"Huh?! Didn’t you hear me? I’ll die if you don’t take me to the hospital or at least get me a healer! I’ll die!"
Sigh This man is so hard to deal with. His voice was low; he could barely talk.
"If you don’t sign the paper for me to get an awakening, I’ll be forced to repeat the entire school year."
"What part of ’my wound is infected’ don’t you understand? If I don’t get this stab wound healed, I’ll die."
That’s it; there’s no reasoning with him.
"I’ve sutured it to stop the bleeding. You should be fine."
"Motherfucker, you sutured it with a clothes iron! How do you expect it to heal? I’m your father, for God’s sake—have some compassion!"
He’s the last person who should be talking about compassion. Night after night, day after day, I suffered through his punches and kicks. He didn’t utter a word about compassion then—not until I picked up the knife.
I finally had enough when he threw me off the stairs and broke my arm. It was like my instincts kicked in; it was either him or me. The only reason I haven’t finished him off is that having a dead father in the house would spell trouble for me. And if I somehow found a way to heal him, things would just get worse than before. I have no interest in being anyone’s punching bag.
"If you sign this permission slip, I’ll let you go."
His eyes sharpened. His green eyes stared at me intensely, as if he were trying to read my facial expression to see if I was lying.
After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Fine, hand me the paper and a pen."
I untied the rope that bound him to the bed, grabbed a pen from my bag, and handed him the paper. His hands trembled, so it took him a while to sign it. When he was finished, he said the most predictable thing ever...
"Something doesn’t seem quite right. Take a look at this for a sec," he said, pointing to the permission slip.
I decided to play his game and leaned in to take a look at the paper. The moment I got close, he made his move. He used the pen I gave him to strike at my throat. I dodged his feeble attempt with ease and struck him where it hurt the most—his stab wound.
A sickening cry escaped his lips. I immediately taped over his mouth again to keep him from alerting the neighbors. Then I proceeded to tie him back up.
Having what I wanted, I left the room, making sure to take the signed permission slip with me.
...
The next morning, I arrived at school to find another commotion. This time, it was caused by the recruitment drive.
A long line of final-year students, like me, had obtained permission from their parents to force an awakening. Their excitement was evident on their faces. From what I heard, they would inject you with mana in hopes of triggering an awakening, but it only had a 5% success rate.
The people administering the injections were dressed in lab coats, and I even spotted some wearing the healer uniform, given to those awakened with the healer system. A faint hope built up inside me that one of them might heal my broken arm. The pain was mind-numbing, and it was getting harder to hide. I was forced to wear a large, oversized sweater, even though it was nearly summer.
One by one, they continued to administer the injections until it was my turn. The person doing the injection was a beautiful girl who greeted me with a warm smile as I reached the front of the line. She was wearing a healer uniform.
I promptly handed her my permission slip. She quickly examined it and gave me a nod of approval. Then she picked up a needle filled with a strange glowing yellow liquid.
"You’ll have to take off the sweater, okay?" she said with a cute smile.
Dammit. Should I show it to her? No, that might lead to problems, and they might decide not to give me the injection. I carefully unzipped my sweater halfway and pulled out the arm that wasn’t broken.
"Is this okay?" I asked.
She nodded and began inspecting my hand, looking for a vein. I instinctively clenched my fist, expecting to feel pain, but it was over in an instant.
"That’s it. You might experience some small side effects. If you haven’t awakened in a week or so, then there’s a slim chance you ever will."
I nodded and slipped my arm back into my sweater. Just as I was about to leave, she stopped me.
"Here!"
She was handing me something.
"These are pamphlets for different hero academies. Choose your pick."
I took the pamphlets from her.
"All of them pretty much offer the same thing: housing, free meals, job offers upon graduating. Plus, you won’t have to worry about paying tuition."
"Thank you."
After that, I spent the rest of the day wandering around the school, looking at the booths of the different hero academies that were there. Most of them just boasted about which top-ranked hero had graduated from their school.
I didn’t feel any different after taking the injection. I was half convinced it wouldn’t work, knowing my bad luck. So, after a long day of doing nothing, I decided to go home and retire for the day.
Arriving at the apartment, I went straight to my room and passed out on my bed.
VRRRR!!!
VRRRR!!!
In the middle of the night, I was awakened by tremors. The entire surroundings felt like they were violently shaking. I could hear the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen and furniture falling over.
Then a piercing alarm rang out from outside.
BRring!
"A dungeon break?!"