For the first time in a while, the thought came to him again.
âWell, these things happen.â
Months had passed, and Lev still couldnât think of anything more than that apathetic phrase when the image of their former teacher, killed in a mission, appeared in his mind. Admittedly, this somewhat worried him.
It had been the first time in his life a person close to him â at least in the sense that they saw each other almost every day â was taken by Daemons and, contrary to what he had initially expected, it didnât affect him that much. It did take him by surprise when he heard the news and even got him wondering how such a tragedy could have occurred to a Huntress he had always perceived as careful and reliable, but minutes later he was more preoccupied with how he would face his numerous fees with the limited budget he received from the Academy and the following weekend he hadnât spared a single second of thought on her.
He didnât appear to be the only one though. Fellow Hunters seemed at a loss during the week when she died, wondering if the incident had occurred due to a malfunction, a mistake or an irregularity of a different sort, but eventually people ran out of curiosity on the matter and it was as good as settled. It made sense; they were at war and even if they didnât have access to the exact numbers as they were still in training, students in the Academy could figure out many men and women died each day. Daemons didnât rest or mourn, and there was no noticeable sign that their numbers were decreasing, so how could humanity spare time and resources for those who had fallen?
Still, this woman had shared wisdom with those who would become the next generation of humanityâs vanguard against Daemons to ensure its survival in the future, and in her spare time joined Hunters in the field to fight like a soldier. There was no way that such a lifestyle had left her any time to form a family of her own or pursue any ambitions. Almost her entire life, from late childhood to death, had been sacrificed to fight for humanity, which was more than the overwhelming majority of people could say, and still it was most likely that a decade from now no one would remember her face or even her name. No; that was a privilege that was saved only for those who knew when to die, made beautiful speeches to earn a cozy seat in one of the major citiesâ government or, even better, were willing to print their faces on pop magazines so that a new generation of teenagers could grow up with propaganda-fueled dreams of unrealistic glory.
But âthese things happenâ indeed.
Maybe what bothered Lev was the acknowledgement that, as selfish and despicable as this society that ignored the genuine devotion of a brave woman resulted to him, he would still prove exactly the same as them.
Perhaps, despite his attempts to convince himself that he was fighting for mankind and not for himself, he was scared of facing the fact that his efforts would still make him no more than a nameless soldier in history at most.
Or maybe he had too much free time to spend thinking on pointless trails of thought.
âOI! OI LEV! FUCKING OI!â
Suddenly, the surrounding background he had been pushing back in his mind brusquely recovered its colors and life; the sound of heavy machinery at work and raspy voices of middle-aged men and women screaming obscenities at each other echoed in his eardrums again and demanded his attention, prompting him to wonder how he had been able to space out in the first place. He sought the voice that called his name through the framed visor of his face shield and soon spotted a short-haired and generously bearded man he recognized as Gene, one of the more experienced workers and student supervisors.
âSum nâdroid âere sâgot a messige for ya or sumthinâ. Itâs in da way, so go lissen to it so it leaves awlready!â he said, not bothering to hide his irritation or the fact that he was in a hurry.
Lev freed one of his hands to signal an âokâ to his boss, who stormed off expressing his distaste for androids in mumbles to no one in particular, making an exemplary use of the word âfuckâ and all its known variables plus a few others. Good guy though. Occasionally.
Putting his tools away, Lev made his way to the entrance of the Academyâs arsenal, where he had been spending all his mornings for the past few months. All Scholar students in their last obligatory year were required to complete a certain amount of hours of actual work in their discipline, among other tasks, and seeing as he already visited the arsenal with some frequency, it was no surprise he ended up resorting to it to complete his academic duties. He had actually fulfilled this requirement some time ago, but since he had no morning classes ever since the death of his home room teacher, he preferred spending his time there helping with the avalanche of work the mechanics found themselves underneath of due to the increased frequency of Hunter deployments.
Every single day there were new jeeps, tanks, boats, swords, guns, androids and ammunition to repair, upgrade or manufacture, and they were always running late. Able hands were never missing and there were no restrictions on going over the minimum service hours, so Levâs presence was always welcomed and appreciated. Besides, this way he got to see all sorts of newly developed machinery, even if he wasnât allowed to actually work on the most expensive ones.
He opened the entrance door and, sure enough, an android waited with infinite patience on the other side. Standing uncomfortably close to Lev, it seemed to instantly identify him.
âKeisting, Lev. Your home room has been changed to second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia. Do you have any inquiries?â
Expecting a less relevant message, it took the young man a few seconds to process what he had heard. He checked his ancient wristwatch and briefly wondered why he would be notified in such a short notice of his new schedule, but figured his intercom, which he had left in the locker room, would be filled with messages of failed attempts to communicate with him a while ago.
âNo, you can go.â He finally answered the androidâs question as he remembered it was still waiting for his response without the slightest sign of apprehension, and instantly closed the door on it. The last ad Lev had heard consisted on a jingle with choreography included, which only made him feel ashamed on the robotâs behalf. Besides, some of the mechanics in the armory had taken to vandalizing the robots as a way to express their discontent when they showed up merely to promote their commercial, and if any of them saw it, it could only mean trouble for everyone.
Having no time to waste, Lev broke the news to Gene and left for his dorm, where he had to fight a mountain of broken machinery and spare parts to get to the bathroom. He showered, changed into his uniform and saved the disassembled parts of his firearms into a wheeled bag in record time, taking special care with his âStingrayâ sniper rifle.
Even with the heavy additional weight, he managed to keep a good pace and found his new classroom in only a few minutes despite being more concentrated on trying to remember where he had heard the name Asher Donovan rather than keeping track of where he was going. Before entering, he stationed and chained the large bag outside the class, seeing as it was too large to keep inside without it inconveniencing people. Though he did notice Noel appreciating the view through a window with a distinct air of nostalgia around her, he had no words of encouragement to share, and decided to go straight into the unknown.
As he stepped into the classroom and took in the image of his new teacher and classmates, he waited a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He finally remembered why Asherâs name seemed so familiar, and recognized his face from the cover of one of those magazines some girls around the Academy always seemed to have at hand. Although he was sure his new professor was a reliable and capable Hunter, the idea of learning under a pop idol didnât fascinate him, and for many reasons. He then turned his attention towards the students; most of them seemed to be busy doing their own things, one of them was asleep, and there was a dragon sculpture made of trash peeking through a window⊠good vibrations all âround.
âMorninââ he greeted the room with an unenthusiastic tone, briefly noticing in terror that Gene's dialect was slowly rubbing off on him. âLev Keisting.â he added when he noticed the checklist on top of Asherâs desk.
With nothing to add or comment, Lev scanned the room for a free seat and headed straight for the last row. The only ones close to being neighbors to him were Caesar and Lorelei, both having already taken the corners of the classroom and each sitting a distance of two or three desks away from him. Having nothing more to do, he sat back and patiently waited for the rest of the students to show up.