Levon felt his pulse quicken as he glanced at the others quietly following Gustav. Their faces were tense, eyes fixed ahead, every step cautious. What is going on here? he thought, his mind struggling to catch up with the pace of what was unfolding. His legs felt heavy as he trailed behind the group, each step deliberate, his thoughts spinning in a loop that refused to find reason. Nothing about this place made sense anymore.

The group stopped before the wall where the auditorium door had once been. It had vanished earlier that morning when they descended to the hall, leaving behind only smooth marble. But now, impossibly, it was there again. Only it was not the same. The frame shimmered faintly, etched with moving symbols that faded in and out like breath against glass.

Gustav stood before it, his posture calm, one hand resting lightly on the edge. With a slow, practiced motion, he pulled it open.

The room beyond was unrecognizable. The auditorium was gone. In its place stretched an open field beneath a soft blue sky. The air smelled of grass and water, fresh and unreal. A pond glimmered at the center, reflecting scattered sunlight. Trees swayed gently at the edges, their leaves whispering in a breeze that had no source. Birds chirped in rhythmic intervals, almost too perfect, like a melody rehearsed for centuries.

Nine chairs stood neatly arranged across the field, three in each row, back-to-back. A single chair faced them all, occupied by Kenji, who sat waiting with no expression.

A wave of disbelief rippled through the initiates. Some murmured under their breath, others simply stared, caught between awe and confusion.

Archie slowed his pace and glanced over his shoulder, waiting until Levon caught up. When he did, Archie leaned closer and whispered, “What the hell happened in there?”

“I don’t know,” Levon replied quietly. His eyes swept the impossible scenery. “This place just keeps getting weirder.”

Archie huffed a half-laugh. “How are you still calm and making jokes?” Levon asked.

“Dude,” Archie said, lowering his voice, “I went through a portal. I’m somehow at the edge of the universe. You all look like me and my people. The auditorium door vanished, then reappeared, and now it’s not even an auditorium. I’m sorry if I’m not shocked that this guy’s a magician.” He tilted his head toward Gustav, who was watching the group enter.

Archie ended his explanation as he and Levon reached the final row of chairs and sat down. “Hey, Parvati, come here,” he called, waving to her with a grin. She hesitated for a moment, scanning the seats, then chose the one nearest to her in the second row, left side.

“Lame,” Archie muttered, slouching back. A second later, a woman with short hair took the empty seat beside him. Archie raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Once everyone had entered, Gustav waited in silence, his gaze passing briefly over each of them. When the last chair was filled, he clasped his hands together lightly.

“Alright, everyone,” he said with that calm, unreadable smile, “I will not take Kenji’s thunder. Good luck with your first class.”

He gave a polite nod, then stepped back and closed the door behind him. The sound echoed faintly, fading into the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of a world that did not belong to any of them.

“Alright,” said Kenji, rising from his chair. His presence alone was enough to quiet the air. His posture was sharp, every movement deliberate. There was no warmth in his voice, and his face carried no expression, yet the faint tension in his eyebrows gave him the look of someone perpetually angry.

“I won’t ask you to introduce yourselves,” he began, his tone clipped and heavy with authority. “You should have done that at your own time. If you weren’t interested in doing it yourselves, I couldn’t care less if you even know each other.”

No one moved. The silence felt like a challenge.

“I already introduced myself last night,” Kenji continued. “I am Kenji. I used to serve in the military. Now, I prepare initiates like you to awaken your Vitria and learn to control it.”

He scanned the group, his eyes sharp and unblinking. “Today, I will teach you three things. One: how to awaken your Vitria. Two: basic protection. And three: how to identify which Vitria class you belong to.”

A murmur rippled through the rows. The words should have inspired excitement or curiosity, but they didn’t. Everyone was still on edge from what had happened in the cafeteria. Kenji’s voice left no room for recovery, no pause to breathe. He spoke like a soldier briefing a unit before battle, each sentence a command rather than an explanation. Confusion clung to the air like static.

“How cheerful,” Archie muttered under his breath, his tone light but strained.

Marziah, seated to his left, caught it and allowed herself a small, restrained smile. Levon heard it too but stayed silent, his thoughts spiraling between Kenji’s words and the echo of Gustav’s earlier display of power.

“Unfortunately, I am not here to cheer you up,” Kenji said without looking at him. His voice was colder now, edged with something metallic. He turned to the large board behind him and began to write down the three lessons in clean, precise letters.

Archie’s smirk faded instantly. His eyes widened, and a faint chill ran down his spine. He heard me, he thought.

“I can hear your thoughts too,” Kenji said flatly, turning back toward the group. His gaze locked directly on Archie. “Come up here.”

Archie froze. His chair creaked slightly as his hands gripped the armrests.

“Stop thinking, everyone,” Kenji continued, his tone even but firm. “I can hear all of your thoughts.”

The field went silent again. Even the birds outside seemed to hush, as though the entire world was listening.

Levon’s heart quickened. They can read our thoughts, he realized. The words echoed in his mind, louder than he intended. All this time, I was right. They could, in fact, read my thoughts.

Kenji’s eyes flicked toward him for the briefest moment, and Levon felt a pressure at the edge of his mind — a quiet intrusion, like someone gently tapping on glass from the inside.

“Come,” commanded Kenji, his voice sharp and unwavering. He pointed to the single chair facing the others. “Have a seat.”

Archie hesitated only a moment before forcing himself up. His usual ease was gone, replaced by a stiffness that betrayed his fear. The others watched in silence as he crossed the soft grass, each step sounding too loud in the quiet. When he reached the chair, he sat down slowly, avoiding Kenji’s eyes.

Kenji said nothing at first. He walked away from the group toward the far end of the field, stopping before one of the trees. It was the tallest among them, its trunk wide and roots stretching deep into the earth. The sunlight caught against its bark, making it shimmer faintly in gold and green.

“Everyone,” Kenji said, turning slightly as Archie settled into his seat. “This tree has no Vitria.”

A murmur rippled through the group.

“We drained it completely,” he continued. “It is lifeless, hollow.”

He lifted his right hand and pressed his index finger against the trunk. His movements were calm, almost gentle, but his tone carried weight.

“If someone with Vitria touches anything without Vitria…”

The rest of the sentence trailed into silence. Then, the tree began to tremble.

The bark cracked. The leaves turned gray. A sound like wind rushing through empty space filled the air, and before anyone could move, the entire tree broke apart—not splintered, not burned—but disintegrated into fine particles. It didn’t even fall. It simply ceased to exist, dissolving into motes of light that vanished before touching the ground.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke.

Then the shock hit them all at once.

Marziah’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief. Warda stepped back instinctively, her chair scraping against the ground. Xin cursed under his breath, gripping the side of his seat so tightly that the metal creaked. Even Zachery, who had looked defiant through everything so far, flinched and turned his gaze away, jaw tight with restrained fear.

Artorias stood so suddenly that his chair fell backward with a dull thud. The leather jacket he used to cover his mouth slipped down from his collar, revealing his face fully for the first time. His eyes were sharp, locked on the empty space where the tree had once been.

Malinda jumped from her chair and stumbled a step to the side, heart pounding, her breath coming short and uneven.

Parvati pressed a hand to her chest, taking a slow, trembling breath. Her composure, normally calm and focused, cracked for the first time as she stared at the empty patch of grass where the massive tree had vanished.

Levon felt the breath leave his chest. The air itself seemed thinner now, stripped of substance, as if the destruction had taken more than matter—it had taken presence. His hands trembled slightly. He forced them still.

Archie sat frozen in the lone chair, his usual grin gone. A faint reflection of the vanished tree shimmered in his eyes.

Kenji turned his attention back toward him, expression unchanged. Without a word, he began walking toward Archie, extending the same finger that had erased the tree.

The faint hum of energy followed each step. The air grew heavier, the silence deeper. Every eye followed that single hand, the one that carried proof that existence itself could be undone.