The V-tol offered Mirai a sweeping view of the city’s brilliance.

Holographic banners glowed on sleek, reflective towers, flashing slogans like “One heart, one future” and “We thrive together.” 

Below, parks sprawled in geometric patterns, their pathways glowing softly with bioluminescent light.

The city gleamed with perfection, but as awe-inspiring as the scene was, Mirai couldn't help but feel a subtle unease.

For all its polish, something about it felt… strange. Maybe it was just the vague whispers in the air lately — rumors of something big.

Takara consistently updated him that morning.

"Square Phoenix is working on a project that'll change everything," she'd said in one of her voice messages. "They're not just making a game this time."

Could it be true? It was the kind of cryptic buzz that had circulated online for months — years even, but somehow it stuck in his mind now. He couldn't explain why.

"We will be arriving at Helios shortly," chimed the AI.

"Thank you for flying with Gravity Air. This is your daily reminder to respect public property and preserve the image of our glorious future."

Helios Interactive Academy came into view, its campus as meticulously designed as the city itself.

A sleek fence of gently glowing plasma rods bordered the grounds, pulsing in perfect rhythm with the neon skyline.

Beyond it, soaring glass structures arched gracefully, their shimmering exteriors adorned with digital panels showcasing student-designed art and speculative game concepts.

Some of the panels caught his eye: speculative art of weapons, worlds, and characters clearly inspired by Square Phoenix's legends.

One in particular stopped him — a towering figure wrapped in roiling energy, its glowing eyes eerily similar to something Takara had described. He blinked and looked away.

"Eh. I'm overthinking it." He said, shrugging it off.

The V-tol descended, and as the doors hissed open, Mirai's adrenaline spiked.

He glanced at his watch and smirked. "Ok, I might need to run," he mused. “Let's see how close I can push it today.”

He sprinted through a grand hallway filled with lush greenery and intricate sun-themed patterns.

Softly glowing panels and holographic sculptures flickered in his peripheral vision, casting subtle reflections across the polished floor.

The corridor stood deserted, no voices, no commotion — an unmistakable sign that class was about to begin.

And the end of the corridor, he turned into a pristine hallway with glossy white walls accented by a bold red stripe.

He skidded to a stop in front of a sleek, glossy red wall labeled Class 4-3.

A soft white holographic beam flickered across him, its voice crisp and efficient:

"Present school ID for verification. Class begins in 2 minutes."

With a quick tap of his ID, the glossy wall shimmered, dissolving smoothly into a doorway. He stepped inside, immediately feeling a flicker of unease.

Nearly every eye in the room swiveled toward him. Curious looks landed on the latecomer, some fleeting, others lingering.

A few students quickly turned back to their desks, but others broke into grins or waved, their excited chatter cutting through the tension:

"GGs, Sephoric!"

"Dude, that parry to capture the flag? Insane. Best clip I've seen this season."

"Nice win! Man~I’m so glad you guys won. Can't stand Zephia."

"Top five guilds are neck and neck right now. It's hype!"

Mirai raised a hand, his easy smile slipping into place.

"Thanks, guys," he replied, keeping his tone humble. "Honestly, it was all my team. They set me up for the play — I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

A few more cheers and approving nods followed, but he kept moving, steering himself toward his seat. 

The last thing he needed was to linger in the spotlight any longer than necessary.

As the class of about thirty students gradually returned to their conversations and tasks, Mirai exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

He slipped along the edge of the room, heading for the back—his usual spot.

It was his favorite spot—not just because it helped him avoid getting called on, but it also offered a full vantage of the room.

More importantly, it was where one of his teammates and closest friends, Takara, always sat.

As he approached, the sleek desk automatically activated, a glowing holographic interface flickering to liFe.

He tapped his credentials onto the display, which immediately booted up the classroom UI.

"Morning, Mirai!" She greeted cheerfully, her voice light and teasing. "Cutting it close as always. It's honestly kind of funny at this point."

"Morning," he replied with a grin, sliding into his chair. "I move at my own pace — keeps life interesting." He leaned back, flashing her a casual nod.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Wish I could get away with that. But nope, I'd probably give my parents a heart attack if I tried. Everything I do reflects on our name, unfortunately."

Mirai tilted his head slightly, studying her. "So… still planning to take that CEO spot after this year?"

Her cheerful expression faltered. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I don’t even want it, but they expect an answer by the end of the year.”

"Ah, can't imagine being in your shoes," Mirai said, shaking his head.

"Harmonious 500 company, global AI assistant, the largest OS system—talk about a lot to carry. Whatever decision you make, though, I'm here to back you up.”

He continued, waving an open palm lazily. “Ehh~not that my support amounts to much. Like, ant-level support at best." He chuckled, the sound light and easy.

She glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "No, it really means a lot. Especially coming from you." she said earnestly.

Her gaze drifted downward again, and her voice softened. "My parents think this game design class is a total waste of time. They don't get it."

She hesitated, letting the silence fill the space between them before continuing.

"I’m scared to even think how they’d react if I told I love art, game worlds, and just… being myself online, where no one knows who I am."

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest.

"That's rough… but if I were in your place, I'd try to find some peace of mind. Resources don’t matter if you're stuck in a mental prison."

She exhaled softly, her gaze drifting to her desk. "The thought terrifies me. Not only their judgment but the public’s as well. I wish I could be like you. Calm. Like, nothing fazes you."

Mirai tilted his head toward her, a grin already forming. "Yes ma'am that's me—master of the three C's: calm, cool, and completely winging it."

She shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."

Before Mirai could respond, the classroom door hissed softly as it slid open.

A stoic man entered, his gray camo-patterned suit radiating authority.

His every step seemed calculated, each movement precise, as if choreographed.

The room fell silent as he approached the sleek, floating desk, digital steps materializing beneath his feet to lift him onto the platform.

Above, the ceiling turned transparent, flooding the room with sunlight that nourished the greenery along the walls.

Behind him, the Sun Nation’s emblem appeared on the desk — a circular design with the words “Harmony Through Progress.”

A holographic display projected the attendance list onto the floating desk, and the man scanned it, marking each visible student as present with a subtle hand gesture.

Stepping back down the digital steps, he moved toward the wooden-paneled wall near the entrance.

The glossy surface reflected the sunlight, adding a serene yet commanding air to the room.

With a smooth flick of his wrist, the wall transformed into a massive screen, displaying notes from the previous day's lesson.

He waved a hand over the holographic display, erasing the content with an elegant swipe, then turned back to face the class.

He stood tall, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room with quiet authority.

"Good morning, class," he greeted, his raspy yet firm voice cutting through the stillness.

"Good morning, Mr. 00!" half the class responded in near-perfect unison.

"How are we feeling today? Great, I would hopefully assume?" His tone carried a mix of expectation and faint amusement as he surveyed the students.

He paced in front of the floating desk, his footsteps measured and deliberate, ensuring every eye was on him.

“Right. Today we dive into immersive AI. NPCs that adapt. Worlds that learn from players instead of following scripts. his voice steady and commanding.

“Later we’ll cover ethics — sentient systems, balancing player freedom with narrative. For now, focus on keeping players engaged without stealing their choices.”

Mirai leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, "Back-to-back complex formulas, huh. I'm gonna have my hands tied tonight."

Although he dreamed of becoming a game developer at Square Phoenix, he never particularly enjoyed math.

Still, he knew it was a necessary evil on the path to designing worlds he envisioned.

"It's okay. I can help you before we leave," Takara whispered, her voice soft but reassuring.

He grinned. "My hero… in academia. Bad pun I know."

She immediately stifled her laughter, but a few tears still slipped down her cheeks.

As Mr. 00 continued his lecture, pacing deliberately in front of the holographic screen, Mirai's focus began to waver.

His gaze drifted toward the corner of the room, just as a crumpled piece of paper sailed through the air, hitting the back of a boy’s head with a soft thud.

He stiffened, sadness flickering across his face as he tucked the paper into his desk, where it vanished into the digital storage system.

Before he could settle, a hardcover book crashed to the floor beside him, breaking the classroom’s rhythm.

All eyes turned toward the boy as his face flushed crimson.

Mr. 00's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unyielding. "If you intend to disrupt our class, I suggest you do it outside.

The boy's hands trembled as he scrambled to retrieve the book. he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I-I accidentally elbowed it, and it fell. I'm sorry.”

Mr. 00's piercing gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned back to the screen.

The cold stares stung, and the boy couldn't shake the feeling that he was being unfairly blamed.

He had no idea why everyone seemed to be against him, but all he could think to do was hide his face in his arms, burying it in the safety of his desk.

Mirai watched the boy carefully, a faint frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, his mind trying to linger on the identity of the person who threw the book.

The lesson blurred into formulas and notes until:

"Alright, it's almost time," Mr. 00 announces, closing the display screen.

"You may take your 50 minute break. Be back on time so we can wrap this up. Any questions or concerns save them for after class."

Mirai’s gaze lingered on the boy a moment longer. Something about him felt… out of place, like static before a storm.