Survival Evaluation (1)
“Haa.”
Back at the dorm, Neriel collapsed onto her bed like she’d been dropped there. Until just before reuniting with her master after so long, she’d actually been looking forward to it a little. To her, Amelia Luminis was not just a teacher but a parental figure, so she’d felt quietly guilty about not even sending a proper message. That was why she’d planned to show her around the academy herself today, fulfilling her duties as both daughter and disciple.
But the mood had shattered midway, making it impossible.
“...It’s not my fault. It’s because Master said something unnecessary.”
The absentminded mutter wrapped around herself, turning the arrow toward the absent Amelia. It was a rotten habit Neriel had indulged in for ages. She knew it full well, but it was a bad habit too stubborn to break. She’d lived her whole life that way, and straying from it would have made the path she’d walked far too burdensome. Rationalizing it once more, Neriel slowly closed her eyes.
Then, beyond the pitch-black darkness of her vision, a faint mist gathered. It soon took on a human shape, sketching someone’s face.
“...Ugh!”
Neriel bolted upright as if from a nightmare.
“Why the hell is that guy’s face...?”
The face that had appeared behind her thoughtlessly closed eyelids belonged to none other than Aren. It creeped her out, and since she couldn’t fathom why, Neriel scratched vigorously at her arms and body, as if shaking off clinging bugs. But the more she tried to shake it off, the more the awkward conversation from their meal after parting with Amelia kept resurfacing.
Truth be told, there wasn’t much to it. Nothing memorable, no intense events worth recalling.
—Why didn’t you ask?
—Ask what?
—What Master said. With your personality, I figured you’d pester me about it until it got annoying.
Right after Amelia casually dropped those words, Neriel had predicted it alone. That careless, thoughtless ape—who could hardly pass for human—would surely pry into the meaning behind her master’s offhand remark.
—Huh? Why would I?
—...What?
But instead, he stared at her like she was the weird one, leaving her momentarily stunned.
—Why the hell would I ask about that? What am I, your boyfriend? Your husband? Hell, even a parent?
—Cut the creepy talk, will ya?
—It’s just a figure of speech. Look, we’re not that close, so why would I bother digging into your complicated backstory?
—Well, that’s true, but...
Swallowing her words, Neriel had to admit he was right a hundred times over. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew her own feelings well enough. Sure, she looked down on him as an ape, but she rated him higher than any other student at the academy. At least when he chased after her, he didn’t get in the way. That was why they’d exchange greetings when they crossed paths and casually ask about each other’s test results after written exams—like ordinary friends.
But if you asked if they were best friends? Eh, not quite. They didn’t push each other away, but they didn’t actively seek closeness either. Just that level of distance.
So if he had pried, she might’ve found it intrusive and stormed off.
—Or do you want to tell me?
—As if.
—Then we’re good. I don’t chase people away who come, and I don’t block those who leave. I’d hear you out if you wanted to spill, but otherwise? Not really interested.
—Unexpected. So you do have boundaries?
—It’s not boundaries; I’m just too lazy. Don’t get the wrong idea.
He shrugged with a playful grin, as if warning her not to misunderstand. Unfortunately, while she possessed insight that pierced mana flows better than even her master’s, she didn’t have eyes that could discern truth from lies. So Neriel couldn’t tell if it was a shy deflection or genuine laziness.
But it didn’t matter if it was truth or lie. The nonchalant response—as if it were no big deal, nothing worth fussing over—drew a line without demanding she open up first. That dry attitude actually felt comfortable to her.
“Hm...”
The guy acted like a bandit most days, but maybe he had some tact after all. Unbeknownst to herself, as she replayed their talk, a satisfied smile crept onto her face—though Neriel didn’t even notice.
“Not bad... for an ape.”
Another quiet mutter slipped from her lips. Softer and warmer than her initial sigh, it gently filled the room’s air. Annoying, but not hated. With that quiet assessment of one boy, Neriel closed her eyes. For some reason, she felt like drifting off while cradling this warmth.
Teleos Academy is obsessed with education.
The phrase, heard somewhere like an old proverb, flashed through my mind. Just after summer break ended, with all the chaos and unrest, you’d think things were still tense. Yet here we were, in the midst of some remote island’s dense jungle, as if student training couldn’t be compromised no matter what.
“Welcome, cadets, to the first exam of the second semester: the survival evaluation.”
Professor Azela flashed her trademark grin, roughly tossing back her red hair. That smile felt so ominous. Probably because something huge always followed whenever I saw it. Conditioned reflex, huh?
“This is Kelrun Island. As you’ve likely heard, it was an uninhabited isle the academy bought and turned into a testing ground.”
Kelrun Island. I remembered Tiabel mentioning it. Apparently, it used to be a place for exiling serious criminals, but during some war between nations, the prisoners escaped in the chaos, leaving it deserted again. It looked like someone had ripped out a chunk of jungle or the Amazon rainforest and plopped it here.
“No need for extra details on the island—it’s exactly as you see. Thick foliage, towering trees, and the beasts and monsters lurking within, all waiting for you.”
“M-monsters too?”
“It’s that dangerous?”
Murmurs rippled at Professor Azela’s words. Some faces tensed; others, already excited, fiddled with their weapons.
“The rules are simple: survive. You’ll have three days. The moment the test starts, you’ll be scattered to random spots and left to fend for yourselves. It’s similar to the class assignment exam in that sense.”
True enough. That one was solo survival too, stealing gems from each other’s bracelets along the way. But I spotted the key difference here: time and environment.
Three days isn’t short.
Three days sounded manageable, but being dropped alone into a wild place teeming with unfamiliar beasts and monsters? Brutal.
“But the evaluation isn’t just survival. That wouldn’t be a proper test. Humans can last three days without food or water.”
As expected. There had to be more. No way this academy would reward holing up in a cave like a camper with top marks.
“This exam assesses survival and how objectively your strength stacks up. To that end, you’ve got the island’s beasts, monsters... and other students.”
Beasts and monsters made sense, but students? Ah, that explained the class assignment comparison.
“Defeat beasts or monsters, and mana crystals will auto-record on your bracelets. We’ll tally them for scores. Stronger foes yield bigger crystals, of course. But rush in recklessly chasing points, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Everyone gulped at the veiled threat. Amid it, one hand rose with a calm expression: Silvena.
“Professor, are the other students allies, then?”
“No, enemies. Or rather, they could be either. The test ends after three days or when survivors drop to fifty. Check your bracelets for real-time counts.”
“...I see.”
So if you thought you had the edge score-wise, you could hunt students to force an early end. Pretend to ally up, then betray when numbers thinned. Harsher conditions than the class assignment, for sure.
“Don’t worry, though. Want to quit midway? Request via the bracelet’s comms. Any more questions?”
“......”
Shakes of heads all around. Professor Azela signaled the supervisors lined up behind her. They scattered in an instant, encircling us like a net.
“Good. Survival evaluation starts now.”
With those words, my vision flipped, and the noisy surroundings plunged into silence in a heartbeat.