Gray ran through the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor. His wristband flickered faintly with the time, a reminder of just how late he was. He pressed forward, breath sharp.
"Oh goddammit! Imagine being late to your class twice in a row!" He hissed as he ran.
Suddenly a voice cut through the silence.
"Stop running."
The words struck like a whip. Gray's body froze mid-step. His heart dropped into his stomach, and for a moment it felt as though the world itself had gone still. Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head.
There she was.
Seraphine Kaelith stood only a few paces behind him, her gaze calm yet cutting. Her hair, once a shining cascade of pale blue, now carried strands of black threaded through it like veins of ink in water. The change was subtle, but on her it carried a weight that made Gray's chest tighten.
Fear gripped his heart. His throat dried, his teeth clenched, and he realized with horror that he was shivering.
Seraphine's footsteps were slow, deliberate, as she closed the distance. "Are you alright?" she asked, her tone light, but her eyes unwavering.
Gray swallowed hard. "Y-yeah," he stammered. "Just… late for class."
Her eyes lingered on him, watching the tremble in his shoulders and the way his jaw locked as though to keep from chattering. She tilted her head slightly, strands of her hair shifting with the movement. "I see," she said. "Then go. Quick."
Gray's lips parted, the word catching in his throat. "Y-yes."
He turned too quickly and nearly stumbled before regaining his pace. He set off again, but the weight of her presence clung to him like frost. His body had been frozen when she was near. Completely frozen. The sensation was worse than the gales of Glacierfang, worse than the suffocating cold of that territory effect. Near her, he had felt like he was dying. Even his thoughts had stopped, his mind unable to form anything but the raw terror of standing before her.
Seraphine looked down, down, at her feet. Ice was slowly spreading like webs.
She quickly retracted the dark blue, veiny-ice and turned around. Her heels clicking against the hard wood floor.
Gray didnt dare turn his head around and kept walking, he only breathed when he turned the corner and left her behind.
When Gray finally reached the survivalist classroom, the door was already open. He stepped inside cautiously, expecting rows filled with students, but the room was nearly empty. Only one girl sat near the front, her brown hair catching the light from the ceiling lamps. She wore glasses, and a stack of neatly ordered books rested beside her. She didn't glance his way, too absorbed in flipping through notes.
At the front of the room stood the teacher.
Gray paused, taking him in. The man was tall but carried himself with a strange, loose energy. His hair was dark but already streaked with grey at the temples, and his beard was trimmed short. He wore a long coat that looked patched and worn in places, as though it had survived countless expeditions. His eyes gleamed with humor, yet the lines at the edges spoke of exhaustion, of someone who had seen too much.
"Ah, there you are," the man said warmly, voice carrying with ease. He gestured for Gray to sit without even a hint of scolding. "Come in, sit down. Your late by thirty minutes but made it, and that's all that matters."
Relieved, Gray nodded and slipped into a seat near the middle. The teacher clasped his hands behind his back and looked between the two students.
"My name is Instructor Darius. And this," he spread his arms toward the empty classroom, "is Survivalist Training. Not the most glamorous of classes, but perhaps the one that decides whether you'll make it back alive."
The brown haired girl adjusted her glasses, eyes attentive. Gray leaned forward slightly, his pulse still uneven from earlier, but his mind focusing on the words.
Darius began to pace slowly across the front. "Now. Some of you may think survival is about fighting monsters or enduring territory effects. And while those matter, the truth is simpler. It is about staying alive when everything in Nyxterra is designed to kill you. So, let us review a few rules."
He raised a finger. "First. Disease. Many of you think only the monsters will get you, but it's the smallest things that kill the fastest. A scratch on your hand from the wrong plant. A sip of water drawn from a stream carrying invisible parasites. Even breathing spores that you cannot see. Always filter, always boil, always test before consuming anything. If you feel fevered, weak, or strange after exposure, remember that time is your enemy."
Gray felt a chill crawl up his spine. It was not the grand terrors, but the small, hidden ones that carried such weight.
Darius lifted a second finger. "Shelter. You may think strength will let you endure the elements, but even the strongest Ranker cannot fight sleep deprivation or freezing nights. Build with purpose. A poor shelter kills as swiftly as any beast. And when the land itself is warped by corruption, the wrong spot to rest may erode your soul while you dream."
The girl scribbled furiously into her notes.
"Third. Territory effects." His tone grew heavier. "You have heard of them, I am sure. Some weaken you slowly, others seize you instantly. Never grow arrogant in thinking you understand them. Carry talismans, check your surroundings, and most importantly, trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it is wrong."
Gray was stuck in deep thought when he raised his hand.
Darius quickly took notice and spoke. "What's wrong?"
Gray took a deep breath. "Talismans...what exactly are they?"
Darius leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as his eyes flicked toward Gray.
"A talisman isn't like a relic," he said. "Relics are binded to your soul. They're permanent things—you carry them everywhere. Talismans are simpler. Think of them as small vessels of Vyre, etched with runes or sealed with intent. They can be as small as your hand. Something like a ring or necklace. They don't settle into your body, they don't change who you are. You wear them, carry them, sometimes even break them to trigger an effect. Useful in a pinch, but fragile. A spark compared to a flame."
Gray tilted his head. "So… no real power?"
"Not by themselves," Darius smirked. "But the right talisman in the right hands can turn a fight—or save your life. Never underestimate small things."
Gray nodded and saw the girl on his left scribbled even more, het hand slightly red.
'Doesn't she get tired?'
"Next is..." Darius continued.
"Interaction." Darius's eyes gleamed as he looked at them. "Be careful of everything you touch. Every rock. Every person. Every single thing. Not all dangers bare teeth. Some sit silently, waiting for your hand."
His words hung in the air like a weight, the classroom falling into a profound silence.
Finally, Darius smiled again, the humor returning to his voice. "That is enough for today. We will build step by step, but I would rather you remember one truth than forget ten. So I will leave you with this: when in Nyxterra, the moment you grow careless is the moment you die."
'Is...is that it? How much did i just miss?' Gray truly regretted picking this class, but at the same time the instructor did give some good advice.
He rose from his seat quietly as Darius dismissed them. The instructor gathered a few notes of his own, whistling faintly, as though the grim topics weighed nothing on him.
The brown haired girl approached Gray, clutching a small stack of books to her chest. She offered a polite smile. "I do not think we have met. What is your name?"
Gray adjusted his wristband nervously. "Gray."
"Gray," she repeated, as if testing the name on her tongue. "I am Mara. You are new, yes?"
He nodded. "Still getting used to things."
They walked side by side toward the door, exchanging small words about classes, schedules, and the strangeness of the Institute. Mara's tone was steady, her voice carrying a quiet confidence that made Gray feel at ease.
Behind them, Darius called out, "Do not forget your notes, young lady. And Gray—try not to run through the corridors, unless you want the walls themselves to trip you."
Mara laughed lightly, and Gray muttered under his breath, "Weird."
Just then, something struck his back. Not hard, but enough to make him stumble forward a step. He straightened quickly, frowning, his eyes darting back.
"Are you alright?" Mara asked, adjusting her grip on her books.
Gray's gaze swept across the crowd leaving the class. Dozens of students filtered through the hallway, brushing shoulders, their chatter filling the air. It could have been an accident. Probably was. Yet the unease clung stubbornly to him.
Then, at the very end of the hall, just before the corner swallowed her, he saw her.
A blonde girl, twirling a lollipop between her lips, turned her head just enough for him to catch her smile. The same one who had been near the white-haired boy before.
A cold shiver raced down Gray's spine.
"I am fine," he said quickly, forcing the words past his lips. His hand brushed against his back, searching for anything left behind. Nothing. Yet the feeling of being targeted lingered, sharp and undeniable.
Mara tilted her head. "What is your next class?"
"Monster Analogy," Gray answered.
She smiled faintly. "Radiance Theory for me. Well then, good luck."
"Yeah," he said, his voice low.
They parted ways at the crossroads of the hall. Gray stood for a moment longer, hand pressing against his back, still unsettled. The crowd had scattered, but the memory of that smile refused to leave him.
They were up to something. He could feel it.