Velmira—a country rebuilt from the destruction of war, held together with tenuous alliances and invisible ranks. In Orvantis City's southern industrial sector, where ambition was gold and loyalty an unattainable treasure, five boys crossed fire. Not actually, but emotionally. They were not legends yet. Not wolves yet. But they were learning to hunt.
Orvantis Central University loomed like a stone and steel empire, its frigid towers piercing the smog-choked horizon. No welcoming fanfare awaited new students here. Only scrutiny. The kind that analyzed your background, vulnerabilities, and your cost.
The Five had come as strangers to all, but they found themselves drawn to one another almost without thinking. Vinray Dasa, the youth from the ruins of Caelmoor; Kael Ronex, the tactician from war-bled Trion; Jinno Marquez, the quiet observer from Henvira's foster grid; Dorik Senn, the orphaned warrior of the slum-foundries; and Nevan Korr, the jester from the shattered aristocracy. Each had secrets. Each had scars. Each needed the others more than they would ever admit.
Their first semester was survival.
Classes were a façade—beneath the curriculum existed a poisonous culture of privileged gangs, corporate hirers, surveillance moles, and political experiments masquerading as student unions. The professors were aware. Some took part. Some protested. Most went through the motions.
Vinray absorbed it all.
He spent hours in the library, days in simulation labs, nights charting behavioral models of his teammates. His brain glided like a scalpel—accurate, intrusive, relentless. But it was not his intelligence that made him deadly. It was his appetite. Vinray didn't merely want to win. He wanted to remake the game.
It started with a straightforward proposal he made to the other four.
"Every empire in this university is founded on blackmail, bribery, or blood. Ours will be founded on belief."
Kael arched an eyebrow. "Belief in what?"
"Each other. And in what the world won't see in us. Potential."
So they started building.
Their first project was a crowd psychology prediction algorithm deployed on a university strike. While tensions were increased by other sides, Vinray's model secretly altered behaviors, provoking peace in one place and paranoia elsewhere. Nobody backtracked it to them.
Then came The Mirror Project — an online sting in the form of an opinion survey that brought out the latent desires and shame-spots of more than 10,000 students. With that information, they charted the social order like generals mapping a battlefield.
Each of them created the foundations of what would be their eventual empires:
Vinray covertly introduced Qezarp Wantas, a manufacturing intelligence company disguised as a robotics research club. Its machines would eventually power worldwide production chains.
Kael founded Ronex Strategy Group, a think tank for up-and-coming entrepreneurs that served as a financial influence network.
Jinno commanded Vantir Netics, crafting psychological warfare strategies, mastering the language of silence and control.
Dorik constructed SennTek Logistics, converting warehouse responsibilities and delivery routes into encrypted operating channels.
Nevan designed Korr Vantage, a comedy and media channel that set the stories around campus, making disinformation both weapon and art.
But with power came danger.
They incurred enemies. One group called the Crimson Bind—a legacy gang backed by a foreign conglomerate—observed their ascension. Threats preceded. Then attempts at sabotage. Then a midnight firebombing of the engineering wing that killed two of their agents.
Vinray retaliated not with violence, but with accuracy.
Through Jinno's network, they pulled digital confessions from Crimson Bind's second-in-command. Dorik's logistics planted evidence linking the gang to a proscribed narcotic ring. Nevan's media propagated a manufactured scandal about their leader's romantic entanglement with a faculty member. Kael bribed a junior judge to initiate an official inquiry.
In weeks, Crimson Bind had been disbanded.
The Five had emerged victorious. Not merely the war—but the right to be, to grow.
They had tasted blood. And it was sweet.
But Vinray never celebrated. He stood on the edge of the dormitory roof that night, gazing down at the lights of Orvantis that flickered below.
"We're not gods," he whispered. "Just shadows who learned to walk in fire."
At his side, Kael lit a cigarette. "We keep going?"
"Until we burn everything that tried to burn us."
From that evening on, they were no longer boys playing games with power. They were creators of something enormous, invisible, and irreparable.
And the world had no idea what was about to hit it.