Months went by Yulli was beaten around like a ragdoll with rio gruelling training sessions, and Yulli still couldn't get through the syllabus. Each lesson was a struggle, but he stuck at it—because he had to. To keep his mother's dying wish, to prove to himself he could push on, to survive in a world that had already determined his destiny for him.
The rumours of the accident about him had died down somewhat, but still, they would whisper in corners of the academy as if repeated reminders of what had happened. Some shunned him. Some still glanced at him, eyes with morbid interest or reserved judgment. But at least he no longer said it to his face.
Yulli leaned back in her chair, arms folded, eyes fixed on the board, as the professor wrote notes in acid-tipped, hard-edged lines.
"The beast plague is a virus which can be spread by bite or airborne infection, turning human beings into beasts. Werewolves, specifically, as far as we understand—though in a couple of instances, it's something different. Those instances are beyond the lesson for today, however. Let's just go over the basics for now."
Students wrote notes furiously, some muttering agreement, others not even listening. Yulli sat simply, stiff, drinking it all in.
Decades past. That was how long the plague had been around, and nobody knew where it had originated. There were theories, naturally—ancient curse, experiment gone awry, whatever it was that was punishing humanity—but no solid answers. Only that the plague had adapted.
Yulli tightened his grip on his pen.
"Did Mother get bitten… or was it airborne?" The thought gnawed at him. "And if it was airborne… why wasn't I infected too?"
His fingers drummed against the desk, a nervous habit he hadn't quite shaken.
A student raised his hand, breaking the silence. Lawlet. The guy had sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, the kind of student who asked the questions that made professors pause before answering.
"Is the beast plague contagious?" Lawlet asked, his voice smooth but pressing.
The professor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Contagious by direct physical contact, yes. Bites, scratches, and exposure to infected body fluids are the greatest risk. That's why protective equipment is mandatory in any field operation. But," he hesitated, "there have been unconfirmed reports of it being airborne under specific conditions, though those remain inconclusive."
The class grumbled at that. Yulli remained silent.
"Inconclusive." That word was starting to feel like a bad joke. There was too much uncertainty surrounding the plague, too many things that didn't add up. And the more Yulli learned, the more questions piled up in his head.
The professor's voice rang across the room, cool but unforgiving.
"Learn this lesson well. The semester's almost over, and before you know it, each and every one of you will get to learn what it is actually like being a hunter."
The room that had been alive with inattentive conversations and wayward thoughts suddenly fell into attention. Students sat upright, some flashing each other smiles of anticipation, others bracing themselves in their seats.
"Starting next week, the program will divide you all into groups of seven and send you into the first layer of Gebraucht. Your objective? Explore as much as possible within the allotted time. Consider it your first official day as hunters!"
Excitement erupted like a spark in dry grass. Students cheered, some already making plans about their potential teams. The energy in the room shifted—anticipation, thrill, the arrogance of youth thinking they were ready.
Except for one voice.
Lawlet raised his hand, cutting through the noise. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, his tone measured.
"Sir… what about the fatality rate?"
The room didn't go silent immediately, but the words settled like a stone in water, spreading ripples of unease. Lawlet continued, his voice clear.
"Even though it's just the first layer, isn't there still a risk?"
Murmurs ensued afterwards. Some of the students exchanged glances, some laughed nervously. The excitement was toned down slightly, the bite in reality getting in.
The professor curled his lip into something unreadable. He nodded once, as if he liked the question.
"Good question. You're smart, Lawley," he said, his tone firm. He left the tension suspended for a second before going on.
"Even though you'll only be exploring the surface level of Gebraucht, the fatality rate is… 25%."
Silence.
Some students froze. Others tensed, eyes darting to their classmates as if suddenly realizing that one in four of them might not make it back.
"That's the safest layer," the professor continued. "Compared to what lurks below, the surface is a playground. However, in rare cases, the stability of the layer can shift, and the mortality rate can rise. If that happens… well, let's just say you should always be prepared for the worst."
The excitement from before? Gone.
A thick, suffocating weight settled over the class. The realization that this wasn't just some school exercise—it was real. It was deadly. And it was happening next week.
Even the strongest-willed students found themselves second-guessing their confidence. Yulli swallowed, his fingers tightening around the edges of his desk. He had already seen the horrors of the plague up close. But some of these students? They had only read about it.
They had no idea what was coming.
The professor leaned back, looking at the room, his gaze sharp and knowing.
"This will be our second-to-last class before deployment. When we meet again, it will be as a farewell before you step into Gebraucht. I hope… I get to see all the same faces when you return."
Or at least some of you.
The words were casual. Almost indifferent. But the underlying message was clear.
Not all of them would make it back.