Gray's wristband pulsed faintly, a blinking red light that refused to stop. He stood in front of a door with Renn, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The light was steady proof they had arrived, but somehow that didn't make walking in any easier.
He coughed into his fist. "Go on then, open it."
Renn turned on him with a scandalized look. "What? No! We're late because you insisted on taking a different path so we could see the library! But we got lost!"
Gray raised his hands defensively. "Yeah, well, I thought we'd pass the library nearby. That's not on me."
Renn's jaw dropped. "It's totally on you!"
"Alright, alright, calm down. I'll open it." Gray muttered, brushing past him. He twisted the handle before Renn could argue further and stepped inside.
The classroom wasn't massive, but it was spacious enough to fit several rows of desks without feeling cramped. The walls were lined with strange insignias, old framed parchments that bore a mix of writing and diagrams Gray couldn't recognize. At the far end, a gigantic map covered almost the entire wall. Unlike the holographic ones he'd seen in the training hall, this one was physical, painted carefully with sprawling coastlines and jagged mountain ridges. Gray recognized it vaguely, he felt as if he had seen it before, though far more detailed than he had glimpsed before.
At the front stood the professor, his back turned to the class. He was tall, wiry, with streaks of white woven through dark hair that brushed his shoulders. His coat was long, patched with fabric that gave the impression it had survived decades of use. He turned at the sound of the door opening, eyes sharp behind a pair of circular glasses.
"You're late," the professor said quietly, voice measured, almost calm.
Renn stepped forward in a rush, bowing slightly. "Sorry, professor. It was my fault. We—"
The man waved a hand. "No need. We've only just begun. Take the seats near the back."
Gray felt stares prickling at his skin as he followed Renn up the aisle. The room was filled mostly with students whose auras glowed faintly in ways that unsettled him, Lumen strained, he realized. Lightborn. That explained the uneasy tightness in his chest. He lowered his gaze and sat quickly at the back table, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes following him.
The professor raised a hand. A snap echoed through the room, and instantly a holographic projector flickered to life at his side. The air shimmered, resolving into the shape of another map. This one, however, was different, alien, entirely unknown. At the top hovered glowing letters: Basic History.
Gray squinted at the projection. The landmasses sprawled out strangely. There was a massive continent in the middle labeled Africa. To the left, across what seemed to be an endless ocean, another stretch of land called America, oddly split into two halves. Below, a vast frozen island was marked Antarctica. Gray's brow furrowed. None of this matched Aurelia. None of this made sense.
The professor clasped his hands behind his back. "Welcome, all of you, to Basic History. I expect some of you may think this class unnecessary, a waste of time. But history…" His eyes swept the room. "History is one of the most useful tools you can carry. It allows you to understand how we came to be, how decisions made long ago shape the world you stand in today. And sometimes, it reveals patterns, lessons, mistakes that must never be repeated."
Another flick of his fingers and a new projection appeared on his left. This one showed three massive pillars, each etched with glowing runes. At the top was written: The Three Generations.
"We begin," the professor said, "a little over one hundred and twenty years ago. What we call the Pre-Generation. The Old World."
He gestured at the map of strange continents. "This was humanity's world then. Twelve continents, countless nations, billions of people. But then—an island appeared, crashing down into the Pacific sea. Alien. Deadly. It carried a presence so suffocating it warped the land around it. The world itself could not bear its weight. These continents you see here—" he swept his hand over the hologram "—they shifted, collided. The oceans boiled. Mountains broke. Billions perished."
Gasps rippled through the classroom.
Gray's stomach churned as the man continued. "But from that ruin came something new. A single landmass. A continent unlike any other, vast and fused together. They named it Aurelia. The place all of you were born from, or I'd assume..."
The professor's tone darkened. "Humanity was already fragile then. Wars, famine, disease. But the arrival of Nyxterra… it became the coffin nail. The world population fell from thirteen billion to less than one. Nations fractured. Yet for the first time, they set aside their conflicts to focus on survival. They sent soldiers. Scientists. Entire armies armed with bombs and weapons into the alien land." His voice dipped lower. "None returned."
The projection shifted again, this time showing a crimson tide swallowing a city.
"This marked the beginning of the First Generation," he said. "Known to some as The Age of Blood Reckoning."
Gray felt his pulse quicken at the name.
"Humanity was desperate," the professor went on. "And desperation breeds cruelty. Some scientists, alongside surviving soldiers, discovered the existence of what they called Divine Forces. What you now know as Strains. These powers could grant ordinary humans abilities beyond imagination. Abilities strong enough to fight back. But they needed soldiers. They needed thousands, millions of them."
He looked around the room, voice tightening. "And so began Operation Blood Harvest. A decision written in cruelty, born of desperation. They discovered the fastest way to awaken Strains was to throw people into Nyxterra itself. Alone. To survive—or die."
Several students gasped. Renn's hand twitched against the desk.
Gray's fists clenched under the table.
The professor's tone remained detached, clinical. "For nearly a century, millions were cast into Nyxterra. Prisoners. Outcasts. Even ordinary citizens deemed 'unnecessary.' Almost all perished. Yet a fraction survived. Some awakened Strains. The numbers were impressive at first—hundreds of thousands. But it was never enough. Humanity didn't understand what they were tampering with. They didn't have time for study. They needed weapons. Soldiers. And so they persisted."
He paused. "But from those condemned, legends began to rise. The earliest survivors discovered not all Strains were equal. Some stood above others. And when the world was at its lowest… seven figures appeared."
The hologram flickered, almost struggling to render the images. Seven silhouettes stood side by side, their forms indistinct.
"They are known now as the Seven Origins."
The room was silent. Students leaned forward, caught between fear and fascination. Even Renn's eyes were wide.
But the professor only sighed and clapped his hands. The holograms vanished. "Our time is up. Next lesson, we will continue with the Second Generation. For now, I leave you with this: history is rarely kind, but it is always honest."
A hand shot up from the front. "What about the Origins? Can you tell us more?"
The professor gave a dry chuckle. "If you wanted fairy tales, you should have enrolled in Tales and Myths."
Laughter rippled across the room, but Gray remained still, thoughts racing. Were they real? Or just another story fed to them to make sense of endless death?
As the students began to pack up, Gray's gaze drifted across the room. His breath caught.
On the opposite side sat the boy with dark purple hair and jet-black eyes. He wasn't pretending to pay attention. He wasn't even trying to hide it. His gaze was locked on Gray, unblinking, sharp as a blade.
Gray shifted in his seat, feigning indifference, but the boy didn't look away. He was… spying. Watching. Waiting.
'Why? Did i so something wrong? Or do i have something he wants?'
Gray stayed silent and rose, following the crowd out. He waited by the door until he saw the boy leave as well, vanishing into the hallway.
"Hey," Renn said, tugging his sleeve. "What's our next class?"
Gray blinked, forcing his eyes back to his wristband. It flickered, shifting into a neat timetable. He scanned quickly.
"In about two hours… Survivalist Skills," he muttered.
Renn tried and failed to stifle a laugh. "Out of everything you picked, that's what you're stuck with?"
"Shut up," Gray hissed, but heat pricked his neck.
Renn stretched. "Anyway, I've got Geography with Korr. Can't skip. I'll see you later."
Gray frowned. "Wait, come with me to the library first."
"No time." Renn shook his head, already backing away. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just follow the map. See you after class."
And just like that, Renn disappeared into the crowd, leaving Gray standing alone in the quiet corridor. His wristband flickered faintly, guiding him toward his next destination. But the unease in his chest didn't fade. Not with the memory of that boy's stare burning fresh in his mind.
Gray glanced back once, toward the end of the hall. Empty. Silent.
Still, the feeling lingered.
He wasn't alone.