(Second Month, Term 1)

Two months had passed since the new students first stepped through the gates of Semesta Academy.
The campus that had once seemed impossibly vast now moved to the rhythm of routine—morning drills echoing under crystal domes, afternoon lectures glowing with holo-notes, and the soft pulse of evening lights reflected across the glass bridges.

Beneath its beauty lay constant vibration: the quiet hum of the Unified Energy Field that powered every circuit of Gaelion’s greatest academic city.

Form 1 students were no longer strangers to it. Under Instructor Erhad Klein, they had learned to breathe with the academy itself.

Erhad—tall, broad-shouldered, his hair cut close to regulation—carried the composure of a retired soldier. He demanded precision, but never fear. Where Stephen Lo ruled with threats, Erhad built discipline through calm repetition.

“You don’t need power to impress,” he told them once, voice steady above the rhythmic thrum of resonance drills. “You need control. Power’s just the side-effect.”

Even Aru Aryan, normally allergic to obedience, listened.

Morning Routine

The sun poured gold through the Foundation Tower’s translucent roof. Rows of students stood in practice uniforms, synchronizing their breathing with the resonance stabilizers built into the floor. Each pulse of light beneath their feet mirrored their heartbeat.

Tom Anderson stood at the far end—motionless, balanced. His synchronization bar on the holo-display glowed a perfect 100 %, again.

Erhad studied the reading. “Anderson, does anything ever unsettle you?”

Tom blinked mildly. “Not recently, sir.”

Laughter rippled down the line. Erhad’s mouth twitched into something almost like amusement.

“If you ever decide to teach this class, let me know.”

Across the hall, Jenny Cross hid a smile. He makes it look effortless.

Everyone now knew Tom as the calm one.
Aru still drew crowds with speeches and charisma, but Tom’s quiet exactness earned respect—especially when drills demanded both stamina and mental focus.

By the second month’s end, Form 1 had achieved their first breakthroughs. Students glowed faintly with newborn auras as resonance cores stabilized within them—E-Rank Low Tier, the first step toward power.

The Weekly Assembly

Fridays carried ceremony.

Under the dome of the Hall of Ascension, banners unfurled from the ceiling, shimmering with the Semesta emblem: two interlocked rings representing harmony and progress.

This morning the podiums blazed brighter than usual. The entire staff was present.

At the center stood Headmaster Eldric Vael —tall, silver-haired, his presence an invisible weight. His A-Rank aura filled the chamber like sunlight pressing softly against the skin—warm, but commanding. Its brilliant gold in colour

“Students of Semesta,” he began, voice magnified yet gentle. “Two months have passed since you joined us. You’ve begun your lessons, your training, your friendships—and your rivalries.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the younger tiers.

“Remember: Semesta is not only a forge for warriors. It is a cradle for explorers, scientists, and dreamers. Power means nothing without understanding. Every strike, every formula, every discovery you make here… is a step toward humanity’s future.”

Above them, the ceiling projection shifted. A colossal image materialized—the Riftgate, sealed centuries ago by Hero Ai. Its ancient ring glowed faintly, surrounded by orbiting data probes.

“Our world was born from calamity,” Vael continued. “We rebuilt by learning from the unknown. That is why, at the end of each year, the world gathers for the World Youth Tournament—a celebration of intellect and strength. Semesta has not reached its finals in decades.”

His gaze lifted toward the youngest group—Form 1.

“But I believe this generation will change that. Somewhere among you are the seedlings who will carry our banner to the world stage. Train well. Study deeply. Make me proud to call you Semesta’s heirs.”

Applause thundered through the dome.

Jenny clapped until her palms tingled. Aru smiled, eyes glinting with ambition. Tom only inclined his head, unreadable.

Beside him, Erhad murmured, “Seedlings, huh? Some seeds grow faster than the rest.”

The Hall of Fame

After the assembly, first-year classes followed their instructors through the Hall of Fame Corridor. Statues of legendary graduates lined both sides—etched in crystal, their preserved auras flickering like distant flames.

Jenny whispered, “They look alive.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on the shifting light. “They were.”

Instructor Erhad slowed, his boots echoing softly.

“These people weren’t just powerful,” he said. “They were disciplined. The difference between a hero and a danger… is control.”

From the back, Zachary muttered, “Sounds like he’s seen both.”

Erhad heard but only smiled. “I have.”

They stopped before the towering statue of Hero Ai—hands clasped behind her back, gaze fixed on some far horizon.

Tom paused longer than anyone. The air around the statue vibrated faintly—so subtle only he noticed.

“Something wrong, Anderson?” Erhad asked.
“Just… familiar,” Tom replied.

Club Exhibition Weekend

By the next day, the campus transformed. Floating banners arched across courtyards reading: “Choose Your Path, Shape Your Future.”

Holographic booths lined the gardens. Laughter, music, and the scent of synth-citrus drinks filled the air.

Even Erhad roamed the paths quietly, arms folded behind his back as students pitched their clubs like salesmen of destiny.

The Chess Guild

At the center plaza, the Chess Guild drew the largest crowd. Transparent boards hovered mid-air, each piece a prism glowing in its player’s aura color. Battles looked like duels of light and geometry.

The guild captain, Lance Evreux, silver-haired and smiling with effortless confidence, spotted Tom at the edge.

“Hey, quiet one! Ever played?”

Tom blinked. “No.”

Lance grinned wider. “Perfect. Sit. Let’s teach you.”

A holo-board materialized between them, pieces rising like crystalline soldiers.

They faced each other as the board projected between them.

“Pawns move one or two squares. Knights jump in an L-shape. Bishops diagonals. Rooks straight. Queen—everything. King—don’t lose him.”

Tom listened without changing expression. His eyes traced the glowing pieces—once, twice—mapping every rule with the same silent precision he applied to combat drills.

“All right,” Lance said, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s play a friendly match.”

Tom nodded once.
Three minutes later, his knight moved—one smooth slide—and half of Lance’s defense collapsed.

“Wait—how did you—?”
“Your formation was symmetrical,” Tom said. “Predictable after two exchanges.”

Lance laughed aloud. “Predictable? No one’s beaten me in under ten minutes.”

Tom’s next move ended the game. Checkmate.

The crowd erupted in disbelief.

Lance leaned back, staring at the holo-board as the pieces dimmed. “That… was art. You see further ahead, don’t you?”

“Maybe” Tom answered softly.

Applause followed them as the match replayed in hologram, the academy gossiping already about the quiet strategist from Form 1.

The Exploration & Adventure Club

Later that afternoon, Tom joined Jenny near a booth draped in star charts and holo-maps. A banner floated overhead:

Exploration & Adventure Club – Frontier Seekers: Discover the Unknown.

Behind the table stood Lira Holt, silver-haired senior and club leader, alongside a petite girl with amber eyes and short chestnut hair—Tisya Faelan.

Jenny nudged Tom. “You’re joining too?”
He nodded. “Seems fitting.”

Lira’s smile was bright but assessing. “Excellent. We study local rifts, energy zones, and ruins beyond the city. Observation, survival, and restraint. You two look capable.”

Tisya handed them data-slates, her voice soft. “Welcome to the club… Anderson, right?”

“Yes.”
“I thought so.”

Jenny blinked. “You two know each other?”

Tom shrugged lightly; Tisya’s cheeks colored. “I—uh, just from orientation.”

Lira clapped. “Perfect! First practice expedition next week—outer perimeter, field gear mandatory.”

“Mud again?” Jenny groaned.
“Exploration isn’t all glory,” Tisya said, laughing.

Tom looked at her—just a glance—but the brief connection felt almost luminous. There’s something balanced about her resonance, he thought. Mathematical, but alive.

Axis Square Festival

As twilight descended, students gathered around the Axis Fountain, the heart of campus. The fountain spiraled upward like liquid glass, scattering light across every surface.

Music from the Soundweavers filled the plaza. Laughter blended with the hum of energy lines running beneath the square.

Jenny sat beside Tom on the fountain’s edge, legs swinging over simmering water. “It’s only been two months,” she said, “but it already feels like home.”

Zachary stretched nearby. “Home? Feels more like a glowing pressure cooker.”
“You complain too much,” Jenny teased.

Tom said nothing, eyes following the light trails above. Home, he thought. Not yet… but close enough.

The Headmaster’s Reflection

Up on the balcony of the Hall of Ascension, Headmaster Vael stood beside Instructor Erhad, both watching the festivities below.

“Promising batch,” Erhad said, arms crossed. “Anderson’s control is beyond anything I’ve seen at that age.”

Vale’s gaze lingered on the fountain. “Every generation births prodigies. But this one feel… unusual.”

“You know something about him?” Erhad asked.
“Only fragments,” Vael replied. “You’re not the first instructor to ask. His resonance signature doesn’t align with recorded patterns.”

Erhad frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Vale said, “he’s masking. Completely. With that level of precision, he could study anywhere—even at Aetherion. Yet he’s here.”

“So why stay?”
“That,” Vale murmured, “is what worries me least. I want him to stay. Don’t push him; observe. Some truths bloom only when left in peace.”

He turned away, coat rippling like sunlight on water.

“Begin compiling candidates for this year’s World Youth Tournament. We’ll need a team that can stand among the stars.”

Erhad nodded slowly. “I already have a few names.”

Below them, unaware, Tom looked up from the fountain as if sensing a gaze. He sees the figures above, yet something in him stirred.

“Seedlings,” he murmured, echoing the headmaster’s earlier conversation. “Let’s see how fast they grow.”

The Axis Fountain shimmered in response, its spiral light turning from white to a gentle gold—almost as if the academy itself agreed.

Pulse of Hope

Later that night, when most dorms slept, the academy remained awake in whispers of energy. The towers glowed faintly; drones patrolled the bridges like drifting stars.

Tom stood alone on the balcony outside the dorm hall, wind brushing through his hair. The sky above Gaelion shimmered in emerald and silver auroras—the planetary field breathing.

Somewhere at the back of the dormitory corner, the Crimson Watch team are beating few students in the name of disciplining them. Bruises and sometimes broken bones are common in this patrolling session.

Every now and then, screams and yelling can be heard from time to time.

It’s just a norm that the strong prey on the weak. Law of the jungle. You either step up and defend yourself or succumb to the world of bullies.

Tom opened his palm. A tiny golden thread of resonance rose from his skin, twining upward like a spark searching for the heavens.

Far across campus, unseen sensors flickered—detecting, logging, classifying the anomaly as Echo 00643.

In the library’s central archive, the system paused for a fraction of a second, as though listening… then quietly filed the record under Low Priority Noise.

Tom exhaled, closing his hand. The spark vanished.

“Still watching, aren’t you?” he whispered to the night. “Then keep watching.”

Below, the fountain pulsed once—soft, steady, alive—matching the heartbeat of Semesta Academy itself.

End of Chapter 19 — The Heart of Semesta