Most people grow up thinking the world is simple.
Land. Sky. Stars.
But beneath all of it beats a structure far older and far stranger — the kind that doesn't show up in textbooks because no one sane wants to study it.
At the centre of everything lies The Pulse — the quiet, steady rhythm that keeps reality from falling apart. It doesn't sound, and it isn't light. It's more like the universe's heartbeat, a calm thrum that Astral energy naturally aligns with. When someone trains, meditates, or sharpens their will, they're not "getting stronger."
They're syncing with that rhythm.
Flow with it, and your power grows smooth, stable, controlled.
Fight it, and you tear yourself apart from the inside.
Holding this entire cosmic heartbeat together is the Arcane Lattice, the invisible framework beneath reality. Picture an infinite web holding every realm, every dimension, every star in place. Astral energy flows through this Lattice like electricity through circuits. As long as it stays intact, the world is calm.
When it cracks?
Rifts appear.
Chaos leaks in.
And nightmares get ideas.
ASTRAL ENERGY — THE CALM THAT SHINES
Astral Energy is the universe at its best — steady, warm, patient.
People describe it as a soft light inside their bones, humming whenever they find clarity or resolve. It reacts to intent, not impulse. If your heart steadies, Astral steadies. If your will sharpens, Astral sharpens with you.
Astral users can strengthen their bodies, shape armour or wings of light, or form techniques guided by pure concentration. The only caveat? Its limit isn't physical. Overuse doesn't break your bones — it cracks your spirit, stretching your soul like glass under pressure.
CHAOTIC ENERGY — THE STORM THAT WHISPERS YOUR NAME
Chaotic Energy is nothing like Astral.
It doesn't follow the Pulse.
It breaks the Arcane Lattice just by existing.
It leaks from the Rift — a wound in reality that should've stayed sealed. Chaotic energy feels alive, like static mixed with a bad idea. Where Astral is patient, Chaos is entertained. It amplifies whatever emotion is closest:
Anger → wildfire
Fear → a blade
Ambition → an explosion
Despair → a bottomless pit
You don't learn Chaotic techniques.
You unleash them.
But the cost is viciously simple:
The more you use it, the more it takes — balance, judgment, identity. The strongest Chaotic users aren't the most talented. They're the ones still winning the war inside their own minds.
THE VEIN-CODE RANK SYSTEM
Human bodies weren't meant to handle raw energy.
They have to be carved open for it.
When someone awakens Astral or Chaotic power, glowing lines bloom beneath the skin — living tattoos called Vein-Codes. Every line is a limit already broken.
They don't glow unless your energy is active.
They don't lie.
They don't forgive anyone who pushes past their capacity.
Astral Veins shine in cold colours — white, silver, blue.
Chaotic Veins burn in violent ones — red, purple, black.
Whether someone becomes a hero or a calamity…
Starts with how many Veins they can survive.
RANKS
Rank 1 — Sole Vein
The first crack in the body. A faint line wraps the wrist. Beginners can sense energy but barely control it. Most are terrified of overloading.
Rein: Single Vein
Rank 2 — Dual Vein
The body stops breaking. Control stabilises. A Double Vein can finally fight without collapsing.
Stella: Double Vein
Rank 3 — Tri Vein
Energy begins obeying. Basic shaping becomes possible — blades, waves, barriers.
Zen: Tri Vein
Rank 4 — Quad Vein
Power shakes the ground. Their strength is refined, their stamina terrifying.
Rank 5 — Penta Vein
Elites who distort the air with every movement. Legends in the making.
Rank 6 — Hex Vein (Hidden)
Whispered about. A Hex Vein can compress energy into catastrophic density. Entire squads deploy to stop one.
Rank 7 — Void Vein (Mythic)
Seven perfect lines forming a halo. A Void Vein no longer fights power — they are power. Even Rifts and storms cannot break them.
Some call them heroes. Others call them omens.
Two days before the school concert, the front lawn of Silverlight Academy looked like someone had dumped a festival, a tech expo, and a circus on the same patch of grass.
The open field—normally used for combat training—was covered in:
Floating lantern frames waiting to be filled
half-built holo-stages
speaker drones hovering like impatient pigeons
Astra students are shaping light into decorative ribbons.
Flux kids are climbing scaffolds with tools they definitely should not be trusted with
Rein dragged a heavy box of prism-lights across the field.
"This is child labour disguised as school spirit," he muttered.
Zen walked behind him, holding a bundle of sparking cables like they were snakes.
"If you hate school spirit, just say that."
"I don't hate it," Rein said. "I just… hate being chosen for the 'manual labour' team every year."
Zen raised an eyebrow. "Bro, you are the manual labour team."
Rein launched a dead glare at him.
Before Zen could add another insult, Stella approached from the scaffolding area. Her hair was tied up, cheeks lightly dusted with silver sparks from Astral shaping. She looked… unfairly composed for someone working under the sun.
"Rein," she said, "we need those prism-lights set on the centre arch."
Rein looked at the giant arch being constructed at the field's entrance — a towering silver frame surrounded by floating holo-panels.
"Up there?" he asked.
"Yes," Stella answered. "Zen, you're holding the cables incorrectly. They're going to shock you."
Zen froze mid-step. "Wait—WHAT—"
Bzzzzt.
He yelped so loud that an Astra student fell off their hoverboard.
Stella sighed. "I warned you."
Rein snorted as he hauled the prism-lights over to the arch scaffolding. The air smelled like grass, metal, and student sweat—classic school festival vibes.
All around them, groups were working:
Astra Division:
Shaping floating orbs of light to form a glowing dome over the field.
Flux Division:
Programming sound drones to hover at the edges of the crowd.
Basic Division:
Carrying chairs. Sweeping dirt. Setting up tents. Basically, doing everything no one else wanted.
Rein climbed the scaffolding ladder with a prism-light tucked under his arm.
The higher he went, the more the whole school came into view — students running around, holo-lanterns drifting, Astra orbs sparkling against the bright sky.
For a brief moment…
It actually felt peaceful.
Stella called up from below, shielding her eyes from the sun.
"Rotate the prism clockwise once you get it mounted!"
"Got it!" Rein called back.
Zen added, "Don't fall! I'm not catching you twice in the same week!"
Rein rolled his eyes. "You're not catching me even once."
He reached the top… but then—
A cold prickle crept down his spine.
He looked at the grass far below.
Everything seemed normal.
Kids arguing over popcorn machines.
A group is testing fireworks too early.
Stella is reorganising equipment with intense focus.
Zen nearly electrocuted himself again.
But then Rein glanced at his shadow on the wooden plank.
It bent wrong.
Just for a second.
It didn't match the angle of the sun.
Like something else was pulling it.
Rein blinked.
The shadow flicked back into normal shape.
He swallowed hard. "Just tired. Just… tired."
He secured the prism-light. Stella raised her hand, sending a precise pulse of silver Astral energy upward. The prism activated, scattering a soft glow across the entire field.
Everyone cheered.
Zen whistled. "Stella, you're single-handedly carrying the visuals. Rein, meanwhile, is carrying boxes."
Rein flipped him off.
Stella pretended she didn't see it.
Her voice softened slightly as she looked up at him.
"You okay up there?"
"Yeah," Rein lied.
Stella narrowed her eyes. "Your shadow looks off again."
Rein stiffened. "…Probably the lighting?"
"There is no lighting," she said flatly. "We're outdoors."
Zen whispered to him, "Bro, she caught you in 4K."
Stella stepped closer, hands on her hips. "If something's wrong, at least let us—"
Before she could finish—
A whisper slid through Rein's mind.
Smooth.
Sharp.
Hungry.
"…soon. Under the open sky… we begin."
Rein almost missed a step climbing down.
Zen grabbed the ladder. "HEY—watch it!"
Stella instantly moved beside them, worry flashing across her face.
"Rein?"
He forced a breath.
"Sorry. Heatstroke, maybe."
It wasn't.
He knew it wasn't.
But with the concert only two days away…
That voice was getting louder.
And the open sky above him felt way too big.
Way too exposed.
"Hey, Rein! You good up there?" Zen shouted from below. "What are you looking for—some goddess coming down to bless us with free snacks?"
Rein, balanced on the ladder like he'd been born on one, slowly turned… and gave Zen the finger. Again. Calm. Professional. Like it was part of the school uniform.
"Rein, come down and take a break," Stella said, hands on her hips as she checked the decorations. "And Zen—go help the others. Properly."
"WHAT? WHY DOES HE GET A BREAK?" Zen gasped, clutching his chest. "I've been working my soul to the bone! MY LIFE IS FLASHING BEFORE MY EYES—OH GOD I SEE THE LIGHT—WAIT NO THAT'S JUST A LAMP—AHHH—"
He tripped over absolutely nothing and stumbled backwards. Rein didn't react. Stella did.
She flicked his forehead. Hard enough to echo.
"Can you be useful sometimes? Just once? In your entire existence?" she snapped.
Zen rubbed his forehead dramatically. "Whoa. I actually made you mad. Historic moment. Somebody write this down."
"Shut. Up." Stella glared. "Just go. Before I use your skull as a hammer."
"Threatening violence already? Wow, Stella, you've grown," Zen said, skipping away with the energy of someone whose brain was on permanent vacation.
A second later, he tripped over a box labelled 'Fragile – DO NOT KICK'.
Rein finally climbed down the ladder, deadpan. "He's gonna break something."
"He already did," Stella muttered. "My sanity."
Zen popped his head up from behind the box. "I heard that!"
"Good," Stella said sweetly. "Now get back to work."
"I hope he actually does some work," Stella muttered, glaring in Zen's general direction.
"I hope so, too," Rein agreed, dusting his hands off.
He glanced at her. "But uh… why'd you call me down for a break?"
Stella hesitated—not something she did often. "Because you deserve it, obviously. You've been carrying, like, the entire decorating team on your back."
She looked away for a moment, then added, softer, "Also… would you maybe… want to sit with me? For a bit?"
Rein froze.
Not just frozen—
Full system crash.
Brain: blue-screen.
Body: overheating.
Emotional processor: "ERROR 404: COHERENT THOUGHT NOT FOUND."
His whole face went red enough to be used as a warning light.
"H–huh… ehh… y–yea," he stammered, voice cracking like a brittle cookie. "S–sure. W-why not."
Stella smiled—small but warm—and Rein's heart did a backflip so loud he was surprised Zen didn't hear it from across the field.
"Come on then," she said.
Rein followed her like a lost puppy whose legs were made of jelly.
As they walked, Stella kept sneaking little glances at Rein. After a few steps, she finally gathered her courage.
"And Rein… don't be shy around me, okay? I'm your uhhh—"
Her voice wavered. She looked embarrassed, almost shy in a way Rein had never seen before.
"I'm your best friend… right?" she said at last, her cheeks quietly burning.
Rein blinked—then laughed softly.
A small, warm sound he hadn't made in years.
"Of course," he said, giving her a faint blush of a smile. "Of course we are."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "You and Zen… you're the only ones I trust the most."
Stella stopped walking.
Right in front of him.
Hands behind her back, eyes lowered, voice soft enough to almost blend with the evening air.
"Then… come to the concert," she whispered. "Please. I'd really… really like to spend some time with you."
Her blush deepened.
So did his.
"…Yeah," Rein said, steadier than he expected. "I'll come."
For once, he spoke without stuttering.
Without freezing.
Without falling apart.
Behind them—quiet, unnoticed—Zen stood a few meters back.
He didn't laugh.
He didn't crack a joke.
He just watched the two of them with a calm smile tugging at his lips.
Stella… you're good for him, he thought, eyes soft.
You make him breathe a little easier. And that's all I could ever ask.
He didn't say it aloud.
He didn't need to.
For now, he was just happy—quietly, honestly happy—for both of them.
Rein and Stella sat at the back of the school, hidden in the quiet little garden that almost no one visited—a few benches curved beneath the trees, where falling leaves drifted like lazy snowflakes. The concert chaos felt far away here—replaced by birds, soft wind, and the warm evening sun.
Rein glanced at the small notebook Stella always carried.
"Soo… why do you keep that notebook with you all the time?" he asked.
Stella flipped it open absent-mindedly, revealing sketches—armour lines, wing shapes, Astral circuitry patterns.
"It's just some drawings," she said with a shy smile. "Ideas for when we reach Class 4 and get our Astral suits custom-made."
Rein blinked.
"Stella… we still have three whole years left. Why start now?"
Stella closed the notebook slowly, fingers lingering on the cover.
"Because… I need to make my family proud."
The way she said it—soft, almost fragile—made Rein pay attention.
"Stella… did something happen?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated… then began.
"I grew up in a house where everything was a rule," she said. "Wake up at five. Train before school. Train after school. Study until your hands shake. Then train again. My dad believed strength was everything. 'Weakness is a choice,' he'd say."
She smiled sadly.
"Mom was the only warmth in that place. She made life feel normal. She used to sneak me out for ice cream and call them 'missions.' She had this way of making everything—training, school, life—seem lighter."
Rein nodded gently, encouraging her to continue.
"But when I was twelve," Stella whispered, "she got diagnosed with Type 4 lung cancer. It spread too fast. She… she kept smiling until the very end."
Rein felt something twist in his chest.
"When she passed," Stella said, voice tight, "Dad didn't slow down. He sped up. More drills. More pressure. My sister and I barely had time to breathe. Crying wasn't allowed. Questioning anything wasn't allowed. We were just… tools he had to sharpen."
She looked away, eyes clouded.
"Eventually, my sister snapped. On her eighteenth birthday, she grabbed my wrist and said, 'We're leaving. Now.' And we did. We ran away to Senkai City with two bags and whatever courage we had left."
Rein swallowed.
"And your dad…?"
"He didn't come after us. Just sent money and told us to 'maintain the family's reputation.' That's it."
Silence hung for a moment, heavy and real.
Then Stella glanced at Rein—really looked at him.
"You always ask if you can help when someone's hurting," she said softly. "You did it just now, too. That's… that's rare."
Rein blinked. "Well… I mean… if I can help, I want to."
For a heartbeat, Stella's inner voice whispered—quiet but desperate:
"Yes… There is something. Please… stay with me forever."
But out loud?
"No," she said gently. "You've already gone through much worse. I don't want to burden you."
Rein shook his head lightly. "You're not a burden, Stella."
Stella froze—because no one had ever told her that before.
Rein continued, voice warm and steady.
"You don't have to earn love or pride or care. You don't have to become something for someone else. You're already… enough."
That was the moment her composure shattered.
Her breath hitched; her eyes shimmered—and before Rein could fully process it, Stella stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Not a dramatic hug.
Not desperate.
Just… real.
Soft. Quiet. Trembling.
Her forehead rested against his shoulder as she finally let a few tears slip out—silent, warm, and honest.
Rein stiffened for a second, stunned… then slowly lifted a hand and placed it gently on her back, holding her with a kind of careful sincerity he didn't know he had.
For the first time in years… Stella let herself be vulnerable.
And for the first time… Rein let someone close without shutting down.
Zen stood a good distance away, hands on his hips as a proud, chaotic parent witnessing their kids graduate from heartbreak to healing.
"OH MY BABIES—" he fake-sobbed dramatically. "THEY'VE GROWN SO MUCH— WAAAAAH!"
Then he immediately switched moods, snickering as he whipped out his phone and snapped a warm, wholesome photo of the hug.
A second later, Rein's phone buzzed with a notification.
The message read:
"I wish I could get a girlfriend someday… XP"
Rein stared at the message, disbelief turning into volcanic rage.
His inner thoughts exploded instantly:
"THAT BASTARD— I'M GOING TO END HIM."
He was about to speak—
"Hey, Stella, I—"
But Stella suddenly hugged him tighter, her face still buried in his chest.
"Sorry, Rein… I didn't expect to break down like that," she whispered shakily.
Her tears soaked lightly into his hoodie, and Rein gently brushed tears from her face and hood.
"Don't apologise," he said, voice soft. "That's what best friends are for."
She managed a tiny smile.
Then Rein sighed. "Uhh, sorry to ruin the moment, but… Zen took a photo."
Stella didn't even flinch.
"It's fine. He's stupid, but he's also incredibly kind."
Rein laughed lightly. "Yeah… I know. Still need to catch him, though."
"Don't worry," Stella said calmly. "I have a tracker on him."
Rein blinked. "What? When?"
"Oh, when you share contact info, there's an optional 'track them forever' setting."
She shrugged. "Zen just said yes immediately because he thought it'd make him famous."
Rein paused.
"…Yeah. That sounds like Zen."
Stella checked her phone and tilted her head. "He's… uh… behind the cafeteria. Hiding in a bush. It says 'User is stationary… rustling.'"
Rein blinked. "Rustling?? Why is he rustling??"
Right on cue, a distant whisper floated toward them:
"THE BUSHES ACCEPT ME AS ONE OF THEIR OWN…"
Rein stared into the distance like he was questioning every life choice that led him here.
Stella clamped a hand over her mouth, trying not to burst into laughter.
"…We should go get him," Rein muttered.
"Yeah," Stella giggled, "before he evolves into a shrub."
And together, they started walking toward Zen's hiding spot.
Rein didn't even slow down. He reached into the bush, grabbed Zen by the collar, and yanked him out like pulling a loose weed—
BANG!
Zen's head met Rein's fist on the way out.
"OW—MY BRAIN CELLS!" Zen yelped, clutching his head like it might fall off.
"Delete. The. Photo." Rein growled.
Zen grinned, wounded pride and leaves stuck in his hair. "Nope. Never. This is historical evidence. I'm practically a war journalist."
Rein cracked his knuckles. "Zen…"
"OKAY OKAY—WAIT." Zen pointed accusingly at Stella. "How did you even track me?!"
Stella calmly lifted her phone and turned the screen toward him. The tracker blinked with an almost mocking Zen: Detected.
Zen gasped dramatically. "STELLA. YOU HAVE A TRACKER ON ME? HOW COULD YOU?! Betrayed by my own comrade!"
Stella raised an eyebrow. "Zen… you literally clicked 'YES' on the permission pop-up."
Zen froze. "Oh."
Rein sighed. "Idiot."
Zen puffed out his cheeks. "Still betrayal."
Stella burst out laughing first—like full-on, can't-breathe laughing.
Zen joined instantly, slapping the table like a seal.
Rein chuckled too, trying to stay composed but failing miserably.
"You two are idiots," Stella said between giggles.
Zen puffed his chest. "Correct. Certified, even."
Rein nodded. "Top-tier idiots."
Zen threw an arm around both of them. "ANYWAY—pizza. A new shop opened. Let's go before my internal organs resign."
Stella squinted at him. "Fine. But after you eat, you're telling me if your work is done."
Zen waved casually. "Details. Future Zen can deal with that."
Rein's inner voice: Future Zen is going to die.
After eating…
Stella planted her elbows on the table. "Okay. Talk. Did you finish your tasks?"
Zen didn't blink. "I… absolutely… completely… did nothing."
BANG!
Stella slammed the table so hard that Zen jumped like a cat stepping on a cucumber.
"YOU TWO ARE TRYING TO KILL ME!" Zen screamed.
Rein held up his hands. "Hey, don't drag me into this. I worked."
"You EXISTED next to Zen, that's enough!" Stella snapped.
Zen rubbed his neck. "Look, look, it's not my fault. I was busy."
Stella glared. "Doing WHAT?!"
Zen's eyes glazed over as his brain opened a dusty drawer labelled: Memories I Should Not Admit To.
Flashback — 20 minutes before they met up:
Zen stood on a ladder outside the school, holding a broom like a holy weapon.
He pointed it at a group of pigeons sitting on the roof.
"LISTEN HERE, SKY RATS. If even ONE OF YOU poops on the stage during the concert, I will PERSONALLY file a lawsuit. Don't test me. I know a guy."
One pigeon blinked slowly.
Zen gasped. "DON'T YOU BLINK AT ME WITH THAT ATTITUDE."
A janitor walked by.
"…Kid, what are you doing?"
Zen whispered dramatically, "Negotiations."
Back to the present.
Zen wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead. "So yeah. I was… ensuring aerial security."
Rein stared at him.
Stella stared harder.
Zen smiled like a child who definitely broke the vase.
Stella blinked once.
Twice.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"Zen…" she said, voice trembling like a volcano trying to be polite, "you spent an hour arguing with pigeons?"
Zen nodded proudly. "They respect me now."
Rein whispered, "No, they don't."
Before Zen could reply—
BANG!
Stella's fist came down on his head like divine punishment.
Zen fell to his knees instantly.
"OW—OW—OW—MY BRAIN IS LEAKING—OW—WHY—STELLA—PLEASE—MERCY—"
Stella stood over him, fist still shaking with righteous fury.
"YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE! We're trying to prepare for a SCHOOL CONCERT, and you're out there running a bird diplomacy program?!"
Zen held his head. "I WAS DEFENDING THE STUDENTS FROM AIRSTRIKE HAZARDS!"
Rein couldn't hold it—he burst out laughing.
Stella shot him a glare. "DON'T encourage him!"
Rein froze.
Zen, still on the ground:
"Rein… help me up… my thoughts are blurry… I can see god…"
Stella cracked her knuckles.
Zen immediately stood up straight. "I'M HEALED. HAHA. MIRACLE. LET'S WORK!"
Stella sighed in disbelief.
Rein whispered to himself, "You punched him again… and again it fixed him…"
Zen nodded proudly. "Stella punches are basically medicine."
Stella raised a fist.
Zen screamed. "NOPE! RETRACTED! I TAKE IT BACK!"
Soon enough, the three of them dragged themselves back to school. Zen tried to quietly slip behind Rein like a scared cat, hoping Stella wouldn't notice him—
She noticed.
BANG!
"OW—WHY AGAIN?!" Zen clutched his head, wobbling like a malfunctioning robot.
Stella pointed at him. "THAT'S for not starting your work the first time."
Zen raised a finger. "Objection—actually, I did start—"
"What did you start?"
"…a conversation with birds."
BANG!
"OW—STELLAAAAA—PLEASE—MY BRAIN CAN'T KEEP SAVING OVER NEW DAMAGE FILES!"
Stella crossed her arms. "Then start WORKING before your brain runs out of storage."
Zen scrambled away instantly. "YES, MA'AM."
Rein chuckled as Zen fled like he was escaping an assassin.
But the moment they stepped back into the concert grounds, reality kicked in.
Students were everywhere — carrying lights, hanging banners, assembling stalls, testing speakers. It felt like a small festival on the verge of being born.
Stella looked around, inhaled deeply, and straightened her posture.
"Rein," she said softly, "I've got to head to the south stage team. Dual Veins get assigned as sub-leads… so I have to make sure the wiring and decor match the performance sequence."
Rein nodded. He knew the rules — Dual Vein students had heavier responsibilities, especially for public events. Astral stability allowed them to handle more delicate tasks.
"Go," Rein said with a small smile. "You'll be fine."
Stella smiled back — warm, almost shy — before she jogged off toward the stage.
Rein watched her go for a moment.
Zen, from behind a stack of crates: "Ayo… Rein… you staring for a bit too long there, buddy…"
Rein kicked a crate at him.
Zen dodged. "AGH—OKAY, OKAY, I'LL WORK!"
And finally…
All three actually began helping.
Sort of.