Not Worth It

The rail car softly crept upwards with cables humming beneath its belly like the breath of a beast restrained.

I turned to the window with my gloved arms crossed and my reflection trembling faintly in the polished glass.

Clouds thinned and dispersed around us as we ascended higher and higher through the early noon haze.

I was above the world, or so it felt.

Below, the curve of Babel sprawled out.

I should have been in awe like before, but instead, I was still focused on the time.

"I still can't believe it's been a week already."

For a person who just got a shot at a second chance, it was understandable why I was still irked by the loss of time.

It was because I was aware, painfully even, of how limited it could be.

And now, we were just about to begin our classes, summoned like faithful acolytes to Forge.

It always sounded pretentious to say aloud; Forge, the Grand Academy of Tactical Excellence.

It was partially true, but why didn't they just call it what it was? A place to make weapons out of children.

In retrospect, I couldn't blame them, the Maltherans, and Demons, were jumping humanity from all sides.

The terminal shimmered into view above the clouds. A crescent platform suspended on spires of reinforced silver glass. As the rail car docked with a muted hiss, I stepped out onto the platform. My shoes met the ground with a clack that felt too final.

'It won't be too long before I am back here.'

I took the long, curving bridge toward the gates, weaving through clusters of students.

The other first years were finally arriving.

Some walked in excited huddles while others clutched their luggage to their chests like they were afraid someone would snatch them away.

Just before the archway into the Forge, a woman, not the one from before, in regulation black stopped me with a raised hand.

"First-year?"

I blinked.

"Yes, but returning."

She nodded toward the slab by the gate.

I tapped my NexBand against it. A green glyph shimmered on the stone.

"You're clear. Welcome back."

"Thanks."

I stepped through the gates.

Inside, chaos wore a polished uniform. Just like we would in a few days

The air buzzed with movement and noise. First-years were everywhere, some dragging trunks nearly as big as themselves.

A few wept as they clung to family members.

But not many of those.

Most of the parents here had robes trimmed with real silver or wore gloves they never took off, they were nobles.

The rest of the commoners... well, their goodbyes had been quiet, their parents didn't have the privilege of stepping foot into Forge.

At least not now.

Something I found funny.

'Like you are of no use to us, but you have to give us your children for us to ship them off to war. And Oh you might get prestige from that.'

It was a frustrating system, but I kept moving, eyes forward, weaving through the crowd.

"I know he'll be watching,"

I whispered, though there was no one beside me, or close enough, to hear it.

I could already see my destination, Dormis Kirell, from where I was. It loomed at the end of a sloped walkway flanked by silver birches. The dorm for low rankers, my dorm.

I picked up my pace.

If I could just get to my room and breathe and plan before everything starts—

"Bump!"

Something collided with me, something hard.

The impact threw me off balance. A dull thud, the sound of something heavy hitting stone.

I looked down.

Luggage lay open and spilt with clothes unfurling like tired flags. And at the centre of it all was a girl. She lay sprawled, her long black hair fanned out like ink spilled in water.

'Ah, damn.'

I cursed and knelt down, reaching out instinctively.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you—"

She looked up and then I froze.

Not because I recognized her.

Yes, I did.

But I also knew her, from my memories. This was also the girl I'd only ever read about in the book.

Ravina Wu.

The most beautiful girl I had ever seen, all my lives included.

Her eyes were shaped like teardrops, tilted just slightly, with dark brown irises almost too deep to catch light.

Her skin was pale and luminous like she'd stepped from moonlight and her features bore that poised elegance I had only seen in Eastern royal portraits.

A quiet, almost aristocratic serenity, but she wasn't serene now.

She looked... startled.

When I reached for her again, she flinched.

My hand halted.

Her mouth opened, then closed.

And that was when the other one arrived.

"You bastard!"

The voice was sharp, commanding and most of all annoying. Like screeching owls. I was even surprised how people could bear it.

'It has to be due to the cultivation, it gives them super tolerance.'

I stood quickly.

She marched over with red hair in a braided crown. Her storm-grey eyes, something we had in common, were narrowed. She wore the Forge blazer with defiance, sleeves rolled to the elbow and a silver pin shaped like a dagger glinting at her collar.

It was Jennifer Townsend. And just like Ravina, she was a main character.

"Do you seriously have the audacity to show your face in front of her? After everything?"

I blinked.

"Wait, what?"

She ignored me, crouching by Ravina. Her voice became soft.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Ravina gave a slight nod allowing herself to be helped up.

The redhead glared at me as she steadied her friend. "She shouldn't even have to see you. Not after what you've done."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

What had I done?

"Come on Ravina," she said as she guided her away with her luggage.

"He's not worth our breath."

They left me there confused and silenced.

I exhaled, shaking it off.

I hope I really appeared clueless.

"Right," I muttered to myself.

"Starting the year with a bang, I guess."

It was weird, without even knowing I participated in something that I remember reading from the book.

Bumping to Ravina and Jennifer.

At this point Ronan was not aware of what he had done to Ravina, hence the hostility from Jennifer, but I knew.

I turned and kept walking. The path curved ahead, leading toward Kirell.

Something itched in the back of my mind.

'There it is...'

The reason why I had to act like the Real Ronan Fitzroy, at least for the first couple of months.

I glanced over my shoulder. There, across the courtyard, half-hidden behind a stone column, stood a boy.

He had lush brown hair, common looks and a lean build. His hands were in his pockets as he watched.

Not the girls.

But me.

I recognized him instantly. It was Varek Alighieri. The second Protagonist.

I stared at him, and he stared back. He said nothing. Didn't move.

But I knew. He was watching.

I turned back toward the dorm.

"Hope you enjoyed it, you bastard."