Xavier had two hours to kill before heading to Segment 9. He wasn't eager, but curiosity lingered.
The academy wasn't just some underground fight club—it was a well-known institution, a place where fighters sharpened their skills and carved out their names. Some left stronger, smarter. Others never made it out at all.
The structure was simple. Each segment had its own floor. Segment 10—the lowest—was overcrowded and barely functional. Cramped dorms, grimy halls, broken training equipment, and a handful of uninterested instructors that did the bare minimum.
Segment 9 sat above it, slightly better. It had its own clerks, teachers, and training officials. Each segment operated separately, like a system within a system.
And at the top, Segment 1 ruled everything.
They controlled the flow of resources, decided which fighters received privileges, and had the strongest influence over academy politics. Most of them were already involved in gangs, either through family connections or sheer necessity. If someone reached Segment 1, they weren't just a fighter anymore—they were part of something bigger.
Beneath them, the ranks fed into each other like a chain. Segment 9 bullied Segment 10 for Vex, but it didn't stop there. Segment 8 pressured 9, Segment 7 pressured 8, and it continued all the way up. Even those with power had someone stronger breathing down their necks.
Xavier sat on a steel bench in the training wing, eating his meal pack. The protein block was flavorless, barely worth chewing, but it kept his stomach from complaining.
He watched as fights unfolded. Some were official matches, held under the supervision of instructors, while others were barely concealed disputes, carried out in dim corners with no regulation.
Across the room, a Rank 282 fighter landed a brutal kick, ending his match quickly. The winner checked his watch, confirming the rank swap before walking off.
No celebrations. No cheers. Just fights and numbers.
After an hour, Xavier wandered toward the weight station, debating whether to burn more time.
That's when he overheard an argument.
Three fighters—two from Segment 10, one from Segment 9. It wasn't loud, but it was tense. The Segment 9 ranker, taller with a fresh bruise on his temple, had cornered the other two, his stance casual but firm.
"That wasn't the deal," he said coldly.
One of the Segment 10 fighters, wiry with twitchy hands, shifted uncomfortably. "We—we thought we had enough, but—"
"You don't back out once you set terms."
Xavier observed from a distance.
Deals were common. Trades, favors, and wagers kept the lower ranks afloat. Most of them weren't official, most of them weren't safe.
The two fighters fumbled for words, realizing fast that excuses wouldn't help them.
Xavier moved on.
He wasn't here to get involved in someone else's mess.
Another forty minutes passed before he made his way to Segment 9.
The transition was immediate. The floor was cleaner, the fighters walked with more control, and the tension felt heavier. Most here were climbing toward Segment 8—either pushing their limits or using whatever leverage they had.
Near a corridor, the ranker from earlier was waiting, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"You actually came," he remarked.
Xavier motioned toward an empty seating area. "Sit."
"I'll stand," Xavier replied.
Rael chuckled. "Straight to the point. I like that."
"You think I've got some scheme, huh?" He leaned forward slightly. "Relax. I just figured I'd get to know you."
Xavier narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Because you're new, and you don't act like most newbies."
Xavier frowned. 'That's it? He just wants to be friends?'
Trust wasn't common in the academy. Alliances existed, but friendships were rare.
"My name's Rael."
"I don't trust people easily," Xavier said.
"Smart," Rael replied.
"So why would I trust you?"
Rael smiled faintly. "I don't expect you to. Just keep me in mind."
Xavier studied him. About 66 percent trust—that was the best he could offer.
Finally, he stepped back. "I'll keep that in mind."
Rael nodded. "See you around, Xavier."
Without another word, Xavier turned and left.
Just before stepping out of Segment 9, he glanced at his watch.
'Rael is the third highest? Why would someone that close to Segment 8 bother with me?'