Silver Morning

The next morning dawned in silver light. Mist drifted over the courtyards of Semesta Academy, and the air itself seemed to hum — quiet, measured, alive.
Students filed into Form 1 lecture hall, still buzzing about yesterday’s holographic storms and the collapsing mountains that had filled their dreams.

At the front, Mr. Ooi Marv waited beside the lectern. Today, the holoscreen displayed no battles or heroes — only a single pulsing waveform, smooth and rhythmic as a heartbeat.

“Yesterday,” he began, “you saw power in its aftermath — stone crushed, clouds torn apart.”
“Today, you’ll learn its origin. Where it begins.”

He tapped his chest once.

“Inside this — the human vessel.”

The room fell into expectant silence.

The Unified Energy Field

The projection expanded — a lattice of light weaving through the outline of a human body, spreading outward into a shimmering sphere.

“Across the worlds connected through Riftgates,” Mr. Ooi said, “some call it mana, others chi, aether, or qi.
The Association calls it the Unified Energy Field, or UEF.”

Lines of light rippled through the holographic figure.

“Think of it as an ocean of low-density particles permeating every atom.
Your body does not generate it — it merely interacts with it.”

He paced slowly, hands behind his back.

“Every heartbeat, every neural impulse creates a ripple that touches this field.
When your rhythm aligns with the planet’s base resonance — roughly 7.83 hertz — you achieve resonant equilibrium.
In that state, you stop leaking energy… and start accumulating it.”

The hologram blossomed into streams of magnetic current flowing through organs like rivers through stone.

Zachary’s hand shot up.

“Sir — measurable? As in frequency mapping?”

“Yes,” Ooi replied. “Neural-resonance scans confirm it. Early awakeners could feel the field instinctively.
Now, we train it through science.”

Energy Accumulation & Breakthrough Science

“The first step of growth,” Mr. Ooi continued, “is accumulation.
Energy condenses inside muscle fibers and mitochondria, forming micro-currents.
Once saturation passes a threshold, the body demands reconfiguration — what we call a Breakthrough.”

Three diagrams appeared behind him:

• Physical Calibration — muscular and skeletal reinforcement through controlled micro-tears.
• Energetic Calibration — bio-field expansion; new neural paths forming to regulate flow.
• Cognitive Calibration — perception widening; the mind adapting to faster data streams.

“If any of the three fall out of sync,” he said, “the result is collapse. Hence our mantra: Balance before Power.”

Jenny whispered, half to herself, “It’s… biology meeting physics.”

From behind her, Tom smiled faintly.
They’re learning the alphabet of a language I’ve already sung.

Techniques for Feeling Energy

The hologram changed again — three glowing sigils side by side.

“Techniques refine how efficiently you interact with the UEF.
Today we cover three levels.”

1️⃣ Basic Channel Form I — public, safe, crude; spreads awareness but wastes energy as heat.
2️⃣ Unified Resonance Method — Semesta Academy’s proprietary Rare-grade technique; stable and efficient for long-term cultivation.
3️⃣ Tailored Methods — family or organizational variants; rare, unique, capable of doubling intake but prone to cellular overheating if rushed.

“Commoners use the first.
Academies teach the second.
Noble houses guard the third.
Each has merit; none defy physics.”

Aru raised his hand, confident.

“My family’s refined the B-17 Sequence for generations. It’s safe — in capable hands.”

“Capable hands,” Ooi echoed dryly, “and graveyards full of those who believed they had them.”

Laughter rippled through the class; Aru’s grin stiffened.

Demonstration — Perception Training

The instructor dimmed the room.

“Now you’ll attempt Phase One — Detection.”

Students straightened in their seats.
The air-conditioning faded until even their breathing seemed loud.

“Seven-count inhale,” Ooi instructed. “Eleven-count exhale. Focus on the temperature of the air across your skin.
Don’t force it. Let the world breathe with you.”

For a minute there was only silence.

Jenny’s heartbeat slowed. Something tingled at her fingertips — a faint vibration, like static dancing beneath the skin. Her eyes fluttered open, wide with wonder.

“I… felt it.”

“Excellent,” said Ooi without turning. “Remember that sensation. That’s the field answering your rhythm.”

Beside her, Zachary whispered to his wrist sensor.

“Magnetic flux up point-zero-two millitesla. Proof.”

On the left row, Aru’s breathing grew harsh; light flickered over his shoulders.

“Too strong,” Ooi warned. “Back down or your capillaries will burst.”

Aru grunted, forcing his rhythm to calm.

At the back, Tom closed his eyes.

He drew one breath — and the world shifted.

Dust motes froze mid-air.
Sound folded inward.
For an instant, the classroom’s energy density spiked, then normalized so perfectly that the sensors flatlined — pure equilibrium.

Mr. Ooi’s brows furrowed.

“Strange… baseline stabilized beyond expectation.”

His gaze flicked toward the back row.

“Anderson. What did you feel?”

Tom opened his eyes, expression calm.

“Just air moving, sir.”

Laughter broke out. Mr. Ooi didn’t join it.
He simply made a note on his tablet.

5 · Talent Tiers and Potential

When the lights returned, he addressed them again.

“Each of you felt different intensities — that’s normal. Talent determines resonance efficiency.
The Association recognizes five tiers: Normal, Excellent, Genius, Super Genius, and One-in-a-Million.
It isn’t privilege — it’s signal clarity. A stronger signal equals faster synchronization.”

Jenny frowned.

“So some people are born ahead?”

“Born with better tuning, also those with good background already trained before high school” Ooi replied. “But effort can refine any instrument.”

From the back came Tom’s quiet voice:

“Effort reveals what kind of instrument you are.”

Ooi smiled.

“Well said.”

Aru scowled; Aira kept writing without pause.
Zachary leaned toward Jenny and whispered,

“Statistical outlier in human packaging — that’s him.”

Resonance Completion and Aftermath

“Phase Two — Resonance — begins next week,” Mr. Ooi announced.
“Until then: practice Detection nightly. Record pulse variance.
Never attempt retention unsupervised. The body remembers every mistake.”

He powered down the console.

“Class dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back; excitement buzzed through the room.
Aru muttered, “Mine was brighter than anyone’s.”
Kaito yawned. “Brighter, noisier — same thing.”
Zachary promised to graph everyone’s flux data.
Jenny lingered, rubbing her palms, warmth fading slowly from her skin.

Tom watched her quietly, the faintest smile behind his eyes.

Evening Practice — Sharing the Secret

Dusk draped the training gardens in rose and amber.
Jenny sat beneath a cherry tree, breathing slow, struggling to reclaim the calm she’d felt that morning. Her rhythm faltered; the warmth vanished.

“You’re forcing the exhale,” came a voice behind her.

She turned.
Tom stood at the edge of the garden, hands in his pockets.

“How do you know?”
“Your heartbeat’s chasing your breath,” he said, walking closer. “Reverse it.”

He knelt opposite her, tapping two fingers lightly over his wrist.

“Listen — not to the air, but the silence between beats. That’s where energy hides.”

Jenny obeyed. In… seven. Out… eleven.
In the pause between, something shifted — warmth blooming steady and deep, not burning but alive.

Her eyes opened wide.

“It’s stable.”
“You’ve aligned,” Tom said softly. “Remember this pattern.”

“That wasn’t in the Unified Resonance Method.”
“No.” He smiled faintly. “It’s older. Keep it between us.”

Epilogue — Two Observers

Night settled like ink across the campus.

In the faculty lounge, Mr. Ooi reviewed the class sensor logs. One reading made him stop — a flat zero where every other chart spiked.

He murmured to himself,

“Anderson… what are you hiding?”

At the same hour, Tom sat by the window of his hidden villa beyond the dorm barriers. The night wind moved the curtains; the stars above shimmered like silent witnesses.

He felt the slow rhythm beneath his skin — the planet’s pulse matching his own.
The First World breathes slowly, he thought. Peaceful, almost innocent.

Below, in the garden, six leaves lay in a perfect circle — remnants of the exercise he had taught Jenny. They rustled once, as if answering.

“You’ll learn fast, extremely…fast!” he whispered. “And one day, perhaps, you’ll walk beside me through the higher skies.”

The seal on his chest glowed faintly — gold and quiet — as he closed his eyes.
Its rhythm was the same as the world’s.