Weapons Of Humanity

Elias lay on the hard, narrow bed in his dormitory, staring at the ceiling.

The room was dimly lit, the glow from a small, energy-efficient lamp casting long shadows on the metal walls.

The Academy wasn't built for comfort. Everything here, from the austere dorm rooms to the harsh training regimens, screamed one message: You're not here to live. You're here to fight.

The bed beneath him was little more than a metal frame with a thin mattress.

It creaked whenever he shifted, and the scratchy blanket was barely enough to stave off the chill that seeped through the walls.

The dormitory itself was small, crammed with four identical beds and a single wooden table in the center. The air smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant.

Across the room, one of his new roommates was adjusting his glasses. The boy was slight, with a wiry frame and hair that fell in messy strands across his forehead.

He seemed lost in thought, his eyes darting between a book on the table and the other occupants of the room. His meticulous movements contrasted sharply with the loud chatter of the other two recruits.

"Man, this place is grim," one of them said, flopping onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh. He had shaggy brown hair and a grin that seemed to defy the somber atmosphere of the Academy. "I thought the Academy would be, I don't know, more... welcoming."

"Welcoming?" the bespectacled boy finally spoke, his tone dripping with skepticism. He looked up from his book, adjusting his glasses. "This isn't a vacation resort. It's a war zone in disguise. Hunters aren't meant to relax; we're weapons. Tools for survival. If you were expecting luxury, you've come to the wrong place."

The shaggy-haired boy blinked, taken aback by the bluntness. "Well, no need to be so harsh, mate. I was just saying..."

Elias, who had been silent until now, propped himself up on one elbow. "He's not wrong, though," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "It's obvious from the way this place is designed. Everything about it feels... temporary. Like we're not meant to stay here long."

"Exactly," the boy with glasses said, nodding approvingly. "You get it. This isn't home. It's a forge. We're here to be shaped into hunters, and when the time comes, we'll be sent out into the world beyond the walls. Most of us won't come back."

The room fell silent at his words.

The grim reality of their situation settled over them like a heavy fog. Outside the Academy's fortified walls, the world was a nightmare of beasts, werewolves, and countless other horrors.

The walls might keep the monsters out, but they were also a reminder of the fragility of humanity's existence.

After a moment, the other boy in the room, a lanky figure with a buzz cut, broke the silence. "So... how does it work? The whole hunter thing? I mean, I know we train here, but what happens after?"

The boy with glasses leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests. He adjusted his glasses again, a habitual motion that seemed to precede every explanation.

"The Academy trains us in three phases. Right now, we're in the first phase — basic training. They're evaluating us, testing our skills, seeing who has potential and who's just dead weight. Once we pass this phase, we'll officially be registered as Academy hunters."

"And then what?" the buzz-cut boy asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Then we enter phase two," the boy with glasses continued. "We're paired up with senior hunters — older students who are already seasoned in combat. They'll take us on raids into the world beyond the walls. That's where the real training happens. We'll face real monsters, real danger. It's sink or swim out there."

Elias listened intently, his mind racing.

He'd heard stories about the world beyond the walls, but they always felt like distant nightmares, not something he would have to face himself.

The thought of stepping out there, of confronting the creatures that had decimated humanity, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The shaggy-haired boy spoke up again, his earlier grin now replaced with a more serious expression. "And phase three?"

The boy with glasses hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. "Phase three is... less structured. By then, you're considered a full hunter. You form your own raiding teams, take on missions, and, well, try to survive. Most hunters don't make it past their first year in the field. The average lifespan of a hunter is... short."

A heavy silence fell over the room again. The reality of their situation was impossible to ignore. They weren't here to become heroes or legends.

They were here to fight, to protect what little remained of humanity, and to die if necessary.

Elias lay back down, staring at the ceiling once more. His mind wandered to his own System, the anomaly that set him apart from the others.

All his skills and abilities had shot to level 100 during his awakening, a fact he hadn't shared with anyone. It was a secret he intended to keep for as long as possible.

But what did it mean? Why had his System reacted that way? Was it a blessing, a curse, or something else entirely? He didn't have answers, but he knew one thing for certain — he couldn't afford to let anyone find out. Not yet.

The buzz-cut boy broke the silence again, his voice quieter this time. "So... we're just tools, huh? Weapons for humanity."

The boy with glasses nodded. "That's exactly what we are. Humanity's last line of defense. We're not here to be comfortable. We're here to fight. To kill. To survive."

Elias closed his eyes, his thoughts heavy. He had known life was hard, but this was something else entirely.

The Academy wasn't just a place of learning — it was a crucible, designed to strip them of everything unnecessary and forge them into something stronger. Something deadly.