Dawn broke over Stellarion Academy, but the sun seemed confused about what it was illuminating.
The main quad, once a pristine display of order, now looked like reality had a fever dream. Grass sprouted in fractal spirals. The fountain flowed upward against gravity. The founder's statue flickered between classical, cubist, and something drawn by a child with too many dimensions.
And the students weren't faring any better.
"I CAN TASTE COLORS!" David Park screamed from a dorm window, his tongue glowing. "PURPLE TASTES LIKE REGRET AND MATHEMATICS!"
Sandra Mitchell blink-teleported every half-second, flickering across the courtyard like broken animation.
Kevin Thompson gave every chair and desk googly eyes.
Jessica Watts moaned, "Six hundred thread count," pointing miserably at a curtain. That was her entire power.
⸻
In the faculty tower, chaos spread too. Professor Chen's precision energy manipulation degraded into summoning holographic hamsters that danced on his desk.
Director Hale's command console flickered with messages:
ADMINISTRATOR PRIVILEGES: UNDER REVIEW
NEW CLASSIFICATION: PLAYER
Her expression finally cracked. "We're not in control anymore. We're participants."
Security Chief Martinez tried to activate lockdown, but his terminal mocked him:
LOL NO. TRY AGAIN.
RIDDLE: WHAT HAS FOUR LEGS IN THE MORNING—ERROR ERROR ERROR.
"The system is laughing at us," he muttered.
"The system is playing with us," Hale corrected grimly.
⸻
Lucas Drake cut through the chaos, tracking Aiden's echoes like a predator. In Training Room Seven he found it warped into an impossible space. A projection of Aiden flickered—half himself, half the blurred figure.
"Looking for me?" the dual voice asked.
Lucas's gauntlets blazed. "Face me properly."
"This is properly." Attacks came from futures not yet real, defenses from pasts that never were. Lucas fought probability itself—and grinned. "Insane. Completely insane. I love it."
⸻
In her lab, Mira Hale studied the anomaly with silver-eyed focus. "The second presence—it matches Kai Morsten. The Sigma Incident, seven years ago. He transcended, dispersed, and waited."
Her assistant paled. "You're saying Aiden merged with a ghost?"
"A ghost," Mira said, "or the first pioneer of Phase Two."
⸻
Jay's livestream had broken records. He was mid-rant about infinite breadsticks when his voice warped into prophecy:
"In seventeen minutes, walls will dance. In thirty-two, gravity will take a coffee break. In sixty… the trial begins."
He collapsed back into himself, gasping. "Okay. I need new insurance. And… what the hell is Tuesday?"
⸻
Then the academy itself began to shift. Buildings stretched, doors looped into impossible rooms. Every speaker announced:
Dungeon mode activated. Mortality setting: Cushioned but concerning. Loot drops: Enabled.
A training dummy dissolved, leaving behind a crystal. Marcus Webb touched it—and instantly absorbed years of sword theory.
"Holy shit," he whispered. "I know everything."
Across campus, similar treasures appeared. Education had become survival.
⸻
Every display lit up. Aiden appeared, eyes blazing with galaxies of data. Beside him, Kai Morsten's blurred form clarified—a young man, part human, part code.
"Welcome to your new curriculum," they said together. "Phase Two isn't something that happens to you—it's something you become."
Kai's shifting face smiled. "I failed alone. Evolution needs catalyst and reaction, teacher and student."
Aiden's grin was pure mischief. "So we'll teach you. The hard way. The fun way."
Together:
"The first trial begins in one hour. Objective: Survive. Reward: Understanding. Penalty: You don't want to know."
A countdown filled every surface:
59:59
59:58
59:57
Director Hale snapped: "All staff and students to emergency positions. This is not a drill."
Lucas laughed in his broken battlefield. "Finally. A real challenge."
Mira typed furiously. "The greatest experiment in human evolution—and we're the test subjects."
Jay pointed his camera at the ticking clock. "Place your bets, folks! Survival, evolution, or epic loot? Find out in fifty-nine minutes!"
The academy held its breath as reality prepared to become optional.
Phase Two had begun, and Stellarion would never sleep again.