He glanced at his phone. The map app projected a blue line over the pavement ahead. A calm robotic voice spoke,
[Recalculating. Heavy traffic detected on Central Avenue. Rerouting via Sector 4 Bypass.]
'Bypass? That sounds longer,' Memphis thought, as the sun beat down relentlessly. He hefted the mattress higher on his back, the rope digging slightly into his shoulders.
'And Sector 4… isn't that the old industrial district? Whatever. As long as it has sidewalks.'
The looks followed him, but Memphis paid them no mind. People watched, then forgot him. Memphis didn't even glance up. The world had narrowed to the city map in his hand, following the little blue line that knew more about the city than he did.
Not that there were many people out, anyway. The smart ones had already disappeared into their day jobs.
On the road a luxurious windowless car hissed past him, levitating a foot off the ground.
'Anti-grav… must be nice. Rich kids probably take those just to go get groceries.' He tightened his grip on the suitcase handle. 'Walking is fine. It's... character-building. Or cheap. Mostly cheap.'
The line curved right, and he followed without hesitation.
He stepped off the main road.
'Still, I definitely should have left at night.'
'This is what I get for being cheap,' he grumbled internally, sweat trickling down his neck. The tracksuit was a bad idea.
'My endurance stat might be high, but it doesn't have a "temperature control" setting. Maybe I should have just sprung for the taxi. How much could it have been? Then again, that's one less week of meals.' The weight of the mattress and the April heat worked together to drain him dry.
He fought the urge to glare at the sun. That was stupid. As if the sun cared.
'Saint of the Night...' he thought bitterly, shielding his eyes from the sun.
'What a joke. I feel like I'm melting. Can't my 'Dormant' profession at least give me some shade? Or is that a level 10 perk?'
He glanced up. High above, almost a black speck against the bright blue, they were his raven companions—if he could call them that, unaffected by his load, simply gliding from one holographic billboard to the next.
They looked almost smug, their feathers catching light while he melted below.
The city was alive with this subtle tech. Small, insect-like drones zipped through the air, delivering parcels and scanning IDs.
Automated sanitation units, gleaming chrome orbs glided along the gutters, meticulously dissolving trash with tiny beams of blue light.
It wasn't some wild sci-fi metropolis. just quiet tech doing its job. A city where everything worked a little too conveniently.
Until Sector 4. It was different, as if it didn't bother pretending. The white-and-glass architecture of the main city gave way to older, brick-and-steel buildings.
The strangeness of this world was more exposed here. Delivery drones, looking more like cobbled-together automatons than sleek commercial products, zipped between rooftops.
A few of the storefronts advertised "Magi-tech Repairs" and "Potion Brewing Supplies" right next to "Laundromat" and "Groceries." Magic and industry, surviving together out of necessity.
A man in a worn-out suit walked past, muttering into a glowing crystal shard held to his ear like a Bluetooth headset.
'Magic and tech, mashed together,' Memphis observed. 'It's good, I guess. But it still looks weird. Like putting a laser sight on a medieval broadsword.'
The phone chirped again: [Turn right onto Cinder Alley. Destination in 4.5 kilometers.]
'Cinder Alley. Lovely.' He made the turn. The alley was narrow.
'This is definitely the kind of place an extra gets mugged in chapter two,' he thought, his free hand tightening on the suitcase handle. 'No protagonists around to save me. Just me, my mattress, and a murder.'
He shifted his gaze upward. Ravens had perched on a rusty fire escape, head cocked, watching him.
'Okay, maybe the birds will help. Scout ahead. See if anyone's waiting to steal my high-quality, pre-owned mattress.'
They ruffled their feathers and took to the air, disappearing over the top of the next building. Most took flight, leaving a few stragglers to stare him down.
Memphis let out a long breath and kept moving. The weight on his shoulder constantly ached now, a steady reminder of his earlier choices.
He looked ahead.
At the corner, the "strange dog" he'd seen earlier, which he now recognized as some kind of bulky, spiked-collar familiar, was in a tense standoff with an orange cat whose tail was literally smoking, leaving little wisps of embers in the air.
Two uniformed kids were in the middle of it, arguing louder than either creature.
"Yeah, no thanks," Memphis muttered, stepping off the curb and giving them a wide detour before rejoining the main road on the other side.
[— Eden Academy: Transport Route Opens at 11:30 A.M. from Central Line.]
[— Weather Alert: Sunny day, outdoor exposure safe.]
He glanced at the floating notices as they faded from his display, his mind already wandering.
His boots clicked against the pavement. He turned another corner, where an auto-kiosk sat, a vending machine glowing with multi-color. He paused.
[Coffee Capsule 20-Credits | Energy Supplement 60-Credits | Breakfast Bar 10-Credit.]
He scrolled through the list on the touchscreen, debating internally.
'Six credits for stamina supplement? No thanks, I'll stay weak.'
CAW!
The sudden caw made him glance up. One of the ravens — maybe the same familiar from earlier — circled once before landing on a nearby streetlight, head tilted in judgment.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm walking," he said, sighing. "You could at least carry the bag, you know."
The bird ruffled its feathers in what felt like deliberate confusion, as if to say, 'What bag?'
'Even my skills bully me,' he thought dryly.
He resumed walking, letting his thoughts wander.
'Reincarnated in another world, huh? Everyone dreams about that. Some get swords, some get harem, and I get—' he glanced at the raven again, '—a group of noisy birds.'
A soft chuckle escaped him.
'Could've been worse, I guess. At least I'm not the villain.'
"Maybe it's not bad," He pictured himself in a black cloak, surrounded by doomed underlings… imagining the wealth, the power… the inevitable tragic end.
"Nope," he muttered, shaking his head. 'Mobs have better life expectancy.' Villains only survived if the author was feeling generous.
. . .
The 4.5 kilometers felt like a hundred.
The last stretch, though, wasn't so bad. The rough city road giving way to white flagstones that pulsed faintly underfoot, syncing with his steps.
The scenery shifted too; no shops, no apartments, just tall, imposing structures watching over him, they looked more like monuments.
His phone, which had been his only guide, finally rang.
[ You have arrived at your destination.]
The train station came into view — a broad, floating structure held by magnetic anchors, gleaming in the sunlight.
It was a massive dome of smart-glass and white steel panels on the roof angling themselves automatically to catch the sun's rays. The main concourse was vast, with floating screens displaying destinations in shimmering, kinetic text.
It looked every bit the product of modern engineering yet somehow, it felt enchanted.
'Still can't tell if that's magic or tech… or maybe it's both.'
He ignored the main platforms. His ID card, which had arrived a week ago, had specific instructions. He followed the signs towards the "Private Charters" section, moving past cafes selling "Stamina-Up Smoothies" and "Glow-Lattes."
He found his destination at the very end of the hall: Platform 13-E.
It wasn't hidden behind a magic wall, thankfully. It was just... separate. A sleek, frosted-glass barrier blocked the way, attended by two guards in crisp, dark-blue uniforms that looked more military than corporate. They stood perfectly still, their faces impassive.
Memphis shuffled forward, the mattress feeling ten times heavier under their professional scrutiny.
"ID," the shorter guard said, his voice flat.
Memphis wiped the sweat from his neck and fumbled through his wallet, producing a thin black card with gold plating. His name and a string of numbers were engraved across its surface.
The guard didn't take it. Instead, he raised a small, cylindrical scanner. A red light washed over the card, then over Memphis himself.
BEEP.
[MEMPHIS PEREGRINE] [AGE: 16]
[STATUS: ADMITTED - YEAR 1] [AFFILIATION: EDEN ACADEMY]
Both guards reacted, a flicker of surprise, but quickly masked. The one holding the scanner straightened slightly. The other gave him a look, brief but questioning.
"…Golden-tier admission?" the first murmured, mostly to himself. "Didn't think we'd see one this year."
Memphis frowned. "Uh… should I be worried?"
"No, sir," the guard said quickly, tone shifting to crisp formality. "Not at all. Just… uncommon."
His gaze slid from Memphis's face to the mattress strapped across his back. One brow twitched upward.
"You're… moving in," he said flatly. His voice now cautious like a soldier addressing someone he didn't quite understand.
"Last of my stuff," Memphis muttered, feeling the need to explain. "Didn't have money for a storage unit or movers."
The guard just nodded, his expression unreadable.
"The barrier will admit you. The 'Eden Prime' train is on the track. It departs at 11:30 AM precisely. Do not be late."
"Right. Thanks."
The guard gestured. "Luggage, including... that," he said, nodding at the mattress, "will be stowed by the attendants once you board. Find a seat."
The other guard offered a polite nod. Memphis caught it, that little shift in tone, the one that said you don't look like a Golden-tier, kid.
The frosted-glass barrier slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a pristine, empty platform.
At its center rested a train unlike any he'd seen. It was painted matte black, with a single, glowing silver line running its length. It looked less like transportation and more like a weapon meant to pierce the horizon.
Memphis stared.
'That's not a train,' he thought. 'That's a bullet someone forgot to fire.'
'Well, that went about as expected,' Memphis thought, hoisting the mattress one last time. He stepped through the barrier, the air stretching like a thin membrane for a second as he passed.
'Welcome to Eden. Try not to get killed before finals.'
Then came the awkward part.
On the other side, three students were waiting, two girls in crisp uniforms and a tall boy with sleek hair were waiting near the barrier, clearly headed for the same train.
Their conversation faltered when they saw him approach with the mattress strapped to his back like a wandering nomad.
One girl whispered something behind her hand. The boy smirked slightly.
Memphis caught a glimpse of his reflection in the frosted glass: tracksuit, messy hair, a mattress, suitcase in hand. Definitely not the "Elite Student" look.
'Yeah,' He sighed. 'Golden-tier, huh? Sure doesn't look like it.'
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