The next day
Drew and Eason walked into the classroom together, each looking a little less like vagabonds. They had spent two of their precious credit points on basic clothing. Drew wore a dark blue outfit that matched his casual energy, while Eason was dressed in a plain black shirt and pants — simple, but clean.
At least they didn't look homeless anymore.
A woman stood at the front of the class. She had stern eyes, neatly tied hair, and a sharp presence. She adjusted her glasses and spoke.
"I'm Miss Serin. Today, we have two new students who've recently awakened their psychic powers." She looked at them. "One has telekinesis. The other, pyrokinesis. Please introduce yourselves."
Drew stepped forward first, confident as always. "Hey, I'm Drew. I awakened my ability just a few days ago. I hope I can get along with you guys — maybe make some friends here." He grinned, then went and sat at a bench in the middle row.
Eason stepped forward next. His expression was blank, unreadable. "Eason," he said simply, then walked toward the back and took the last bench without another word.
There was a murmur in the class.
"What's with this guy?""He's got a bit of an attitude, huh?""Doesn't look like much…"
Meanwhile, Drew had already started talking to a girl seated nearby. She had striking silver hair that shimmered under the classroom lights, and warm brown eyes. Her figure was curvy, and her beauty was hard to ignore.
"Wow, you're really beautiful," Drew said with a smirk. "Name's Drew."
The girl chuckled. "Elara."
Elara asked softly, "Is your friend always like that?"
Drew leaned back in his seat, eyes drifting toward Eason, who sat quietly at the back of the classroom. "Yeah… when I first met him, he was messed up pretty bad. Guy had nothing—no money, no place to stay. His face was swollen, bleeding. Looked like someone had beat the life outta him."
He chuckled lightly, though there was a flicker of seriousness in his eyes. "Even though I wasn't doing great myself, I helped him out. Gave him a place to crash, some clothes. He never said much back then either. Just nodded a lot and stared out the window like he was watching something only he could see."
Elara glanced back toward Eason, who sat expressionless, one hand resting on his knee, the other fiddling slightly with the edge of his ID badge.
"That's… kind of sad," Elara whispered.
"Alright, class! Since we have two new transfers," Miss Serin clapped her hands once, drawing all attention, "we'll be going over the basics again!"
Drew blinked, suddenly realizing how much he'd said. What the—why did I say so much about Eason?
Miss Serin paced slowly in front of the whiteboard, her dark green heels tapping softly against the floor. Her voice was calm but carried authority.
"So, first things first. When a psychic awakens their ability, what actually awakens is something called a seed. This seed resides deep within your mind," she tapped her temple, "and it's the core of your power. Think of it like your battery—your fuel."
She turned and scribbled "Psychic Seed = Power + Energy" on the board.
"For example," she continued, "a gun without bullets is useless, right? Your energy acts as those bullets. The more you use your ability, the more energy it drains from your seed. When the seed is empty, you're powerless—just another human."
Some students nodded while others scribbled in their notebooks.
Eason leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on the desk, eyes calm. This was nothing new to him.
"Your Tier depends entirely on your seed," Miss Serin continued, her tone firm. "Now—close your eyes, send your consciousness into your mind, and focus on your seed. Everyone. Now."
A strange silence washed over the class as students obeyed. The air turned still, as if even the wind outside had paused.
Drew furrowed his brow and focused hard—but to his surprise, it was easier than expected. In his mental space, something slithered into view. A centipede-like figure coiled around itself, its segments pulsing with crimson light.
Is that my seed? he wondered. Looks kind of creepy... but also kind of cool.
Around the room, students were deep in focus. Elara, calm and composed, peeked into her inner world. What she saw made her eyes widen slightly—a delicate butterfly fluttering softly in the darkness of her mind, its wings glowing with warm yellow essence.
She smiled to herself.
But at the very back of the class, Eason sat still, eyes shut. His consciousness drifted deeper into himself—colder, quieter, darker—until he found it.
A black sphere floated in the void. Smooth, perfect, and radiating danger. But within that darkness, threads of glowing golden essence shimmered beneath the surface like a sun buried under obsidian glass.
He stared at it silently.
Then, with practiced control, he flicked his fingers in his mind. The sphere responded.
The golden shimmer faded. Red essence bled to the surface like smoke tainting clear water.
"Similar to your seeds," Miss Serin said, her voice calm but firm, "there are also psychic-compatible weapons. These are ranked into tiers, just like your abilities."
Eason narrowed his eyes.Weapons. That wasn't how it worked before. Back then, we were the weapons.
"These tools aren't random. They resonate with your unique psychic frequency. For instance, a Pyrokinetic may bond with flame-forged gauntlets, amplifying combustion precision. A Sonokinetic might wield a vibration blade that turns sound into raw concussive force."
She moved along the front row, letting the words sink in.
"A Chronokinetic could carry a temporal spear, briefly freezing motion around a target. A Biokinetic might utilize resonance amplifiers to enhance regenerative energy."
The room buzzed with soft chatter, students exchanging glances.
"But make no mistake," Serin continued, her tone sharpening. "These weapons don't make you stronger on their own. They respond to your level of synchronization. Starting next week, all of you will undergo Weapon Compatibility Tiering under the Livermore Program."
Eason kept his face neutral, but inside, the irony made him bitter.They've labeled everything now. Wrapped power in neat little boxes. Back then, none of this existed. You fought with your mind — or you died.
Serin's voice dropped, her expression darkening.
"We're not training you for sport. This isn't some academy for prodigies. You're here because war is real, and it's getting worse."
The class fell silent.
"The Voyari and other dimensional beasts are appearing more frequently. These Gates — rifts between our world and theirs — weren't meant to remain open. But when the natural cycle of psychic energy is disrupted, they stay. They rot. And they let monsters in."
Her glasses caught the light as she looked up from her notes.
"All of this... began with a traitor."
Whispers passed through the class like a chill.
"Subject 05. A psychic who broke the balance. His tampering with the Gates accelerated the rot. The Voyari came. Cities fell. And we're still paying the price."
Eason didn't blink.
The class murmured.
"That traitor got what he deserved."
"He should've been burned to ash."
Drew leaned over. "Hey... who even is Subject 05?"
Elara turned her head sharply. "Are you living under a rock or something? You seriously don't know?"
Drew blinked. "No. I just awakened. Everything's new to me."
She let out a short breath, her voice hard. "He was the strongest psychic to ever exist. Could use every known psychic power — all of them. People called him the perfect psychic."
"But one day," she continued, her tone shifting into disgust, "he went mad. Completely insane. He tampered with the Red Gates — tried to force them open, to control them."
Her eyes narrowed. "The result? Mass chaos. Voyari poured through. Entire cities collapsed. But thankfully, four Tier 9 psychics entered the Red Gate and managed to kill him. They made it out alive."
She looked ahead. "But if they hadn't… Mythara would've fallen."