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

  I woke up feeling off. Not sick—just that heavy, groggy feeling that comes from being way too tired. I never thought working part-time could be this draining.

  It wasn’t the work itself. I’d fought cryptids, survived brutal training, and faced way worse than a few hours at a convenience store. No, it was the monotony. Standing still, repeating the same actions, scanning barcodes like a robot—that’s what wore me down. At least in combat, there’s adrenaline. A sense of urgency. Something.

  I rolled out of bed with a groan and checked the time. Saturday. Professor Merrick had us on a strict schedule. No rest for the wicked, I guess.

  After a quick cold shower to shake off the fog, I threw on a pair of joggers, rubber shoes, and a hoodie. Simple. Comfortable. Functional. I stretched, yawned, grabbed my phone, and stepped outside.

  The morning air was crisp but not unpleasant. A few other students were already out—some heading for morning runs, others just loitering. I ignored them and flagged down a cab.

  “Where to?” the driver asked without looking up.

  “The Combat Zones.”

  He glanced at me through the rearview mirror—probably 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 whole facility, reinforced with layers of steel and some kind of ESP-enhanced material. It wasn’t just for show—this place needed that kind of security. From above, it was shaped like a hexagon, divided into different sectors for various combat scenarios. Urban warfare with narrow alleyways and abandoned buildings. Dense forests and uneven terrain. Even extreme environments—desert heat, tundra cold, deep water simulations.

  A playground for battle.

  I knew that because I’m cool like that.

  And Mom would kill me if I skipped my assignment.

  The cab slowed near the entrance, where students were already gathering. I paid through my phone and stepped out, stretching to shake off the lingering drowsiness. My body still ached from last night’s shift at the store. Who knew standing behind a counter 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 sound cocky, 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 last Monday. A Hobwitch. That wasn’t normal for a first-year. But then again, nothing about my life was ever normal.

  I sighed, rolling my shoulders as I approached the entrance. Wonder what Professor Merrick had in store for us today.

  I flashed my ticket at the scanner. Beep. A staff member waved me toward the left hall, where students were already filing through.

  A lot of them were older.

  It made sense. The Combat Zones weren’t just for first-years—upperclassmen trained here all the time, refining their techniques, testing their ESP against stronger opponents, or just blowing off steam. Most of them had that sharpened look, like they’d been through it all. They walked with confidence, bodies honed from constant battle.

  I had a long way to go.

  My steps echoed against the polished floor 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. Polite. Non-confrontational. Something Mom drilled into me as an essential social skill. So how did we become acquaintances? Well, it was thanks to Strategy No. 4: Convenience Store Clerk.

  So yeah, I’m buddy-buddy with Matt now…

  …Though the real reason I even interacted with Matt was because I’d paid him to quit his job at the convenience store. That was the essence of Strategy No. 4: the key to befriending him.

  Mom always said money was a tool—use it efficiently. So, when I found Mirai’s work place, I immediately went to work and bribed Matt to step aside. The excuse? That I liked Mirai and wanted to work with her. Total lie, but a believable one.

  Yeah… life was complicated.

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

  Hopefully, Mirai never found out.

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

  I listened in.

  Cats.

  They were talking about cats.

  I liked cats.

  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 said I could have a pet only if it was either a dog or a crocodile.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  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 slammed into me.

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

  Red hair. Permanent scowl. Third-ranked in our class. Pyrokinetic. Anger issues.

  Ugh… I’m already tired of this guy.

  He looked at me like I owed him money.

  I raised an eyebrow. What’s 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. Just for 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 as Karl’s words echoed in my head. 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’d barely even noticed her standing there—which was weird. She had that same presence-dampening effect as me, but hers came from her shadow demon.

  Honor student. Highly skilled. Secretive.

  Mom had written about her in my journal.

  She was also the only one Karl actually seemed to respect. That said a lot. Karl would pick a fight with Roy without blinking.

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

  Elena scoffed, arms crossed. “Cute.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mirai watching us.

  I glanced at her.

  She glanced at Elena.

  Elena scoffed again, then turned and walked away.

  I exhaled. What’s with people being cryptic today?

  The door slammed open.

  “Sorry I’m late—!”

  Ron burst into the room, huffing.

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

  Ron sighed in relief and picked up his pace—only to trip over absolutely nothing and faceplant onto 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 one of Mirai’s supposed love interests.

  His name was—

  “I’m Greg Green!” he shouted, arms wide like he was 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 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 new student that arrived, Greg would shake their hand like a maniac. And 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 get 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 as students exchanged confused and amused glances.

  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 even kept count? Master Reina and the professors, probably.

  “Good, everyone’s here.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  Professor Merrick was standing right beside me.

  How? When? My ESP practically made me a ghost in social situations, and yet he’d slipped in without me noticing.

  A prickle of nervousness ran down my spine. Cold sweat beaded at my forehead.

  Mom had very few notes on this guy, which was already concerning. Instead of detailed observations, she’d scrawled theories and speculation. Fan theories, she called them—like Merrick was some cryptid no one could pin down.

  Merrick the Magician.

  That was his title. An ESPer with an unknown specialization, a teaching style that bordered on theatrical, and a combat record full of victories that made no sense.

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

  Such a creep…

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

  “Your… Master Reina had a way of doing things.” His tone was light, laced with amusement—but there was an edge to it. “I bet she had you spar on the very first day, 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. 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 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-style sparring match. We’re going to establish a hierarchy in this class through battle.”

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

  “But!” Merrick raised a finger, silencing the noise.

  “There will be points. And unlike a simple win-or-lose system, the point system I’ll be using…”

  A sly smile crept across his face.

  “…will only be known to me.”

  That shut everyone up.

  "Obviously," Merrick 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." 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 criterion here. One of those tests where thinking outside the box would be just as important as actual combat ability.

  Great.

  "As a bonus," Merrick added, "I will make sure that the points you earn in this extracurricular 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’d read about them in my notes. They were basically currency—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 pretty well—not good enough, but I appreciated the effort. It was… endearing.

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

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

  Across the room, Karl cracked his knuckles. Elena’s smirk deepened. Greg was vibrating in place like an over-caffeinated hummingbird. Matt cracked his knuckles too, probably trying to copy Karl and failing miserably.

  And Ron?

  Ron was glaring at me like I’d personally insulted his bloodline.

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