The academy bustled with energy, its towering walls and grand halls teeming with students of all skill levels. Vale's emotions were a whirlwind as he stood in the central courtyard, clutching a small booklet listing available classes. His past in the slums felt like a distant memory against the academy's gleaming opulence. Yet, he couldn't shake the undercurrent of unease—emotions not his own washing over him like faint whispers.
"Combat Training," he muttered to himself, marking the first box in the booklet. If he was going to survive whatever this world threw at him, he needed to know how to fight.
"Res Control," he added next. His abilities still felt like a mystery, and he needed answers.
Finally, his pen lingered over the last option. "Tips to Survive in Nightworld." He exhaled and marked it. He didn't know much about the other world yet, but something told him it wasn't a place to underestimate.
The training hall was a sprawling arena, its polished stone floor lined with training weapons of all kinds. The instructor, a grizzled veteran with a missing eye, barked orders.
"Today, you'll face each other in combat! No holding back—if you can't fight, you won't survive!"
Vale hesitated at the weapons rack before picking up a sword. It felt heavy and awkward in his hands, a far cry from the improvised tools he'd wielded in the slums. His stomach churned as he was paired with a girl with short black hair streaked with crimson—Zadie. Her confident smirk made his nerves flare.
"Let's see what you've got, newbie," she said, cracking her knuckles.
The fight started, and it was over almost as quickly. Zadie was a whirlwind of motion, her strikes precise and relentless. Vale tried to focus, to implant a sense of hesitation into her emotions, but the moment he tried, her next punch landed squarely on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"Nice try, kid," she said as he lay on the floor, gasping for breath. "But you'll need more than fancy tricks to beat me."
After being thoroughly beaten, Vale slumped onto the bench lining the arena walls. He rubbed his sore ribs, muttering, "Maybe picking the sword was a mistake."
A voice beside him chimed in, soft and uncertain. "You too, huh?"
Vale turned to see a girl with a burn-like birthmark stretching across her face. She hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding his gaze.
"Yeah," he admitted with a chuckle, still catching his breath. "I got wrecked."
The girl smiled faintly. "At least you tried to fight back. I just froze up."
"I guess we both need to get better." He extended a hand. "I'm Vale."
"Tessa," she said, hesitating before shaking his hand.
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the next match unfold. Vale could sense the nervousness rolling off her like waves, a deep-seated anxiety she couldn't hide.
"Hey," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "everyone starts somewhere. Besides, I think your brave."
Tessa blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thanks… I think."
For the first time in a long while, Vale felt a flicker of something warm—a connection that reminded him of his little sister.
The Res Control class was quieter, a stark contrast to the chaos of combat training. The instructor was a calm, meticulous man who spoke in measured tones. "Res is the lifeblood of this world. It fuels our abilities and connects us to the energy around us. Today, we'll focus on sensing it within yourselves."
Vale closed his eyes, following the instructor's guidance. He focused inward, feeling for the faint hum of energy within his core. At first, it was elusive, like trying to catch smoke with his hands. But as he breathed deeply, it came into focus—a faint, steady pulse, resonating with the emotions he carried.
When he opened his eyes, the room felt different. The emotions of those around him became sharper, clearer. He could sense the excitement of a boy nearby, the frustration of a girl struggling to concentrate, and even the quiet determination of the instructor.
Experimentally, Vale reached out toward a nearby student, nudging their emotions ever so slightly. The frustration shifted to calm. The student frowned, glancing around as if confused.
"It works," Vale whispered, a mixture of awe and unease settling over him.
The last class of the day took place in a dimly lit lecture hall. The instructor, a battle-scarred veteran, spoke with a voice like gravel.
"Nightworld isn't a place for the faint of heart," he began. "The creatures there don't just kill you—they break you. Physically. Mentally. If you're not prepared, you won't come back."
Vale's attention sharpened as the instructor detailed survival techniques: recognizing safe zones, setting traps, and identifying Riftspawn weaknesses. The mention of Riftspawn sent a chill through him, the memory of his trial in the Dream Crucible surfacing briefly.
At the end of the class, the instructor pointed at him. "You. What's your biggest fear?"
Caught off guard, Vale hesitated. "Losing the people I care about."
The instructor nodded solemnly. "Then you'd better learn to fight for them. Because Nightworld doesn't care about your fears—it feeds on them."
"Tomorrow we will focus on survival stratergies and common nightspawn creatures."
That evening, Vale sat on his bed, the day's events replaying in his mind. The academy was unlike anything he'd ever known, a place of constant challenge and opportunity.
He thought about Zadie's ferocity, Tessa's quiet resilience, and his own abilities, still raw and untested. He clenched his fists.
"I'll get stronger," he whispered to himself. "For Rue. For myself. For whatever comes next."
As he lay down, ready to face whatever tomorrow brought, the faint hum of Res resonated within him—a reminder of the path he'd begun to walk.