I woke up gasping, sheets tangled around my legs, heart hammering like I’d run the entire campus.

  The dream was already dissolving, but the feeling stayed behind like cold water in my lungs. A hand on my shoulder that was too heavy to shrug off. Laughter that sounded friendly from a distance but close up felt like it was aimed at my neck. The wet warmth of something on my face, even though I couldn’t see it. A voice, low and smiling, sure of himself, saying the same few words over and over until they stopped sounding like words at all.

  Relax, we're friends.. aren't we?

  My pillow was damp. Not sweat.

  Blood.

  A thin dark line had already soaked into the white fabric while I slept. The usual. But another bead —separate, deliberate, hovered half an inch above it, trembling like it waited. Or was waiting.

  I stared.

  It stared back.

  The droplet drifted sideways, slow and thoughtful, then landed on the back of my hand instead. As if it was natural.

  It was not.

  I didn’t move for a long time.

  Outside the door, Kail was doing normal roommate things. Pans clinked. Toast popped. Ordinary sounds that made the room feel smaller.

  I cleaned up fast, changed into the uniform, and stepped out of my room.

  Kail stood at the small kitchenette, flipping eggs with surprising skill for someone who looked like he belonged on a recruitment poster.

  “Morning,” he said without turning around. “You good? Sounded like you were fighting someone in there.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Bad dream. Sorry if I woke you.”

  Kail shrugged one shoulder, sliding eggs onto two plates. “Nah, I’m used to it. Seen and went through louder things, you'll get the hang of it.” He slid one plate across the counter. “Toast is yours if you want it.”

  I took the plate quietly, mostly just surprised at the gesture. “You didn’t have to.”

  “Roommate tax,” Kail said with a half-smile. “Eat quick. You look like you’re about to bolt.”

  We ate in comfortable silence for a minute. Kail finally glanced over. “You guys doing anything interesting yet?”

  I thought about the last few classes. “…Maybe. Instructor’s a little odd.”

  Kail laughed in response. “Lucky you. Schedule at this point is just 'get better'."

  I nodded through the rest of our conversation, quickly finished my toast, rinsed the plate, and grabbed my bag. “Thanks then, see you later.” And dashed right out.

  The campus was already alive with its usual morning show.

  Students glided overhead in lazy loops. A cluster of kids gathered around one boy who snapped sparks between his fingers like cheap fireworks. Laughter bounced off the glass towers. Everything looked exactly the way it was supposed to — bright, confident, perfect.

  Mitsuo kept his head down and wove through the crowd until he reached the familiar dented gray door.

  The others had already arrived.

  Hana leaned against the wall, slowly turning the steel rod between her palms. Every few seconds her fingers lit up with that faint blue undertone and the metal hummed back at her. She flinched, then smirked and kept turning it anyway.

  Corin sat cross-legged on the floor, the color-shifting cube balanced on his knee. He tilted it one way, then the other, brow creased as the faces flickered from red to green to something that definitely wasn’t blue. He muttered under his breath each time the color fought him.

  Silas sprawled across two chairs, fanning his rigged deck with lazy snaps of his wrist. Cards flipped and landed exactly where he wanted until one suddenly turned on him and he froze mid-motion, eyes narrowing.

  Elia sat in the corner chair, the two wooden dolls resting in her lap. She turned the featureless one over and over, fingers tracing the smooth wood like she was reading braille only she could feel.

  Renard stood against the windowless wall, the small bag slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t opened it. His fingers kept brushing the strap, testing the weight, testing something only he could sense.

  No one spoke yet. Everyone was still half-lost in their own quiet experiments.

  The first bell rang, sharp and impatient.

  General Studies filled the same huge lecture hall as yesterday. Groups from VIII and IX poured in, voices overlapping. Mitsuo and Hana slid into seats near the back.

  The instructor launched into post-Fracture history. He clicked through slides while Hana twirled the steel rod under the desk. Her fingers glowed blue for half a second. She yanked them back fast, the rod clinking against her knee.

  A row ahead, Corin pulled out the cube during a boring slide. He tilted it once. The faces shifted. The cube wobbled upward an inch, then dropped. He snatched it and shoved it into his pocket before anyone noticed.

  Second period dragged them out to the outer fields for Physical Conditioning. Basic laps around mock rubble. The instructor barked orders from the sidelines.

  Silas lagged at the back, flipping a coin from his rigged set. He called heads. The coin landed heads. He allowed himself a small satisfied nod.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Next flip he called tails. The coin landed heads again. Silas stopped running for two steps, staring at the coin like it had insulted his mother.

  Renard ran steady beside him, the bag bouncing on his back. He kept glancing at the instructor’s tied shoelace, focusing hard. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. A few laps later he tripped on his own laces anyway, catching himself with a quiet grunt.

  Elia kept pace in the middle of the pack, steps soft and deliberate. She kept one doll tucked in her pocket. When the instructor called roll, his eyes slid straight past her. She smiled faintly, fingers tightening around the doll in her pocket.

  Mitsuo brought up the rear, breath even despite the burn in his legs. No bleeding, even with the exertion. He let a single drop well at his fingertip, made it pause in the air, then let it fall. Smaller ones felt more precise.

  The whistle blew. The instructor muttered something annoyed under his breath as they filed past.

  Lunch was the usual corner table in the cafeteria. Stares from other sections landed, then slid away. No one approached.

  They ate in relative quiet at first, but the toys refused to be ignored.

  Corin cracked first. He pulled the cube out under the table and tilted it. “I’m trying to force it blue, right? But the best I can get is this ugly purple-teal mix. It’s like it’s arguing with me and winning.”

  Silas snorted and launched a card across the table. “Tell me about it. I called tails three times this morning. Three. That's literally impossible for me, I'm not being crazy these things are alive." He shot an ugly look at the coin which never responded.

  Renard weighed the small bag in his palm, quiet as always. “Tried a few things. Dead end so far.”

  Elia pushed her tray aside and set both wooden dolls on the empty table beside them. “I have something in mind.”

  She stared at the featureless one, brow furrowed. Nothing happened at first. Two students walking past glanced at the dolls. One slowed, mouth opening like he was about to ask what they were.

  Then, for about ten seconds, the whole table area went quieter. The passing students’ eyes slid right over the dolls like they weren’t there. One guy looked straight at the spot, frowned for half a second, then kept walking as if nothing had been in his way.

  Elia blinked hard and scooped the dolls back into her lap. “Okay. That was… maybe my power. Not sure if it was all me or coincidence.”

  Hana leaned in, eyes wide. “Well, that’s actually something forward. I’m just able to make this thing a taser.”

  Mitsuo opened his mouth, almost said something about this morning, then closed it again. “I…”

  Silas raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

  Mitsuo shook his head quickly. “Ah, no, I just meant I managed to make it hover for longer. That’s all.”

  The group exchanged looks. Hana leaned back, still grinning. “Well, look at us. Progress all around.”

  The conversation drifted after that, light and easy, the kind of talk that made the cafeteria noise fade into the background.

  The last period was Empowerment Doctrine in the grand lecture hall. Sections I through X crammed into the vast space, better tiers up front, we were shoved to the back.

  The instructor stood at the podium, voice amplified.

  “Empowerment Doctrine. The foundation of your potential. The theorem behind it.”

  Hana scribbled quickly in her notebook: Tier 1 – Manifestation. What it shows. Base output.

  “The most speculative tier. There is no particular definition or restriction in how powers manifest. Trauma, needs, beliefs, philosophy, or just a good Monday morning.” A hologram displayed slides of information.

  Corin jotted down: Tier 2 – Mastery. Perfecting control and growth. Broad powers benefit here, or powers get broader.

  The instructor continued, “Powers are unfair. Some are blatantly stronger, or simply better. Mastery is the only way to bridge that gap.”

  Silas doodled a tiny stick figure getting slapped by a giant hand, then crossed it out.

  “Anomalous or chaotic characteristics are something to watch out for. This is why powers are monitored. Losing control over your power is endangering others. We know this because of the past, the blackout zones."

  Mitsuo wrote nothing. Just listened, the words sitting heavy in his chest.

  The lecture eventually ended with a warning: “Deviate, and you risk everything.”

  Everyone was waiting in the corridor outside the lecture hall for the final bell when it happened.

  Silas walked backwards, arms waving as he talked about nothing important.

  A guy from Section VI — dark braided hair, broad shoulders under a crisp uniform — clipped Silas hard with his shoulder as he shoved past. The impact sent Silas stumbling sideways into the wall.

  Silas caught himself, turned, and planted his feet. “What the hell, dude? Watch where you’re going.”

  The guy stopped. He rolled one shoulder, looked Silas up and down, eyes flicking straight to the tiny Auxiliary pin on his collar. His mouth curled on one side.

  “Oh?” He took one slow step closer, chin lifted. “You got something to say, Failure?”

  Silas straightened, hands sliding into his pockets like he had all the time in the world. “Yeah. I said watch where you’re going.”

  The corridor quieted. A few students slowed, heads turning.

  The guy let out a short breath through his nose, the sound sharp. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

  Silas tilted his head, eyes narrowing just enough to match the lazy grin spreading across his face. “Depends. You gonna keep walking like you own the hallway, or are we gonna have a problem?”

  The guy stepped in until their shoes almost touched. He crossed his arms, biceps flexing under the uniform sleeves. “Okay, sure. How about this? Training grounds, this Sunday. Mock battle. Loser becomes the bread shuttle for a week.”

  Silas blinked once. “Bread shuttle?”

  “You carry the bread trays for us from the kitchen to our table, like a butler. All week. In full uniform tag and name. While everyone watches.”

  A beat of silence stretched between them.

  Silas’s grin widened, slow and sharp. He pulled one hand from his pocket and pointed a lazy finger at the guy’s chest. “You’re on.”

  The guy’s shoulders relaxed, the hard line of his mouth cracking into a real laugh. “It’s Mace to you then, ‘Silas’.” He turned and walked off with his friends, tossing one last glance over his shoulder.

  The corridor stayed quiet for half a second longer.

  Then everyone stared at Silas.

  Elia’s eyebrows shot up. She crossed her arms tight across her chest. “Seriously? Bread shuttle?”

  Silas shrugged, hands still in his pockets, grin never slipping. “What? Free bread for a week if we win. If not, we just carry bread?”

  Renard tilted his head a fraction, eyes narrowing. “Dude. Who’s ‘we’?”

  Mitsuo caved in and burst out laughing, real, wheezing, shoulders shaking so hard he had to brace one hand against the wall. The rest of them didn’t notice, but his whole body had tensed the moment the guy stepped closer, waiting for the old pattern to kick in. When it didn’t —when it stayed two idiots making a stupid bet— the contrast slammed into him so hard his knees almost gave out. He wiped his eyes, still chuckling.

  “…Ah?” He finally noticed the stares. “What?”

  Hana bobbed her head once, eyes closed like she was praying for strength. “Everyone’s losing their marbles one by one.”

  The others joined in, small, reluctant laughs rippling through the group like some weird ritual they hadn’t agreed to but couldn’t stop.

  Later, back in Section F,

  Layhen sat behind his desk, arms crossed, staring at them like they’d just told him a joke and forgotten the punchline.

  “You guys did what?”

  “Not us guys,” Corin said quickly, palms up. “Silas did.”

  The culprit raised both hands in surrender. “Hey, he bumped into me first.”

  Layhen dropped his forehead to the desk with a dull thunk. He stayed there a long second, shoulders rising and falling once, then lifted just his head. His eyes were tired, but the corner of his mouth twitched with something dangerously close to amusement.

  “Actually… this is pretty great.”

  They all blinked.

  “Either you somehow reach the combat capability of someone from Section VI in four days,” he continued, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head, “or you learn a very valuable lesson in social dynamics. Cool, right? I’ll even officiate it.”

  Silas actually looked concerned now. He leaned forward, green hair flopping into his eyes. “Actually you don’t really need to—”

  Layhen shut him down with a single finger raised. “Shhhh. How about this? It’ll be your test. Free extra score, out-of-curriculum if you win. Maybe social anarchy for a week tops if you lose.”

  “Is that even allowed?” they all asked at once, voices overlapping.

  Layhen justified it with a lazy wave of his hand. “Not really? But if he succeeded in the first place, it would be more impressive than a normal test.”

  The students exchanged glances. To be fair, they sort of agreed.

  And Silas gathered just enough motivation to start planning something out right there at his desk.

  Layhen straightened up, stretching his arms overhead with a long yawn.

  “Sunday’s gonna be fun.”