I woke up to someone pounding on my door like they were trying to break it down.
"Jayden! You awake?"
Newton's voice, way too energetic for whatever ungodly hour this was. I groaned and checked my phone—which somehow still worked in another dimension, thank you mysterious magic technology—and saw it was barely eight in the morning.
"I am now," I called back, dragging myself out of bed. My body still ached from the entrance exam two days ago. The puncture wound in my hand throbbed with every heartbeat, a constant reminder that magic was real and occasionally involved stabbing yourself.
I opened the door to find Newton grinning behind his glasses, already dressed in his blue Beta uniform and carrying what looked like a messenger bag stuffed with papers and mechanical parts.
"Morning! Want to see the real world?"
I blinked at him. "The real world? We're literally in another dimension."
"I mean the city. Beyond the academy gates." He held up a shopping list covered in technical diagrams I couldn't decipher. "I need components for a project, and you need a proper weapon. Can't keep relying on summoned tokens—they break too easily, and you're going to run out at the worst possible moment."
The dagger from the Goblin General fight flashed through my mind. How it had materialized just in time to save my life, then dissolved into blue light the moment its durability gave out. Yeah, that wasn't sustainable.
"Give me ten minutes," I said.
"Five. We want to beat the morning rush."
Twenty minutes later—because I was definitely not a morning person and Newton's definition of "five minutes" was apparently negotiable—we were walking through campus toward the main gates.
New Genesis looked different in morning light. The impossible architecture seemed almost mundane when bathed in sunlight from a sky with two moons that were somehow visible during the day. Students moved between buildings with the casual confidence of people who'd grown up with magic. A group of Beta students practiced what looked like synchronized spellcasting in one of the courtyards. An Omega student flew past overhead on what appeared to be a summoned platform of solid air.
I was still wearing my Earth clothes—jeans, hoodie, and sneakers that marked me as obviously foreign. My green Gamma uniform was folded neatly on my bed back in the dorm, still feeling too real to actually put on.
"So," I said as we walked, "you do this often? Go into town?"
"Once or twice a month," Newton said, adjusting his messenger bag. "The academy provides basic supplies, but if you want anything specialized, you have to source it yourself. And I need very specialized things."
"For your Machine Magi?"
His eyes lit up. "Exactly! Oh, that reminds me—I should explain how Unique Magic actually works. You're going to need to understand this."
We passed through a series of courtyards, moving from the central campus toward the outer walls. The buildings gradually became less grand, more utilitarian. Storage facilities, maintenance buildings, staff quarters—the parts of the academy that tourists wouldn't see.
"So," Newton began, falling into what was clearly a lecture mode, "everyone has Unique Magic. Every single person. It's like a fingerprint, except it's your soul's magical signature."
"Everyone?" I thought about all the people I'd known on Earth. My mom, Marcus the bully, Emma. "Even people who don't know about magic?"
"Especially them. Most people on Earth never discover theirs because they don't know to look for it. And even here in New Genesis, some people die without ever awakening their Unique Magic." He pushed his glasses up. "It usually awakens through trauma, intense training, or just random chance. There's no guaranteed method."
"When did you discover yours?"
Newton's expression softened with memory. "I was eight. My mom had this music box—antique, from her grandmother, really precious to her. I broke it. Like, completely shattered the mechanism." He laughed. "I was so scared she'd be furious. So I locked myself in my room and tried to fix it. Spent hours taking it apart, studying every gear and spring, trying to understand how it worked."
"And?"
"And something clicked. Not in the music box—in my head. I suddenly understood it completely. Every piece, every function, how they all worked together. And then..." He held up his hand, and faint blue light flickered around his fingers. "My magic activated. The pieces started moving on their own, assembling themselves according to my understanding. Fixed it perfectly."
"That's incredible."
"That's Machine Magi," he said. "My Unique Magic lets me manipulate any technology I completely understand. Not just use it—actually control it, modify it, even improve it. But the catch is, I have to truly understand it. Surface knowledge doesn't work. I need to know how every component functions, why it works, what would happen if I changed it."
We reached the main gate—a massive archway carved from white stone, inscribed with symbols that hurt to look at directly. Two guards in official-looking uniforms stood watch, but they barely glanced at us as we passed through.
"So you can control anything technological?" I asked.
"Anything I've studied thoroughly enough. Phones, computers, drones, mechanical devices. Back on Earth, I had a whole workshop. Could control multiple devices simultaneously once I understood them." His expression darkened slightly. "But here's the trade-off. Having such powerful Unique Magic creates an imbalance in my magical nature."
"What do you mean?"
"Equivalent Exchange, remember? Everything has a cost." Newton held up his other hand, and I noticed the lack of any magical glow. "My affinity for standard magic—fire spells, water manipulation, combat magic, all the stuff they teach in basic classes—is extremely weak. I can barely cast a simple light spell. Put a fireball in front of me and ask me to copy it? I'd fail every time."
"But you're Beta rank," I pointed out. "So you're clearly doing something right."
"I'm good at strategy and preparation. Machine Magi excels at that. But in a straight magical duel without my tech? I'd lose to most Gamma students." He grinned wryly. "The academy ranking system values versatility. That's why I'm Beta and not higher. One trick pony, even if it's a good trick."
We'd passed through the gate now, and the path ahead led down a gentle slope toward a city spread out below the academy grounds. From this distance, it looked like something from a fantasy painting—medieval architecture mixed with what might have been magical enhancements, smoke rising from chimneys, the distant sound of bells ringing.
"What about you?" Newton asked. "Any idea what your Unique Magic might be?"
"My bad luck?" I offered half-jokingly.
"Actually..." Newton looked thoughtful. "That might not be a joke. Unique Magic can be passive, constantly active without you realizing it. And your luck is consistently, impossibly bad. That level of consistency suggests something magical rather than just coincidence."
"Great. My superpower is making my life terrible."
"Or," Newton said slowly, "it's something else that manifests as bad luck. Unique Magic often works in unexpected ways. Maybe yours is still dormant, and the bad luck is a side effect of it trying to awaken."
That was a weirdly hopeful thought. That maybe all the years of tripping over nothing, missing buses by seconds, getting blamed for things I didn't do—maybe it all meant something. Maybe it was building toward something.
The path leveled out as we approached the city proper. A wooden sign, weathered but well-maintained, proclaimed: "Welcome to Grayveil - Est. 347 Imperial Year."
"Grayveil," I read aloud. "Cheerful name."
"It's older than New Genesis Academy," Newton said. "The academy was built on the hill above it about two hundred years ago. Since then, the city's economy has revolved around serving the academy. For better or worse."
We entered the city through an archway much less grand than the academy's gate. The streets were cobblestone, lined with buildings that mixed practical medieval construction with occasional magical flourishes—a shop sign that floated without support, a fountain that flowed upward before cascading down, streetlamps that glowed without visible flame.
And people. Lots of people going about their daily lives. Merchants setting up stalls, workers heading to jobs, children running between buildings, street performers entertaining early morning crowds.
It looked normal. Vibrant. Alive.
Then someone noticed us.
A merchant arranging fruits on his stall looked up, saw our approach, and his expression shuttered closed. He said something to the customer he'd been talking to—a woman who glanced our way and immediately moved her shopping basket to the other side of her body, as if we might steal from it.
We kept walking, and I started noticing more reactions. A group of workers who'd been laughing together fell silent as we passed. A mother pulled her child closer, whispering something that made the kid stare at us with wide, fearful eyes. A shopkeeper who'd been sweeping his entrance stepped back inside and closed his door.
"Newton," I said quietly, "why is everyone looking at us like that?"
"Because of what we represent." His voice was flat, resigned. "Look down."
I did. My Earth clothes, his blue uniform—oh.
"They know we're from the academy," I said.
"And they hate us for it."
The word hate felt too strong, but as we continued through the city, I couldn't find a better one. It wasn't just fear or wariness. There was genuine resentment in the way people looked at us. Anger barely concealed. Disgust mixed with helplessness.
We walked in silence for a while, the cheerful morning atmosphere replaced by a tension I didn't fully understand. Newton navigated the streets with practiced ease, clearly having made this trip many times before. But even his familiarity couldn't ease the hostile attention.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Why? What did we do?"
Newton sighed and guided me into a narrow alley between buildings, away from the main street traffic. "New Genesis graduates become the Empire's elite. Knights, battle mages, court sorcerers, military commanders. They're the ones who enforce the Empire's laws, who put down rebellions, who maintain the power structure."
"That doesn't sound inherently bad—"
"They enforce those laws with absolute magical superiority," Newton interrupted. "These people—the commoners, the non-magical citizens—they have no defense against magic users. No way to fight back. No recourse when a graduate abuses their power. Which happens. A lot."
I thought about the entrance exam, about how the faculty had treated us with respect, about the grand buildings and prestigious reputation. "The academy doesn't stop them?"
"The academy trains them. And then sends them out to maintain the status quo." Newton's expression was bitter. "Most New Genesis students are nobles who already think they're better than commoners. The academy gives them magical power to back up that belief. And when they come to cities like this..."
"What do they do?"
"Whatever they want." Newton pulled out his shopping list, not meeting my eyes. "Shop owners have to give 'student discounts' that are barely distinguishable from theft. If a student gets drunk and causes property damage, who's going to stop them? Certainly not the local guard—they're terrified of magic. If a commoner tries to press charges, the academy investigates itself and surprise, the student was just 'training' or 'didn't mean any harm.'"
"That's—"
"Last year," Newton continued, his voice tight, "a student got into an argument with a shopkeeper over prices. Student decided he was being disrespected. Used magic. The shopkeeper died. The academy called it self-defense and the student graduated with honors six months later."
I felt sick. "And everyone just accepts this?"
"What choice do they have?" Newton finally looked at me. "Fight back and get labeled rebels. Die or get imprisoned. Their families punished. The system protects students, Jayden. No one protects them."
We emerged from the alley onto another street, this one less crowded. The shops here looked more specialized—craftsmen's workshops, component suppliers, the kind of places that served specific needs rather than general shopping.
"So when they look at us," I said slowly, "they see—"
"Future oppressors. People who'll abuse the power we're being given." Newton's laugh was hollow. "And they're not wrong. Most New Genesis students are pieces of shit. They come to town in groups, drinking and causing trouble, using magic to intimidate people, treating everyone like servants. Because they can. Because there are no consequences."
A thought occurred to me. "But you come here alone. Regularly. And you're still alive."
"I'm different. I lived on Earth for years, remember? Saw how people could be treated with basic dignity. And my family..." He hesitated. "My family tried to push through reform laws. Protections for commoners, restrictions on magical force, accountability for abuses. We got exiled to Earth for our trouble."
"Exiled for trying to help people?"
"The powerful don't like threats to their power." Newton stopped in front of a shop with a sign that read "Grimwald's Components & Curios." "This is my first stop. The owner knows me. He'll sell to us, but he won't be happy about it."
The shop was cramped and cluttered, every surface covered with mechanical parts, magical components, tools I couldn't identify, and devices in various states of assembly or disassembly. The smell of metal and oil mixed with something sharper—ozone, maybe, or magical residue.
An old man sat behind the counter, bent over a piece of machinery with a jeweler's loupe attached to his glasses. He was short and broad, with a magnificent beard that had bits of wire tangled in it, and hands that moved with the precision of someone who'd spent a lifetime working with delicate things.
"Newton," he said without looking up. "Tuesday. You're early."
"Got company this time. Hope that's okay."
The old man—Grimwald, presumably—finally looked up. His eyes, magnified by the loupe, fixed on me for a long moment. Then he grunted and went back to his work. "Your coin's as good as anyone's. List?"
Newton pulled out his shopping list and set it on the counter. Grimwald picked it up, studied it, and raised an eyebrow.
"Ambitious project?"
"Trying something new with mana converters. Thought I'd experiment with layered configurations."
"The resonance cascade will be tricky. You'll need dampeners." Grimwald stood, moving around the shop with surprising speed for someone his age, pulling components from various drawers and shelves. "I've got silver wire, the crystals you wanted, springs in three sizes, and the gears are back ordered but I can substitute brass ones. Close enough for your purposes."
They fell into a technical discussion I couldn't follow. Something about magical conductivity and mechanical stress points and frequency harmonization. I found myself drifting toward the shop window, looking out at the street.
More people were out now as morning progressed. And more were giving the shop wary glances, noting the presence of academy students inside. A woman with a basket hurried her pace as she passed. A man spat on the ground after looking our way.
"Fifty silver," Grimwald said behind me. "And that's with the student discount."
I turned back to see Newton counting out coins—actual metal currency, not anything I recognized from Earth. The old man bagged the components carefully, wrapping the more delicate items in cloth.
"You take care with those crystals," Grimwald said. "They're volatile until properly aligned."
"Always am. Thanks, Grimwald."
The old man's expression softened slightly. "You're one of the good ones, Newton. Your family too. Shame what happened."
"Yeah. Well. We make do."
We left the shop, Newton's bag considerably heavier. The morning sun was higher now, warming the cobblestones. The street market was in full swing, vendors hawking everything from bread to fabric to jewelry. Under other circumstances, it might have been pleasant to explore.
"What else do you need?" I asked.
"Just one more stop. Then we'll find you a weapon." Newton led me deeper into the city, away from the market and toward what looked like a craftsman's district. The buildings here were workshops and forges, the sound of hammering and grinding filling the air.
We walked in silence for a while, both of us absorbed in our own thoughts. I kept thinking about what Newton had said. About New Genesis graduates becoming oppressors. About the system that trained us to be powerful and then sent us out with no accountability.
Was that what my father had been? He'd attended New Genesis—that much was clear from the letter, from people's reactions to my name. Had he been one of the "good ones" like Newton's family? Or had he been part of the problem?
"Newton," I said, "my dad. Jason Jalayan. Do you know if he... what kind of person he was? As a student here?"
Newton was quiet for a long moment. "I've heard the name. My family keeps records of notable alumni. But I don't know details. Just that he was involved in something significant. Something that people still talk about fifteen years later."
"Good significant or bad significant?"
"Honestly? I don't know. The records my family has are incomplete—we were exiled before I could access a lot of the archives." He glanced at me. "But if he's connected to Equivalent Exchange on a cosmic level like you said, if he tried to stop something called 'the End'... that sounds like someone trying to help. Even if the cost was terrible."
That was something, at least. A maybe. A possibility that my father had been trying to do good, even if it had gone wrong somehow.
We turned a corner and Newton stopped. "There."
He was pointing at a shop with a simple sign: "Ironwood Arms - Quality Weapons & Repairs." The display window showed an array of weapons—swords, spears, daggers, axes, all crafted with obvious skill. Even I could tell these weren't cheap mass-produced items. Each weapon looked individual, purposeful.
"Can't afford anything there on a Gamma stipend," Newton said. "But we can window shop, see what styles appeal to you. Then I'll help you save up, or we can look for second-hand options."
We approached the window, and I found myself drawn to the daggers. After the Goblin General fight, after feeling that blade materialize in my hand and save my life, something about daggers felt right. Not as unwieldy as a sword, not as limiting as a knife. Quick, versatile, could be used with the physical enhancement I was learning.
"That one," I said, pointing to a dagger with a straight blade and simple crossguard. Nothing fancy, just well-made and practical. "How much do you think—"
"You've got to be kidding me."
The voice was loud, slurred slightly, aggressive. I turned to find a group of four students in New Genesis uniforms approaching. Two wore red—Alpha rank—and two wore blue—Beta. All of them looked like they'd been drinking despite it being barely mid-morning. One of the Alphas, a tall guy with perfectly styled blonde hair and a sneer that looked permanent, was staring at us with open contempt.
"It's the half-breed and the Earth trash," the Alpha continued, his voice carrying across the street. People were already backing away, creating space, anticipating trouble. "What are you two doing off campus? Come to steal from the hardworking citizens?"
Newton's hand clenched on his messenger bag. "We're just shopping, Reeves. Leave us alone."
So they knew each other. That made this worse somehow.
Reeves—the blonde Alpha—stepped closer, deliberately getting in Newton's space. "Shopping? You mean you're actually paying? That's adorable. Everyone knows these shopkeepers owe us. We keep their pathetic city safe, they give us what we want. That's how it works."
"That's not how it's supposed to work," Newton said quietly.
"Oh right, I forgot. Your family are those reform-loving traitors who got exiled for coddling commoners." Reeves looked at his friends and laughed. "How's Earth, half-breed? Do the non-magical humans treat you like the mongrel you are? Or do they not realize your mother sullied herself with dwarf blood?"
I felt my hands clench into fists. The casual cruelty in his voice, the way he talked about Newton's heritage like it was something shameful—it made my blood boil.
"Say that again," I heard myself saying.
Reeves turned his attention to me, and his smile widened. "Oh, the Earth kid wants to play hero? Tell me, how did you actually kill that Goblin General? Magic item your daddy left you? Pure dumb luck? Because everyone knows you don't have the skill."
"Better than being a drunk asshole who picks fights with people minding their own business," I shot back.
The smile vanished. "What did you just call me?"
"You heard me."
One of the other students, a Beta with nervous energy, grabbed Reeves' arm. "Come on, man, let's just go. They're not worth it."
But Reeves shook him off, stepping forward until he was right in front of me. He was taller, broader, and currently radiating the kind of barely-contained violence that came from too much alcohol and too little consequences.
"I could destroy you," he said softly. "Right here. Right now. No one would stop me. No one would care. You're Gamma trash from a world without magic."
"Then do it," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Or shut up and walk away."
For a moment, I thought he actually would attack. His hand moved toward his side, where students typically kept their summoning tokens. The air seemed to thicken with potential violence.
Then Newton grabbed my arm. Hard.
"Jayden. Don't."
I looked at him, ready to protest, and saw something in his expression that made me pause. Not fear—calculation. His eyes darted to the watching crowd, to the shopkeepers peering nervously from doorways, to the children who'd been playing nearby and were now being ushered away by frightened parents.
"Not here," Newton said quietly. "Not like this."
And I understood. If we fought, if we responded with violence, these people would suffer for it. After we left, after we went back to the academy, Reeves and his friends would come back. They'd take out their humiliation on whoever was nearby. The shopkeepers who'd witnessed it. The citizens who'd watched.
The system protected us. Nothing protected them.
I unclenched my fists.
"Sorry," I muttered, the word tasting like ash. "I was out of line."
Reeves blinked, apparently not expecting that. Then his smile returned, even more vicious. "That's right. Know your place, Earth trash."
He deliberately bumped into me as he passed, shoulder-checking me hard enough that I stumbled. His friends laughed as they continued down the street, their voices carrying:
"Did you see his face?"
"Thought he was going to cry!"
"Gamma filth, both of them..."
Newton pulled me in the opposite direction, his grip still tight on my arm. We walked quickly, putting distance between us and Reeves' group. I was shaking—whether from anger or adrenaline or shame, I couldn't tell.
"I could have taken him," I said once we'd turned several corners.
"Maybe. Probably not. Doesn't matter." Newton finally released my arm. "If you'd fought, you know what would have happened? We'd both get disciplinary hearings. He's a noble—Alpha rank—with family connections. We're a Beta from an exiled family and a Gamma with no background. Guess who the academy would believe?"
"It's not fair."
"No. It's not." Newton's voice was tired. "But it's reality. And the people who'd really pay the price are the ones who can't fight back at all."
We'd ended up in a small square with a fountain—the one that flowed upward before cascading down. A few people sat on benches, eating lunch or just resting. They looked at us warily but didn't leave. Maybe because we'd just walked away from a fight instead of starting one.
I sat on the edge of the fountain, suddenly exhausted. "How do you deal with it? Knowing the system is this broken and still being part of it?"
Newton sat beside me, setting his bag down carefully. "I keep telling myself I can change it from inside. That if enough people with power choose to do good instead of evil, eventually the system shifts. But honestly?" He laughed bitterly. "Most days I don't know if I believe that. I just... don't know what else to do. Leaving means abandoning everyone to people like Reeves. Staying means being complicit in their suffering."
"My dad was part of this system," I said quietly. "He trained here. Learned magic here. Was he like Reeves? Or like you?"
"From what little I've heard? He tried to change things. Pushed for reforms. Fought against the corruption." Newton looked at me. "That's probably part of why he ended up making that deal. Part of why he's not here anymore. The system doesn't like reformers."
We sat in silence for a while, watching the fountain flow backward. Two kids approached cautiously, wanting to play near the water but nervous about the students sitting there. Newton noticed and stood up immediately.
"Come on," he said to me. "Let's head back."
We walked toward the academy in silence, both lost in thought. The city felt different now. Not magical or exciting, but complicated. Every shop we passed represented someone trying to survive under a system designed to exploit them. Every citizen who avoided us was making a rational choice to protect themselves.
We were almost back to the academy gates when someone called out behind us.
"Wait!"
We turned to find Grimwald, the old craftsman from the component shop, hurrying after us. He was breathing heavily by the time he caught up, leaning on his knees.
"Your friend," he gasped, looking at Newton. "The quiet one."
"Jayden," Newton supplied.
Grimwald straightened and pulled a wrapped bundle from inside his vest. "Saw you looking at weapons. Saw you walk away from that fight with those Alpha scum." He thrust the bundle at me. "Take this."
I unwrapped it carefully and found a dagger. Not the fancy one from the window—this was simpler, older, but clearly well-made. The blade was slightly worn from use but still sharp, the grip wrapped in leather that had molded to someone's hand over time.
"I can't afford—" I started.
"It's a loan," Grimwald interrupted. "You pay me back when you can. No interest. Consider it an investment."
"An investment in what?"
The old man studied me with those sharp eyes. "You didn't fight back. You could have—I saw your face, you wanted to—but you didn't. Because you understood what it would cost the rest of us." He nodded slowly. "Maybe you're different. Maybe that Earth world taught you something these nobles never learn. Maybe not. But you get a chance to prove it."
I held the dagger, feeling its weight, its balance. It was real, solid, dependable. "Thank you. I'll take care of it."
"See that you do. And take care who you are, boy. This world will try to make you into something cruel. Don't let it." He glanced at Newton. "You neither. Your family had the right idea. Shame the Empire couldn't see it."
He was gone before we could respond, disappearing back into the city streets with surprising speed for someone his age.
I looked down at the dagger in my hands. A gift from someone who had every reason to hate me but chose hope instead.
"Come on," Newton said quietly. "Let's go home."
We passed through the academy gates, the guards waving us through without question. The path back up to campus felt longer than the descent had been. Or maybe I was just more aware now of what we were returning to—a place that trained people to be powerful without teaching them to be good.
"Newton," I said as we walked, "do you really think we can change things? From inside the system?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "I think we have to try. Because the alternative—becoming like Reeves, like all the others who abuse their power—that's not an option. Not for me. And I hope not for you either."
"Not an option," I agreed.
We reached the Gamma dormitories just as afternoon classes were starting. Students in various colored uniforms hurried past, heading to lectures and training sessions. None of them knew where we'd been or what we'd seen. The city might as well not exist for most of them—just a place to get drunk and cause trouble on weekends.
I went to my room and set the dagger on my desk beside my father's letter. Two objects, two connections to this world. One from the past, one from the present. One from the father who'd disappeared, one from a stranger who'd chosen to believe I could be different.
Looking at them side by side, I thought about what Newton had said. About his family trying to reform the system and getting exiled for it. About my father being involved in something significant, something that people still talked about.
Maybe that was why Dad had made the deal with Equivalent Exchange. Not for power or glory, but because he'd seen the same things I'd seen today. The same suffering, the same injustice. And he'd tried to fix it, even if it meant sacrificing everything.
The thought made me feel closer to him somehow. Like maybe I was starting to understand the man who'd left that letter for me.
I picked up the dagger Grimwald had loaned me and held it up to the light. The blade wasn't perfect—there were tiny nicks from use, slight discoloration from age—but it was real. Honest. Built to last.
"I'll prove it," I said to the empty room. "I'll prove I'm different."
The dagger gleamed in the afternoon light, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if my father had made the same promise once. And whether he'd been able to keep it.
That night, I used my second transfer spell of the day to return to Earth. My mom was working the evening shift at the gas station, so the apartment was empty. I heated up leftovers and sat at our tiny kitchen table, staring at my phone.
Emma had texted me. Three times.
Emma: Hey! How are you feeling? Still recovering?
Emma: Some of us are studying for the history test Friday if you want to join
Emma: Or not, no pressure! Just wanted to make sure you're okay
Normal Earth problems. History tests and study groups and girls who'd helped me when I was unconscious in the girl's bathroom. It felt like something from another lifetime.
I typed out a response: Hey, sorry for the slow reply. Still a bit out of it but doing better. Rain check on studying?
Her response came almost immediately: Of course! Feel better!
Simple. Kind. Normal.
I looked around our small apartment—the peeling paint, the furniture held together with hope and determination, the photos on the wall of Mom and me and the carefully absent space where Dad should have been.
Two worlds. Two lives. And I was supposed to navigate both while learning magic, uncovering my father's secrets, and somehow not becoming the kind of person who'd made that old craftsman's eyes hard with resentment.
"No pressure," I muttered to myself.
My phone buzzed. Another text, but this time from a number that definitely shouldn't work across dimensions:
Newton: Rest up. Tomorrow's Theory of Mana class and Professor Kaine doesn't go easy on Gammas. Also, thanks for having my back today.
I smiled and typed back: What are friends for?
Newton: Not getting into stupid fights, apparently
Me: I'm learning
Newton: Good. We need all the not-stupid we can get
I set my phone down and looked at my bandaged hand. The wound from the Goblin General fight was healing but would definitely scar. A permanent reminder of my first real fight, my first time using magic, my first time experiencing Equivalent Exchange.
Tomorrow I'd go to class. I'd learn more about mana theory and try not to embarrass myself too badly. I'd wear my green Gamma uniform and face whatever challenges came with being at the bottom of the hierarchy.
But today I'd learned something more important than magic. I'd learned that New Genesis wasn't just a cool fantasy academy where I'd train to be powerful. It was a place that shaped people—for better or worse. And the power it gave us came with responsibilities most students ignored.
My father had tried to change things. Newton's family had tried to change things. Both had paid a price for it.
Maybe it was my turn to try.
I transferred back to New Genesis for the night, using my third and final daily spell. The blue light wrapped around me like a familiar embrace now, and the transition felt smoother than it had before. Maybe I was getting used to it. Or maybe the universe was getting used to me.
My dorm room was dark and quiet when I materialized. Through the window, I could see the academy grounds lit by magical lamps that floated without support, casting everything in a soft blue glow.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything I'd learned today.
Unique Magic was everyone's soul fingerprint. Mine might be my bad luck, or something else entirely.
The city hated us because we represented oppression. And they weren't wrong to.
Some students were monsters. Some were trying to be different. Most fell somewhere in between.
My father had been here, had seen all this, had tried to change it. And whatever he'd done—whatever deal he'd made with Equivalent Exchange—it was significant enough that people still remembered him fifteen years later.
I fell asleep with those thoughts swirling through my mind, the borrowed dagger on my bedside table catching moonlight from two moons that had no right to exist.
Tomorrow I'd start learning how to be a proper mage.
Today I'd started learning what kind of mage I wanted to be.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the more important lesson.