Morning arrived not with noise, but with rhythm.

The Resonance Plaza shimmered beneath soft dawnlight, the air carrying traces of last night’s ceremony — a faint hum still lingering in the marble veins.

Inside her new Tier-A dorm suite, Jenny Cross stirred awake. The ceiling panels pulsed gently with blue-white light, synchronized to her breathing pattern. Even the walls of Semesta seemed alive, rippling faintly as though the entire academy inhaled and exhaled with its students.

She sat up, sheets whispering around her wrists. On the table lay a silver vial labeled α-Prime Supplement, glowing softly with swirling gold flecks.

“It feeds both body and field.”
— Insignia of the Reson Science Bureau

Jenny hesitated, then took a sip.
Warmth spread instantly — not heat, but a deep pulse, as though every cell remembered its rhythm. The air tasted sharper. Her senses widened until she could feel the faint tremor of resonance conduits hidden behind the walls.

Across the courtyard, Tom Anderson already moved in perfect sequence on his balcony terrace, barefoot, every exhale aligned with the sunrise.

“You never rest, do you?”
“Rest breaks the rhythm.”

The intercom sphere pulsed overhead.

“Form 1 Students — Orientation Tour commences at 0700 hours. Report to Axis Square.”

Jenny tied her hair and joined the flow of students through glowing corridors, the scent of ozone and polished metal filling the air — the smell of a world that had turned discipline into architecture.

The Resonance Chambers

They entered a dome of glass and silver rings — the Reson Science Bureau, where light traveled not in beams but in pulses. Transparent cylinders lined the hall, each filled with liquid that shimmered in response to touch.

Instructor Natasya waited by the central console, eyes bright behind clear-lens frames.

“Welcome to the Resonance Chambers.
Here, we measure your Personal Flow Signature — the frequency that defines your bond with Gaelion’s energy field.”

A hologram bloomed behind her: a human form surrounded by concentric ripples of light.

“Every living thing radiates a flow. Most humans register between 70 to 90 hertz — stability determines control.
But don’t mistake power for discipline.”

Jenny stepped into her pod. The liquid rose to her waist, humming gently.

Reson Frequency 92 Hz — Stable.
Emotional Phase — Balanced.

Natasya nodded. “Exceptional stability. You resonate cleanly with the planetary field.”

Then Tom entered his chamber. The fluid stilled. No projection appeared.
The screen flickered once — then went blank.

“System error?” a technician whispered.
“No… there’s no fluctuation, no distortion — but no data either.”

Natasya’s brow furrowed.

“Like a calm sea before a storm.”

Tom simply stepped out, drying his arms.
Jenny hid a smile, though unease flickered behind her curiosity.

–––

While they finished, another pod blazed three rows away.

Aru Aryan stood within, arms folded as the liquid rippled like flame.

98 Hz — Dynamic Fluctuation. Emotional Phase : Aggressive Drive.

“Raw power,” Natasya murmured. “Unstable, but impressive.”
Aru smirked. “Power’s meant to move, not stay still.”

At the far end, Kaito Ishida fought for control.

88 Hz — Turbulent Focus.

Eleventh place again. Even the machine knows it.

Then Aira Crossfield entered. The liquid shimmered once, then calmed to perfect clarity.

100 Hz — Perfect Stability. Emotional Phase : Null Distortion.

Gasps rippled through the room. Tom barely glanced — he had expected it.
Aira stepped out, expression unchanged, as if perfection were routine.

Across the outer rows, students ranked in the four-hundreds stared at their modest readings — 72, 75, 78 Hz — trading quiet laughter and envy.
Even here, hierarchy had a frequency.

The Breathing Dome

Their next stop rose like a living lung — a vast greenhouse glowing with drifting motes of light. Air shimmered with Lunaris Essence, the micro-energy mined from Gaelion’s Rift veins.

Instructor Jeremy greeted them with warmth.

“This dome feeds your aura the way oxygen feeds your blood.
But remember — overfill, and you’ll rupture the flow.”

Rows of students matched his rhythm: inhale four counts, hold three, release five.

Jenny’s aura bloomed gold-white, spiraling softly around her shoulders.
Her heartbeat merged with the dome’s low hum.

Beside her, Tom knelt in stillness, energy folding inward until even light seemed to bend toward him.

“Control your breath,” Jeremy called. “Let it become the field, not fight it!”

The pressure rose. Students staggered. Jenny’s vision blurred; dizziness swept over her—until Tom’s hand steadied her shoulder, his field smoothing the turbulence like calm water over fire.

“Focus,” he murmured. “Don’t chase the breath. Let it return to you.”

Her aura stabilized — brighter, steadier.
Jeremy nodded.

“That is what resonance discipline looks like.”

–––

As the cycle continued, differences became visible like heat waves.

Aru’s aura flared crimson-gold, expanding until Jeremy barked, “Contain it!”
He grinned and forced it back, sweat gleaming on his brow.

Kaito strained to mimic Tom’s composure. Each inhale burned; each exhale quivered.
Why can’t I hold it steady?

Aira sat motionless. Her aura unfolded soundlessly, smooth and luminous enough to bend the surrounding motes.
Jeremy slowed his own breathing.

“That,” he whispered, “is resonance in equilibrium.”

Farther back, lower-ranked students gasped for air as their fields collapsed into wisps.
One nearly fainted before the safety dampers engaged.
They would learn — slowly — that on Gaelion, strength begins with endurance, not spectacle.

The Essence Dining Hall

By noon, they reached a vaulted hall of crystal counters and holographic menus, the air tinged with citrus and ozone.

Instructor Natasya guided them through rows of nutrient tanks, each cylinder humming with faint light.

“You’ve heard the saying — you are what you eat. Here, it’s literal.
Every meal in this hall is tuned to your PFS Ratio — your Personal Flow Signature.”

The students exchanged glances. Natasya smiled slightly, as if she had expected the confusion.

“Think of it this way,” she continued, lifting a vial of shimmering liquid. “Each of you emits a rhythm — an energy frequency unique to your body and mind. That frequency is your Personal Flow Signature.
When your body, emotion, and resonance field all move in harmony with that rhythm, we call it alignment. Your current efficiency — how close you are to that perfect state — is your PFS Ratio.”

She tapped her wristband; a small hologram appeared showing a human silhouette wrapped in flowing waves of color.

“A high ratio means your inner rhythm is synchronized with Gaelion’s field. You use less energy, recover faster, think clearer.
But when you eat or train against your natural frequency—say, you’re exhausted, angry, or consuming the wrong essence—the waves clash. Energy scatters. That’s why mismatched food or poor rest lowers your ratio.”

The hologram shifted, one version glowing bright and smooth, the other erratic and dim.

“So,” she concluded, setting the vial back, “what you eat here isn’t about taste. It’s about harmony. Every dish, every supplement is calibrated to help your flow return to its purest state.”

Jenny looked down at her tray, suddenly more aware of the faint hum beneath the noodles glowing with Vital Essence.

Above her wristband, digits shifted — 84.3 → 84.5 % Reson Efficiency.

“So that’s why the numbers change while we eat,” she murmured.

“Exactly,” Natasya said, pleased. “Semesta doesn’t feed the body alone. It feeds the rhythm that powers it.”

Across the table, Zachary Adam leaned forward.

“I just had a Neural Omega Bar. It literally boosts IQ. Finally, a cafeteria that understands me.”

Jenny chuckled.

“You don’t need more IQ, Zach. You need a slower mouth.”

–––

At another table, Aru lounged proudly, three supplement vials lined beside his tray.

“α-Prime tastes better when it’s earned,” he said loud enough for everyone nearby.

Across from him, Kaito pushed at his food, glaring at his wristband — 76.4 % Efficiency.
He bent his fork between his fingers.
Next time, I’ll cross ninety. No matter what it takes.

Aira sat alone, watching numbers shift above every wrist.
Patterns fascinated her — how readings changed with posture, emotion, even laughter.
Hers stayed fixed at 99.8 %, calm and absolute.

Near the exit, students from the four-hundreds queued for dull-blue rations matched to their modest flows.
Still, they laughed together — proud simply to belong.

As Jenny and Tom passed, they heard snippets:

“Next cycle I’ll hit eighty for sure.”
“Doesn’t matter — we’re still Semesta students.”

Tom paused, glancing back.
Even here, humility carried its own resonance.

The academy lights dimmed, shifting from gold to sapphire hues.
Jenny glanced at the Resonance Fountain in Axis Square, its energy streaming upward like a slow heartbeat.

“The academy really does feed strength,” she whispered.
“Then tomorrow,” Tom replied softly, “we’ll see what that strength is meant for.”

When night fell, the twin moons rose above Semesta’s towers, bathing the campus in silver-gold light.
The academy breathed with quiet life — chambers humming, domes glowing, students dreaming of higher ranks.