Friday, 07:00
Logan and Aryeh woke up sluggish and sore. Their muscles screamed, they were overworked from the training. They spent the day sore and paranoid. They took their time as they limped to each individual class, they fully expected hell week to be announced. Each crackle of the school intercom sent chills down their spines. They were fully expecting the news and dreading it. But as dreadful as they felt they were equally as prepared mentally.
04:00
As the final class of the day wrapped up, the quiet hum of notebooks closing and students rising from their desks was broken by the sharp, authoritative crackle of the school intercom. The lights dimmed slightly and the Arcane Academy seal appeared glowing faintly above the chalkboard — a sign that an official announcement was incoming.
"All students and faculty, your attention please," a stern female voice said over the speakers. "By decree of His Majesty, King Magnus Albion of the Holy Empire of Britannia, a joint exercise has been scheduled between Arcane Academy and Aeronautica Prime, the elite airborne military academy of the Western Air Division."
Students instantly perked up, whispering and murmuring with interest. Even the professors glanced at each other, knowing what this meant — it wasn't just some friendly skirmish or training scenario. This was serious.
The voice continued, "Aeronautica Prime, as many of you know, specializes in training elite human soldiers in the operation of advanced military hardware: mechas, fighter jets, orbital cannons, power armor, and more. Though they lack metahuman abilities, their efficiency, tactical ruthlessness, and deadly precision have long made them the natural countermeasure to rogue metahumans and foreign threats. They are the sword of humanity."
A student behind Aryeh whispered, "They're like anti-meta wolves in steel armor…"
The voice resumed. "This weekend, the Royal Family will host a Festival of Dominion in celebration of the birth of Crown Prince Remiel Albion, grandson of King Magnus. The event will be attended by nobles, military officers, dignitaries, and students from both of our elite academies. There will be synchronized displays of our kingdom's might — jet formations, mecha parades, metahuman exhibitions, and power demonstrations — all to honor our great nation."
Aryeh leaned back in his seat, his brows furrowed. He hadn't expected anything like this — not this soon. Around him, students lit up, already imagining the grandeur: the celebration, the spectacle, the political games.
The voice grew solemn. "Attendance is mandatory for all cadets and instructors. This is not a request. This is your duty. As a show of unity and loyalty, all students must now stand for a moment of silence in honor of our King and his House."
Desks squeaked. Chairs scraped. One by one, students stood and placed their hands over their hearts. The room fell still, eerily so.
Aryeh watched as the entire classroom rose in unison. Some looked proud, others stoic. All of them placed their hands solemnly over their hearts.
Except him.
Aryeh stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, his brow furrowed. He didn't feel the same swell of patriotism the others did. He wasn't being defiant—just… contemplative. His past, where he came from, the ghetto of District 6, hadn't exactly made him feel like part of the kingdom.
He respected the silence, but didn't pretend to feel something he didn't.
After a full minute, the intercom buzzed again.
"You may return to your day. Glory to the King," the voice concluded.
Students exhaled. The tension released. Murmurs resumed as kids began filtering out of the classroom — some excitedly talking about the jets, others speculating what Aeronautica cadets would look like.
Later that evening, the campus glowed softly under the twilight sky. Aryeh sat at his desk, the dorm window cracked open as the sounds of the city murmured beyond. His screen lit up with Miriam's name. He hit the call.
She answered after two rings. "Aryeh?"
"Hey, Miriam. Sorry I didn't call sooner."
"It's okay," she said warmly. "How's the new school?"
Aryeh leaned back in his chair. "It's… a lot. Big. Clean. Like a palace compared to what I'm used to. Everyone's got these uniforms that cost more than rent back home. But the classes are interesting. Teachers are sharp. And I've met some decent people. Lilith… she's kind. And Logan — cool guy. Mysterious."
Miriam laughed softly. "Glad to hear it. So, are we still on for the weekend?"
Aryeh sighed, rubbing his forehead. "That's the thing. The school just announced this massive event for the king's grandson. It's mandatory. No one's getting out of it."
"Ah," Miriam said with a teasing tone. "The monarchy gets in the way of my date again."
Aryeh smiled. "We can reschedule. I just didn't want to leave you hanging."
"No, I understand. Really. Go enjoy yourself. Take pictures, okay? I want to see how 'royalty' lives."
Aryeh chuckled. "Deal."
"Be safe, Aryeh. I love you. Goodnight."
"Night."
He hung up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Just as aryeh hung up Logan stepped in, shirt half-buttoned, a tactical vest slung over his shoulder. "You hear the announcement?"
Aryeh looked over. "Yeah. Just called Miriam about it. You know anything about Aeronautica Prime?"
Logan nodded grimly. "Oh yeah. They don't have powers, but they don't need them. They train like Spartans. Brainwashed for obedience. Efficient. Surgical. Some of their mecha squads are fast enough to keep up with speedsters, and their plasma rounds can punch through elemental armor."
Aryeh raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like trouble."
"They're the reason metahuman uprisings never succeed. When metas rebel, they deploy Aeronautica. Within days no hours… it's done."
Aryeh looked out the window, at the horizon. "You got any connections over there?"
Logan smirked. "Victor. Old friend. Crazy bastard. He pilots a Mark VII Chimera power Suit. Top of his class. We used to spar in metahuman manor. If he's here, it's gonna be a hell of a week."
He paused. "We grew up in the same manor before he got snatched by Aeronautica's draft. Haven't seen him in over a year, but last I heard, he was top of his class. They call him the Ghost Pilot now. Kid can outfly drones in manual mode. Some say his reaction time's almost inhuman, even without enhancements."
Aryeh blinked. "Wait, without enhancements?"
"Yep," Logan said. "Victor's pure human, born in one of the slums outside District 4. But he adapted fast. I think they gave him a spinal AI rig thingy recently—legal in Aeronautica, banned for us."
Aryeh folded his arms, the weight of what Logan said settling in. "So they're not just rivals… they're built to counter us."
Logan nodded grimly. "Exactly. That's why this joint exercise matters. The King's festival is more than fireworks and fancy speeches. It's a flex. A reminder to the world — and to us — that Britannia doesn't just rely on metahuman superiority. It's about unity between flesh, machine, and magic. Every few years they put on this display to say, 'This is what happens when everyone bows to the crown.'"
Aryeh looked back out the window. "And what happens if someone doesn't bow?"
For a moment, Logan didn't answer. The silence between them was heavy. Finally, he said quietly,
"I don't know and I don't wanna find out."
The two sat in the quiet for a while, the buzz of city lights far below a distant hum. Outside, a flock of scout drones zipped by in formation monitoring the city.
Aryeh sighed. "Still… I want to see it for myself. I want to understand who we're really up against."
Logan gave a tired smirk. "Then you're in for a show. The festival training starts Friday night, but the joint drills happen Sunday morning. Victor might be flying. If he is… you'll know. You'll feel it."
Aryeh nodded slowly. "I'll be ready."
The Morning of the Festival — Arcane Academy, District 2
Aryeh woke early. Felling much less sore.
The hum of excitement vibrated through the walls of the dormitory. Outside his window, the sprawling campus was unrecognizable. Holographic banners shimmered above marble paths and cobbled plazas, flickering between the crest of House Albion — a crowned griffin with a sword gripped in its beak and wings stretched wide — and the regal images of King Magnus, Queen Isadora, and their newly born grandson, wrapped in violet and gold silk. A large hologram on the chapel dome read:
"Glory to the Royal House. Strength to the Crown. Long live the bloodline."
Aryeh stared out at it all, dragging his dreadlocks into a short bun. This was another world from the concrete ruins and grime-stained trains of District 6. Down below, Arcane's hexagonal tiles shone with polished sheen, and the smell of fresh-cut grass drifted in through the vents.
He spotted them from afar — Aeronautica Prime cadets, descending in formation via levitating helicarriers that looked like floating, blade-sleek aircraft carriers with reinforced gold trim and blue plasma trails carving the air.
The first vessel landed with a seismic thud. Its engines let out a harmonious vrrrrmm like a mechanical choir. The cadets disembarked in single file. Twenty per grade, eighty total. Not one flinched. Not one blinked out of turn. They moved in perfect military sync, like they'd been grown, not raised.
Their armor gleamed obsidian, interlaced with iridescent solar plating. No insignias. No flamboyance. Just black combat exo-suits bolted directly into their spines — all utility, no vanity. Their helmets folded away with a whirr-clink, revealing stern faces with barcode tattoos behind their ears.
Behind Aryeh, Logan stood at his own window, tying his neck strap. He wore the formal white-and-blue Arcane Academy ceremonial robes, his long overcoat bearing the school's arcane seal over his chest. He exhaled deeply.
"There they are," Logan muttered, brushing his locks back. "Flesh and steel."
Aryeh nodded. "They don't move like people."
Logan half-smirked. "Because they're not trained to be people."
The Southern Courtyard – Arcane Academy
Minutes later, Aryeh and Logan arrived at the courtyard plaza, where Arcane's best and brightest had been gathered in neat quadrants — twenty students per grade, matching the Aeronautica Prime formation. Faculty stood to the sides, including Headmaster Kaelen, Vice Chancellor Elara, and several Royal Attachés.
Standing tall at the front of the Aeronautica unit was their Captain, a sharp-faced young man named Leon Arcturus, his voice smooth and decisive as he spoke:
"By the will of His Majesty King Magnus Albion, and with the authority of the Royal Military High Command, we greet you as honored counterparts. We have traveled from District 12, via strategic teleportation gate, to participate in this historic exchange."
He bowed stiffly, and the Arcane students gave a respectful nod. The captains shook hands before Vice Chancellor Elara stepped forward:
"Today is a day of unity. You are encouraged to mingle, exchange ideas, and forge bonds. Let this moment remind you: though your training differs, your purpose is one."
The gathering relaxed.
And with that…
"Go on," Logan smirked. "Let's break some ice." The Reunion
Logan guided Aryeh through the crowd with ease, navigating past robed conjurers and cybernetic juggernauts. Their destination: a tall, broad-shouldered Aeronautica cadet with dark bronze skin, a mechanized arm gleaming with micro-reactor tubing, and short-cropped hair brushed into waves. He was mid-conversation with none other than Arella, who was dressed in her sleek indigo robe and half-laughing at something the man said.
The moment the cadet looked up and spotted Logan, his face lit up.
"No freaking way!" Victor bellowed, stepping forward. "Logan Talos! You son of a—!"
The two collided like titans, gripping each other in a back-slapping bear hug that looked more like a wrestling match. They broke apart, laughing hard.
"Man, you still smell like burnt vegan cheese and bad choices," Victor grinned. "And you still owe me 40 credits from that one time you bet against me in Black jack."
Arella rolled her eyes, arms folded but smiling.
"You two will never change," she sighed with mock defeat.
Then came a moment of silence. A beat. Victor squinted.
"You're still a cheater, by the way." "And you're still mad I smoked you in Super Speed Racers 4," Logan fired back.
Victor snapped — lunging at Logan like a linebacker — and the two started play-fighting, throwing harmless jabs and shoulder bumps like brothers reunited after years apart.
Aryeh and Arella stood nearby, watching with amusement.
"They always like this?" Aryeh asked. "Unfortunately," Arella replied, shaking her head.
Eventually the two clowns settled down, sweaty and grinning.
Logan clapped Victor on the shoulder. "Victor Pebbles, meet Aryeh. The kid I told you about."
Victor turned with a broad smile and offered a firm, gloved handshake.
"Logan's told me lots. Name's Victor. Don't let this thing scare you," he said, tapping his cyber-arm. "It only bites on command."
Aryeh chuckled. "Pleasure's mine."
Pizza and Brotherhood – Later That Afternoon
The four made their way off-campus into New Manhattan, the shining megacity where Arcane Academy's influence extended over several blocks. Crystal monorails glided overhead, and merchant lined the sidewalks selling goods or directing people to bodegas.
They settled into a neon-lit pizza parlor called ManaSlice, where toppings cooked midair before hitting the dough. Over cheesy slices and bubbling soda, they shared war stories, pranks from boarding school, and wild dreams for the future.
Victor, for all his cybernetic weaponry and stoic exterior, was easygoing — the kind of person who disarmed you with humor but probably disarmed enemies with a railgun.
"So Aryeh," Victor asked between bites. "You planning to join the tournament coming up? That Crucible thing?" "never heard of it, whats it about?" aryeh responded with a shrugged "never heard of it? Its one of the biggest events in the kingdom" vic responded "its a capture the flag style tournament with a twist." arella interjected
Aryeh nodded slowly. "ill join if they let me."
"I hear you gotta pass hell week to qualify." logan added
Victor grinned."Then if you guys pass I'll see you in the arena."
Victor leaned back in his seat, the warm amber light of the pizzeria casting a soft glow on the chrome plating of his cybernetic arm as Aryeh studied it quietly. The hum of conversation around them faded into the background as Aryeh finally asked, his voice gentle and curious, "So what happened to your arm, man? If you don't mind me asking."
Victor glanced down at his hand—fingers of polished metal wrapped around a glass of soda—and let out a breath through his nose. "Nah, I don't mind," he said with a faint smile. "It's a long story though."
Aryeh nodded, leaning in. "we've got time."
Victor's eyes grew distant for a moment as he stared at the condensation trailing down the side of his glass. "My dad was a lead scientist at A.R.G.A.S.," he began. "One of the pioneers in dimensional engineering. Ever since I was a little kid, I'd tag along with him to the lab—when the suits weren't looking. He'd show me things I couldn't even begin to understand back then: gravity anchors, sub-quantum fields, wormhole stabilizers. I wanted to be just like him. My dream was to build machines that could help humanity reach other worlds."
He paused, his voice darkening. "But one day… everything went wrong."
Aryeh leaned back, eyes fixed on Victor.
"They were working on a doorway teleportation device. It was supposed to be the first stable gate—a portal into a neighboring dimension. Dad called it 'Project Gateway,' and it was his life's work." Victor's voice dropped. "But the gate didn't open to another world like ours. It opened into something… else. Something that was never meant to be touched."
Arella, who had been quietly sipping her drink, slowly put her glass down, her expression somber.
Victor continued, his tone grim. "A creature came through. I don't know if it was a demon or a god or… something worse. It was massive, covered in black tendrils and glowing glyphs that made my head hurt just looking at them. Its eyes… if you could even call them that… they saw everything. It tore through the lab in seconds—ripped the shielding apart like paper, crushed people with a flick of its limbs."
His voice shook slightly, but he pressed on. "It killed my dad right in front of me. And the other scientists. The alarms were screaming. I tried to run, but it caught me. Bit my arm clean off… then it dragged me back and crushed my legs. I was bleeding out, watching it rip into the core of the machine, and then… everything went dark."
Victor tapped the table lightly with his metal fingers. "Next thing I remember, I woke up on an operating table. Surrounded by doctors in Metahuman Academy uniforms. My left arm—gone. My legs from the knees down—gone. But they had given me a second chance. Cybernetics. Military-grade. Apparently, the O'Leary family pulled some strings."
Aryeh frowned slightly. "The O'Learys?"
Victor nodded. "My dad was real close to the owner of A.R.G.A.S.—Mr. O'Leary. That's Damian O'Leary's father. They were friends, and when my dad died, he took it personally. Made sure I was patched up, enrolled in Metahuman Academy… even paid for the prosthetics."
Logan scoffed. "Of course he did," he muttered. "Rich people always want to play god. Damian's just like him—arrogant, spoiled, always trying to buy his way into being liked."
Victor chuckled. "I get it, man. Damian's… a lot. He's a walking superiority complex. But once you get past the billionaire exterior and the politics, he's not all bad. He's got a good heart, somewhere deep down. He just sucks at showing it."
Aryeh nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of the story. "Damn… I didn't mean to dig up something painful. I'm sorry."
Victor waved it off with a half-smile. "Nah. It's good to talk about it sometimes. That day… it changed everything. But if it didn't happen, I probably never would've met these two." He reached out and pulled Logan and Arella into a firm, heartfelt hug, his cybernetic hand clanking gently on Logan's shoulder.
"These guys were my rock," Victor said, smiling as he looked at them. "At Metahuman Manor, we were inseparable. Trained together. Fought together. Laughed, bled, failed, succeeded. I was so crushed when they left for Arcane Academy last year. I got sent to Aeronautica Prime—strict, cold, nothing like here."
"But," he added, his grin returning, "I think I made it out okay."
Just then, a server approached their table, holding a datapad and smiling politely. "Hey folks, you guys ready to order?"
Victor sat up straight, clapped his hands, and grinned wide. "Absolutely. 10 pizzas. 5 meat lover, 2 veggie, 2 extra cheese… and 1 vegan for my little bro over here."
Aryeh blinked. "Wait, what?"
Arella burst out laughing. "Victor, that's a lot of pizza."
Victor shrugged, flashing a toothy grin. "Hey, cybernetics run hot—I burn through calories like a furnace."
Aryeh shook his head, amused. "You're a machine in more ways than one."
Victor raised his glass. "To second chances, and old friends."
Everyone clinked glasses, the glow of the moment lingering like the warmth from the oven nearby.
Victor smirked with a boyish gleam in his eye, clearly enjoying the chance to show off a little. "Wanna see what this baby can do?" he asked, rolling up the synthetic sleeve on his left side. The surface of his cybernetic arm shimmered faintly under the ambient glow of the diner lights, the seams pulsing with soft blue light.
Aryeh nodded eagerly. "Hell yeah."
With a few whirs and clinks, Victor's left arm began to shift—metal plates sliding, folding, and expanding with mechanical precision. In a matter of seconds, the forearm extended outward and spun into a Gatling gun configuration, six barrels rotating slowly as it clicked into place.
"This mode's for when negotiations go south," Victor said with a cocky grin. "High-velocity, armor-piercing rounds. I can slow it down for crowd control, too."
Aryeh blinked. "That's crazy…"
"Wait, it gets better." With another quick gesture, the arm retracted and shifted again—this time into a sleek sonic cannon. The end split open like a speaker's diaphragm, and a glowing blue core pulsed at its center. "This one emits directed shockwaves. Can collapse walls or just send people flying depending on the settings."
Aryeh stared in disbelief. "You're like a one-man war machine."
Victor chuckled. "Hold on, last one."
The cannon retracted and folded inward, the metal rearranging itself once more—this time into an arcane-looking device with glowing glyphs along the surface. A tiny spark shimmered in the center, and with a flick of Victor's fingers, a swirling mini teleportation gateway blinked open just above the table, revealing a view of their school courtyard. Arella leaned forward slightly to see through it.
"No way," Aryeh whispered.
"Prototype from my dad's research," Victor said quietly. "Refined, obviously. I don't mess with dimensional rifts anymore—at least, not carelessly."
He closed the portal with a small wave, then tapped his thigh. "Check this out too."
A soft clunk came from his legs as they began to shift. The panels on his calves slid open, revealing miniature rocket thrusters. "They help with high jumps, short-range propulsion, and even limited flight. Can't stay airborne long, but it's great for battlefield mobility."
Aryeh leaned back, totally impressed. "You're like… a walking arsenal."
Victor smiled proudly. "I was broken once. Barely alive. Now? I feel more whole than ever."
He leaned back in the booth, relaxing as the servers bustled nearby. "I also have a full power armor suit back at the dorm. Top-of-the-line. Enhances my physical stats, reaction time, everything—by a factor of 100. I'm hoping they let me bring it out for the joint exercise later today."
Arella, still amazed, leaned her chin on her palm. "How often do you get upgrades? Last time I saw you, your arm looked like something out of the Industrial Age. Now it's… sleek. Elegant."
Victor laughed. "One of the many perks of being close with the heirs to the A.R.G.A.S. empire." He glanced at Aryeh with a sly wink. "Turns out, having friends in high places does pay off."
Logan groaned from the other end of the booth. "Please don't say 'heirs to the A.R.G.A.S. empire' like it's some royal title."
Victor snorted. "I mean… they are kinda treated like royalty."
Aryeh, still grinning, said, "Man… I thought I had some cool powers. But you? You're built like a damn legend."
Victor playfully raised a soda glass in mock toast. "To surviving monsters and becoming one... in the best way."
Arella and Aryeh laughed, clinking their drinks with his just as the waitress arrived with an enormous stack of pizzas.
"Damn," Aryeh said, eyeing the food. "You really did mean ten pizzas."
Victor rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming. "And I'm planning to demolish all of them—except the vegan one. That stuff tastes like shit."
logan threw his napkin at victor, and they all laughed again, warmth and camaraderie filling the air. Despite the scars of the past, this—this table of weirdos—felt like home.
As the group finished the last bites of their food, laughter still lingering from Victor and Logan's latest verbal sparring match, they gathered their trays and began their walk back toward the Arcane Academy's main courtyard. The sun was beginning to drift lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the lawn, while students from all over were returning from lunch, lounging around the fountain or heading to classes.
Victor walked ahead, arms folded behind his head in a relaxed gait. "Alright," he called out, glancing over his shoulder. "You introduced me to your friends—now it's my turn to return the favor."
He led them toward a circular garden plaza tucked behind the eastern wing of the academy—Aeronautica Prime's students had started gathering here in preparation for the joint exercise scheduled later that day. Victor waved to a small cluster of students standing by the stone archway. A few of them noticed him and lit up with recognition.
"Yo Vic!" one boy called out. "Bout time, man!"
Victor greeted them all with a handshake, fist bumps, and warm banter, clearly respected by the group. Then, with a charismatic grin, he turned to his new companions. "Everyone, meet my crew. Juno, ant, marvin, Terrance, and Chika. And last but not least…" he gestured dramatically toward a girl at the back of the group, "here's my friend Ayanne."
Aryeh's attention snapped toward her instinctively, and the moment their eyes locked, time seemed to slow down.
Ayanne was striking—tall and graceful, with long jet-black hair that shimmered in the light, red streaks catching the sun like live embers. Her eyes were a deep, glowing crimson, sharp yet soft, filled with a mysterious depth that pulled Aryeh in before she even said a word, a black body suit that captured every last curve and accentuated it. She had a calm presence, the kind that spoke of quiet confidence and strength. But the second her hand met Aryeh's in a handshake, something changed.
She blushed.
Just for a split second—barely noticeable to the others—but Arella caught it immediately. Her empathic senses picked up on the spike of nervous excitement radiating from both Ayanne and Aryeh. She smirked inwardly, keeping her mouth shut for now, but her amethyst eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them like she was already making a mental note.
Ayanne composed herself quickly, offering a reserved smile as she greeted the rest of the group.
"She's a freshman at Aeronautica like me," Victor added proudly. "Top of the drone engineering class. She can code flight AI in her sleep."
Ayanne gave a modest wave. "Victor's exaggerating. I only beat his score."
Victor laughed, playfully offended. "Wow. Betrayal."
Aryeh, still recovering from the sudden twist in his gut, finally managed to speak. "Nice to meet you."
"You too," she replied softly. Her voice was smooth, warm, but carried a subtle energy that made Aryeh's ears stay tuned.
Then Ayanne turned to Arella, shaking her hand politely. When their hands touched, Arella felt it—a flicker of emotion from the girl that confirmed her suspicion. She definitely felt it too... this is going to be interesting.
Antwon added loudly, "Victor's the talk of the school, you know. Coolest kid on campus. The seniors actually like him—and they usually treat freshmen like shit."
Victor waved him off. "Okay, okay, stop hyping me up like I'm a superhero or something."
"You kinda are though," Ayanne teased.
Logan crossed his arms with a skeptical grunt. "This dork?" he asked, pointing a thumb at Victor. "Nah, I gotta see it to believe it."
Everyone laughed—including Victor, who narrowed his eyes at Logan with a playful smirk. "Oh that's how it is?" he said, already taking a boxing stance and bouncing lightly on his cybernetic legs. "You tryna catch these hands again, huh?"
Logan stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You already know. Just don't cry when I dent your chrome."
Victor grinned. "Bring it."
Arella sighed in mock exasperation. "Boys…"
Aryeh, meanwhile, was still caught somewhere between Victor's high-energy antics and the memory of Ayanne's red eyes.
He had never felt anything like that before. Not with anyone. And judging by the way she kept stealing quick glances at him when she thought no one was looking… maybe she felt it too.
Victor leaned back to crack his spine, then his arms folded across his chest, watching Aryeh closely. "Aryeh, tell me about your story, man. You know about mine now—it's only fair."
Aryeh paused. His eyes dropped to the ground as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. The room quieted, even among the others nearby, as they picked up on the shift in mood.
"I grew up in District 6," Aryeh began slowly, his voice steady but thoughtful. "South side, near the old freight yards. Raised by my foster grandmother, Miriam. Strong woman. Fierce, really. She didn't have much, but she gave me everything she could."
He glanced up, a slight, sad smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know my real parents. Never met 'em. Don't even know their names. I doubt I ever will. All I know is that one day, someone left me on Miriam's porch wrapped in a blanket with a note that just said, 'Raise him right.' She did."
Victor nodded solemnly. "Damn..."
Aryeh continued. "The neighborhood was rough. Gang tags on every wall. Sirens at night. Some kids never made it past fifteen. School? Man, forget it. Most teachers gave up on us before we even walked through the door. Nobody expected me to be anything."
"But then one day," Aryeh said, his tone lifting, "opportunity knocked. Outta nowhere, this rep from Arcane Academy shows up. Told me I'd been observed. Recommended. Said I had potential. I didn't believe it at first—thought it was some prank or setup."
Victor let out a soft laugh of disbelief. "Arcane Academy? From the damn ghetto to the top institution in the continent? That's wild."
"Yeah," Aryeh nodded. "Still doesn't feel real sometimes. I packed my stuff and rode a train for 26 hours from south of Chicago to new Manhattan, watching the world change through the window. Skyscrapers turned into megastructures. Cracked streets became polished chrome. It was like stepping into another dimension."
Victor leaned forward, clapping a strong hand on Aryeh's shoulder. "I respect the hustle, brother. I grew up in District 4, just outside columbia, south carolina. Same kinda mess—poverty, crime, systemic BS. My pops broke his back to get me out. Worked 2 shifts, everyday hustle, just to afford one augment to get me in the program. But you?" He pointed at Aryeh. "You did it on your own. No backup. No enhancements. No shortcuts. You the man. Keep that up."
Aryeh grinned, dapping Victor up firmly. "Appreciate you, bro. Means a lot coming from you."
Victor leaned back again. "So let me ask, what are your powers?"
Aryeh exhaled through his nose. "That's... complicated. I'm still trying to figure that part out. I'm not technically a metahuman. I've never tested positive for the X-gene or N-strains. But... I exhibit powers. Abilities. Things I shouldn't be able to do."
Victor's eyes widened slightly, and a ripple of surprise spread through the group. Logan sat up straighter. Ayanne raised her eyebrows. Juno leaned in closer.
"You're a human at Arcane Academy?" they all said, nearly in unison.
"That's unheard of!" Victor exclaimed. "You thought I was the man? Nah, you're the man! I got cybernetic limbs and muscle enhancements just to keep up with metahumans. Without 'em, I'd be a corpse in a training sim."
Ayanne added, "Honestly, metahumans have such an edge on us. All it would take is one rogue meta with electromagnetic powers and entire battalions of cyber-soldiers would drop dead. We rely on tech. They're born with it."
Logan laughed and clapped Aryeh on the back. "Damn right he's the man. You better recognize, Victor."
Victor chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Bro... you're breaking every rule in the book just by existing here. You've got heart. You've got grit. And if you've got powers on top of that?" He pointed at Aryeh with admiration. "Then you might be the most dangerous person in this whole Academy—and they don't even realize it yet."
Aryeh just smiled faintly, the weight of his journey pressing on him, but so did the pride of having come this far.
"Guess we'll find out," he said simply.
Juno folded her arms and nodded toward the quad as a shadow passed over her expression. "Speaking of humans at Arcane," she muttered, "what about Felix?"
The air shifted. The group went silent.
Victor's jaw tensed. "That's right," he said grimly. "Felix was the latest human to get admitted here. Joined Arcane Academy last year. He didn't last. Couldn't keep up with the rest of the class. They kicked him out."
Ayanne scoffed. "And guess where he ran to? Aeronautica Prime. Word is he didn't take it well—developed this deep hatred for metahumans ever since."
"Yeah," Juno added, frowning, "and he's a full-on racist weirdo now. Keeps to himself, thinks he's better than everyone else here—especially metahumans. Calls you guys 'mutants' like it's a slur. Got into it with Victor once."
Victor leaned back and blew air through his nose, his eyes narrowing at the memory. "Called me a subhuman servant. Said God created my race to do nothing but manual labor. That metahumans were abominations and that normal humans—pure humans—were chosen to inherit the Earth."
Aryeh's brow furrowed, his nostrils flaring subtly. He exchanged a sharp glance with Victor, the unspoken heat between them palpable. Neither of them liked where this conversation was going.
Juno continued with a sigh, "He's a religious zealot. But not just the regular kind. I mean deep cultist vibes. He follows this weird underground doctrine called the Book of Gnosis. Real ancient, pre-Christian type stuff. Mixes it with some extremist theology. That's the only reason the staff tolerates him—because he's brilliant."
"He's a tactical genius," Victor admitted reluctantly. "Even I can't front. Top marks in simulation drills. The dude's IQ is off the charts—probably has a 6.0 GPA."
Aryeh raised an eyebrow. "What's he look like?"
Victor gestured subtly toward a shaded area near one of the fountains, where a trio of students stood with stiff postures and barely any expression. "Over there. See that group of sophomores posted near the benches? Tight-knit. Always the same two or three guys with him. Felix is the one in the blue armband. Wearing glasses. Bulletproof vest."
Aryeh spotted him. Felix stood out immediately—not just because of the vest, but because of how rigid and calculated his every movement seemed. He wasn't just dressed for war—he acted like it never stopped.
Victor smirked without humor. "He wears that thing religiously. Says it 'guards his heart from spiritual corruption.' Every pocket in that vest has pages from the Book of Gnosis stuffed in it like holy wards."
"Dude's a real fanatic," Ayanne muttered. "He doesn't talk unless he's quoting scripture or mocking people. And don't be surprised if he starts talking about 'cleansing the bloodline' or 'divine ascension' or whatever other cult crap he's into this week."
Aryeh stared across the quad at Felix for a long second, committing every detail to memory—the sharp, angular features, the dead-eyed stare behind thick lenses, the way his fingers tapped against the straps of his vest like he was counting something invisible.
"Noted," Aryeh said quietly.
Logan, who had been quiet up until now, gave a dry chuckle. "Good. Just be careful. Guy's the kind of lunatic who looks calm right before a building goes up in flames."
Aryeh didn't laugh.
He just kept watching.
As the sun began to reach its peak above the towering megastructures of District 2, it signaled noon, the open field where both schools had gathered suddenly blared with a crisp, amplified announcement:
"All students, report to your designated zones. Formation practice begins immediately. The joint exercise will take place—Sunday morning. Let's make it flawless."
A low murmur swept through the students.
Victor let out a small sigh and gave Aryeh a firm pat on the shoulder.
"This is where we split," he said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.
Arella stepped forward with a small, reassuring smile.
"We'll catch up again soon. Don't worry."
The group exchanged handshakes, fist bumps, and nods of respect. Aryeh gave Victor one last dap, locking eyes for a second that carried mutual understanding. Then both groups turned and headed toward their assigned locations.
The practice formation unfolded with military precision.
The Arcane Academy and Aeronautica Prime students were arranged in hierarchical tiers based on their class years and specialties. Staff officers, both human and metahuman, walked along the rows shouting instructions and synchronizing the flow through earpiece comms.
Hover drones circled overhead, scanning the formation while broadcasting a real-time overhead projection on the massive transparent LED displays around the field.
By the time 10:00 PM struck, the entire operation had been rehearsed three times, with increasing accuracy each run.
The instructors nodded to one another in quiet satisfaction.
"They're ready," one of them said.
The night sky above Manhattan District twinkled with both stars and the lingering shimmer of elemental residue. The students, though tired, were filled with pride and anticipation.
Tomorrow, they would perform in front of the world.