The grand courtyard of the Academy had fallen into an expectant hush. Hundreds of students stood in neat rows, the morning sun casting golden light over the polished marble of the main building. At the center of the raised platform stood the Headmaster—a tall, silver-haired man whose presence seemed to command the very air around him.
He wore a deep navy coat embroidered with gold thread, the Academy's crest displayed proudly on his chest. His eyes—sharp and unwavering—swept over the gathered crowd, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried effortlessly, as if every word was meant for each student individually.
"Welcome," he began, his tone both warm and commanding, "to the start of a journey that will test not only your skills, but your spirit."
The students listened in silence, drawn in by the magnetic weight of his presence.
"You stand here today because you have shown potential—strength, intellect, determination. But potential is not power. Power is forged, shaped by trial and fire. Here, within these walls, you will be challenged in ways you cannot yet imagine. You will stumble, you will fall… and you will rise again."
Jay felt the words strike something deep inside him. Around him, students shifted, glancing at one another, as if trying to guess what kind of challenges awaited.
The Headmaster's gaze seemed to darken slightly. "But let me be clear—this Academy is not a shelter. It is not a safe haven. The world beyond is… restless. Threats loom in the shadows, and even here, danger can find its way to our gates."
A faint murmur rippled through the crowd at those words. Jay's brows furrowed. Nathan leaned slightly toward him and whispered, "Did he just say 'danger here'? That's… reassuring."
"Silence, Nathan," Jay muttered back, though his own curiosity was piqued.
The Headmaster raised one hand, and the courtyard stilled again. "When that time comes—and it will—you will not have the luxury of hesitation. You will need to stand, to fight, to protect. Not just yourselves, but those who cannot protect themselves. That is the burden and the honor of those who graduate from this Academy."
His eyes swept across them again, lingering on faces as if memorizing them. Jay could have sworn the man's gaze paused on him for a fraction longer than anyone else.
"But do not mistake this warning for hopelessness," the Headmaster continued, his tone softening. "The trials you will face here will prepare you. You will forge bonds—friendships, rivalries—that will shape who you are. You will discover strengths you never knew you had. And when you walk out of these gates as graduates, you will not only be ready for the world… you will be ready to change it."
A wave of applause rolled across the courtyard. The Headmaster gave a single, decisive nod, then stepped back.
Faculty members began guiding students toward the various wings of the Academy. The energy in the air had shifted—excitement still lingered, but now it was laced with a thin thread of unease.
Jay and Nathan followed the flow of students toward their assigned buildings. The wide hallways were lined with tall windows that let in streams of sunlight. The scent of polished wood and paper filled the air.
"Pretty intense speech," Nathan said as they walked.
Jay nodded. "Yeah. Makes you wonder what's really going on outside… and why he sounded like we're going to find out the hard way."
Eventually, they reached a branching hallway, where assistants began directing students to their respective classrooms.
"This is me," Nathan said, jerking his thumb toward a door marked Class 1-B.
"And I'm in 1-A," Jay replied, pointing to the next door down.
They exchanged a quick nod and a faint grin.
"Don't slack off," Nathan said.
"You too," Jay replied.
With that, they stepped into their classrooms, unaware that the words spoken that morning were more than just ceremony—they were the first ripple of a storm drawing ever closer.
The door to Class 1-A slid open, and a wave of noise washed over Jay. The room was already full—students talking in clusters, comparing schedules, laughing, or sizing each other up. Every seat seemed to be taken, except for a few scattered spots near the back.
Jay stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. The air carried the faint scent of fresh ink and polished wood. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting bright rectangles across the rows of desks. For a moment, he scanned the room, unsure where to sit.
"Jay! Over here!"
The familiar voice cut through the chatter. He turned toward the sound and spotted her—a young woman with chestnut-brown hair tied in a short ponytail, her sharp green eyes lighting up as she waved him over.
"Flora?" he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Flora Ezar—one of the members of Infinity, their small but formidable group—was leaning forward in her seat near the middle row, patting the empty desk beside her. She wore the same standard-issue Academy uniform as everyone else, but somehow it looked sharper on her, the way she carried herself.
"At least I've found someone I know," Jay muttered under his breath as he wove through the maze of desks toward her.
When he sat down, Flora grinned. "Lucky me. I thought I'd be stuck sitting next to some stranger for the entire semester."
"You make it sound like a prison sentence," Jay said, raising an eyebrow.
"It can be," Flora replied lightly. "Trust me, the first day is always… interesting."
Jay leaned back slightly, scanning the other students. A few were sneaking glances at him and Flora, some with curiosity, others with something closer to suspicion. He could feel the subtle shift in the air—this wasn't just a classroom, it was a battlefield of first impressions.
Flora seemed to notice his expression. "Relax. They're just sizing you up. You have that 'I might be dangerous' vibe."
Jay smirked. "Good. Let them keep wondering."
The chatter in the room continued, but Jay's attention drifted. He wondered how Nathan was doing in Class 1-B, and whether he'd run into any familiar faces there. The Headmaster's speech still lingered in his mind—especially the part about danger finding its way inside the Academy.
Flora tapped his desk, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You're already lost in your head. That's not a good sign on day one."
"Just thinking," Jay replied.
"Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced.
Before Jay could respond, the hum of conversation in the room began to die down. One by one, students turned toward the front, their eyes drawn to the door. The sudden silence was almost eerie, as if the entire class had agreed without words to hold their breath.
A faint clicking sound echoed from the hallway—measured footsteps, growing louder. Whoever it was, they walked with the slow, deliberate pace of someone who knew exactly how much attention they commanded.
Flora straightened in her seat. Jay felt his own shoulders tense.
The footsteps stopped.
The door handle turned.