The Incredibly Cool Senior

The White Reaper drew ever closer. Ji Ning heard Aphra’s scream as the exoskeletal claws, driven by muscle at the very peak of organic power, tore through the air so quickly they left no afterimage; the span of dozens of meters was crossed in a heartbeat.

A cold gleam sliced through the night. The massive Behemoth was smashed deep into the earth. Shards of concrete scattered through the air, one of them tracing a line across Ji Ning’s cheek, the sting so sharp it made reality feel distorted—reminding him that this was no game world, that death here was final. Just before terror could close around him entirely, his small and helpless world was pierced by a faint golden light. Silver moonlight poured down onto soft golden hair, setting it ablaze with breathtaking brilliance.

Irina swung her nearly man-tall greatsword. The fallen Behemoth’s white bones had already been laid bare, dark red flesh gleaming beneath as thick blood spurted from the wound like a black rain, slowly draining into the city’s sewers. It struggled to rise, but was driven to the ground and pinned there, the greatsword run through its chest.

Irina turned with a resigned sigh. “This isn’t some hero-rescues-princess farce. Do I really have to clear out every last monster before I can take you away? Can’t you try to be more like that other girl and stop standing around like a dumb kid?”

Ji Ning looked back and realized Aphra had long since fled. There was no time to think. He broke into a desperate run, legs moving with the reckless resolve of someone who had decided to live at any cost, hurrying in the direction Irina had indicated. If every NPC on a rescue mission in every game were as slow to react as he was, such missions would surely be the hardest in existence.

Irina withdrew her sword, squinting at Ji Ning’s retreating figure with a soft sigh. “Not even a word for your senior on what to do next? Truly thoughtless.” She dragged the greatsword behind her at a leisurely pace, as graceful as a noblewoman strolling through her private gardens, while the faint glows of the night surged around her like violets in bloom.

Ten minutes later, Ji Ning stared at the slender finger pointed at his forehead. He wanted to dodge but didn’t dare; all he could do was wait obediently for its owner to move it away. The finger was clean and delicate—an obvious sign of just how easily his senior had dispatched the Behemoths.

“Rather bold of you, wouldn’t you say, Savior?”

Irina withdrew her finger with a cold smirk. The three before her sat quietly, even Catherine docile as a lamb.

“The four of you—oh, one died, so the three of you—are hopelessly stupid,” Irina said bluntly, taking a sip of her drink before continuing. “Did that idiot Birmingham really think the Flesh Cult’s ritual at the Tower of London was some sort of family gathering? Thanks to that damned prophecy, every cultist in Europe has flocked here. You could go out to buy a bottle of liquor and strangle two blood-flesh fanatics along the way.”

“It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, not even worth many credits…” Aphra attempted to explain, her voice so weak even she doubted its truth.

“That violence-addled lunatic—just because he called you, you came running? Did he even give you an Academy-sanctioned document?” Irina tugged gently at Aphra’s ear, a look of exasperated fondness on her face. She didn’t pull hard—no one could really be angry with such a timid girl.

“Did you throw out your student handbook with the toilet paper? Not even a supervisor present. Forget about safety—if you died, nobody’d even collect your body. The Flesh Cult’s madmen would be delighted to make a feast of you.”

“We thought it was just recon. Principal Birmingham suddenly locked down our permissions, and we had no choice but to carry out the mission,” Aphra continued to protest, still not feeling any pain and naively believing her senior’s grip was gentle.

“That old bastard… never mind. He’s probably already erased all evidence of communication with you.” Irina shook her head, intending at first to vent her frustration on Ji Ning, but softened at his look of unfeigned admiration. She decided a stern lecture would suffice; she believed these three young deer had learned their lesson—no one was foolish enough to make the same mistake with their life twice.

Ji Ning didn’t ask how Irina had arrived in time. Somehow, he simply believed his senior could do anything.

On the flight home, Ji Ning dreamed of a golden wheat field. The breeze rolled through the grain as his senior stood at its edge, bottle in hand, drinking and watching the sunset—so carefree, so striking. Ji Ning sat on the far side of the field, unable to muster the courage to speak.

After being disciplined for both “acting without authorization” and “truancy,” Ji Ning calculated that, with 3 credits per course and 5 credits docked, graduation would be delayed another two months. Watching his senior whistling at the sun with a bottle of whiskey on the balcony, Ji Ning realized this punishment wasn’t so hard to accept.

The day after returning to school, the scoundrel Principal Birmingham knocked on Ji Ning’s dorm door. He claimed he was visiting out of concern for Ji Ning’s wellbeing. But aside from those who had already sacrificed their souls to the abyss, no one in the Academy believed a word of it. Ji Ning, though inwardly imagining hacking off the old bastard’s head, had to feign understanding due to his own isolated position. In the end, they reached a consensus: Principal Birmingham, wanting all students to learn at the front lines, had assigned the reconnaissance mission with good intentions, but a small mishap had led to unfortunate consequences.

After his insincere visit, the old rogue left Ji Ning’s dorm with a cheery smile. As he closed the door, he made sure Ji Ning heard his plastic Chinese: “A student worth teaching, a student worth teaching.”

For the first time, Ji Ning felt that such a beautiful language as Chinese could sound so grating. He suppressed his anger and made an international gesture at the door. He realized he should have investigated the old scoundrel from the start. Birmingham was exactly the sort of leader who was lenient with himself and harsh with others—the legendary kind of principal who was a scoundrel to the core.

Once the door was closed, Birmingham’s genial expression vanished. He muttered, “Are you certain he’s the one we’re looking for?” In that moment, he was no longer the unsupported principal at board meetings, nor the drunken man at the freshman ceremony. Behind all those hollow honors, his only true identity was that of the old hunter who had survived iron and blood, who had slain the descendants of mythic creatures that ruled with their minds, and who had once entered the abyss alone to build a warning from the skulls of the fallen. He understood the world’s only truth better than anyone: only the best monsters can kill more monsters.

“It’s only just begun—there’s no need to rush.”

The faint reply on the wind made Birmingham exhale deeply. Only then did he resume his rakish demeanor. “Let’s hope so.”

Ji Ning’s first month at Hart Academy had taught him a valuable lesson: never carry out a mission without a supervisor, no matter how simple it sounds—even if it’s as easy as stealing a lollipop from a kindergarten.

Karl, who had died, received no funeral. He became just another inconspicuous name on the Academy’s black-and-white list. Aside from the echo of the campus bell, he left nothing behind, as though he’d never existed.

Whenever the old bell of Hart Academy tolled, professors would halt their lectures for a minute of silence. It was an ancient tradition; whenever a graduate was confirmed dead on a mission, the bell would sound. It rang almost every day.

The living ought to remember the dead, but cannot allow their steps to falter. This cruel world permits no one to linger in the past.

Ji Ning, rushing daily between firearms training, supernatural theory, combat, and cold weapons classes, could barely feel the passage of time. Before he knew it, the first semester was nearly over.

Professor Theodosius had already returned to Italy, rubbing his gleaming bald head and claiming he had misread his schedule and was now on vacation. In the background, gunfire and screams rang out as he held a Chicago Typewriter in one hand. Only then did Ji Ning recall that Theodosius had always said teaching was his side job—his real profession was mercenary. In the hologram, cigar in mouth, the bald professor dropped his gun and hefted an RPG, shouting orders as he assigned Ji Ning his holiday homework before leading a charge.

The empty training room bored Ji Ning. Used to the routine of shuttling between the gym, dorm, and cafeteria, he felt a little lost. He decided to explore the Academy, since his packed schedule—from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m.—had left him little time for anything but classes and the occasional trip to the infirmary. Sylvia’s classes were strict and always ensured he went to the infirmary twice a week, no matter how much stronger he felt.

Looking down the corridor at the Academy’s interior, the only oddity was the occasional student floating past. Otherwise, it looked much like any other school—except perhaps livelier. After all, at other schools, the cruelest fate was an 8 a.m. class; at Hart Academy, classes began at seven sharp!

Ji Ning decided to visit his senior. Though he’d only sought her out twice since enrolling—once at his first class, once before his first field mission—she always came to check on him once a week, eyes full of undisguised boredom, as if merely fulfilling an obligation to ensure he was alive. He dared not presume otherwise.

After asking around, Ji Ning finally found her classroom. He waited patiently with a bottle of whiskey—premium stuff from Ambrose Restaurant, selected by price since he knew nothing about whiskey but trusted that expensive meant good.

“How’s your little protégé doing?” asked a strange but gentle female voice. Ji Ning could tell she was young; instinctively, he thought she must be beautiful.

“A bit nervous at first, but I got used to it. He’s all right—clumsy, though.” The familiar, lazy, magnetic voice was unmistakably his senior.

“I heard Ji Ning was the first of this year’s freshmen to volunteer for an outside mission.”

“Don’t remind me. Birmingham tricked him into nearly becoming candlelight dinner for the Flesh Cult. So dumb it’s heartbreaking.”

“Then why did you go so far to save him? Don’t tell me you fancy the kid?” A whistle sounded. Ji Ning, a little nervous, kept eavesdropping.

“He’s still a child. Isn’t that right, Ji Ning?” The voice suddenly drew close, and Ji Ning, pressed against the door, tumbled into the classroom.

Across from his senior sat a smiling red-haired woman. “Hello, I’m Chris D. Lopez. You can call me Senior Chris.”

“I’m Ji Ning,” he replied awkwardly, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping.

“Since you’re here for her, I’ll leave. See you tomorrow.” Chris waved and left with a flourish.

His senior snatched the whiskey from him without ceremony, popped the cork one-handed, and took a swig straight from the bottle. “So, what mess do you need me to clean up this time?”

“Nothing, really. Just finished the semester and thought I’d look around,” Ji Ning said, scratching his head like a schoolboy called on in class.

“How’d you end up in Building G, then?” Irina looked skeptical. She knew Ji Ning’s schedule left no time for leisure—if the Academy’s curriculum was medicine, his dose was surely fatal.

“I wanted to observe your training, to see how I could become as strong as you.” Ji Ning spoke with conviction, without a trace of flattery.

Irina wagged her finger. “You can’t learn it—it’s innate.” Yet Ji Ning heard a faint sadness in her tone.

Sunset shone through the glass, haloing her figure. Irina sorted her files, sunlight dyeing her golden hair a deep, fiery red. Ji Ning rested his chin on his hand, gazing out the window; the afterglow, reflected in his peripheral vision, was a blaze of color, and the only sound in the classroom was the quiet rhythm of their hearts.

“Let’s go.” The sharp sound of tactical boots on floor echoed down the corridor. Ji Ning trotted after his senior, catching the faintest whiff of her hair, thinking that sometimes taking the stairs wasn’t so bad.

They reached the roof just as the last rays of sun faded. Irina slipped off her boots and climbed up, gazing at the sky like the mistress of the stars. Ji Ning sat beside her, the breeze lifting his hem as he looked up at the faint trace of the moon.

They didn’t speak. Night fell, hanging the stars in the sky, and the night in Three Portland was enough to enchant anyone.

“That’s the Andromeda Galaxy. Its light takes two and a half million years to reach our eyes. Now it’s slowly approaching the Milky Way at 300 kilometers a second—like your tale of the Weaver Girl and Cowherd, destined to meet and merge into a new galaxy. But that will take at least three billion years.”

Not wanting to reveal his lack of knowledge, Ji Ning nodded, feigning calm.

“Facing the vast stars, humans can only feel their insignificance. Yet we are awed, not ashamed. Under the gears of fate, every ordinary soul watched by the starlight carries their own pain, despair, and loneliness, as well as their own reasons to live and persevere.”

“When you first confront the truth of this world, you may feel fear and helplessness. But the world is meant to be like this—full of loneliness and absurdity. If you want to become strong, you must be ready to face reality, even if that reality is cruel. Start by tempering your heart.”

Irina stood and dusted off her hands. In that instant, the whole sky seemed filled with pale gold.

She smiled at Ji Ning, spread her arms, and stepped backward. In Ji Ning’s eyes, gravity had captured a spirit as she fell. His world became utterly silent, then a whirl of confusion, until he heard a farewell, as if whispered at his ear.

He saw the small figure waving from below, then walking away in the moonlight, her steps light as if headed to her own private banquet.

“So cool.” Those three words echoed in Ji Ning’s mind all night long.

Ji Ning decided he needed to get closer to this elusive, formidable senior. After all, having glimpsed the strange and terrifying world around him, he understood his own strength—barely even fodder. Even after a semester of training, he was just a minion who might slow an enemy down a little. Only by clinging to someone stronger could he hope to survive in this world of monsters and nightmares.

The next morning, Ji Ning’s first thought on waking was that he’d forgotten to ask for her contact information again.