"Kai! You're gonna be late!"
The call from downstairs was less a warning and more a universal, high-pitched alarm, the sort of noise every mother seemed to have downloaded globally.
"Who even goes to school at this time?" Kai whined, rolling clumsily off the deep comfort of his mattress. If his mother's daily sonic assault ceased, he was certain he would simply drift into a state of perpetual hibernation.
He squinted at the window. The sun had barely managed to crest the horizon; the sky was still heavy with the deep blue haze of pre-dawn. Yet, it was marred by shifting rainbow streaks, a permanent, slow-motion Aurora that served as the world's enduring scar.
"6 AM. Four hours of sleep, max," he muttered, stretching until his joints cracked with tired resentment.
He paused, taking a moment to absorb the synthetic scenery.
The city was a seamless blend of sleek, soaring skyscrapers and dense, unapologetic tropical rainforests: a metropolis that had somehow achieved both global economic dominance and perfect sustainability. It was a perfect contradiction, sustained only by the city's aggressive, early acceptance of the Magical Force.
"Damn Magic," he sighed again. The phrase was a reflex now.
Twelve years had passed since the Magical Force emerged as a true, fundamental property of the universe, a reality shift that rendered everything humanity thought they knew about physics instantly obsolete.
What hadn't made sense before suddenly felt tragically predictable.
"Kai! Get down here!" His mom's voice spiked again, a sharper jolt that dragged him from his internal assessment.
"Thirty minutes!" he shouted back, pulling off his sleep shirt before retreating into the shower.
A while later, he strode downstairs. He was dressed in crisp semi-formal wear, white sneakers, and a leather shoulder bag slung across his torso.
His slicked-back, parted hair was sharp, framing a face undeniably sculpted by two stunning parents. Both now regarded him with matching, severe brows.
"What took you so long? Did you stop to negotiate with your pillow again?" His mom, looking effortlessly put-together and impossibly young, rolled her eyes before biting into her blueberry pancake.
"He's got a point, honey. It is early," his Dad, who always backed Kai first, said quietly, instantly meeting his wife's eyes as if seeking permission for the opinion.
Kai leaned against the counter, scooping up his cereal. "Yeah, seriously. The smart kids, and I mean the truly wise and smart ones, are already at the WMA office, signing up. Why am I sitting here planning to enroll in a pre-apocalypse university that teaches about a universe that literally doesn't exist anymore?"
"The world may have gone through a radical change, but there's still a foundational need for ordinary professions, you know?" His mom raised a skeptical brow, her voice laced with playful challenge.
"And who are the ordinary people in this house? You say that while using your telekinetic powers to stack your work files from the couch," Kai shot back. "It's like attending a Normal People training center when both my parents have literal superpowers."
His mom's smile was immediate and victorious.
"See? No point skipping school when you could still use magic at work, right? Besides, someone has to pay for your ridiculously expensive sneakers."
Kai sighed, defeated but unwilling to admit it.
"Ha... fine. But if over half of my class has dropped out by today, I'm withdrawing this semester. I'll be at the WMA before the day even goes dark, enlisting."
For Kai, the calculation was simple, if slightly melodramatic.
Why commit to four years of tedious university when every turning year proved the world's accelerating need for genuine magical proficiency over a dusty degree? He just wanted to join the real game.
The official line, of course, held that academic institutions couldn't incorporate a "high-risk curriculum."
The authorities insisted it was still too early; even the most experienced magic users felt they had barely scratched the surface of the Magical Force, and the full extent of its catastrophic backlashes remained wholly unknown.
Kai shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "I wish Magic was more like how animes portrayed it," he muttered.
Real-life magic felt painfully, brutally complex compared to the simple, stylized gestures found in old storybooks and animation.
"Your dad will drop you off, so hurry up with your breakfast," his mom said, before standing and grabbing the black blazer neatly folded beside her chair.
"You won't be going with us?" he asked, slurping his cereal.
"I'm heading to a different branch today, taking the opposite route," she answered. "It'll just be your dad and you."
"Ahuh," his dad confirmed, nodding quickly. His parents exchanged a long, meaningful glance, a silent communication that Kai recognized instantly.
He dramatically rolled his eyes and let out a small, lab-like groan. "Please stop flirting, I'm here. It's too early for second-hand affection."
He knew exactly what they were doing: exchanging private, shamefully sweet farewells directly through their minds. After about 12 years of forced observation, Kai considered himself a highly-skilled, if unwilling, interpreter of parental telepathy.
Kai finished his cereal and stood up. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, Mom. Try not to cause an international incident with your telekinetic file stacking."
His mother blew him a playful kiss, retrieved her briefcase with an almost invisible flicker of energy, and was out the door.
His father clapped him lightly on the shoulder, his expression settling into something more serious. "Ready to go, Son?"
As they walked toward the front door, Kai grabbed the handle, prepared to yank it open and face the magical day.
"Wait," a thought, sharp and unnervingly clear, pierced through Kai's mind. It was not the familiar, syrupy cadence of his parents' telepathic flirting.
It was cold, clean, and entirely unfamiliar. It wasn't his father's voice, yet the thought originated directly from the space next to him, as if someone was whispering right at his ear.
Kai froze, hand hovering over the glass of water in front of him. He turned slowly, looking at his dad, who was busy retrieving his keys from a bowl on the console table. His father looked up, his gentle, supportive smile back in place.
"What is it, Kai?"
"Don't go to your campus today." The message returned, a panicked, urgent whisper that bypassed his ears entirely. "There's an undiscovered localized instability zone inside your campus."
Kai stared at his dad, his eyes slightly wide. His father merely adjusted his watch.
"We're already running late, Buddy. Let's get you to your futureless institution."