After a good night's sleep that stretched into the next morning, Draven headed to the Council Association, dressed in a casual blue hoodie.
He needed money for the test—money he no longer had after spending his savings on the legacy operation. The thought of selling his phone had even crossed his mind.
But he remembered something crucial: after awakening, all Elites were required to register at the Council Association, or risk being arrested. As part of the process, the Council Association also provided two hundred thousand credit units to purchase basic gear, a support measure designed to increase their chances of survival in the planes.
When Draven arrived at the association, he was drenched in sweat, as if he'd just stepped out of an oven.
He wiped his forehead while staring up at the massive building. "Whew! What a short walk. Only two hours and thirty minutes," he muttered sarcastically.
Chuckling to himself, he strolled inside with his hands in his pockets. After asking around, he found himself standing before a woman with glasses, seated behind a desk. She wore a professional black suit, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
"You're an Elite, and you didn't register at the Basic Academy?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
Draven lied without hesitation, his face straight. "Something important came up."
She nodded and began asking for his personal information:
"Full name, age, parents, address."
Draven replied:
"Draven… still thinking of a cool last name."
"Fifteen years, and two months."
"Orphan."
"No concrete address yet, just floating."
The woman glanced up at him subtly before continuing to type. She asked a few more questions, then handed him a badge with a single star.
Draven suddenly smirked as he took the badge, his name strangely branded at the top. "Hey, what if everything I said is a lie, huh?"
The woman merely chuckled and replied with a smile, "See you, Mr. Draven 'Coollastname.'"
Draven shook his head and left, heading straight for the hospital. He had accomplished his objective and received the two hundred thousand credit units.
Another 'short walk' of an hour brought him to a large white building. Entering, Draven navigated the halls until he reached Dr. Annie's office. Her office was unusual—no staff around, and she only met with Draven after his blood was taken for testing in their previous encounter. He assumed the virus had piqued her interest.
Draven knocked but received no reply. After multiple attempts and five minutes of waiting, he decided to stand by the corner.
A young woman with champagne blonde hair walked down the lobby toward him. Draven immediately straightened up. "Hello, Miss Annie."
She adjusted her glasses and smiled. "Hello, Draven. How are you doing?"
"Great, and you?" Draven replied with a smile.
"Tired from all the work," she sighed. "What are you doing outside?"
"Oh, I came for a check-up, but no one answered when I knocked, so I decided to wait."
"No one opened?" she asked, puzzled.
Draven raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that said, 'You were outside—who was supposed to open?'
"Has she left?" Annie muttered to herself, twisting the doorknob. The door opened immediately.
"Come in," she said, stepping inside.
Draven quickly followed.
"Brenna, why didn't you answer when he was knocking?" Annie's voice drew Draven's attention to a young girl sitting in the corner, her expression cold and impassive.
"I knew the person was looking for you, and you weren't here, so it isn't my position to interfere with your business. Besides, this isn't my office," she replied flatly.
'You were inside the whole time and made me knock for five minutes?!' Draven screamed inwardly.
Annie shook her head and mumbled almost inaudibly, "I wonder how you teach at the academy."
She turned to Draven. "You became an Elite?"
"Yes. I just came for a few tests before I enter the plane," Draven answered.
Annie nodded enthusiastically and directed Draven to a patient bed. She drew blood from his arm before leaving the room, her enthusiasm always making Draven shiver.
Draven sat down, and the room fell into an awkward silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Brenna studying him intently.
She had platinum blonde hair that framed her oval face, her gray, slanting eyes adding to her sharp features. Draven tried to ignore her, but after five minutes, her gaze was still fixed on him.
Suddenly, he had an idea. 'Miss Annie said she teaches at the academy, so she must know about the planes.'
"Erm…" Draven cleared his throat. "Miss Brenna, you teach at the academy, right?"
"Yes," she replied curtly, her gaze still locked on him.
"Can you tell me about the planes? Key points for survival, you know? I just awakened," Draven said with a polite smile.
She stared at him for a moment, her expression impassive. "You came to school just to become a thug and ignore classes," she criticized bluntly.
"Excuse—"
She cut him off. "That's not my business, though, and I'm not your private tutor."
Draven stared at her, calculating how to make her talk. After a moment, he spoke in a low voice, "I have a virus that will kill me in a few months unless I take a vial worth an astronomical amount of credit units or awaken and break through to the Primal rank. I've been preparing for the possibility that I wouldn't awaken. That's why I missed classes."
Brenna stared at him for a full minute and a half.
Just as Draven was about to give up, she spoke. "I won't repeat myself."
Without waiting for his response, she began:
"You should already know why Elite enter the planes to hunt. If you don't know, it is because the rank of the monsters in each plane is capped according to the plane's level—for example, a Rank 1 plane only has Transient-rank monsters. This makes it easier for Elites to survive there than on Earth, where monster ranks are random."
She paused, then continued, "When you enter the plane, you'll instinctively sense the location of the Haven, a safe zone built by the Council Association. It's also your way back here. So, all you need to do is, enter the plane, get to the Haven, and return. Remember, the plane isn't a vacation resort for new Elites. It's advised to go with your peers. Now, let me tell you about the forbidden places in the Green House Plane, a Rank 1 plane—"
Annie hurried into the room at that moment.
Both Draven and Brenna turned to her.
"Brenna, out! I need to talk to my patient," Annie said sternly.
"She already knows," Draven interjected, seeing no point in hiding the truth.
Annie glanced at Brenna before turning back to Draven, her tone grave. "I found several chemicals in your blood that are accelerating the deterioration—like Berserker Z2."
"What?!" Brenna blurted out, standing abruptly. She stared at Draven, her usual apathy replaced by shock.
"The strange thing is, it's still in your blood even after you became an Elite, and… it's accelerating the virus's effects," Annie continued.
Draven's face fell, and the room plunged into a deafening silence.
The two women stared at him, letting the news sink in.
After a moment, Draven looked up and asked softly, "How long do I have?"
Annie bit her lip before replying, "Thirty days."