024 Saturday with Merrick - Part 1 - Mark’s POV

024 Saturday with Merrick - Part 1 - Mark’s POV

I woke up feeling off. Not in a sick way—just that weird grogginess that came from being unreasonably tired. I never knew working part-time could be so exhausting.

It wasn’t the work itself. I’d fought cryptids, trained under brutal conditions, and survived far worse than a few hours in a convenience store. No, what drained me was the monotony. Staying still, standing at the counter, repeating the same actions—it was unnatural. At least in combat, there was adrenaline. A sense of urgency. Something.

I rolled out of bed with a groan and checked the time. Saturday. Professor Merrick had set up a schedule for our class. No rest for the wicked, I supposed.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I took a quick, light shower, letting the cold water chase away the lingering fatigue. After drying off, I threw on a pair of jogging pants, rubber shoes, and a hoodie. Simple. Functional. Comfortable.

I yawned, stretching a bit before securing my smartphone and stepping outside. The morning air was crisp but not unpleasant as I made my way out of Northstar House. A few other students were already out and about, some heading for morning runs, others just loitering. I ignored them and went straight to the curb, hailing a cab.

The driver barely glanced at me as I slid into the backseat. “Where to?”

“The Combat Zones,” I said.

He gave me a quick, assessing look in the rearview mirror—likely wondering if I was some dumb kid biting off more than I could chew—but said nothing. The car pulled away from the curb, and I settled in for the ride.

The Combat Zones were massive.

A towering wall surrounded the entire facility, reinforced with layers of steel and some kind of advanced ESP-enhanced material. It wasn’t just for show—this place needed that kind of security. From above, the whole thing was shaped like a hexagon, divided into multiple sectors designed for different forms of combat training. One area focused on urban warfare, complete with abandoned buildings and narrow alleyways. Another mimicked dense forests and uneven terrain. There were even controlled environments for extreme conditions—desert heat, tundra cold, deep water simulations.

It was a playground for battle.

I knew this for a fact, because I’m cool like that.

And Mom would really hate it if I didn’t do my assignment. Of course, I learned everything I learned from good old fashioned research.

The cab slowed to a stop near the entrance, where students were already gathering. I paid the fare using my phone, making a mental note to grab my smartwatch later. I’d left it charging overnight.

Like other people, I could be a klutz sometimes.

Stepping out, I stretched, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. My body still felt sore from last night’s shift at the convenience store. Who knew that standing behind a counter for hours could be more exhausting than fighting cryptids?

I yawned. It had only been a week since classes started, but man, it was rough—even for me. Not to be that guy, but yeah… I had an ego. I could admit that. I’d spent my whole life training to be a fighter, surviving in conditions most people wouldn’t last a day in, and yet… this school still managed to kick my ass on a daily basis.

And the worst part? I wasn’t even at the top.

I still couldn’t get over the fact that I’d fought a Hobwitch just last Monday. A Hobwitch. That wasn’t normal for a first-year student. But then again, nothing about my life was ever normal.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders as I walked toward the entrance. I wondered what Professor Merrick had in store for us today.

I flashed my ticket at the entrance, and the scanner beeped in approval. A staff member directed me to the left side, where students were already making their way through the halls.

There were a lot of older students.

It made sense. The Combat Zones weren’t just for first-years—upperclassmen trained here regularly, refining their techniques, testing their ESP against stronger opponents, or just blowing off steam. Most of them looked like they had been here a lot. They walked with confidence, their bodies honed from constant battle.

I had a long way to go.

I kept walking, my steps echoing against the smooth, polished floors, until I reached the reserved room for my class. A small scanner sat by the door. I slid my ticket under the serial number, and the door clicked open.

Inside, only a few students had arrived early.

I spotted Matt near the back. We exchanged a silent nod—Strategy No. 4: Convenience Store Clerk. A simple, polite, non-confrontational greeting. Something Mom had drilled into me as an essential social skill.

…Of course, the real reason I even had to interact with Matt was because I paid him to quit his job at the convenience store. That was the essence of Strategy No. 4 and the key to befriending him.

Mom always told me that money was a tool, and I had to use it efficiently. So, when I found out that Mirai worked there, I bribed Matt to step aside. The excuse I used? That I really liked Mirai and wanted to work with her. A total lie, but a believable one.

Yeah… life was pretty complicated for me.

Hopefully, Matt didn’t think I was some creepy stalker.

And hopefully, Mirai never found out about this.

Matt gestured to the side, drawing my attention to Mirai, who was chatting with Anna.

I listened in.

Cats.

They were talking about cats.

I liked cats.

I never had one, though.

Mom wouldn’t let me.

According to her, cats were psychopaths—unpredictable little demons that would kill me in my sleep if I wasn’t careful. She was completely serious about it, too. Instead, she told me I could have a pet only if it was either a dog or a crocodile.

Yeah, no thanks.

I wasn’t about to deal with something that could maul me or drag me into a death roll. That was way too close to my childhood trauma for comfort.

Mirai was still chatting with Anna, and I was debating whether to join in when bam—someone bumped into me hard.

I turned, already annoyed, and found myself face-to-face with Karl Brandt.

Red hair. Scowl permanently etched onto his face. Third-ranked in our class. Pyrokinetic. Anger issues. Ugh… I’m already tired of this dude.

The guy looked at me like I owed him money.

I raised an eyebrow. What was his problem now?

“What?” I asked flatly.

Karl stepped closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“I know your secret,” he whispered.

My breath hitched for just a second.

Karl smirked. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I stayed in place, leaning against the wall.

Karl’s words stuck with me more than I liked. I know your secret.

It was probably nothing. Just him being a jackass. Probably.

Still, I caught myself tensing up.

“You look tense,” a voice commented.

I turned my head slightly.

Elena.

I only just noticed her standing there, which was weird. She had that same presence-dampening effect as me, but hers came from her shadow demon.

I stared at her for a second, recalling what I’d written about her in my journal. Honor student. Highly skilled. Secretive.

She was also the only one Karl actually seemed to respect. Karl would evne pick a fight with Roy, so that was something.

“You shouldn’t let your guard down in this exam,” I told her.

Elena scoffed, crossing her arms. “Cute.”

I felt Mirai’s eyes on me.

I glanced at her.

She glanced at Elena.

Elena scoffed again, then turned and walked away.

I exhaled. What was with people being cryptic today?

Ron burst into the room, huffing. “Sorry for being late—”

Mirai waved him over. “Professor Merrick isn’t here yet.”

Relieved, Ron picked up his pace—only to trip over absolutely nothing and land face-first on the floor.

I barely had time to process his fall before I noticed something behind him.

A foot.

Still stretched mid-kick.

It belonged to a guy with messy green hair, freckles, and a way too bright smile.

I checked my mental notes.

Moss head.

Oh.

Oh no.

Mom’s journal had way too many notes on this guy. Apparently, he was another one of Mirai’s supposed love interests.

His name was—

“I’m Greg Green!” he shouted, arms wide as if expecting applause.

Ron groaned from the floor, but Greg grabbed his arm and yanked him up in one quick motion.

Then, without skipping a beat, he shook Ron’s hand furiously. “We’re friends now!”

Ron, still dazed, blinked at him.

Then Greg turned and went down the line, shaking hands with everyone.

Except me.

I almost suspected him of having super speed—just from his ADHD alone.

For every student that arrived, Greg would shake their hand like crazy.

And it was crazy.

Because after every handshake, he handed them… a cactus.

A tiny potted cactus.

Where was he even keeping them? His pockets? A bag? A bottomless void of plant-based generosity?

I didn’t receive one, though.

Because I kept myself invisible at all times.

More students trickled in, Greg greeting them with the same overenthusiastic handshake-and-cactus combo. The room, once quiet, grew livelier with people exchanging reactions ranging from confusion to amusement.

Then, the last student walked in.

Orange hair. Black face mask.

John Craig.

With his arrival, I realized something.

Greg hadn’t been here on the first day. That meant our class actually had eighteen students, not seventeen like I originally thought. Meh… Who kept count anyway? Master Reina and the Professors probably.

“Good, everyone’s here.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Professor Merrick was right beside me.

How? When? I had been keeping myself invisible this whole time! My ESP practically made me a ghost in social situations, but somehow, he had slipped in unnoticed right next to me.

I felt a sudden prickle of nervousness. A cold sweat beaded at my forehead.

Mom had very few notes on this guy, which was already concerning. Instead of detailed observations, she had scrawled theories and speculation. Fan theories, she called them. As if he was some cryptid no one could truly pin down.

Merrick the Magician.

That was his title, and he had a reputation for possessing an endless bag of tricks. An ESPer with an unknown specialization, a teaching style that bordered on theatrical, and a combat record filled with victories that made no sense.

And right now, he had just out-stealthed me.

Such a creep…

Professor Merrick clasped his hands together, his gaze sweeping across the gathered students. His sharp, almost mischievous eyes lingered on a few of us before he finally spoke.

"Your… Master Reina had a way of doing things." His tone was laced with something close to amusement, but there was an edge to it. "I bet she must have had you spar on the very first day of class, watched you use your ESPs, and made her assessments in the manner she always liked to do so…" He paused for effect, then smirked. "Like a brute."

I heard Karl scoff under his breath, while Elena’s lips twitched upward in mild amusement. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the insult or the accuracy of the statement.

Professor Merrick continued, unfazed. "I, on the other hand, am different. I like my numbers." He pulled out a small tablet from his coat pocket and tapped on it. "I’ve given you tickets, gathered all of you here this Saturday, and taken a portion of your weekend because I want to study you. And the fact that none of you skipped? Commendable."

My eyes flicked around the room. A few students looked wary, but no one dared to complain.

"This is what’s going to happen." Merrick swiped on his tablet, and the massive screen at the front of the room flickered to life, displaying a bracket system. "A tournament-styled sparring match. We’re going to establish a hierarchy in this class through battle."

Murmurs broke out immediately. A few students straightened up, obviously eager at the idea of proving themselves. Others, like Mirai, leaned back with a sigh, already seeing through the professor’s games.

"But!" Merrick raised a finger, silencing the noise. "There will be points. And unlike a simple win-or-lose system, the pointing system I will be using will only be known to me."

That shut everyone up.

"Obviously," he went on, pacing now, "the champion who rises from this sparring tournament will have the highest points. But that does not mean that simply winning fights will be enough. I am looking for something specific." His eyes gleamed with intrigue. "How you fight, what you prioritize, and how well you adapt—all of it will be taken into account."

I frowned. So this wasn’t just about brute force. There was a hidden criteria. I had a sinking feeling that this was one of those tests where thinking outside the box would be just as important as actual combat ability.

"As a bonus," Merrick added, "I will make sure that the points you earn in this extra-curricular exercise will be converted into merit points. And trust me…" He smiled now, sharp and knowing. "The merit points will have a lot of uses in your time at the academy. The more you have them, and the earlier you get them in your academic career, the more useful they will be."

I crossed my arms. Merit points. I had read about them in my notes. They were a currency of sorts, used for everything from access to high-level training facilities to permission for off-campus activities. Some students even used them to bribe their way out of certain punishments.

And Merrick was dangling them in front of us like a carrot.

A tournament where the criteria were unclear, but the rewards were undeniable.

Mirai sighed next to me. "Well, this is going to be a pain." She snuck up to me rather well, but not good enough. I appreciated the effort though.

I smirked. "No pain, no gain, right?"

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Across the room, Karl cracked his knuckles. Elena smirked. Greg vibrated in place like an over-caffeinated hummingbird. Matt cracked his knuckles.

And Ron? If looks could kill, I would have been dead already.

What’s up with people? Since when did I have beef with you, Ron?