Chapter Thirty: Dawn

The bell tower at Cassel College rings three times a day: the first is the wake-up call, the second marks lunchtime, and the third is the final bell of the last class of the day.

On a morning filled with fluttering white doves, sunlight pierced the dimness of dawn and fell upon the Bermuda lawn, casting a halo over the dew. Lin Nian walked along the cobblestone path, trailing behind the yawning Finnel, who was keeping pace with the tolling bells. Red squirrels, having scampered down from the hills into the academy, hid among the greenery to peer at the new face.

"To be honest, I haven't heard the morning bell in ages. When I woke up, I thought it was already noon," Finnel said with a yawn. He had received a notification from Eva that morning, tasking him with escorting his roommate, Lin Nian, to the gymnasium for a physical assessment. The conspiracy behind their room assignment was suddenly laid bare; after serving as a pack mule, Finnel now had to act as a tour guide.

"Is there someone specifically assigned to ring the bell tower? I noticed the interval between the second and third tolls was two seconds longer than the gap between the third and fourth," Lin Nian said, turning his head toward the tower.

"Your ears are sharp, Junior. But why would you notice such a detail? Automatic bells have no soul; the ones at Cassel are rung manually. If the bell is delayed, it’s mostly because the Vice Principal is drinking whiskey while pulling the rope. That two-second pause is exactly how long it takes him to pour a drink down his throat." Finnel stretched, his large frame cracking audibly beneath his sturdy build.

"The Vice Principal is responsible for ringing the bell every day?"

"He lives in the bell tower. You’ll usually only see him on the forum, where he’s the top administrator. I’m at best an unpaid intern working under him."

"But isn't drinking alcohol first thing in the morning bad for your health?" Lin Nian asked, diplomatically questioning the lifestyle of Cassel’s leadership.

"Don't worry. Instead of worrying about the Vice Principal’s health, you’d be better off worrying about your professor’s blood pressure. Some alchemical items were stolen from the 'Ice Cellar' recently, and Professor Manstein nearly had a stroke from the anger. Oh, and here’s a little secret for you: the Vice Principal is actually your professor’s own father. How about that? Surprised? Shocked?" Finnel raised an eyebrow.

"How old is the Vice Principal?" Lin Nian paused, picturing Manstein’s polished bald head and mustache. He looked to be in his fifties or sixties. The Vice Principal of Cassel was Manstein’s father? How old must he be to still be downing whiskey while ringing the bells every morning?

"Not entirely sure. Every time someone asks his age, he strikes a pose, adjusts the brim of his cowboy hat, and says something cheesy like, 'A man’s age is like wine; the older it gets, the richer the flavor, and women get drunker the more they taste it.' But I can tell you that our Principal is over 130 years old and still going strong. You can use his age to estimate the Vice Principal’s; I hear they’re bosom buddies." Finnel pulled his collar tight against the crisp morning mountain breeze.

"The Principal is over 130 and hasn't retired? At that age, shouldn't he be working from a wheelchair?" Lin Nian was stunned by the number.

"It’s the bloodline. For a hybrid like the Principal, illness is basically a stranger. If he ever dies, it won't be from heart disease or a stroke; it’ll most likely be because he slipped while dragon-slaying, or he’s just so old that his joints have rusted shut." Finnel flexed his right arm, his bicep straining against his uniform. "Even at 130, Principal Anjou is as sturdy as ever—a man as strong as me!"

Lin Nian tried to imagine a 130-year-old man as buff as Finnel, but all he could conjure was the image of the mummified woman in the wheelchair from the *SpongeBob* chocolate episode.

"Relax. If your bloodline is as good as Professor Manstein says, you’ll basically be able to live to the Principal's age and still be able to swim across the Chicago River and back," Finnel said, patting Lin Nian on the shoulder and squeezing his forearm. "Of course, to do that, you’ll need to keep up your training. Junior, looking at you, I can tell you’ve practiced before."

"I studied Kendo for self-defense and occasionally participated in exhibition matches to make ends meet," Lin Nian explained.

"Oh? Then you can major in blades for your cold-weapon courses. With that foundation, you’ll easily get full credits in your first year," Finnel said.

"The academy has cold-weapon courses?"

"Of course, though they’re collectively called P.E. Other schools test for 1,000-meter runs, pull-ups, and lung capacity; we test for hand-to-hand combat, melee weapons, and wilderness survival. Since you have a Kendo background, I suggest you pick Baji Quan or Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for your unarmed combat."

"This really is a professional dragon-slaying academy... but does the curriculum planner expect us to use martial arts to subdue dragons? I can’t imagine a student putting a headlock or a cross-arm bar on a ten-meter-tall monster," Lin Nian said skeptically.

"Actually, our enemies aren't often true pure-blooded dragons," Finnel shook his head. "Hand-to-hand combat is for dealing with enemies of our own size."

"You mean... humans?" Lin Nian’s footsteps faltered.

"Dangerous hybrids, to be precise." Finnel looked back at Lin Nian. "The academy always misses a few hybrids hiding in normal society, and among them are quite a few dangerous individuals. Eliminating them is part of our duty."

"So, killing people," Lin Nian said.

Finnel stopped, seemingly realizing he had strayed too far into prohibited territory. He scratched his messy hair, looking troubled. "You can't exactly put it that way. Those hybrids who have lost their sanity can’t really be called human anymore. Their actions pose a massive threat to human society, so we have no choice but to eliminate or contain them."

"Senior, have you ever killed anyone?" Lin Nian asked softly, catching up to Finnel.

"Me? No, I haven't even graduated yet," Finnel said. "The killers with blood on their hands are mostly in the Operations Department. Mandy probably told you the academy handles job placement, right? After graduation, you can choose to work for the Operations Department. You should be able to guess what they do just from the name."

"So, the war against the dragon race is something you only get involved with after graduation?"

"No... to be accurate, you should have a chance to experience the feeling of war even before you graduate," Finnel hesitated. "Cassel College was formerly the Secret Party, an intelligence headquarters. Later, after some of the original board members had a change in philosophy, they decided to start a school. But honestly, the iron-blooded beliefs held by both the Secret Party and Cassel are the same. So, to make the freshmen feel the weight of their responsibility, the academy sends first-year students on a mission. Most missions involve tracking down dangerous hybrids. The freshmen are responsible for keeping watch and other tasks that allow them to observe the agents of the Operations Department slaying enemies from a safe distance. This lets the greenhorns quickly and directly grasp the cruelty of the war between hybrids and dragons."

"Sounds interesting. After you graduate, have you considered joining the Operations Department?" Lin Nian asked, eyeing the man who was a head taller than him but looked utterly lethargic.

"Of course! Back in the day, I was quite the talent. Joining the Operations Department is the goal for ninety percent of students. My dream is to earn enough credits to join the Cuban branch. I hear the crime rate is low there, and the brothers on duty drive convertibles with beauties whose laps are wide enough to hold a champagne glass, smoking cigars rolled on those beauties' thighs, one hand on the steering wheel and the other clutching a Desert Eagle... basically, it's incredibly cool!" Finnel’s tone was full of longing and devotion.

Lin Nian suddenly felt that if every Cassel graduate were like him, human history would have ended a long time ago.

As they talked, they neared their destination. Even through the woods, they could see the egg-shaped dome of the gymnasium—one of the few modern-style buildings on campus.

"The gym is just ahead. I’ll leave you here, Junior," Finnel said, stopping in his tracks.

"Do you have a class this morning, Senior?" Lin Nian turned.

"No, I just ate too much at breakfast and now I need to head to the restroom," Finnel said, clutching his stomach awkwardly.

"Thanks for the directions, Senior." Lin Nian nodded, and Finnel scurried away.

Lin Nian walked the final stretch of the path alone. Emerging from the trees, he saw the main entrance of the gymnasium, where Professor Manstein and a tower-like man were waiting. Upon seeing Lin Nian emerge from the path, the professor waved him over.