Orientation Hall exists in approximately six dimensions, which is three more than most human brains are designed to process comfortably.
The Academy's architects clearly decided that conventional geometry was for people without imagination. The hall stretches upward beyond what the building's external structure should contain, its crystalline ceiling disappearing into shadows that seem deeper than physics allows. Tiered seating flows in organic curves around a central platform where Academy officials wait with the patient stillness of people accustomed to commanding absolute attention.
I find a seat in the section designated for F-Rank students—the academic equivalent of the children's table at a family dinner. Around me, my fellow "minimal Awakened" fidget with nervous energy, their weak Authority signatures creating a constant buzz of insecurity that makes my skin crawl.
The irony is thick enough to choke on. I'm sitting with the Academy's rejects while the children of Great Families claim the premium seating, their power radiating through the hall like heat from a forge. If any of them knew they were in the presence of the being who designed their entire reality framework, the social dynamics would shift dramatically.
But that's a revelation for another lifetime.
Director Thane takes the platform, his presence commanding immediate silence. He's older than I expected, with silver hair and eyes that suggest he's seen enough political maneuvering to recognize it from orbit. When he speaks, his voice carries through the hall without amplification—a neat Authority trick that suggests his power runs deeper than his administrative title implies.
"Welcome to the Imperial Academy," he begins, "where the future leaders of our post-Collapse civilization learn to wield the forces that define our world."
Standard opening rhetoric. I've heard variations of this speech in Academy promotional materials, political addresses, and Guild recruitment presentations. The same themes: responsibility, power, service to humanity's continued evolution.
What interests me more than his words is the way he's scanning the assembled students. His gaze lingers on certain faces—Seraphina Ignis, Varen Ferros, a handful of other high-ranking elites whose families probably have direct communication channels with Academy leadership.
When his eyes find me in the F-Rank section, something flickers in his expression. Not recognition—that would be impossible—but a moment of curious evaluation, like he's seeing a piece that doesn't quite fit the pattern he expects.
I keep my face carefully neutral and let his attention slide past without catching.
"Your class assignments have been distributed to your Academy crystals," Director Thane continues. "Dormitory allocations will be available after orientation. Remember that your performance here will determine not just your personal future, but humanity's continued prosperity in an age where reality itself remains... flexible."
The crystal embedded in my Academy identification warms against my chest, indicating new data has been uploaded. I touch it briefly, feeling the familiar tingle of information transfer.
Class Schedule - Kael Morrison (F-Rank)
Authority Theory and Application (Remedial)
Combat Fundamentals (Basic)
System Mechanics (Introductory)
Political History of the Great Families (Standard)
Dimensional Stability Studies (Audit Only)
Audit only. They're not even pretending I'm capable of understanding the subject that literally governs how our world continues to exist. If they only knew I wrote the original specifications for dimensional anchor point maintenance.
"One final announcement," Director Thane says, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Recent intelligence suggests increased Collective activity in several sectors. All students are reminded that Heresy promotion is grounds for immediate expulsion and criminal prosecution. The Academy has zero tolerance for System subversion."
The Collective. Even hearing the name makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest—not fear exactly, but recognition. They're the faction that believes our reality's current structure is fundamentally flawed, that the System I created to prevent universal collapse has instead created a different kind of prison.
They're not entirely wrong, which is what makes them dangerous.
"Questions will be addressed during individual faculty meetings," Director Thane concludes. "Dismissed."
The hall erupts into conversation as students begin filing out, but I remain seated for a moment, processing what I've just learned. Increased Collective activity. Zero tolerance for System subversion. The kind of language that suggests the Academy is preparing for something more serious than routine educational administration.
"Deep thoughts?" Zane drops into the seat beside me, having somehow navigated through the crowd without my noticing.
"Just wondering what 'increased Collective activity' actually means," I say.
"It means someone's been asking uncomfortable questions about why our reality works the way it does." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Also, it means certain students might want to be very careful about any... unusual... abilities they've been hiding."
The warning is delivered casually, but I catch the underlying concern. Zane doesn't know what I am, but he knows I'm not what I appear to be. And if the Academy is cracking down on System subversion, anyone who doesn't fit standard parameters might find themselves under unwanted scrutiny.
"Noted," I tell him.
We make our way out of the hall, joining the stream of students heading toward dormitory assignments. The corridors are chaos—hundreds of teenagers with supernatural abilities trying to navigate Academy bureaucracy while establishing social hierarchies that will define the next four years of their lives.
I'm about to suggest we find somewhere quiet to review our class schedules when something impossible happens.
A voice speaks in my mind.
Not the familiar internal monologue of my own thoughts, but something external. Artificial. Carrying harmonics that suggest it's being transmitted through communication channels that shouldn't exist.
[Connection established. Phantom Network active. Welcome, Administrator.]
I stumble, catching myself against the corridor wall as the voice echoes in spaces behind my thoughts I didn't know existed. Zane notices immediately.
"You alright? You look like you just saw a ghost."
"I'm fine," I manage, though my heart is hammering against my ribs.
[Network status: Seven active nodes detected. Authority level: Variable. Purpose: Information exchange and coordination. Your participation is... requested.]
The voice isn't threatening, but it's not exactly optional either. I can feel pathways opening in my mind—connections to other consciousnesses that carry the electric taste of advanced Authority manipulation.
[Node identification in progress. Please wait.]
Suddenly I'm not just Kael Morrison standing in an Academy corridor. I'm simultaneously aware of six other perspectives, scattered across the Academy grounds like points of light in a neural network.
Phantom-1: 'Someone new in the network? That's... unexpected.'
Phantom-2: 'Authority signature reads as F-Rank, but the connection quality suggests otherwise.'
Phantom-3: 'Could be a monitoring program. Academy administration testing network security?'
Phantom-4: 'Negative. This feels different. Older somehow.'
Phantom-5: 'Should we abort? If this is Academy surveillance...'
Phantom-6: 'Wait. Let's see what they have to say.'
The conversation flows through my consciousness like watching a text discussion, but faster and more intuitive than written language. I can sense the personalities behind each voice—their caution, curiosity, and underlying determination.
They're students. Academy students using some kind of unauthorized communication network to share information beyond official channels.
[Administrator node active. Network encryption stable. You may participate when ready.]
I realize they're waiting for me to respond. The question is whether I should. Getting involved with an unauthorized student network could compromise my carefully maintained low profile. On the other hand, this might be exactly the kind of intelligence-gathering resource I need to navigate Academy politics without revealing my true capabilities.
Administrator: 'New to the network. Still figuring out how this works.'
Phantom-1: 'Direct neural interface through Authority manipulation. Pretty advanced stuff for an F-Rank signature.'
Phantom-2: 'Unless the signature's deliberate misdirection.'
They're not wrong. Whatever system is facilitating this network, it's sophisticated enough to establish direct mental connections across significant distances while maintaining encryption that prevents eavesdropping. The kind of technology that should be theoretically impossible with current Authority applications.
The kind of technology that suggests someone with deep understanding of System architecture is involved.
Administrator: 'How long has this network been active?'
Phantom-3: 'Two years, give or take. Started as information sharing between students from non-Great Family backgrounds.'
Phantom-4: 'Insurance policy against Academy politics. When your bloodline doesn't guarantee protection, you need other advantages.'
Phantom-5: 'Speaking of which—anyone else notice increased security patrols? Something's got administration nervous.
Phantom-6: 'Collective activity. Director Thane mentioned it during orientation.'
Phantom-1: 'More than that. Faculty meetings behind closed doors. Special assessment protocols being activated. They're looking for something.'
The conversation continues, but I'm no longer fully focused on their words. I'm analyzing the network itself, trying to understand how it functions. The connections feel stable, encrypted, and completely invisible to standard Authority detection methods.
Almost like they're using System administration channels that most people don't know exist.
Channels that I designed.
[Network diagnostic complete. Administrator access level: UNLIMITED. Previous session detected. Welcome back, Architect.]
My blood turns to ice water.
The network knows what I am.
Phantom-2: 'Administrator? You just went quiet. Everything functional on your end?'
I force myself to respond normally, though my mind is racing with implications.
Administrator: 'All good. Just processing network parameters.'
Phantom-1: 'Fair enough. Network's pretty sophisticated. Took me weeks to figure out all the functions.'
Phantom-3: 'Anyone have intelligence on why House Petra's been making inquiries about student family finances?"
My attention snaps back to the conversation. House Petra—Baroness Lysandra's power base, the same family that's threatening my parents' Guild.
Administrator: 'What kind of inquiries?'
Phantom-4: 'Debt analysis, revenue projections, leverage assessment. Standard stuff if you're looking for pressure points.'
Phantom-5: 'Word is she's targeting families with Academy connections. Using student enrollment as collateral for favorable settlements.'
Phantom-6: 'Specifically looking for students whose families are financially vulnerable but have political or strategic value.'
The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. Baroness Lysandra isn't just collecting debts—she's systematically identifying Academy students whose families can be used as leverage against them. Creating a network of indentured students whose academic performance and future loyalty can be controlled through financial coercion.
Administrator: 'Any specific names on her target list?'
Phantom-1: 'That information exists, but it's not something we share casually. Network security protocols.'
Phantom-2: 'Unless you can provide equivalent intelligence value.'
They want to trade information, which is reasonable. But what can I offer that won't compromise my identity or reveal capabilities I'm supposed to be hiding?
Administrator: 'Director Thane's increased security isn't just about Collective activity. Academy administration is preparing for something bigger. Faculty assessments suggest they're expecting direct challenges to System stability.'
Phantom-3: 'Source?'
Administrator: 'Observation and analysis during orientation. Director Thane's scan patterns, security protocol language, faculty positioning. Standard intelligence gathering.'
It's mostly true, and demonstrates analytical capability without revealing supernatural insight.
Phantom-4: 'Interesting. Matches some intelligence we've gathered independently.'
Phantom-1: 'Alright. Fair exchange. House Petra's target list includes forty-seven Academy students from financially compromised families. Morrison, Kael is third on the priority list.'
Third on the priority list. My family's situation is worse than I thought.
Administrator: 'Threat assessment for listed families?'
Phantom-5: 'Systematic financial destruction if students don't comply with House Petra's academic and political expectations. Essentially turning Academy enrollment into leverage for broader political control.'
Phantom-6: 'Some families are already negotiating compliance agreements. Trading student loyalty for debt forgiveness.'
The scope of Baroness Lysandra's scheme is staggering. She's not just collecting money—she's building a private army of Academy students whose futures she controls through their families' financial desperation.
Administrator: 'Counter-strategies?'
Phantom-2: 'Information warfare. Expose the scheme before it can be fully implemented.'
Phantom-3: 'Direct intervention. Targeted disruption of House Petra's financial operations.'
Phantom-4: 'Neither option is risk-free. House Petra has significant Academy political influence.'
They're right to be cautious. Challenging a Great Family directly requires resources and political protection that F-Rank students typically don't possess.
Unless one of those F-Rank students happens to be a hidden god with administrative access to reality itself.
Administrator: 'I'll consider options and report back. Network security protocols for future contact?'
Phantom-1: 'Mental activation phrase: "Phantom Network engage." Works from anywhere within Academy grounds.'
Phantom-5: 'Use sparingly. Frequent activation might trigger Academy monitoring systems.'
[Network session terminating. Connection security maintained. Administrator access preserved.]
The voices fade from my consciousness, leaving me standing in the Academy corridor with Zane looking concerned.
"Seriously, are you okay? You've been staring at the wall for the past five minutes."
"Just tired," I tell him. "Information overload from orientation."
It's not entirely a lie. I've just discovered that:
1. There's an unauthorized student intelligence network operating within Academy grounds
2. The network somehow recognizes my true identity as the System's architect
3. House Petra is running a systematic scheme to control Academy students through family financial coercion
4. My family is third on their priority target list
5. The Academy administration is preparing for challenges to System stability that go beyond routine Collective activity
Any one of these revelations would be significant. Together, they suggest I've walked into a political situation far more complex and dangerous than I anticipated.
"Come on," Zane says, consulting his Academy crystal. "Let's find our dormitory assignments. I'm curious to see which social stratification algorithm they used for room placement."
As we navigate toward the residential wing, I find myself thinking about the Phantom Network's final message. *Administrator access preserved.* The system didn't just recognize me—it welcomed me back, like I'd been expected.
Which raises the uncomfortable question: if I designed the System thirty-one years ago, what other hidden functions did I build into it? And how many of them are still active, waiting for their creator's return?
The Academy thinks they're training the next generation of humanity's elite to inherit the world I built.
What they don't realize is they're teaching the architect himself how to navigate the political structures that have grown around his creation.
The question is whether I'm here as their student or their hidden administrator.
Given what I've learned about House Petra's scheme, I suspect I'm about to find out.
Because saving my family is going to require more than maintaining my F-Rank disguise.
It's going to require remembering how to be a god.