, and you'd unlock better missions. Struggle, and your options would shrink. These missions were our chance to earn back points, boost our grades, and maybe even climb higher than before. It felt a bit like a game—except the stakes were our actual scores.
The grading system was laid out like a ladder, each step depending on how many points you earned.
If you scored 18.0 points or higher, you were guaranteed an A—and you unlocked all four missions.
With 17.0 points, you landed a B, but you still had access to all four missions. Do well on them, and you could climb your way up to an A.
At 16.0 points, your grade dropped to a C, giving you access to only three missions—but finishing them strong could still push you up to a B.
A score of 15.0 points meant a D, and you were limited to two missions. If you did well there, you had a chance to bump your grade up to a C.
But if you got 14.9 points or below, that was an automatic F—you failed the course. Still, you weren't completely out. You'd only get Mission 1, and if you performed well enough to raise your score past 15.0, you could pull yourself up to a D and pass.
It felt like a tightrope walk—one misstep, and your whole grade could shift. But at least the missions gave everyone a fighting chance.
The system is so confusing. It's hard to understand anything when listening to it in the classroom. It would be great if it could at least bring a great visual example for the students to be aware of what it's like to answer those assessments with these systems that had a twist to make it so complicated.
For me, this approach of teaching is very stupid.
"And that's all of it for today. Any questions and clarifications so far?" Miss Monica asked us…
The classroom stayed completely silent, the kind of silence that felt heavy—like everyone had either lost hope or lost the motivation to even try. That was just what I noticed in my classmates after hearing all those instructions and rules.
Thankfully, someone finally raised a hand.
"Good morning, Miss Monica," the student said. "About this whole system… with all the technology and the long list of instructions—it's impressive, really. But why choose this kind of approach? Some students find it interesting, but others don't. And, uh… will there be any face-to-face sessions where you'll actually teach the lessons instead of relying only on AurelianSite?"
Exactly…
Miss Monica let out a small breath, as if she'd been waiting for that question.
"That's… actually a very valid concern," she began carefully. "We chose this system because it encourages independent learning. Philosophy isn't something I can just spoon-feed to you. You need to wrestle with the questions yourself, and the structure of AurelianSite helps build that kind of thinking."
She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening.
"As for face-to-face teaching…" She glanced around the room, almost apologetically. "I honestly can't give you a definite answer right now. The department is still deciding how much will be taught in person and how much will remain on AurelianSite. So for the moment, I can't promise anything."
A quiet murmur spread through the class.
Words couldn't even describe what I felt after hearing her answer. All I could think was: What in the actual fuck?
Miss Monica closed her laptop, packed her things, and headed toward the door. But before leaving, she paused, picked up a whiteboard marker, and wrote something on the board.
"Now," she said, turning to us, "let's start with a simple question."
What is virtue?
The room seemed to hold its breath, bracing for whatever this meant. That single question hung in the air like a spark waiting to catch fire.
And just like that, our Philosophy journey officially began.
When Miss Monica walked out of the classroom, all of us were left staring at the board—silent, confused, and completely unprepared. None of us knew that this "simple" question would come back to haunt us for the rest of the semester.
3.2
The Philosophy class finally came to an end. As soon as Miss Monica dismissed us, the whole class poured out of the room like we'd just survived something unspeakable. Joshua, Marc, and I walked out with faces that screamed exhaustion after listening to what felt like endless murmurs and riddles disguised as lectures. Who knew what kind of chaos awaited us next?
Marc and Kairi immediately started talking about lunch. Of course they were—food is always their first instinct after suffering.
I scanned the hallway, watching groups of students walk past. But before joining those two, there was something I needed to take care of.
"Hey, Marc and Kairi. I'll catch up with you later in the cafeteria. There's some business I have to do," I said.
"Huh? Are you sure, Joshua? Isn't it better if we come with you?" Kairi asked.
"No, it's fine. Besides, Marc might steal my lunch again. Don't worry, I'll go later. I'll just message you, Kairi."
Kairi burst out laughing at the reminder, while Marc smirked with that guilty look he tried and failed to hide. They seemed convinced, so the two headed toward the elevator.
I turned in the opposite direction and began walking. The hallway felt oddly peaceful today—nothing like yesterday's noisy chaos. The chime of the school bell rang through the building. Noon. Lunchtime.
I made my way to the student lounge on the fourth floor of Finstel Hall. The daylight outside the glass walls washed over the space, giving me a sense of relief after being mentally crushed by Philosophy.
But just as I approached the terrace, someone stood in my line of sight, blocking the scenery outside.
That same student.
The one with that unnaturally calm expression—like nothing in the world could ever shake him. The same aura, the same stillness, as if he carried a whole different atmosphere with him.
Karma.
I walked closer to him, the breeze from the terrace brushing lightly against my sleeves. His posture didn't change, not even a flinch. Typical.
"Karma," I said.
"For someone who is average and wants a normal life in college, you managed to recall my name from that incident earlier. Yet you chose not to tell anyone about it—"
He spoke calmly, but I cut him off before he could finish.
"Yah yah yah. Yet here, yet there, yet everywhere. You sound poetic. What's up with that?" I said, rolling my eyes.
Karma slowly turned to face me, shifting his weight with that annoyingly composed aura. Then he raised his chin slightly, giving me that downward gaze he seems to specialize in.
"You act tough for someone who couldn't do such a simple thing earlier," he said.
"Tch. I'd rather not get myself involved. Just like you said. I want a normal life," I replied.
But inside, something felt off. How did he even know that? How could he guess something I didn't even say out loud?
How does he get the idea that I want a normal life?
It felt like he'd known me long before we ever met. I never introduced myself to him—not even a hint of who I am. He only saw me a few seconds earlier at the crosswalk. And somehow, that was enough for him to make assumptions about me?
Or worse… he wasn't assuming. He was certain. But how?
Suddenly, Karma gave a calm smile after that exchange. For a second, I thought he was trying to get under my skin—intimidate me again—but he just brushed it off and said,
"Hm, I like you. What's your name?"
"I'm Joshua Montaro. And like you said, I'd like to live a normal college life," I replied.
Karma nodded, and the tension between us eased. We shook hands—his grip firm, mine a bit cautious. Honestly, deep down, he seemed like a good person despite his harsh exterior. A good person who just happened to beat people senseless with his bare hands… yeah.
We lingered together in the student lounge, leaning on the railing as the view of Sora Street stretched below us. Students moved like tiny dots, passing by without knowing two weirdos were watching them from above.
We talked—surprisingly, normally.
"Did you really have to hurt them that badly? Wasn't that… you know, a bit brutal?" I asked.
Karma shrugged like I had asked him what he had for breakfast.
"I don't know. Delinquents were kind of my specialty before," he said. "Out of habit, I guess it carried over here. Besides—they were the ones in the wrong."
I slowly nodded. As reckless as he sounded, I could tell he wasn't lying. He had a past filled with fights, and clearly he didn't hesitate when it came to protecting someone. It's just the way he does it that makes him terrifying.
"You see this card at the back of my ID?" he asked, lifting his ID lanyard and flipping it over.
There was a debit card taped there.
"It's from someone I beat up earlier this morning," Karma said with his tongue sticking out in childish pride.
You're the worst, Karma. Absolutely the worst.
I sighed.
"Say, what do you think about our Philosophy class?" I asked.
Karma stared blankly into the sky.
"Say what? I don't care about it," he said flatly.
Yeah, figured. Karma didn't care about anything. Looking at him, he was definitely the type of guy who lives only for whatever amusement or trouble is right in front of him. He'll do something if he wants to, not because he's told to.
I can't tell if that's admirable or incredibly stupid.
Probably both.
…
Out of nowhere, a familiar voice chimed right behind us.
"All I can say is that the course is nothing but trash."
Karma and I turned around—and there she was. Elle, casually sitting on the bench like she had been eavesdropping for the past ten minutes.
"Yo! Hello, Pretty Josh!" She greeted me with way too much energy.
Pretty… Josh? What the hell?
"You were there the whole time? And what's with the name 'Pretty Josh'? That's so weird," I said.
Elle tilted her head, smiling like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You think so? I mean, your face is very pretty. Josh."
There it is again. That cursed word.
I honestly thought Elle had left earlier and went somewhere. But since she was here—apparently listening to us talk this entire time—might as well continue the conversation.
"Since you're here," I sighed, "what do you think about Philosophy?"
Elle stretched her arms and let out a dramatic groan.
"Trash. Absolute trash. Worst subject ever. The end.".
Karma stared at Elle for a moment, like he was digging through the back of his memory. Then he snapped his fingers.
"Oh. You were that noisy girl yesterday. The self-proclaimed very pretty and very cute classmate."
Elle immediately planted both hands on her waist and leaned forward, pouting like she had just been personally insulted by the universe.
"So? What about it? You got a problem with that?" she snapped.
Karma didn't even blink. He just looked at her with that same blank expression. Elle, on the other hand, kept going—rambling, ranting, complaining—all loud enough that a few students walking by slowed down to stare.
This was their first interaction, I realized. Elle had no idea what kind of person Karma was. She didn't know he could literally fold delinquents in half on the street before breakfast.
"Elle, calm down," I said, trying to defuse the bomb before it exploded even louder. "I actually think you are very attractive and cute. Especially with that positive behavior of yours."
Elle froze mid-rant. She turned to me like a puppy hearing a bag of treats open.
"Awww… Josh! You really mean that?"
Her eyes sparkled—like literally sparkled in my imagination. I swear I could almost hear twinkling sound effects.
Karma watched the entire transformation with a disgusted expression.
"What the hell did I just witness?" he said, completely deadpan.
Elle ignored him entirely and clung to my compliment like it was the best thing that happened to her today.
…
"What you just witnessed right there, Mr. Karma," a student said confidently, stepping forward like he was entering a stage. "A compliment given by a very charming gentleman here… and received by this beautiful lady here."
He paused, lifted one hand dramatically, and added with a soft smile:
"It's called love."
The three of us froze.
Elle blinked.
I blinked.
Karma stared at him like he had just summoned a demon.
"…And who the hell are you?" Karma shot back.
The student didn't flinch. Not even a twitch. He simply straightened his posture, and gave a polite bow—like some elegant top-ranking honor student making an entrance.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to intrude."
He brought a hand to his chest.
"I am Trevor De Guzman. First Year, Computer Science 1–B. A pleasure to meet you all."
Trevor spoke so gracefully that for a second, it felt like we weren't in a college lounge but in some fantasy ballroom. Even his uniform looked neater than everyone else's—like it belonged in a brochure.
Elle whispered, "Is he… rehearsed?"
I whispered back, "Probably since birth."
Wait… Trevor De Guzman.
Isn't he the same guy Marc, Kairi, and I were talking about yesterday? The one with the overly formal self-introduction—the class representative material. The charming one. Or, well… that's what I thought.
"You're Trevor De Guzman, right?" I asked.
Trevor folded his arms, closed his eyes like some anime protagonist revealing a special move, then pointed at me.
"You are absolutely correct!"
Okay… dramatic much?
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal state secrets.
"About that philosophy class earlier—I'll say it straight. The method of teaching is completely stupid. Right?"
Elle immediately jumped in.
"Yes! When Miss Monica said she won't actually teach and will only correct our answers afterward? I was so disappointed. That's not teaching. That's… consulting. Who asked for a consultant?"
Trevor nodded, as if pleased someone finally understood him.
"What's your point, Trevor?" I asked.
He pulled out a chair, sat in front of us, and steepled his fingers like a mastermind.
"I've been thinking. Remember when Miss Monica gave an example about Student A giving their answers to Student B? That part got stuck in my head. The professors don't seem to care at all if we exchange answers."
He wasn't wrong. Miss Monica's vague response earlier, the unclear restrictions, the whole approach—it all felt suspiciously… loose.
"They gave us a choice," I added. "Whether we help others even if it puts us at a disadvantage. No rules. No limits."
Trevor snapped his fingers.
"Exactly! So why not use that to our advantage?"
His eyes sharpened.
"Money!" he declared.
…
Silence. Awkward, heavy silence.
"We can make a business. Answer assessments for people in exchange for cash. Think about it—we turn philosophy into profit!"
Oh God. This man wasn't charming—he was a capitalist incarnate. Elle, surprisingly, didn't immediately disagree. She seemed… curious.
"I'm leaving." Karma stood up, disgust written all over his face.
He walked away, clearly wanting no part in Trevor's 'Philosophy Black Market.' But before he could take another step, three familiar figures blocked his path.
The bullies from Sora Street.
Now that they were closer, I noticed the bandages on their faces. Bruises. Swelling. All from what Karma gave them that morning.
"So this is where you ran off to," one of them sneered. "You embarrassed us earlier. You've got guts, kid."
Elle and Trevor froze. Fear, confusion, and panic flashed across their faces. Me? I didn't move. I knew what Karma was capable of, and honestly… I was more worried for them.
"So," the bully continued, "you were talking about philosophy. We had that class too. Did I hear something about making money?"
Trevor perked up—of course he perked up.
"Oh! Yes, actually, we were thinking—"
I slammed my hand over his mouth before he could ruin our lives.
Bad idea. Terrible idea. Worst idea.
"Huh? And you," the bully looked at me, squinting. "I saw you earlier at Sora Street."
Crap. Crap. Crap. And thank God Kairi wasn't here, or that would've doubled the disaster.
Karma stepped forward, his voice sharp and cold.
"Hey, idiots. Leave my classmates out of this. I'm the one you want."
The bully snorted…
"So these are your classmates. Figures. A bunch of nerds pretending to be tough. You don't know real hell. All of you are just lowlives."
Elle clinged onto me suddenly. I don't know how to react but I remained calm due to the situation. She must be scared and worried about Karma…
She is way too close…
"Josh, is Karma going to be okay? Shouldn't we help?"
I replied…
"No. In fact, it's best to not get involved and just watch how this will escalate."
Karma looked at the bully's student ID. He seemed curious about who he is and what department he is from. After getting a closer look, he smirked and said…
"Leon Hiralda, Mechanical Engineering 1-C. So, you're from the Department of Engineering and Architecture. No wonder you look so 'mighty tough' when you're just as soft as everyone else."
Department of Engineering and Architecture… what about them? I wondered. I turned to Elle for clarity.
"Well," she began, "they're basically the powerhouse of Aurelius. Their department dominates the university events every year—always winning, always consistent. They've built a huge reputation. Plus, they have the largest number of students enrolled. It's… kind of insane."
So insane, in fact, that their pride has apparently ballooned enough for people like Leon to start pulling off this kind of monstrosity.
A prestigious university, huh, Aurelius? Prestigious indeed.
The bullies couldn't hold it much longer. They were annoyed, irritated and provoked. Leon, the bully, grabbed Karma by the collar. But Karma didn't move. Not one muscle.
His expression stayed calm—disturbingly calm.
"Let go," Karma said.
"No," the bully replied, pulling him closer. "You think you're strong? Tough? You think you can just—"
Wham!
The bully suddenly hit the floor. Karma didn't even look like he moved. Elle gasped. Trevor took two steps back. The other two bullies froze in place, staring at Karma with disbelief. Karma dusted off his shoulder.
"That's for touching me."
The remaining bullies panicked and swung at him together. Karma sidestepped the first punch, caught the second wrist, twisted it behind the boy's back, and shoved him into the third bully so hard they both fell like stacked dominoes.
Elle clasped her hands over her mouth.
Trevor whispered, "Holy… he's a monster."
Karma exhaled like he was frustrated more than anything.
"You guys really don't learn," Karma said. "Every time I see you, you just get uglier."
The bullies scrambled to their feet—one holding his stomach, another clutching his arm, the third limping. Fear finally replaced their bravado.
"F-Fine! We'll deal with you later, Karma Codilla!"
"You're dead! Just wait!"
"Let's go!"
They staggered away, cursing, limping, and bumping into chairs as they hurried out of the lounge.
Silence.
Then—
"Wow!" Trevor said, clapping dramatically. "What an absolute display! Can you teach me how to do that? I swear I'll pay—"
"No," Karma replied instantly.
Elle grabbed my arm. "Josh… remind me never to make Karma mad. Ever."
"Noted," I said.
Karma walked back toward us, utterly unfazed, as if he had just thrown out the trash. Trevor, somehow already recovered, grinned.
"Oh! Philosophy business!"
"You're still on about that?" Karma sighed.
Karma settled the situation—again. But this time, it wasn't some back-alley confrontation. This was inside the school. With students watching. With teachers nearby. With security cameras pointed right at them from the corner of the hallway.
And unlike earlier in Sora Street, Karma didn't lift a hand. No punches, no kicks, no bruises added to the ones already decorating the bullies' faces. Just his presence—sharp, heavy, dangerous—was enough to shut them up.
But the moment I spotted those cameras, a thought hit me.
Why were they even here?
These guys came all the way to the university to look for Karma. And if the victim back at Sora Street actually reported what happened this morning… wouldn't the university be on high alert by now? Wouldn't they be the ones getting dragged into an office? Questioned? Suspended?
Something wasn't adding up.
And it made the air feel colder than it already was.
3.3
Another incident—another mess cleaned up by Karma's frighteningly clean martial skill and his unnerving, unshakable presence. By the time the tension at the student lounge finally dissolved, the four of us drifted apart. Trevor wandered off still buzzing about his grand scheme to turn Philosophy into a money-making machine. I doubted the whole idea would ever work, but with Trevor, you never really knew.
Karma didn't care enough to argue—he just left first, heading upstairs without a word. That left Elle and me walking the halls of Finstel Hall together. The elevator was jam-packed, so we chose the stairs instead.
"I didn't know Karma had that kind of talent," Elle said, still shaken but fascinated.
"Honestly? I wasn't expecting it either," I replied.
As we descended, I told her what had happened earlier that morning—my first encounter with Karma, the fight, and why those bullies came after him again.
"Ah. Now that makes sense…" Elle murmured.
We continued down the stairwell, her footsteps echoing lightly against the walls.
"You're really smart, Josh," she said suddenly.
I blinked. "You think so? Why?"
"Well… the way you talk. It's giving… I don't know, something. But I understood everything you explained. Especially about the Philosophy thing. I didn't get it at first, but when you said it, it just clicked."
She paused, then added with a faint smile, "And when Karma confronted those bullies, you stayed calm. Like it was nothing. People who can do that… there's always something deeper going on. So yeah—I think you're very intelligent."
"So being calm makes me smart? That's your logic?" I said.
Elle burst into laughter, quickening her pace down the steps. She reached the landing ahead of me, turned, and grinned.
"You're funny, Josh," she said. "When I say you're smart in my eyes… you really are."
I stopped for a moment, listening to her words settle in the silence of the stairwell.
"Anyway! My aunt's waiting for me outside, so I'm having lunch off-campus. I'll see you later, okay?" Elle waved, then ran toward the lobby, disappearing from sight.
Once she was gone, a small laugh slipped out of me. Her reasoning made absolutely no sense—none at all—yet somehow, it felt warm. Honest. Something I could tuck away in my chest.
I guess I'm smart, she says.
Maybe that's enough for now.