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Thriller Trainee - Chapter 89

Published at 19th of April 2022 06:04:34 PM


Chapter 89

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A subdued mood hung over First High School.

They’d only just gotten through the first monthly exam by the skin of their teeth, yet didn’t forecast the midterm exam, the second monthly exam, or the final exam that came after. 

For better or for worse, only one class was eliminated during the first monthly exam. For the midterm, any class whose average score failed to meet the criteria would be directly executed.

Moreover, the system’s obliteration was nothing in the face of this execution. At least the system’s obliteration happened in a split second, and the soul would be annihilated without feeling any pain. In contrast, First High’s execution was downright torture, with death only permitted after tasting extreme pain.

 

 

Many trainees were forever unable to forget this scene.

Many decapitated heads from bodies lay strewn on the quadrangle. The heads that had just dropped off were still expiring air through their nostrils, dying with eyes wide open, unreconciled. 

Sticky minced flesh and blood were strewn across the entire concrete quadrangle. The pungent smell of blood lingered there for the next week, sharply pervading the air that came through any open windows.

 

And even more fearsome was the requirement for the midterm.

600 marks.

What did 600 marks mean? The score for the nine subjects and Olympiad questions was 1150 altogether. The way it sounded, it would be a breeze, for all that was required to hit 600 marks was a pass in each subject.

 

However, for the trainees who had practically forgotten every bit of their high school knowledge, hoping to raise to a passing grade within a short span of two months was definitely not an easy task.

Even the laurelled Class 1, who scored best in this exam, was still some way off from this average.

A hard target meant that the classes didn’t need to go against each other. As long as a class was unable to meet this standard, it’d get wiped.

 

Setting this criterion would assure higher university acceptance rates than comparing class averages. Only with strife could there be dark horses. It was a tried and tested method in First High. Though some good seedlings were eliminated in the process, the classes who survived to the end were certainly better than any of the top students who were eliminated before. 

Now, there was no need for the school to say anything. Trainees had dived into study hell of their own accord.

For the next dozen days, none of them didn’t have giant dark eye circles hanging on their faces, wishing to increase their productivity in this limited time.

Class 9’s atmosphere was similarly pumped up.

Under their revolutionary friendship, the entire class of trainees ‘sought joy amidst sorrow’, helping each other to the best of their abilities. 

Anyone who was truly feeling too drowsy in class would take the initiative to stand at the back of the classroom and listen to the lecture. Every day, they’d organise themselves, using the time between classes to do practice papers, then get together to compare answers during the third period of evening self-study.

All thanks to this instance, trainees in every class got to know each other very well. Even if there were enemies or rival guilds within their class, they couldn’t get away from each other; they had become one in their destiny and even had to fight alongside the other, which, surprisingly, eased up their relationship as well.

Especially Zong Jiu.

Zong Jiu’s soul was tired. 

Pc atf qjra, tf kjr j wjulmljc ogff jr j ylgv ktb mbeiv jma mbbi pera obg tlr bkc qifjregf, yea cbk tf kjr atf mijrr wbclabg yegvfcfv ys tlr mijrr ktlmt tf tjv ab ajxf ugfja qjlcr ab gjlrf ilxf j mtliv. Ktjcxoeiis, Ibcu Ale tjv j ubbv wfwbgs jcv kjr jyif ab wfwbglrf ktbif ybbxr klatbea wlrrlcu j kbgv. Po la kfgf jcsbcf firf, atfs’v qgbyjyis yf ecjyif ab peuuif ybat.

Nevertheless, they were very obedient, alongside their shared fate that made it impossible for him to ignore them.

 

The way the bottom-scorers in Class 9 looked at him was akin to a mouse at a cat. They took their studies seriously and never talked back; if Zong Jiu told them to go East they would never go West, completely devoid of the B-rank posturing their airs of seniority in other classes.

With tension brimming in the air where the fear of death was the sole driving force, an incident finally occurred one day, shattering the stagnant life that they were passing. 

It couldn’t be considered anything big, but it wasn’t small either.

The reason was that a student from Class 9 had found a tattered old diary between the wooden boards of the podium when cleaning the classroom.

It was clear from the diary that it was left behind by a student several batches before. There were even results slips tucked inside and it was apparent from the scores that the student was a girl who had excelled in her studies.

It was strange, but it wasn’t as though trainees hadn’t tried to find clues left by the NPCs or otherwise upon entering the instance. Unfortunately, the school was so bizarre that aside from the known mass suicides from the student populace, all traces seemed to have been intentionally wiped away by someone, leaving nothing to be found. 

This diary was their biggest find since entering the instance. Likely, it was spared because this corner of the podium was missed by the cleaners during the winter and summer vacations, allowing it to survive by a hair’s breadth instead of being dealt with by the school like all other traces.

“Hurry and open it up. None of the other classes have found something this good; you never know if it contains a clue about the background of this instance!”

“Exactly. If we can find some clues, maybe there’ll even be new developments.”

Since Class 9 were the ones to find it, they’d surely be the first to study it among themselves, and only after they were through would they hand it out. 

And so dozens of heads came together, and many more eyes peeked from spaces between bodies, watching the white-haired Magician slowly open the dusty diary that had not seen the light in many a year.

It wasn’t just the students of Class 9. Contenders who were camping in the live broadcasts of other classes also sped over to Class 9’s broadcast upon hearing the news to see what the fuss was about.

[WTF this should be the first clue that has appeared in this collective instance, right?]

[Come on, see what it’s about. It can’t be some kind of important clue, can it? By the usual trend of horror instances, a diary is the best vehicle to record such stuff.] 

[Uh-huh. If it’s any kind of solution to this round, then they’ve really struck gold.]

Under everyone’s ardent gazes, the Magician flipped to the first page of the diary without batting an eyelid nor skipping a heartbeat.

Oddly, the owner’s name wasn’t written in the diary, though the handwriting looked familiar to Zong Jiu.

[March 3: Despite all my pleading, they pulled some strings to send me here.] 

[March 5: Terrifying… this school is really terrifying. If we don’t study, we’ll really die.]

[March 6: They actually don’t permit students to write diaries. It’ll be dangerous if I get caught. I have to hide this diary well.]

 

There wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary in the beginning. Zong Jiu flipped through them, only seeing trivial entries filled with the bloodshed and brutality of First High.

These were already known to the trainees and wouldn’t be of much use or provide much worth for reference if read. 

Finally, after continuing to the back, they finally saw something of value.

The handwriting in the diary became messier as the days passed. It was clear that the owner was in a precarious state of mind as she penned these words.

The turning point began with the appearance of another person in the diary.

[April 6: This diary is the only time for me to relax in the daily rush of study. Only when I write these words do I feel like I’m not a person who only lives to study.] 

[April 8: The class monitor is really nice. She found time to motivate the class even though she has her hands full with her own studies.]

[April 11: In the first monthly exam, the girl in front of me secretly gave me candy. I hid it in my blanket and unwrapped it. Though it had already melted, it was really sweet.]

[April 12: Everyone in class is very nice. I also want to become like them, able to show kindness and warmth to others.]

… 

[May 10: The whole class has made a pact. We must survive and score into the top 3 dream universities.]

At this point, the handwriting became smooth and steady again, every stroke, every throw, every hook, every dot neatly written.

Until…

[May 14: How could this have happened?] 

Unfortunately, the further back they went, they found that a few pages near the end appeared as though rats had chewed on them. They had water stains and were clumped together. Only the last yellowed page survived.

Here, the handwriting had reverted to scribbles, even tainted with a blackish hue.

A trainee in their class exclaimed, “So much blood?”

They had been well aware in their hearts that it wasn’t probable that the owner of this diary had survived. After all, why else would they have tucked their diary here instead of taking it away with them after graduation? 

[July 4: I’ve found it; it’s right next to the Corpse Pit… but the class only has 3 people left. If no one among us changes, in the next exam, the whole class will die.]

[July 5: A graduation photo was taken today. In the split second that the shutter was pressed, in the photo… I was the only person left.]

 

[July 6: Save me, can anyone save me, please. I can’t hold on anymore… I can’t.]

[July 7: Unless something crops up, this will be my last entry. I’m going to hide this diary in the podium. If anyone from the future is reading this, please make sure to stop this before tragedy strikes. As said before, the transformation process is *irreversible*. Even if by now, my classmates have become what they’d detested most at the start, this is our only option to survive. There’s no other way.] 

[They sacrificed themselves to save the class. They saved me.]

[It’s my turn now.]

The diary ended abruptly here.

After reading the diary, Class 9 exchanged glances with each other. 

The first portion was more routine, yet the last page hid a deep secret. If they wanted to find more clues, it was no doubt contained in the shredded pages in front.

Zong Jiu was the first to question, “Did you find anything else when you were cleaning? Was there nothing else in the crevice?”

Index 99 shook his head like a rattle. “We were wiping down the podium together at that time. Aside from the diary, there were only a few almost-perfect score result slips inside and nothing else.

Zong Jiu pondered on it for a moment before pointing at two words in the diary—the ‘graduation photo’. 

“This item should be the key to solving the mystery.”

He wasn’t the only one who thought so. Others, too.

“But though we’ve been in First High for so long; we haven’t heard of any outstanding alumni display here.”

As the trainees spoke, they suddenly noticed something. “Logically speaking, wouldn’t prestigious high schools be more than eager to show off graduation photos and honour rolls of their previous batches of top students?” 

[There’s definitely something fishy for them to have gone against convention.]

[Yeah, since the source of the problem has been found, they can just keep investigating down this line of thought.]

[Actually, I’m a little more concerned about the irreversible tragedy that the diary mentioned. What does that mean? Could it be that previous graduation students had committed suicide for the greater good of the class?]

[That doesn’t sound right, though. How do you propose that there be a graduation photo if everyone else has committed suicide? Resurrection? Psh.] 

However, this question was definitively answered on a morning five days later.

A B-rank trainee had become a faceless person.





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