Planet 11 – Remaining Planes of Earth
Metropolis, District Seven
"Awe, wake up."
A teenage boy slowly opened his eyes, startled by a familiar voice. It was his own voice—pre-recorded as an alarm on his nervechip. Sunlight spilled through the glass window of his small cabin, warming the floor and gently nudging him out of bed.
He lazily sat up and tapped the nervechip embedded in his wristlace. A hologram blinked to life, displaying the time and the current zodiac calendar of the interstellar era.
Aries 21, Year 3165 – 7:02 a.m.
He sighed in relief. Good. I woke up just in time. He still had two hours to get ready for school.
Dragging himself to the tiny kitchen, he began preparing his breakfast—eggs, bacon, and a glass of milk. Most people in this era didn't eat solid food anymore. Instead, they drank flavorless nutrient fluid to keep their bodies healthy and energized. But not him. Awe had grown up in the countryside, raised on traditional food, and he preferred it that way.
I wish I had rice, he thought. But cooking it would take too long.
After finishing breakfast, he quickly went to the bathroom. He was fast—especially during rush hour when the lines for the Cerebrum Bus were always long. Luckily, his short black hair didn't require shampoo, saving him more time.
Just eight minutes later, he stood in front of the mirror, now dressed in his school uniform: a white polo shirt, a brown cardigan with gold-silver lining on the edges, and fitted brown pants. The uniform wasn't his choice, but he had no reason to complain. After all, someone had sponsored it for him.
He combed his short black hair using his fingers, admiring his reflection. His black eyes matched the color of his hair—an unusual trait in Metropolis. Most people had bright, genetically modified appearances. In contrast, Awe's natural black hair and eyes made him stand out.
And honestly? He liked it.
After his routine, he stepped outside his apartel. Floating just outside his door was a Cerebrum hover car, summoned automatically by his nervechip. There were no stairs or walkways from his elevated unit—only space vehicles could reach it.
Once inside the vehicle, the onboard A.I. scanned his identity through his nervechip, then immediately took off, flying him toward the Cerebrum Bus Station.
A few minutes later, he arrived at District Seven's Cerebrum Station. Crossing the pedestrian lane, he queued up along with dozens of other students. After five minutes, he finally boarded the bus.
Luckily, his apartel was located in the Central District, which meant his ride to school was short—just five minutes.
Metropolis was divided into twelve districts, all governed by the Appollo Empire—one of the five dominant empires that ruled over different planets in the Interstellar Era. Each empire had its own colonies and systems of control.
But how did humanity get to this point?
Nearly five hundred years ago, a massive comet crashed into Earth, nearly wiping out the planet. Civilization would've ended if not for one man—Phil Sinco, a legendary scientist who created a giant spacecraft that saved over a million people. They returned to what remained of Earth and rebuilt society.
Then, a year later, a strange phenomenon occurred.
Ten percent of the survivors developed abilities—unique powers that changed everything. It led to conflicts, chaos, and eventually, war. And when Phil Sinco mysteriously disappeared, there was no one left to lead them. The chaos lasted fifty years.
It finally ended when a powerful woman—who carried the mysterious Spectre Phenomenon—rose to stop the war. She united the remaining races and became a symbol of peace.
When Awe's Cerebrum Bus stopped, he stepped out and was immediately greeted by the towering Statue of Adarna—a symbol of the woman who ended the racial wars. The statue stood proudly in front of the massive university gates, representing honor and unity.
Dozens of students walked toward the school. Some looked nervous, others excited. Awe just clicked his tongue.
There were no physical gates. Instead, a high-tech security scanner served as the entrance, monitoring every student as they passed. As he entered, he was greeted by a wide open field stretching on both sides. There were pathways leading to different buildings scattered across the campus.
Students were everywhere—some flying, others showing off powers like fire and ice. A few sat quietly, pretending to be normal. But here, no one was really "normal."
If he had been just a regular citizen of Metropolis, he might've been amazed. But not Awe. He had already adapted to this life—especially since the day he discovered his own Gift.
He tapped his nervechip and pulled up his schedule and map. He was supposed to head to class, but first, he needed to meet the Headmistress. Some of his documents still needed her signature. Typical scholar problem.
He turned right and followed the path leading south—where the headmistress's office was located.
Just as Awe turned down the southern path toward the Headmistress' Building, a shout ripped through the stillness.
"Watch out!" a girl's voice shrieked in terror.
His eyes snapped to the side—and there it was. A spike of ice, long and wickedly sharp, flying straight at him. It glinted under the morning light, fast as a bullet, humming with unstable elemental energy. He didn't even flinch.
He didn't have to.
In an instant, Awe's mind connected—threading itself with the emotional frequencies around him: the panic of the girl who screamed, the regret of the boy who'd misfired, even the raw aggression woven into the ice itself. It was all there, open to him, like strings on a harp waiting to be plucked.
The world slowed to a crawl.
He didn't move, didn't speak. Instead, his Gift took over, responding in perfect silence.
With a faint shimmer in the air around him, the spike shattered—imploding into a swirl of glittering frost, like snow caught in a gust of wind. Harmless. Weightless. Gone.
Time snapped back.
Gasps erupted nearby. The girl with white hair skidded to a stop in front of him, eyes wide.
"That was—insane! Are you okay?!" she blurted, her voice bouncing with both relief and disbelief.
Awe blinked slowly, keeping his expression neutral. Calm. Unbothered.
"I'm fine," he said casually, dusting invisible snow from his cardigan. "You should be more careful."
The girl blinked. "You didn't even flinch! That spike should've—! How did you…?"
"I didn't do anything," he said flatly. "Maybe the spectre collapsed."
Before she could say more, he walked away.
Behind him, students stared. Whispered.
But no answers came.
Only silence.
Only him—walking forward—like nothing had happened at all.