Farewells to the orphanage the next morning were imbued with a different solemnity than the awakening departure. The news had spread, not the detail of the rank - information classified by the Council - but the fact that Hakime had awakened extraordinary power and refused the protection of the Whites. The eyes of the youngest were charged with an admiration tinged with fear. He was no longer just Hakime, the big brother; he had become a symbol.
Mother Elara shook her hands for a long time, her eyes misted.
"Remember, no matter how powerful, it is the heart that guides the hand. Come back whole to us, my child."
Hakime nodded, a lump in his throat. There was nothing to add.
The shuttle bus that took him to the Aeterna Academy this time was not an anonymous military vehicle, but a faster transport, in the colors of the academy: midnight blue and silver. The journey allowed him to see Nova-Aeterna from above. The city was a huge and complex living and wounded organism. Then, on the northern periphery, isolated on a rocky plateau, he saw her.
The Aeterna Academy was not a school; it was a fortress in the fortress. A thick wall enclosure, higher than those in the Council headquarters, topped by turrets from which emanated a concentrated glimmer of energy. Training fields, streaked with obstacles and controlled explosion craters, extended to its base. Hangars housed combat vehicles and flight simulators. The architecture was austere, functional, designed to harden, not seduce.
The registration process was quick and impersonal. He was given a midnight blue uniform, sturdy boots, an ID plate with his name and code, and a standard Etheric watch. No mention of his grade. Here, he was just one of many.
An instructor with a scarred face and impassive gaze led him through a maze of raw concrete corridors, lit by cold neon lights. The air smelled of ozone, sweat and metal.
"Door 7, Room 4," the man scolded, pointing to a metal door. "Your roommates are already there. The rules are simple: no unsupervised combat in dorms, compliance with curfews, obedience to instructors. The rest, you define it."
The man walked away, his steps echoing in the corridor. Hakime pushed the door open.
The room was spartan: three bunk beds, three metal cabinets, a desk and a small window offering a view of the obstacle field. Two young people were already present.
The first, sitting on the bottom bed, displayed a smile as broad and warm as the sun behind the dome. He had freckles and sparkling eyes of malice.
"Hi! You must be the famous Hakime!" he exclaimed, leaping to shake his hand with boundless energy. "I'm Arthur! Arthur Leclerc. They say you sent an offer from the Whites? Frankly, it's courage or madness, but I love it!"
Before Hakime could answer, the second young man, leaning against the cupboard, turned to them. He was taller, the build already powerful, and his expression was a mixture of confidence and quiet defiance.
"Conor," he simply introduced himself, in a deeper voice. His eyes, a steely gray, scrutinized Hakime, evaluating him. "I've heard of you too. A legendary grade, it seems. "He doesn't smile." Here, it won't give you any advantage. Only performance matters."
Hakime immediately felt the distinct dynamics. Arthur was a breath of fresh air, an open and easy deck. Conor was a wall, a silent invitation to prove his worth. That was exactly the kind of challenge he had come for.
"Hakime," he answered, shaking Arthur's hand and then nodding to Conor. "And yes, I refused the Whites. I prefer to earn my place."
Conor nodded slightly, almost approvingly.
"Good mentality. We'll see if your actions follow."
Arthur burst out laughing.
"So we have a future hero in the room! Perfect! I'll be your right arm, the guy too fast to be seen! And Conor, well... he will be the rock on which the waves will break! We're going to make a hell of a team!"
Hakime put his bag on the vacant bed. The contrast between his two new roommates was striking, but he felt a potential loyalty to Arthur and a sense of honor at Conor. It was a good start.
As he tidied up his meager belongings, he felt the weight of the academy, its ruthless rules, and its expectations. He was no longer the prodigy son of the orphanage, nor was he curious about the Awakening Center. Here at the Aeterna Academy, he was just a number. A number that had to prove everything, starting with his two new brothers in arms. The forge of his destiny had just opened, and the heat was already intense.