The Over-Break System

Ignoring the cackling coming through the mind link, Cynrik hurried off to shower; upon reaching the bathroom, he triple-checked the lock and, for good measure, pulled out a sturdy metal chair from his inventory to brace against the door. Once satisfied that no one was getting in, he quickly showered and, when he finished, changed into a loose-fitting pair of black gym shorts and a matching black tank top.

“So freaking annoying; I miss the fucking days where I could take an hour-long shower, uninterrupted.” Grumbling his complaints under his breath, Cynrik stowed away his towel, dirty jogger pants, and boxer shorts inside his inventory so he could wash them later. This had become a habit over the last few months because one day, he walked in on Selene buried under his dirty laundry.

For most people, this would have been an immediate turn-off and disgusting moment, but for Cynrik, it wasn’t charming and more of an annoyance than anything. After scolding the girl until she was practically in tears, he sent her home with a large red hand print hidden under her skirt.

Now he had to be careful with where he placed the laundry basket, so instead, he found it more convenient to store the clothing in his inventory, locked away from Selene.

When he exited his bedroom attached bathroom and walked back to the living room, he found everyone sitting on their respective favorite couches, watching a documentary on previous Yearly Competitions.

“For the last 300 years, the annual Continental Tournament of Academies (CTA) has been held without fail, and the events will be on an even grander scale this year.”

Taking his seat by Selene, who instinctively scooted over and reached out to play with his long untied, wet hair, Cynrik allowed the girl to do as she pleased and listened in on the commentator as scenes of previous competitions flashed across the holo-tv.

“Every year, Academies from all around our expansive Umalan Mohone join in the festivities, with the highlights being the explosive and exciting fighting competition, the Tournament of Champions. In six short weeks, the first rounds of regional tournaments will kick-off, and the pairings have already been chosen. Each regional tournament will consist of a minimum of ten Academic Institutions and their four teams meeting in the arena to prove they deserve a shot in the National Championships.”

“Each team, broken down from Tier-1 to Tier-4, will consist of six Primary team members and four reserve members for a total of ten students per Tiered team. They will compete in three events: group battles where the entire team of six will fight as one unit; squad battles, also known as three vs. three’s; and solo battles. The solo competitions are the most challenging of the three because they will be the best out of five knock-out rounds.” The commentator moved on from explaining the event’s setup and some of the basic rules before showing off highlights from last year’s event.

“Hey, Big Bro Cyn, if we only have five people in our Faction, where are we supposed to find the other five?” Gabby, who was sitting so close to Brance that if someone made her bounce up a few centimeters, she would practically be on his lap, asked while finishing off her bag of chips.
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“We probably won’t have much input on that one, Gabby. The way I figure, the Headmaster or Instructor Garrison, who is the Lead Instructor for our Academies competition teams, will make the final decision. Our only worry is not letting them get in our way. Depending on how strong our opponents are, I don’t see us having much difficulty in the 3v3s or the Solo rounds, meaning it’s the group fights that will be annoying since we will have a tag along.” Massaging the left side of his neck with his hand, Cynrik answered in an unconcerned tone of voice.

Looking at his Watcet and seeing it was already way past his curfew, Cynrik sighed loudly and leaned back on the couch.

“Y’all should probably head home soon. It may be the weekend, but it’s still almost 11 pm. Brance will lead the regular morning workouts and Affinity training, but I must be up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at dawn to go to my meeting. So when you get home, head straight to bed, girls; I need you all in peak form, just in case I get my curfew lifted. If I do, we begin grinding in the Oblisk, and the proper training begins.” Cracking his back, Cynrik looked between Selene and Gabby, who both were complaining about not wanting to leave.

It only took about 15 minutes for the girls to say their goodbyes and scurry home arm in arm. Once they were gone and Cynrik locked up for the night, he noticed Benny sitting in front of the command console and rewatching the footage from his experiment earlier.

“What’s on your mind, Benny?” Cynrik asked while clearing any garbage left over by the gluttonous snack addicted Selene and Gabby.

“Nothing in particular; I just wanted to hit the video with a quick scan so I could watch what exactly you were doing. Unlike you and Brance, who have [Mana Sight], everything happening is pretty much invisible; however, using a few programs makes everything happening naked to the eye visible. Using this method, I can better understand how to move through the steps and further increase my chances of Evolving my Water Affinity into Ice.” Without looking back at Cynrik, Benny leaned to the side so Cynrik could see what he was viewing.

“Fair, don’t stay up too late; some of us weren’t so lucky to get out of our therapy and anger management classes after only three weeks.” Tossing all the wrappers and paper plates into the garbage, Cynrik waved good night to Benny and made his way towards the training room, where Brance was busy dueling with a combat droid.

Seeing his brother enter the training room, Brance paused his simulated battle and looked over at Cynrik, who was leaning against the door.

[Heading to bed? That’s rare; you usually don’t try that until about four in the morning.]

[Not yet. I’m gunna circulate a few rounds of [Requiem of Dusk] since it’s off cooldown. I’ve been getting some good gains recently, so there is no point in wasting the sunless hours. How bout you? Are you gunna beat up that robot all night?] Smirking at how Brance was so quick to be snarky, Cynrik fired back with just as much sass.

Over the last couple of months, Brance went to bed later and later each night. This didn’t escape Cynrik, as he quickly realized, Brance was replicating what he himself did every time he couldn’t sleep because something was bothering him. Yet every time Cynrik brought it up, Brance deflected and made some excuse.

[No, once I get bored of the droid, I will move on to cardio exercises and eventually get some time in with my Cultivation skill. However, I don’t want to let myself fall too far behind you, so I have to make up ground during the night.] Shrugging his shoulders to loosen them up, Brance reactivated the droid and continued moving around the room throwing punches and kicks to tire himself out.

Knowing there was no point in pressing for more information from his brother, who had something bothering him, Cynrik shook his head and went into his room to cultivate before eventually falling asleep.

While Cynrik drifted off into slumber after successfully gaining a total of 15 points in his INT Stat, Brance, on the other hand, was being bombarded by the mysterious voice, which had increased its harassment since his first date with Gabby. Since things had gotten so bad recently, he was now being woken up by the nagging and slanderous words he heard in the middle of the night, making it so he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over two months. His lack of sleep was evident by the semi-permanent raccoon-like circles that had taken up real estate under his eyes.
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★YOU ARE WASTING TIME! EVERY MINUTE YOU BURN IN THIS USELESS EXCUSE OF MEDIOCRITY IS DESTROYING YOUR POTENTIAL GROWTH! ★

The voice’s ranting screams forced Brance’s body to shut down for half a second, enough time for the droid to catch him in the jaw with a powerful left hook that sent him stumbling back several paces.

“Dorm Ai, end training program.” Rubbing the side of his face where the metallic fist had connected cleanly, Brance forced the training droid to power down and collapsed onto his back, staring at the ceiling of the training room.

‘I should just tell Cyn…he dealt with this bullshit for years and came out on top; why am I being so fucking stupid.’ Brance angrily lifted his arm and slammed it into the padded flooring.

‘I can’t even concentrate appropriately on strengthing my Affinity because every time I do, I get distracted.’

★If you would listen to my words and interact with me, you wouldn’t be in this situation, young Seraph. But no, your stubborn nature and the influence of that idiotic Æsir brother of yours has you believing that if you continuously ignore my advice, things will turn out for the best. ★

Feeling too exhausted to deal with the Divinity Spirit taking up space in his head rent-free, Brance closed his eyes and fell into a restless slumber.

—

A few hours later, when the suns peaked over the horizon, Cynrik, who was already hyped up on coffee, snuck out of the dorm quietly to not wake anyone up and took off in a full sprint through the Cavern of Dorms.

‘Alright, I gave myself a full hour to cross the campus and make it to the Headmaster’s office, which is plenty of time to swing by and grab breakfast at that waffle stand near the battle arena.’ So Cynrik thought as he passed through all the security checkpoints with ease.

Once he reached the final guard stand, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper short hair waved him over to scan his Watcet.

“Mornin Student Ivar, what’s got you up so early. Figured you and your Faction would be sleeping in since it’s the weekend and there aren’t any classes.” The guard said with a smile.

“There ain’t no rest for the wicked Mr. Larry; I’ve got a meeting with the Headmaster at 7:30; if I wanna grab one of those limited quantity waffles on the way, it’s necessary to leave early.” Skittering to a stop and tapping his Watcet against the guard’s tablet, Cynrik explained briefly, his eyes flashing towards a paper plate with the same kind of double chocolate, chocolate chip waffles he wanted on the table of the guard shack.

“Ah, I see; I’m lucky enough that my wife is the one who makes them. Haha, on your way then, youngin, don’t wanna keep her waiting, I’ll give her a call and tell her to hold one for you.” Chuckling at how Cynrik was jogging in place impatiently, Mr. Larry shooed him away and pulled up his wife’s number to stick to his promise.

“Thanks, Mr.Larry; see you later; I’ll pay back the favor when I get a chance.” Then, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, a result of confirming he would be getting the coveted breakfast food, Cynrik waved at the older man before stomping the ground and taking off in a full sprint once again.

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