A group of young people ran desperately towards a gate, some of them injured and even bleeding.
All of them, without exception, were in terrible condition, but they seemed sad, on the contrary! They were cheerful and happy as if they had met all the requirements to win the lottery. Breathless and tired, they continued without discouragement until they reached the large gate made of black iron bars, with a gothic appearance.
Among them, a young man of no more than 15 years old encouraged them, shouting as he led the march.
"Almost there, we'll make it!" He seemed to be the leader of the group; his skin was a light brown and his hair was a faded dark brown. He wore a moss green shirt and jeans.
Among all of that group, this boy was the most animated and had the biggest smile of all.
"Are we there?" On the leader's shoulders was a white boy with orange hair. He seemed injured and extremely tired, but upon seeing the gate approaching, his expression changed to pure joy. The group celebrated approaching the gate; it was like a great victory for them to reach it, even with so many wounded. Their joy was so great that they almost leaped towards their goal.
But suddenly, everyone stopped, and what was once joy turned to frustration. It was as if all their hopes had been taken from them, without remorse or ceremony, while they laughed in their faces.
Between the group and the gate stood a single young man, who didn't seem much older than the boys in the group.
He was a person with a striking and unique appearance; his neck-length hair was completely white, and his skin was tanned. He wore quite formal attire: a dark blazer and underneath a white dress shirt with jeans.
He waited for the group with his eyes closed and his right hand in his pocket.
The group leader, still carrying his companion, stepped forward, standing between his companions and the intimidating figure. The white-haired boy opened his eyes, revealing his left eye with a yellow iris, and his right eye completely empty and white, not even an iris inhabiting its orb.
He smiled mockingly, displaying his white, sharp teeth; his canines were thin and pointed, resembling the fangs of a snake.
He begins walking towards the group, who couldn't decide whether to advance or retreat. Their leader stood staring intently at his opponent, clueless about what to do.
"We don't want trouble! Just let us continue." The leader says with clear fear in his voice, trembling at the advance that had come his way.
The other, in turn, stops walking and faces the group, looking at his leader who believes he can talk to his opponent. Which only demonstrates his ignorance.
The leader prepares to continue talking, but his words are interrupted when he feels the fringe covering the left side of his face being swayed by a breeze.
That breeze sent a chill down his spine, figuratively and literally. Turning his head slowly, he sees blood being splashed into the air as he feels his friend fall backward.
Catching his companion before he hits the ground, he sees his friend's face covered in blood, with a shallow hole in his forehead. Fear was the only thing coursing through his veins. He wanted to give the order to retreat to his companions, but his objective was already visible. How could he stop now?
Uncertainty overwhelmed him. But unfortunately, it seemed not all his companions shared the same thought.
In the middle of the group, one of them rushed towards the opponent, disregarding everything else. The leader tried to stop him, but he didn't care and continued. He wanted to advance without worrying about who was in front of him.
Raising his arm while wielding a hammer, the young man fearlessly charged at the enemy with full speed, not realizing he would never reach him.
Before he could face his opponent up close, he noticed something strange in his target's left hand, something familiar that he knew very well… it was his own hammer.
Surprise gripped his body. That was undoubtedly his hammer. How could it be in the enemy's hands?
Looking at his own hand, he was shocked and desperate. His arm was completely twisted; to an outsider, it looked as if there weren't even any bones left in that limb, while it grew increasingly purple and red from being twisted like a dirty rag. He fell in complete agony, feeling his arm being wrapped in an impossibly tight way.
The leader looked desperately at his companion; there was no way to help him, guilt filling his already desperate heart. But he wasn't going to stand there, leaving his friend with the others. He calmly walked towards the figure standing in front of him, who still had his right hand in his pocket.
Standing beside his weeping companion, he stared at his obstacle with determination.
"We just want to get out of here, I know you're the same. I know you hate this place too. So let us pass!"
"The same?"
That was all the figure said, laughing at the face of the leader of that group of overly audacious teenagers. His single eye, containing an iris, looked disdainfully at the pathetic creature staring back at him. Simply humiliating him seemed insufficient.
"Foolish child! You discovered a little more about the cave you live in, and you thought you got out of it? You're still just interpreting the scraps your tormentors use to mock you. There's nothing that makes you and me alike."
He spoke as his feet left the ground, and his whole body seemed to be lifted high, making his white hair stand on end and his presence powerful.
"Listen up, kid, we're in a 'Holy War,' nobody ever escapes the Holy War!"
[...]
Arrow
It was almost 9:00 AM, and the subway car I was in had finally arrived at its destination. I was already tired of waiting so long to finally get where I wanted to be.
I got off the train, dragging my wheeled suitcase along the station platform. It was quite busy for what is usual at the beginning of the year; it was even strange to see so many people going back and forth on January 5th.
I thought I would see more students like me at the station or in the cars, but it seemed everyone must have opted to arrive earlier. I didn't mind arriving a little later; I liked to enjoy the journey on each trip.
Suddenly I felt a slight push, and I saw someone running past me. "Sorry, it was an accident," he said as he continued running without looking back. He seemed to be in quite a hurry, and didn't even apologize properly.
That wouldn't be a problem; it was a light touch that was barely noticeable, too quick and weak to be a big deal. Unfortunately, I was the target of this incident.
I lifted the sleeve of my shirt to see the result of the unwanted encounter, and there it was, my skin was completely red, causing immense discomfort and irritation. I put on one of my band-aids; it was very annoying and bothersome to deal with.
I have symptomatic dermatographism, which means my skin is so fragile and easily injured that it's literally possible to draw on it.
Any minor discomfort my skin suffers is met with an exaggerated reaction that can last up to 30 minutes, forcing me to endure a painful wound for a long time.
And the worst part is that my case is symptomatic, meaning I have even more problems than others afflicted with this physical condition.
At least it's not dangerous or likely to lead to bigger problems, but it's still very uncomfortable.
I am a very fragile person. I am only 1.66 meters tall and have mild asthma. (I'm already recovering and don't suffer as many problems anymore) I don't have a very good physique, I think it's one of the worst actually. I'm very skinny and I don't even have hope of developing muscles.
I'm literally the perfect type to become a target for bullying or other aggression. I've suffered a lot of that in the past, the kind where most people sympathize with the sick, even though I'm not that sick, but nobody needs to know that last part.
I was already climbing the stairs of the station ready to head towards my new home for the rest of my student years.
I was very lucky to be randomly chosen to join the faculty of the largest educational institution in the world. People from all countries come here to study, the most funded and sponsored school in the whole world… the "Santa Guerra Institute"!
Okay, the name is strange, but that doesn't matter much if we consider everything the school offers. Literally all possible courses are very accessible to all students, having all the necessary materials for the best possible education.
They say having the institute's name on your resume opens any door you want, even in government and in any country you want. Not to mention that companies favor the Institute and supply products that don't even reach the market. I heard that students here had access to the latest release of the current generation of consoles, two years before the official launch, and 20% cheaper than in stores.
The Institute is almost a city in itself, they say it even has a subway system inside the institution. The residential area alone occupies 31% of Brasília's size
It's the best educational institution in the world, with a 100% guarantee in any career, even though I'd never heard of it until these last few months. The only problem is the way to get in; there are no scholarships for "Santa Guerra".
There's also no tuition; the only way is to receive a direct invitation from the director or be randomly selected by the system. I've already said this, but mine was the latter.
I'm recently entering high school, and when my documents went into the system to move me to the next level of my education, I was chosen to transfer to "Santa Guerra".
I never considered myself lucky, but now I am very lucky! I can't wait to have my future secured.
Finally outside the station, I follow the address I received in the email. It was easy to find; the location of the institution wasn't surrounded by much. It was quite far from everything, almost isolated from the rest of the world.
But that makes sense; just looking at the entrance structure of "Santa Guerra" makes it easy to understand.
There were several booths lined up side by side, each with turnstiles next to the windows where staff attended to each student individually.
Behind the booths was a large, quite tall structure. Inside, I could see many doors leading to wide corridors where many new students entered. The walls were decorated with various Renaissance artworks.
All the artworks were painted in a way that led the eye to a black coat of arms with a single golden cross.
It was extravagant and very detailed. I don't remember seeing a place like it before; it has a medieval and Renaissance theme, well-adapted to modern architecture.
The lines were long, so I had to wait a while to be served.
There were many people there, of all types and sizes. The place seemed very diverse, reflecting all the various variations that human beings can have.
While waiting my turn, I gathered all the documents I had brought, tidying everything up for when my turn finally came.
The attendant called the next person, which was me. I handed over my documents and waited for her to organize everything.
After 5 minutes of her sorting through the paperwork and typing on her computer, she had finally finished with all the necessary school paperwork.
"Your enrollment is complete; you are now officially a student of the Santa Guerra Institute. Before entering our fields, I need to give you this."
She places a strange, old-looking black device on the table. It was shaped like a medieval shield, with a screen in the center displaying a 6-digit counter, all digits showing zero. Next to the digits were two letters, spelling "PG." Initial. The device was about two fingers thick and had a handle on the back for securing it.
"This is your coat of arms; it's used to count your Guerrilla Points. Inside the Institute, we don't use any country's currency; instead, students use "Guerrilla Points" or PG to make purchases and payments."
"Points are awarded based on student achievements. Each time you have a major victory, you earn an equivalent amount of P.G.s. You usually earn these with good grades on tests and assignments, as well as through extracurricular activities or credits. But the main way most students use them is in competitions against other students.
In these competitions, both students can bet on a specific number of their choice. If a number isn't specified, half of the loser's P.G. is transferred to the winner. P.G.s are essential for buying food and any other products found in the stores in the residential sectors. So keep in mind that P.G.s are your money and the Coat of Arms is your wallet. Besides counting your P.G.s, the Coat of Arms also serves as your identification card within the facilities. Always keep this device with you; it is unique to each student."
I picked up the device and it was much lighter than it looked. This system makes it seem like a game.
I just didn't understand the part about the students competing. If I beat someone in, I don't know… a game of chess, do I get PG from them?
Or maybe there are events where students will compete against each other? Regardless of the reason, I think I'll like it, this system seems fun.
"I also need to make it clear that self-defense weapons are allowed to increase the students' sense of security, but firearms are completely restricted. We also make it clear that all bladed items must have a specific level of sharpness. To be direct, it must have the same level of sharpness as a school pair of scissors. If the item in question is only for culinary or craft use, higher levels of sharpness are allowed. If caught with one of these items being used for another purpose, the bearer will be punished. Do you have any problem with these rules?"
I deny it, I really didn't have a problem with these rules, to tell the truth they seem quite fair.
"Great! Let us inform you that any injury or illness you may have will be treated in our infirmary, which is paid for. Any problem with that?" Again I say there is no problem. "Then, welcome to Santa Guerra, I hope you adapt to our Institute."
I turn the turnstile and head towards the doors in the large building ahead of me.
Inside there was only a long, cold, dark corridor; it was a strange feeling to walk through that place. Gravity seemed heavier, and I swear I heard statistical noises through the walls.
It was strange, how suddenly I had changed environments. I think I've never felt so uncomfortable before; I had that nervous feeling in my stomach that comes with anxiety.
There were many people walking in that space, which made the corridor cramped and even more uncomfortable.
When I reached the end of it, I came across a platform; we all instinctively climbed onto it and waited until the mechanisms inside began to lift us.
Above the platform, an opening began to open, revealing the sunlight. I was almost blinded by the contrast with the darkness I was in before.
I hear the platform stop and wait until my eyes adjust to the light. When I can finally see again, all I can see are more students, blocking all the huge, open silver expanses.
Looking back, I see the openings in the ground closing completely; smoke is released from their small gaps, and the metal in the openings seemed more rigid than before. Honestly, this seemed excessive; couldn't there just be a normal entrance?
I stop paying attention to the openings in the ground and turn my eyes to the gates that were opening.
I was quite excited to finally enter the institute grounds. After two months of researching things about it non-stop, I was eager to enjoy everything this place had to offer. I was getting ahead of as many people as possible; I didn't want to be left behind.
And I wasn't the only one thinking that way. It felt like a fight and a race at the same time, people pushing and running as fast as they could ahead of each other; everyone here is a teenager, after all. I was struggling to get ahead of everyone; it was difficult, but I managed.
I had just passed someone who almost fell, but before continuing on my way, I bumped into someone who had stopped doing nothing.
I don't know why that idiot stopped so suddenly, but because of him I'm now lying on the ground with a red face. I get up ready to fight, but I see what made him back down, and I understand the reason perfectly.
In front of us was a student lying on the ground covered in blood. I was startled and wanted to retreat as quickly as possible.
What's happening? This didn't look like an accident, and looking a little further ahead it became clear what had happened.
A boy wearing a cap was holding another student by the shirt while that student bled. The hands of this boy, who seemed to be at least two years older than me, were covered in blood.
He drops the student to the ground and turns to the rest of us, who have just witnessed the scene.
"Hello newbies, sorry for the rather unpleasant reception. These two attacked me without even letting me speak. But now that I have everyone's attention, it's best to introduce myself. My name is Eduardo, and I'm one of your veterans, and as such, I feel obligated to impart a valuable lesson on Holy Warfare."
He couldn't finish his sentence; before that, an arrow almost hit him in the middle of the face, but he caught it as if it were nothing.
It was obvious how easily he caught the arrow, and I also realized it was fired by someone among the newbies.
Looking around, I see several freshmen carrying weapons of various kinds. Swords, axes, spears, baseball bats, and many others.
Confused and scared, how did I end up in this situation? I think I don't need to say that I don't handle physical confrontations well, and it looks like there's going to be a small war here.
The veteran looks at everyone, sighing dejectedly; he seemed calm, despite so many weapons pointed at him. Looking further ahead, I see that there were other groups of people behind him, probably all veterans. He calmly begins to walk towards one of the freshmen, who was holding a launcher.
"I wish I could teach this using only words, but it seems I'll have to demonstrate in practice what I was trying to explain."