The first, tall, light brown skin, bleached locs tied back with a bandana, hoodie half-zipped over a sleeveless shirt. Flame burns from his fingertips. Fire Symbiont, clearly.
The second, sharp jaw, navy undercut, blazer still buttoned, arms crossed and practically vibrating with static. Classic lightning type.
"…I'm telling you, Federico Maldini would smoke Helix Thrane on a real battlefield."
"You're insane. Maldini's a show-off. Helix's precision is why he's survived nine level 4 Rifts."
"Yeah? More like Maldini created a level 4 Rift just to erase it himself."
I try not to get incinerated as I finally fish out my key, slide it in, and turn. The door clicks.
"This school's chaos is in a red blazer."
The room smells like mango air-freshener and someone's cologne. The blinds are cracked open just enough to let the afternoon light streak across the hardwood floor. A half-unzipped duffel bag lies like roadkill near the foot of my bed.
My bag thumps against the ground as I slide the door shut behind me.
Then I see it.
My bed.
Occupied.
By two people.
Calvin Esposito's joggers hanging low, grey sweatshirt rolled to his elbows, gold earring catching the light like it was flexing on my behalf. Dark-skinned, clean buzz cut, fit like he's used to fights but too charming to start them. He's leaned against my pillows like he owns them.
Sitting on his lap is a girl I did or didn't recognise.
Blonde. Long waves spilling down her back. About 17, maybe a first-year. Glossy lips. That kind of pretty that gets cast in every music vid.
Their mouths are a little too close when I walk in. She turns first, blinking at me with mascaraed lashes and a smile she's probably practiced.
"You wanna join in, conspiracy boy?", the blonde girls offers with a seductive tone.
I drop my blazer onto the chair, tugging at the collar of my white shirt.
The cross shaped chain around my neck shifts, gold, plain, real.
A family thing, identity anchor. I forget I'm even wearing it most days.
"Next time, maybe not on my bed." my voice low but imposing
"Yours creaks. Mine's got window lighting. Sets the mood." a grinning Calvin wheezes
The girl laughs, swinging off his lap. She adjusts her jacket, still half off one shoulder and grabs her bag from the floor.
Blonde Girl: "Later, Cal. Try not to corrupt your roomie."
Calvin: "Too late for him."
I move past them, letting the door click behind her. Sit down at my desk.
Boot up the holo- system. The glow washes over my face like ghost light.
Behind me, Calvin whistles low. "You've got zero patience for the game, bro."
"You've got zero respect for personal boundaries ." I immediately retorted
"Nah. I've got priorities.". He says adjusting his roughened clothes
I glance at him. "She gonna be in so many of the edits for next week's buzztok contest".
He shrugs, chuckling. "She should. Entertainment faculty's full of charmers this year. And she's not just rizz girl's actually got presence. You'll see."
He raises his hand, Crest flaring.
In an instant, his eyes blackened, sclera turning pitch. Only the inner iris glows, a magnetic shimmer pulsing in dull black.
The mini-fridge at the corner hums.
Clink.
A can of grape soda floats into his palm like it knows better than to resist.
Crest activation does that. Black eyes, ring glow. No hiding what you are once the switch flips.
He cracks it open, slouches into his bed like this is any other Thursday.
"So. You still ghost-hunting?" Calvin inquired taking a sip of his grape juicee
I pause. One click on the holo system loads the encrypted file.
West District, a shadow, the timestamp never lies.
"Not ghosts," I say. "Clues."
He frowns. "I thought Kaiser got cooked. Wasn't that the White Owl's big case?"
"Public story, sure," I murmur. "But pieces always survive the fire."
Calvin studies me for a second longer than normal. Then shifts.
"…You ever gonna call your people?"
I freeze.
The room quiets again. Not like before, not the danger kind. The familiar kind.
The kind that smells like homesickness and guilt.
I answer without looking at him.
"I'll go tomorrow."
"Your sister's pretty chill," he says. "And your mom? She sounded worried last week."
I keep typing. Pretend my fingers don't hesitate on the keys.
"My phone's always on DND," I murmur. "I miss stuff."
"You ghost your whole family or just the ones that call back?"
I glance over my shoulder, and he raises both hands in mock surrender.
Calvin: "Alright, alright. Chill. Just saying."
He kicks off his slides and stretches.
Then,
He pauses. Head tilts. Eyes flicker.
"…Do you hear that?"
I stop typing. Blink. "No?"
He moves to my wardrobe. Opens it slowly.
Nothing.
He exhales. "Guess I'm paranoid."
But the second he says it,
Something slithers.
A ripple of blue plasma-like energy, tiny, no bigger than a cat,zips out from under the wardrobe. It pulses like it's alive.
It darts toward the open window.
Both of us freeze.
Then Calvin's eyes blacken again, full Crest active.
He launches through the window, shattering glass in his wake.
"CALVIN!"
I run up, gripping the frame.
He's already airborne.
Chasing it across the second-story dorm ledge like a shadow hunting lightning.
I didn't know what that thing was, but I know what it looks like.
I sighed and shook my head as Calvin leapt straight out the window like the batman on a budget, vigilante with rent to pay.
For a second, I thought that was it — dramatic leap, broken leg.
But then I saw it.
A flash of dark green aura lit up around him like a silent explosion, his eyes blacked out completely with that eerie symbiont glow. white rings burning at the edge of his sclera. His right hand whipped around and pulled something metallic from his inventory
A rusted cafeteria tray.
Of course.
I didn't even want to know where that came from.
With that signature Virelia finesse, he jumped on the oversized tray and hovered mid-air like he was auditioning for a sport that didn't exist yet. The air hissed as the metal vibrated beneath him, his aura syncing with the motion.
Calvin Esposito.
Third-year.
Roommate.
Level 3 Symbiont Crest: Paramagnetism.
Can attract, repel and resize any non-living material with a different molecular structure to his own.
"He can't attract people," I muttered aloud, watching him slice through the sky on a food tray, "but he still thinks himself a chick magnet."
The irony burns brighter than his aura.
By now, most of Galileo Hall had come alive. Doors flung open. Students poured out onto balconies and stairwells like it was a block party. Some recorded. Some cheered. A few screamed.
But no one missed the blue plasma creature streaking down the middle of the wide hall, tearing through paper flyers, skipping across banners, and shooting past confused vending machines.
Calvin ducked, dodged, and swerved. He soared between a fruit seller and an espresso drone, sending crates flying and oranges bouncing like marbles. The plasma beast zipped low, slipping through legs and buzzing past backpacks. Calvin trailed behind, all green light and reckless glory, nearly decapitating a lawn chair setup from the Petless Club's pet adoption booth which had stall in my hall for some reason.
> "bro's not been faking it with those parkour instashot reels he's been posting ," someone whispered from behind me.
I didn't argue.
The plasma monster hit the receptionist gate, triggering a minor explosion of sparks and fractured glass. It tried to flee.
But Calvin, mid-air, jumped off his tray, caught it with his power mid-tumble, and flung it.
The metal disk spun like a coin from hell — SLAM!
It hit the Echo dead on.
The creature hissed into vapor, sizzling into nothingness as a soft blue crackle filled the space.
The receptionist desk?
Shattered like your mood after a bad grade.
"CALVIN ESPOSITO!" a voice roared from the back office.
Mr. Luigi.
Sixty-something. Bald.
Smelled like espresso and disappointment.
Calvin brushed past the remains of the vaporized Echo like he just won Virelias Got Talent. Students around him clapped, whistled, a few even chanted his name.
"Caaalvinnn!, Let's gooo!"
I made my way down the stairs as he basked in the praise, smiling like a sponsored pro athlete.
I nudged him.
"Wanna explain why a class-three Echo was hiding under my laundry?"
Calvin's grin dropped half a centimeter.
> "If there was a breach or even a rift nearby, we'd have gotten an alert. Besides… that thing wasn't hiding. It just spawned."
> "In our room."
> "Exactly. What I'm wondering is… from what?"
I didn't like that answer.
And I like it even less now.
He turned toward the balconies where students leaned over, phones and holo-tabs in hand, already uploading clips to their socials.
His voice rang out clear.
"Not everyone is strong enough to fight, but those of that are gotta step up and help. I mean, You are strong for a reason."
The applause came again, louder this time.
Calvin stood with his tray tucked under his arm like a war trophy, grinning as if nothing to grand just happened .
And me?
I stood there, trying to act impressed.
Because truthfully, I was.
Top of his class.
Only Level 3.
And still doesn't act like a dick well most of the time.
You'd think being in a university would mean freedom.
You didn't think wrong.