The announcement came with a low chime that rippled across the academy's floating platforms.
"All candidates, report to the central plaza within ten minutes. Attendance mandatory."
The voice was calm, almost polite, but the underlying hum of command left no room for delay.
Dominic stepped out from the dorm sector and followed the stream of students onto the walkway. The air here was thinner, cooler, carrying a faint metallic tang. Above him, the morning light fractured across transparent domes and skybridges, casting reflections of blue and gold over the sprawling city below.
When the walkway ended, he found himself staring at the central plaza, a massive open arena, surrounded by rising towers of glass and steel. At its heart stood a tall, spiraling monument, a stylized sculpture of the Federation's burning star encased in a silver ring. Beneath it, hundreds of new candidates gathered, their voices overlapping like static.
Drones floated lazily above, recording. Every few seconds, one emitted a quick ping of light that swept across the crowd like a scanner.
Dominic moved through the flow of bodies, while quietly taking in the scene. Even before the academy had taught them anything, the social order was already taking shape.
To his left, a group of clean, uniformed candidates stood in a neat circle, the Upper City youths. Their jackets carried the insignia of private academies, their wristbands shimmered with embedded tech, and their smiles were the practiced kind, soft, confident, untouchable.
"Sector-born, obviously," Dominic thought. "Fed-fed confidence. The kind you can't fake, or buy."
To his right, huddled in smaller clusters, were the Lower Sector Transfers. They stood as if still expecting a fight to break out at any moment. One of them, a broad-shouldered boy with grease-stained gloves, muttered to his friend,
"You think they'll really throw us into the Otherworld that early?"
"That's what the feeds said," the other replied. "20% of last year's batch didn't even make it out."
The first one grunted. "Guess that's why we're replacements."
A few paces away stood the Federation elites. They didn't blend in they didn't need to.
They wore subtle badges marking family crests, their posture sharp, every glance carrying weight. They didn't talk loudly; they didn't need to. Power carried its own voice and volume.
Dominic noticed one of them was a tall girl with silver lining running down her neck, she smirk as she looked toward a group of Sector Transfers. "They'll probably send those ones to the front lines first," she said softly, just loud enough to be heard.
A murmur of laughter followed.
Dominic's jaw tightened. He looked away before the old habits, the ones that preferred fists to words could pop out.
"They haven't even awakened their Eidolons," he thought, "and they're already drawing borders. This world doesn't teach unity. It teaches survival."
Between these groups, a few stood alone, quiet figures observing from the edges, just as he was.
One caught Dominic's eye briefly. A girl with ash-colored hair, arms folded, watching the crowd as if she were memorizing every detail. Their gazes met for a second before she turned away. No words, just silent understanding. A fellow observer.
Then the hum in the air changed. The plaza lights flickered to life, with an hologram projecting the Federation's crest high above them.
Across the transparent surface, a single line of text appeared:}
WELCOME, NOVA CANDIDATES — YEAR 3055.
The crowd quieted. Drones formed a loose circle above, red lights blinking as they scanned every face. Somewhere behind him, a voice whispered,
"They're already observing us…"
"They observe everyone," another answered. "That's how they sort those with potential."
Dominic didn't look up. He'd lived with eyes on his back for most of his life, well most of his previous life. Being watched didn't bother him anymore. It's almost like a repeat of what he had already experienced.
"They can record all they want," he thought, expression flat. "The moment I awaken, the only data that'll matter is my rank."
A group of upper-sector candidates nearby were already boasting quietly.
"My brother ranked thirty-first in his first year," one said, puffing his chest slightly. "Father said if I score lower, don't come home."
"Your family's from the Vale Lineage, right?" another asked.
"Yeah. You'll know the name soon enough."
The air carried their arrogance like perfume. It was faint but unmistakably present.
On the opposite end, the lower-sector candidates spoke in a different tone nervous laughter, small talk meant to hide their fear.
"You think they'll really make us fight beasts right after awakening?"
"I heard last year one kid lost his mind in the first expedition."
"Then I guess I better keep mine safe."
Dominic just listened, eyes scanning the crowd.
Even the smallest interactions here mattered. The academy wasn't just about strength. It was a system that measured everything. Words, behavior, hesitation, defiance. He could feel it all.
A small vibration passed through the floor. It was subtle and mechanical. Then the dome lights dimmed.
The murmuring stopped.
Every drone hovered to a halt.
The entire plaza fell into silence, the kind that makes even a drop of pin sound loud.
And then, from the center monument, a pillar of light rose upward, forming the silhouette of a figure.
The hologram shaped into a young man dressed in white and black uniform, bearing the crest of the Student Council.
"That's him," someone whispered. "Arden Vale. Nova's Council President. Fourth-year. The top-ranked Eidolon user in the academy."
"I heard he awakened an extremely powerful Eidolon."
"No one's ever seen it. The Federation classified the details."
Dominic listened without turning. He already understood the pattern, people loved to mythologize strength. It gave them something to fear, something to follow.
"Every world needs its idol," he thought, folding his arms. "Even if that idol would step over them to rise higher."
Arden raised one gloved hand. The platform stilled midair. His voice, smooth and deliberate, carried across the entire plaza without distortion.
"Candidates. Welcome to Nova Academy."
His voice was calm, measured, and firm.
The words carried like thunder.
"You stand here today not because you are exceptional," Arden continued, "but because you survived the filters that killed millions before you. That survival does not make you special. It makes you… available."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Dominic smirked faintly.
"Cold start," he mused. "I like him already."
The holographic dome flared to life, displaying a rotating calendar grid, cycles, phases, colored markers. Arden gestured, and the data expanded around him.
"This is your year," he said. "Your first two weeks will be spent in orientation and basic lodging. You will awaken your Eidolon within that time. Failure to do so means expulsion."
Someone in the back whispered too loudly, "Expulsion? Or execution?"
Laughter tried to spread, but it died the moment Arden's eyes swept over the crowd with a sharp and steady gaze.
"Within one month," he continued, "we will hold the Awakening Tournament. There, your ranks will be determined. The strong will rise to dorms with greater access resources, mentors, and medical privileges. The weak…"
He paused not for drama, but to let the word sink in.
"…will learn the meaning of consequence."
Dominic's eyes followed the hologram showing the dorm tiers. His lips curved slightly.
"A ladder. Every system builds one. How nostalgic."
Arden shifted topics seamlessly.
"The first year curriculum is divided into twelve primary disciplines. Eight martial — combat, survival, field tactics, otherworld traversal, weapon synchronization, and three specialization tracks. Five literary — Federation law, Eidolon theory, strategic analysis, and Science."
"Ethics?" Dominic muttered under his breath. "Interesting choice for a place built on body counts."
"After your Awakening," Arden said, "you will be sent into the Otherworld — a seven-day expedition. With supervision of course. You will face what you will one day command."
The silence that followed wasn't the quiet of awe. It was fear trying to hide itself as determination.
"You think we're ready for that?" a candidate shouted.
"No one is," Arden replied simply. "That's the point. Apparently it will rough you up to the reality you now live in."
He took a step forward, letting the Federation emblem glow behind him.
"Nova Academy exists for one purpose, to produce commanders, not survivors. We are not here to teach you how to live. We are here to see if you deserve to continue existing as warriors of our tomorrow's future."
Dominic's pulse didn't rise. He felt no fear just only focus.
"So it's a slaughterhouse disguised as an academy," he thought, watching the cold fire in Arden's eyes. "The Federation doesn't just raise leaders. It raises weapons."
The dome brightened, and for a brief moment, every candidate's face was illuminated, some proud, nervous, angry or resolved.
Arden turned, stepping off the platform.
"Orientation begins tomorrow at dawn. Lodging details will be transmitted shortly. Prepare yourselves.
As he went down, the dome's hologram disappeared. In its place, the Federation motto burned bright in the air:
"Through Trial, We Ascend."
A loud roar echoed around him.
The crowd began to disperse as drones projected glowing arrows in the air, guiding each candidate toward their temporary lodgings. Conversations erupted immediately, voices breaking the plaza's tense quiet like cracks in glass.
"Did you hear that? Seven days in the Otherworld with supervision."
"They can't be serious. Even with supervision half of us will die before week three."
"Then half of us will move up faster," someone muttered darkly.
Dominic moved through the shifting bodies with measured steps. Around him, the social divisions were already clear.
The Upper City elites clustered together, straight-backed and polished, speaking in hushed tones about family sponsors, mentors, and legacy rankings. Their movements were smooth, practiced, almost rehearsed.
The Lower Sector Transfers, like him, stuck closer together, muttering about surviving the slums, and the otherworld while adjusting their worn boots.
Scattered among them, other candidates observed quietly, silent but alert, scanning everyone and everything with cautious precision. Everyone and groups with their distinct behaviors
"Same old pattern," Dominic thought. "The rich lead, the desperate follow, and the smart ones stay quiet until it's time to strike."
He adjusted the small pack slung over his shoulder. His only possessions from his home, repair tools, and a few spare parts
A sudden bump from behind nearly toppled it.
"Watch it," he snapped.
The voice came from a tall boy with a polished uniform and pale silver insignia stitched onto his collar. Two others flanked him, smirking like predators testing prey. They looked around 16-17 years old.
"You slum rats don't have manners," the boy said, voice sharp. "Guess the Federation's standards are dropping."
Dominic's tone stayed flat. "You bumped into me."
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Planning to make something of it?"
Other candidates slowed down, sensing the tension. Drones hovered closer, quietly recording.
Dominic studied him. Upper City, obviously. Raised with VR dueling pods, simulators, and bragging rights, never real danger, never blood. His fingers twitching. Could be anger, could be nerves, or could be fear.
"Relax," Dominic said finally, stepping aside. "Save your energy for the Awakening Tournament. You'll need it."
The boy misunderstanding his statement as backing down scoffed. "You think you'll even last till then?"
"If I don't," Dominic replied with a faint smirk, "your odds just improved. Be grateful."
By the time the boy decided whether it was an insult, Dominic had moved on, slipping into the quieter corridor leading to dorm assignments.
The dorm corridor shimmered with faint blue light, floors humming softly beneath his boots. Rows of glass halls stretched ahead, each leading to dozens of compact dorm rooms. Drones drifted past, projecting names above doors.
"Candidate Solari, Room C-17. Please confirm your biometric signature."
He pressed his hand to the panel. The door slid open with a whisper. Inside: four bunks, two desks, a holo-screen, and a small kitchen.
He dropped his pack, exhaled, and leaned against the wall.
"So this is where it starts," he murmured. "A new life, a new war… same kind of people."
"I guess it's time to see which side of me survives," he whispered.
The holo-screen blinked: AWAKENING COUNTDOWN — 6 DAYS.
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "You must be Solari."
Dominic turned. A lean boy with dark hair around his age, sleeves rolled, gadgets clipped to his belt, leaned casually against the foot of a bunk.
"Noah Kane. Outer Colonies. Looks like we're bunkmates."
Dominic nodded, dropping onto his bunk. "Last one in, huh?"
"Yup. Took my time. Wanted to see who I'm stuck with." Noah smirked, not unfriendly, just sizing him up.
Dominic glanced around. A third roommate had already staked a bunk near the window. His posture was stiff and his gaze sharp, like someone unused to being questioned.
"Reyson Hale. Upper City. From the Central District. My father's on the Academy Board."
Dominic let his eyes flick between the two. Noah's relaxed demeanor, Reyson's precise control. And himself was caught in the middle.
"Everyone here hides something. Fear, pride, maybe both. The only difference is how well they disguise it."
Noah tilted his head, curious. "Lower Sector Transfer, right? Heard about your kind… supposed to be scrappy, clever. Survive against all odds?"
Dominic's lips twitched. "That's one way to put it."
Reyson's smooth voice cut in. "Survival isn't enough here. Belonging is what matters. The weak disappear quietly; the arrogant die loudly. Remember that."
"Of course," Dominic thought, "Everyone here is trying to brand themselves for survival. I've survived worse. They'll find out soon enough."
A soft chime on the holo-panel blinked:
Orientation Complete. Awakening Cycle Initiates in 6 Days.
Noah leaned back, stretching. "Six days until we see what you're made of. Fun, huh?"
Dominic turned toward the window again, looking at the city spread below, veins of light threading between towers.
"Power," he thought. "That's all this place understands. Let them talk. I'll let results speak."
Noah muttered as he lay back, "Great. A dorm full of philosophers."
Dominic allowed a faint smile. "Better than a dorm full of corpses."
Noah chuckled softly. "We'll see."
Reyson let out a low laugh. "You're being awfully pessimistic."
Noah gave him a thumbs-up in reply. That's the point.
The dorm lights dimmed to night mode. Skyreach's distant hum vibrated through the walls. Dominic lay back, eyes half-closed, listening to the pulse of the academy—a living machine ready to test them all.
"Six days," he thought. "Six days before everything changes. It's been over a week now and I haven't seen my golden finger"
The scene fades as the clock counts down: AWAKENING CYCLE: 5 DAYS, 23 HOURS.