The air felt strange inside the tunnel. Not because of heat or a lack of oxygen—Nael felt like he was floating. Around him, a dense silence had taken hold. The walls shimmered with shifting light, gliding past him at high speed. Layers overlapped, flickered, disappeared, only to be replaced by others. The strangest part of it all? Nael wasn't moving—or rather, he couldn't. He was so still it felt like he was stuck in place. Only the streaming lights betrayed the fact that he was, indeed, progressing.
Nael floated forward slowly, clutching the bag he had managed to keep during his fall. There was no turning back now.
He had been drifting—or advancing—for ten minutes, maybe more. Time had lost all meaning. He focused on his breathing, on every distant noise. He should have been dead. He should have crashed, suffocated, or even been vaporized by the barrier's automatic defenses. But no. Just this tunnel, and a question gnawing at the back of his mind:
'What does it look like on the other side?'
He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes for a moment.
The Upper Districts. He'd heard about them since he was a kid. Perfect domes, spotless streets, trees growing without permission, clean people smiling for no reason. A world with a sky, where light wasn't rationed, where people didn't live to the rhythm of generator failures. He believed in it. He wanted to believe in it. This tunnel might just be the last line between his world and the one they showed on the faded posters glued to the Center's walls.
But he also knew that up there, he might not belong. There was a look in the Militia's eyes—that cold contempt you could feel even through their helmets. And now that he was here, suspended between two worlds, he was afraid. Not of dying. But of finding out he'd been wrong all along.
After what felt like an eternity, his body grew heavier. A cool breeze kissed his cheek. Ahead, a white light appeared.
'The end of the tunnel.'
Suddenly, he found himself on his feet, staggering.
The station he had landed in was enormous. A sort of secondary airlock, with glass walls and darkened control panels. The floor was smooth, pale grey with marble-like veins. Nothing like the grimy metal of the Low District. The lighting came directly from the walls—no bulbs, no visible source. Nael looked up and saw for the first time… the sky.
Or rather, a dome. A fake sky, projected onto the inside of a vast glass-and-metal vault. Moving clouds, a soft sun filtered through algorithms, and a blue so perfect it looked unreal. And yet, it was already more beautiful than anything he'd seen below.
He approached the glass. Beyond it, the city stretched out endlessly. A forest of sleek, white buildings, as if sculpted from light. Floating roads where wheel-less vehicles glided in silence. Geometric parks, pools as smooth as mirrors. And people—everywhere.
Nael frowned.
People walked slowly. No sound. No chatter. All dressed the same: elegant suits, mostly white or silver, with fine gloves and laceless shoes. Light eyewear, some with visible implants at their temples. All clean. All polished.
And some were staring at him.
He realized how out of place he looked. His tattered clothes, dusty skin, wild hair—and his smell. Even he could notice it now. He began walking in the same direction as the others, hugging the walls for cover. But in the blinding light, even a blind man could spot him. Eventually, he found a corridor and slipped through an automatic glass door, hoping to blend in more easily.
The streets were quiet. Some people walked briskly, others at a moderate pace. And others still… were staring.
Unsettled, Nael kept walking. Each step echoed like a mistake. He tried to move without sound, but his worn-out boots betrayed him. Passersby stepped aside slightly as he passed. Some whispered. Some simply stared, like he was some kind of anomaly.
Suddenly, a child's laugh brought him back to reality.
A group was leaving a café at the corner of the street. A dozen teenagers, all wearing custom-fitted navy-blue uniforms. On their backs, a crest embroidered in gold: a curved arc surrounding a name in elegant capital letters— ORION ACADEMY
And beneath it, the motto, stitched in fine golden thread:
"Light is a right for those who deserve it."
Nael's stomach tightened. He recognized some faces. Orphans from the Center. The ones who had been chosen. Some were missing.
They laughed, spoke in hushed tones, wide-eyed at this new world. A woman walked beside them. Hair pulled into a tight bun, dark clothes with golden trim, a cold elegance in every step. Nael narrowed his eyes.
'Mrs. Lys? What is she doing here?'
No. It wasn't her. But the posture, the presence, the way she moved—it was like she followed the same training, the same script.
The woman floated beside them, occasionally glancing their way with an unreadable expression. Her fingers danced in the air as if she were typing on an invisible interface.
'What is she doing? Is she… crazy?'
Nael didn't see it earlier but some people around him were doing the same weird thing.
He ducked behind a column and waited for them to walk off. Then, he followed.
***
The pursuit was clumsy. Nael slipped between alleys, avoided open areas, ducked behind distribution modules and glowing pillars. He nearly got caught several times. Once, one of the boys turned around suddenly, and Nael had to dive behind a recycling bin.
But he managed to stay close.
They crossed a suspended bridge, passed under an arch covered in glowing characters, then turned toward a massive complex surrounded by transparent walls. Towering spires. Silent hovering drones. The Orion logo everywhere. This was it.
Nael stopped in his tracks.
The Academy.
Helion was one of the most populated city of the Ring and as many, counted one Academy of Arisen and fewer institute for education.
It loomed over the city like a glass fortress. Holograms floated around the central building—smiling faces, charts, program lists. A slogan blinked above the entrance in endless repetition:
"A new generation of light."
Nael stepped back.
'What… is this place?'
Unfortunately, he didn't have time to remain stunned.The group he had been following had already gone inside.Nael hesitated, torn between fear and curiosity.
On one hand, he could simply follow the other orphans into the Academy, but then he would have to explain why he was there. It was obvious he wasn't a student—his ragged clothes and hesitant gait gave him away instantly.
On the other hand, navigating the city wasn't too difficult. It was certainly larger than the Low District, but also far more organized and orderly.
He had made up his mind: he would spend the rest of the day trying to locate the site of the Trial, and sneak in during the night to claim his Attribute.
'Yeah, this is better, saves me from an awkward situation.'
The idea sparked a flicker of excitement in Nael.
His decision was made.