Walking to his bed after bidding goodnight to his friends, Alex sinks into the mattress, his mind churning with thoughts. 'Why? Why were Max, Randy, and I sent here?' he wonders, staring at the ceiling.
Double-tapping his emblem summons Alfred's ethereal presence. "What is needed of me, Sir Alex?" the OSAI asks attentively.
"Why was I sent here, Alfred?" Alex asks wearily, defeat heavy in his voice.
"With the limited information at my disposal, Sir, I believe Erebuzal is attempting to pull parts of his body back to Terra through rituals."
"So you're saying I was just caught in the crossfire?"
"Correct, Sir."
Sighing, Alex laments the harsh truth - there's no special reason for his presence here. He is merely a pawn, another piece to sacrifice in the endless war between the United Front and Erebuzal.
Holding his hand up, Alex studies his skinny fingers contrasting against the dark ceiling, his mind wandering through the day's events.
'Not once since coming here have I felt certain about anything. No, wait—there was one time. When we teleported, I felt something... a longing, like finding a place I've always belonged.' Pondering these feelings, Alex delves deep into his inner self.
'Both Randy and Max got violently ill, but I didn't feel a thing. Why?' Reflecting on that moment, Alex recalls the sensation of vertigo, yet it hadn't bothered him. Instead, it had enveloped him like a protective blanket, wrapping around him with an inexplicable sense of safety.
'Come to think of it, I've never experienced motion sickness before, not even in Randy's VR setup.' Looking back at his life on Earth, Alex realizes that even before Terra, he'd shown this peculiar ability to remain unaffected by spatial changes. Whether riding roller coasters or diving into virtual worlds, his mind and body had always remained firmly under his control.
"Alfred, do people who awaken their bloodlines show any quirks that might suggest their abilities before awakening?" Alex asks, his curiosity piqued by this revelation.
"Yes, Sir Alex. Those who awaken tend to display certain characteristics beforehand. For example, a person with ice element affinity might have snow-white hair or maintain a lower body temperature than most."
"Ok," Alex responds curtly, hesitant to share his thoughts about pre-awakened quirks. Knowing Alfred likely reports to Merlin, he keeps his suspicions private, his trust in the ancient wizard still wavering.
Having sorted through some of his thoughts, Alex prepares for bed. As he turns off the light, exhaustion from the day's events pulls him swiftly into sleep.
In the living room, Randy and Max remain awake, their conversation drifting through the quiet evening. Randy, dressed in pajamas found in his closet, shifts in his seat. "I can't believe Alex broke down like that. It's so unlike him—he's usually so composed, you know?"
"Makes sense though," Max replies with a knowing, sad smile. "He only moved six months ago, and now he's been thrown here, away from everything familiar. Must have hit him hard. I understand how he feels."
"Yeah, I miss home too..." Randy's words trail off as he stares longingly at the fireplace, its flames casting dancing shadows across his face.
"At least we have a goal," Max offers. "We just need to master this magic to get back home. It's better than nothing."
"Well, that and beating the snot out of that Derek guy." Max snorts at the memory of their fight, but his amusement quickly turns to anger as he recalls how Derek nearly killed Alex.
'I need to get stronger—not just to get home, but to show that guy who's boss!' Max's fiery nature ignites with determination as he plots his revenge.
Randy shakes his head, unable to suppress a laugh at Max's pettiness, even while acknowledging his own secret desires for retribution against Derek.
"Alright, I'm heading to bed. Enjoy planning your revenge," Randy says, stretching as he makes his way toward his room.
"Don't worry, I will," Max replies with a hint of dark humor, remaining seated before the fire. Its flickering flames cast shadows across his face, matching the vengeful thoughts dancing through his mind.
As night blankets Terra, time slips by in peaceful silence. Eventually, the dim sun reclaims its place in the sky, its modest warmth gently stirring the sleeping world. The muted golden rays paint the landscape in subtle hues, a stark contrast to the brilliant sunrises of Earth that Alex once knew.
Morning finds him stirring as light filters through his window, the pale illumination coaxing him from slumber. The gentle radiance serves as a reminder - another day begins in this strange new world, bringing with it the promise of change and the weight of destiny.
Rising from his sleep, Alex stirs as light streams through his window, casting a pale glow across his room.
Groggily, he drags himself from bed and shuffles to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in a futile attempt to wash away exhaustion. The mirror reflects back a sobering sight - gone is the energetic, youthful face that had greeted him just yesterday morning before school. In its place stands someone transformed, features drawn and haunted, like an old soul who's witnessed horrors beyond telling. Dark circles shadow his eyes, marking the weight of everything he's endured.
Forcing himself to look away from his reflection, Alex changes into his clothes and steps into the living room, where he finds Max and Randy already awake and alert.
"About time you woke up, man. Was starting to think you'd fallen into a coma or something," Max calls out, his familiar teasing carrying an undercurrent of concern.
"I was just really tired, you know?" Alex manages, his voice still rough with sleep.
Max exchanges a quick glance with Randy before pressing on, "You good, bro? We were thinking of grabbing some breakfast. Want to come with?"
"Yeah I'm good and sure I'll join. Just give me a minute," Alex says. "I wanted to ask Alfred where we can sit first. Don't need a repeat of yesterday."
"No worries about that. Already asked Bridget," Randy interjects, tapping his emblem.
"Who's Bridget?" Alex asks, brow furrowed in confusion.
"Oh, it's my OSAI." Randy double-taps his emblem, and Bridget materializes before them, her ethereal form casting a soft glow in the morning light.
"Hello, Sir Alex and Sir Max," she greets them with a gentle warmth quite different from Alfred's formal demeanor.
"Hi, Bridget." Alex manages an awkward wave and shaky smile due not knowing how to react.
In the dining hall, the three boys find seats in what their OSAIs assure them is a "safe zone" - far from any territorial claims of the elite students. The fact that such guidance comes only now, after yesterday's incident, raises questions for Alex but knowing that he shouldn't voice these concerns here tucks them away.
Over breakfast, they keep their voices low, painfully aware of the constant stares and whispers that follow their every move. The attention prickles against their skin like static electricity.
"Jeez, you'd think people would've learned not to point and stare by kindergarten," Max grumbles between bites of his Nocturnal Waffles, the specialty dish living up to its otherworldly name with its deep purple hue and softly glowing syrup. "But here we are, getting treated like some zoo exhibition."
Randy thoughtfully chews before adding, "Well, being Daywalkers is apparently a big deal. Though I suspect it's more about us standing up to an elite. That's probably not something they see every day."
"Seriously though," Alex muses, resting his chin on his hand, "they think having a little power gives them the right to walk all over everyone. They clearly missed the whole lesson about great power comes great..." He pauses, a wry smile crossing his face. "Oh right, they wouldn't know about superheroes, would they? No comic books at all huh." The irony of referencing Earth's superheroes in this magical realm isn't lost on him, adding another layer to their sense of displacement.
"DC's better." Max mutters.
"No it ain't." Randy says defending his favorite superhero universe.
"Yeah it is." Max replies back.
"Ok then why are the superman movies so bad then." Randy retorts.
"Hey don't dis my boy Henry like that!" Max jabbing Randy in the ribs for insulting his favorite character.
Laughter brightens Alex's face, the first genuine smile he's worn since last night's breakdown. For a brief moment, the weight of their situation lifts from his shoulders, replaced by the simple joy of friendship.
But reality intrudes as Alfred's voice whispers in his ear, soft yet impossible to ignore: 'Sorry to interrupt, Sir Alex, but within half an hour, you need to meet with Merlin to begin the ritual.'
The reminder shatters Alex's fleeting moment of peace. With a resigned sigh, he looks at his half-finished breakfast, knowing their time together must end.
"Oh shut up, both of you need to finish your food," he says, glancing at his friends. "Alfred just whispered in my ear that we've got half an hour before the ritual. And I still haven't showered since yesterday."
"Hmmph, fine, I'll finish up my waffles," Max says between bites. "You guys go ahead. I need another serving of that fruitcake." His eyes glaze over with desire as he rubs his hands together, already savoring the thought of the sweet delicacy he'd discovered minutes ago.
"Dude, you're a lost cause," Randy shakes his head, gathering his plate and heading to the dish depository.
After returning to their dorm and freshening up with showers, the three boys follow Alfred's ethereal guidance toward the ritual site. As they walk, the true scope of the Academy unfolds before them. What they'd initially thought was a simple school reveals itself as a labyrinth of sectors, each designated for different years, capabilities, and security clearances.
Leaving the office sector with its familiar dining hall and dorms, they enter the Awakening Sector. Two imposing guards flank a doorway that mirrors the grandeur of the teleportation room they'd seen before. The sentinels remain motionless as the boys pass, their stillness suggesting an expected arrival.
Following Alfred's luminescent trail, they enter a chamber that steals their breath away. It stretches vast as a cathedral, its ceiling disappearing into shadow-shrouded heights. Before them spreads an intricate ritual circle, spanning the length of an American football field. The elaborate patterns etched into the stone pulse with an inner light, as if anticipating the power they're about to channel.
Standing before them are three familiar faces: Merlin and Professor Bain, deep in discussion, and unexpectedly, Vespera. Gone is her formal uniform, replaced by casual attire similar to the professors.
'Damn she's hot.' All three boys think at the same time seeing Vespera.
Vespera notices them first, her neutral expression melting into one of enchanting warmth. Her transformation from stern enforcer to charming mentor is as fluid as quicksilver.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite kiddos," she coos, her voice carrying that same hypnotic quality that had nearly overwhelmed them before. Her fingers dance through the air in a beckoning gesture, each movement deliberately seductive. "Come, come hurry. We need to discuss some itty-bitty details." The playful lilt in her voice contrasts sharply with the ancient power humming through the ritual circle behind her.
Understanding Vespera's seductive cadence, Alex tried to ignore it as he walked over, though a telling blush crept across his face. Her hand found his shoulder, fingertips grazing each pore with deliberate slowness, sending electric signals straight to his brain and shaking him to his core.
"You know, when you mentioned your immunity," Bain observed, watching the scene unfold, "I was skeptical. But seeing it firsthand—even I must admit this is rather intriguing." His eyes narrowed as he noted how Alex, Max, and Randy seemed to resist Vespera's overwhelming aroma.
"I told you, Bain," Vespera purred, her voice like silk over steel. "These little kittens are something special. Something to be savored. Why not hand them over to me? I'll take good care of them."
"Oh, Vespera," Professor Bain shook his head at her antics, "we all know you're only interested in having children with potentially greater bloodlines than your brother's. Still trying to take over the family, I see."
The boys' eyes widened collectively at Vespera's implication, the reality of her interest striking them like a bolt of lightning. Alex's mind raced traitorously, a small part of him not entirely opposed to the idea—though perhaps dinner and a movie should come first.
"What's wrong with wanting a few little kittens to play with?" Vespera pouted at Professor Bain, her lower lip jutting out in an expression that somehow managed to be both childish and dangerous. "You're no fun at all, Bain."
"Enough, both of you," Merlin interjected, though amusement danced in his ancient eyes. "While the situation is indeed intriguing, we have more pressing matters at hand. Namely, awakening their bloodlines and unveiling the true power that lies dormant beneath their skin."
Alex watched this exchange with growing bewilderment, struck by how casually Merlin responded to Vespera and Bain's antics. The mighty wizard, supposedly the strongest human alive, treated their bickering like an everyday occurrence. 'Is this normal?' Alex wondered, his perception of the legendary figure shifting with each passing moment.
Before Alex could dwell further on his thoughts, Professor Bain stepped toward Randy, his movements precise and purposeful. "Alright, Randy, you're up first," he announced, his voice carrying a practiced calm. "Nothing personal—we drew straws, and you got the short one. Come, stand right here."
With gentle guidance, he led Randy to the ritual circle's center. "Now, we'll be using this specialized tool," Bain explained, holding up an ornate device that gleamed in the ambient light. "It's designed to extract exactly one hundred milliliters of blood. The process is quite straightforward—it will tap into one of your veins, draw the necessary amount, and the puncture will heal almost instantly."
Professor Bain gestured to an ancient stone tablet covered in mysterious symbols, its surface seeming to pulse with latent energy. "Your task is to recite these words while we conduct the ritual. Don't worry about pronunciation—your OSAI will whisper them directly into your ear. Simply follow their lead, matching their cadence and tone."
"One final thing," he added, positioning Randy's hand above an intricately carved bowl. "Keep your palm extended like this throughout the ceremony. If we maintain proper form, everything should proceed smoothly."
With practiced precision, Professor Bain drew the ornate syringe across Randy's arm, extracting exactly one hundred milliliters of blood. The crimson liquid flowed seamlessly into the ritual bowl, its surface gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. His task complete, the professor retreated to join the others, leaving Randy alone in the circle.
"Begin whenever you feel ready, Randy," Professor Bain's voice carried quiet assurance.
Randy squared his shoulders and drew a steadying breath, the tension slowly bleeding from his frame. Extending his hand above the bowl, he closed his eyes and listened intently as Bridget whispered ancient words into his consciousness. The syllables felt foreign yet achingly familiar, as if they'd always resided in the depths of his soul, waiting to be awakened.
"Largos thall. Dia vuhl. Lunacris stellae caelorum, cordis tuis reductum lingua Solaris flexorus magnar." The words flowed from his lips, each syllable carrying weight and power. Though similar to languages he knew, the pronunciations felt alien, yet undeniably right. As he spoke, something deep within began to fracture.
Like a delicate glass vessel shattering, Randy felt an essence break free inside him. A rush of cold power flooded his system, reminiscent of stepping into air-conditioned sanctuary on a sweltering day. This sensation, dark and frigid, coursed through his veins with increasing intensity, transforming his very essence with each passing moment.
The dark power surged through Randy's consciousness, attempting to twist his thoughts into unfamiliar patterns. Yet he stood firm, resisting its influence. Though he acknowledged this power as rightfully his, Randy refused to let his bloodline's dark nature reshape his identity. His determination held strong even as the blood in the bowl began to transform, its crimson hue deepening to obsidian black. The altered substance reached up like living shadow, seeking his outstretched hand before seeping through his pores in rivulets of darkness.
"What's happening to him?" Max's voice cracked with concern as he turned to Merlin, demanding answers.
"This is perfectly normal," Merlin assured them, his ancient eyes tracking the transformation with scholarly interest. "We see similar reactions in those whose bloodlines resonate with necrotic essence."
"Necrotic essence—like a necromancer?" Max asked, years of fantasy shows and games suddenly providing useful context.
Their attention snapped back to Randy as the dark liquid found its path to his heart, weaving a cocoon of shadow around the vital organ. The transformation spread through his circulatory system, his blood shifting from vibrant red to a deeper, more mysterious shade. Within this darker tone, pale green specks danced like ethereal stars, giving his transformed blood the appearance of a midnight sky scattered with luminescent constellations.
Randy's heart thundered in his chest with newfound power, each beat reverberating through his body like a war drum. Thump. Thump. THUMP. Raw energy coursed through his veins as he continued his mental battle against the darkness that sought to consume him. Just as his psychological defenses began to crack, the ritual reached its crescendo.
CRASH.
Randy doubled over, his body convulsing as he expelled thick, black substance from his lungs. The viscous liquid splattered against the ancient stone, each cough bringing forth more of the shadowy residue. His shoulders heaved with the effort, his transformed blood adapting to its new nature while his consciousness remained firmly his own.