The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as Zack stood, barely breathing, staring at his father for what felt like the last time. His father's piercing gaze, filled with a mix of sadness and resolve, bore into him. Zack's small frame trembled, not from fear but from the weight of the moment. His father, kneeling in front of him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Zack," his father said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Be careful with the power you hold. Do not activate it... no matter what."

Before Zack could respond, the vision blurred, his surroundings dissolving like sand in the wind. He tried to grasp onto the memory, but it slipped through his fingers as he woke up with a sharp intake of breath.

---

Zack groaned, rubbing his eyes as the morning sunlight seeped through the thin curtains of his modest room. The faint hum of his aging computer greeted him, a comforting sound that had been his constant companion for years. At seventeen, Zack wasn't much different from any other teenager—except for the occasional bizarre dreams that haunted him, like the one he'd just experienced.

Stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles, Zack shuffled to his computer. His father had built it for him fifteen years ago, yet it still ran like a dream, a testament to his father's genius as a scientist. With a few clicks, Zack booted up Aether Academy, his favorite game, where he spent hours customizing Arthur, the protagonist, and managing his growing harem of heroines.

"Alright, Arthur," Zack muttered to himself as he navigated the game's menus, "time to gear up."

He was in the middle of upgrading Arthur's legendary sword when his screen flickered. A strange, glowing code scrolled across the display.

"What the—?" Zack leaned in closer. Before he could react, the light burst from the screen, engulfing him in a brilliant cascade of energy. He felt weightless, like he was being pulled through a vortex.

---

Zack's eyes fluttered open. The room was unfamiliar. He sat up, feeling the stiff mattress of a small bed beneath him. The walls around him were plain and unadorned, with a single shelf holding a few nondescript books. A narrow desk with a foldable chair sat in one corner, and on the desk was an ID card.

Zack reached for it, squinting to read the details:

Name: Zack

Age: 17

Grade: E

"What the hell?" Zack muttered, flipping the card over. His mind raced. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his world.

Standing up, Zack stumbled to the small window and looked outside. The sprawling campus of Aether Academy stretched out before him, with tall spires and lush greenery. Students in colorful uniforms walked in groups, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

"No way," Zack whispered. "This can't be real."

He pinched himself, hard. The sharp pain confirmed it wasn't a dream. He was here—in the world of Aether Academy.

But he wasn't Arthur. He was himself.

---

Zack sank back onto the bed, trying to piece everything together. His father's warnings from years ago echoed in his mind. Be careful with the power you hold. Do not activate it.

Was this the power he was talking about?

A knock at the door snapped Zack out of his thoughts. Hesitant, he opened it to find a tall, stern-looking man in a uniform.

"Zack, Grade E," the man said, handing him a folder. "Your schedule and rules. Orientation starts in ten minutes. Don't be late."

Zack nodded dumbly, clutching the folder. As the door closed, he sat back on the bed and flipped it open. Inside was a detailed schedule, along with a map of the academy and a list of rules.

Zack's gaze fell on one rule in particular:

"Students of Grade E are strictly prohibited from entering the Advanced Wings or using personal artifacts without permission."

Grade E? Zack thought, scowling. In the game, Grade E students were at the bottom of the hierarchy, often mocked and overlooked.

A slow grin spread across Zack's face. "Well," he muttered to himself, "looks like I've got my work cut out for me."

As he slipped on the academy's standard uniform, a mix of excitement and dread swirled in his chest. Whatever this world had in store for him, one thing was certain: he wasn't going to stay at the bottom for long.

Zack glanced at his reflection in the mirror—a seventeen-year-old boy with sharp eyes and a determination that burned brighter than ever.

"Let's do this."