SEXY MECH SYSTEM-Chapter 50: Administration

The scale of the college campus felt even more daunting once they moved from the open lawn toward the heart of the academic district.

"I guess we have to visit the administration block," Syril said, his eyes fixed on the multiple buildings stretched before their eyes.

Adam nodded, his pace quickening to match Syril’s. "Definitely. We’re more like tourists now."

"But what do you think we’ll do there? I definitely wrote a lot in the application form, and they must have our biodata."

"The essentials. We’ll get accessories for sure. Communication, identification, and whatever else the college deems necessary for a first-year," Syril replied.

Finding the administration building wasn’t an arduous task since they could easily follow description poles and massive LED screens standing somewhere after every 100 meter.

They reached the heavy double doors, which slid open automatically with a soft hiss. The interior was a stark contrast to the natural beauty of the lawns. It was all white marble, glass partitions, and a hum of machinery.

A large, sleek printing machine stood near the entrance to the waiting room. It looked less like an office tool and more like a piece of advanced technology, glowing with a soft blue light.

Syril stepped up first, pressing a button on the interface. A small, laminated card slid out into the tray.

’55,’ the permanent ink on the card read.

Adam followed suit, and the machine whirred before spitting out his card.

’56.’

They stepped in afterwards.

They turned toward the waiting area, and the sheer volume of people made Adam pause. It was a massive hall, filled with rows of sleek, ergonomic chairs. Hundreds of students were already there, a sea of anxious faces and hushed whispers.

At the far end of the hall, five reinforced booths stood like sentinels, each numbered one through five. Every few minutes, a digital chime echoed through the room, and a number would flash on the overhead screens, sending a student scurrying toward one of the booths.

Some students were practicing small displays of their abilities while others sat in stony silence.

About ten minutes into their wait, the doors slid open with it’s hiss. A brown haired teenager stepped in. He had a sharp, confident grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked straight to the machine, grabbed his card, ’95,’ and turned toward the crowd.

It was Brandon.

Instead of finding a seat, Brandon began to prowl. He moved with a practiced, fake friendliness, stopping at every other row to introduce himself.

He had his ways of approaching and stylishly getting the information he wanted.

He wanted to see who the competition was, those he needed to ally, and even ones he needed to respect or stay away from. He moved from person to person, mostly leaving a trail of good impression.

Then, his eyes landed on Syril.

A slow, sly smirk spread across Brandon’s face. He changed his trajectory, walking toward them with a deliberate, swaggering gait. He stopped directly in front of Syril, crossing his arms.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery," Brandon said, his voice intently booming. "I don’t think I got the full story back there. Come on, man, don’t be shy. Tell me... There won’t be any train conductor here this time."

Syril didn’t move. He didn’t even look up. He kept his eyes fixed on the booth screens at the front of the room, his expression as flat as stone.

Brandon’s smile twitched, but he didn’t back off. He leaned in closer, invading Syril’s personal space. "What, nothing? Are you one of those ’hidden potential’ types, or are you just empty-handed? People are curious, man. We could be classmates. Total transparency, right?"

He began to nudge Syril’s shoulder with his knuckles, a playful but aggressive gesture. "Talk to me. Give us a show. Name and ability. Let’s hear it."

The surrounding students had stopped their own conversations. Heads turned, and a heavy silence fell over the area. Brandon was feeding off the attention, his chest puffing out as he continued to pester the silent boy.

"Leave him alone, Brandon," Adam muttered, though his voice lacked the weight to stop someone like him.

Brandon didn’t even acknowledge Adam. He kept his focus on Syril, his nudges becoming more frequent and forceful. "Come on, silent treatment? That’s for kids. Tell us what you’ve got!"

His voice was gaining a powerful edge.

Just as Brandon raised his hand for another nudge, a shadow fell over the group.

"I think he said everything he needed to say by staying quiet."

The voice was deep and resonant, cutting through Brandon’s ruckus like a knife.

Brandon froze and turned.

Standing there was a tall, muscular student who looked more or less like Syril. His most striking feature was his hair. It was a vibrant, electric blue that seemed to shimmer. Even his eyes had a faint blue tint to them, sharp and unwavering.

"Cool off," the blue-haired guy said, his voice calm but layered with an unmistakable threat. "The waiting area isn’t a sparring ring. Take a seat."

Brandon looked the newcomer up and down. He saw the width of the guy’s shoulders and the way the air seemed to chill slightly around him.

For a moment, Brandon looked like he might argue, but he quickly calculated the odds. He looked at Syril, then back at the blue-haired guy.

"Just making conversation," Brandon scoffed, holding up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. He backed off slowly, his smirk returning, though it looked forced. "See you around, Mucho. We’ll find out eventually."

He retreated toward the back of the hall, and the tension in the room dissipated as people returned to their own business.

The blue-haired guy returned to his position without saying anything or acknowledging those he sided.

"That was... close," Adam exhaled, his shoulders finally dropping.

"It was a distraction," Syril said quietly.

A moment later, the chime rang.

[Number 55. Booth 3.]

Syril stood up.

As Syril began to walk toward Booth 3, the chime rang again.

[Number 56. Booth 5.]

Adam stood up, he moved toward the far booth, but a blur of movement caught his peripheral vision.

Brandon had been waiting. The moment 56 flashed on the screen, he lunged forward. Before Adam could react, Brandon’s hand flashed out, snatching the card right out of Adam’s grip and throwing his at the short boy.

"Hey!" Adam cried out, stumbling back.

"Thank you," Brandon laughed, already halfway to Booth 5. "If you turn my card upside down, it’ll be 56. Still your turn."

Syril stopped in his tracks, his hand on the door of Booth 3. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw Brandon disappearing into the fifth booth.

He started to move toward the booth to intervene, he didn’t know why, but his legs already pushed him forward.

Then the electronic chime over the speakers repeated his number insistently.

"Number 55." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Syril looked at Adam, who stood frozen and helpless in the middle of the aisle, then back at his own booth.

With a look of pure frustration, he turned and stepped into the booth, the door locking behind him.

Inside Booth 3, the space was small and sterile. A large, complex contraption sat in the center, a mix of metal plates, glowing screens, and glass tubes.

"Place your palms on the scanner," a flat, feminine voice commanded from the machine.

He couldn’t see anyone, but the voice was definitely there.

Syril did as he was told, pressing his hands against the cold glass plate. A grid of red light swept over his skin, and a loud beep echoed afterwards.

"Data retrieved," the voice said. "Ability?"

Syril paused for a moment.

He had thought about this, and even consulted Raja.

He had long finalized his decision.

For now, he had to keep up with the ’no-ability-guy.’ He wasn’t strong enough, so he couldn’t risk revealing his strange ability.

He would become the centre of attention, and you couldn’t tell those who would secretly make him a target.

So, he firmly said: "None."

Revealing to the school’s administration that he had none was for just records, but he wasn’t a fool not to know that people would eventually find out.

And those who would be foolish enough to challenge him or bully...

Might be in for a surprise.

"None?" The female voice replied skeptically. "That’s strange with a quite impressive mana pool for your age."

Syril became stiff.

There was a brief pause, a whirring sound coming from the contraption.

"Please review your personal details on the screen."

Syril looked at the monitor. His name, age, and every other thing were all listed correctly.

"All correct," Syril said.

A small compartment at the base of the machine hissed open. From the dark interior, a sleek, matte-black watch slid out on a small tray. It was light, with a glass face that remained dark until Syril picked it up.

"This watch is not a device to take lightly," the voice instructed. "It will serve as your ID, your key, and your link to the college network. Every information will be passed to you through this, and your prerequisite data can be accessed there. Since you are a first-time registrant, you are required to report to the First Year Assembly Hall at 9:00AM tomorrow. Very important."

"Okay. Thanks... ma’am."

"Good luck, Syril Sylvester."

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