"James! Wait for me!"
"Hurry up, Olivia!"
The blonde girl ran, struggling to catch her breath. The pleats of her Novacrest Academy skirt fluttered lightly, strands of her hair falling across half her face.
"Can you please slow down?" Olivia panted.
James turned, flashing a faint grin. "If I slow down, we'll miss the third-years' return parade."
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "What's so exciting about watching them? They're still students, same as us."
James chuckled softly. "You don't get it. They just came back from the Red Zone — the field training outside the walls. Not everyone survives out there."
Olivia tilted her head. "So they returned because they succeeded… or because they were lucky enough not to break?"
Before James could reply, a wave of cheers echoed from the direction of the auditorium. The two quickened their pace.
The main hall of Novacrest Academy was packed with first- and second-year students. Conversations overlapped with the faint hum of the old cooling vents. Every gaze was fixed on the empty stage.
At the front hung the banner of the Southern Haven Alliance, symbol of the world's remaining strength.
Today marked the official return of the third-years — and for the younger students, it was their first chance to witness those who had actually fought beyond the protective walls.
Olivia stood beside James, arms folded. "They're just students, James. No need to act like they're war heroes."
James leaned slightly closer, whispering, "Maybe. But if they hadn't come back, no one would dare step into the Red Zone again."
The hall lights dimmed.
The cheers faded into silence.
At the center of the stage, the steel doors hissed open, releasing a surge of cold vapor from the sterilization chamber.
Human silhouettes emerged through the mist.
James's eyes lit up as the first figure stepped forward — a girl in pristine white uniform, the signature of returning third-years.
"That's Mirabel Acusta, from House Acusta! Gods—she's actually gorgeous," he whispered, eyes wide.
"From Acusta?" Olivia frowned.
James nearly choked on his words. "Are you serious? You don't know that name? Her father, Acusta Hambel, the first-ranked Superhuman — an Omega!"
Olivia shrugged lightly. "Yeah, I've heard. So that's his daughter."
Mirabel stood tall on stage, expression calm, almost too composed.
"There—there!" James blurted again as another figure emerged behind her.
A dark-haired boy with sharp features and a strong build stepped into the light. His white uniform bore the insignia of Duke Mountbatten, one of the old noble families.
"Who's that? He's… ridiculously handsome," Olivia murmured before realizing she'd said it aloud.
"That's Aisan Drank, second son of Duke Mountbatten," James replied instantly.
"Mountbatten…" Olivia's tone softened, her interest piqued. "He's Maya Haller's brother, isn't he?"
"Exactly! Aisan's power is incredible. I heard he once took down four Primals in a single mission."
Olivia smiled faintly. "Impressive… and yes, definitely handsome."
One by one, the third-years appeared, each greeted with applause and whispers from the younger students.
Their white uniforms glimmered beneath the cold blue light — the highest symbol of status in Novacrest Academy.
Finally, as the last of them took their place, silence returned to the hall. Everyone waited for the grand moment — the entrance of the Headmaster and the Academy Elders.
Tension thickened the air.
A spotlight focused center stage.
And then — a deep, mechanical clang echoed as the great door behind the hall began to open.
But before anyone could react, another door — this one to the left of the stage — slid open with a hiss.
Slow, deliberate footsteps followed, each one echoing through the still air.
The Headmaster, Sir Severus Trelawney, entered first, his face calm but taut. Four Elders of the Academy followed behind him in solemn silence.
Yet it wasn't their presence that stole the crowd's breath.
From between their ranks stepped a woman in a dark gray military uniform, her shoulders marked with high-ranking insignia. Every step she took seemed to reverberate through the floor.
Even the battle-hardened third-years stood rigid at once — instinctively, without command.
Whispers rippled through the hall:
"Isn't that General Anna Franchitti?"
"Yeah… what's she doing here?"
"The military doesn't interfere with the Academy!"
"That's against the regulations, right?"
"Then why is she on stage…?"
General Anna stood beside Sir Trelawney, hands clasped behind her back, her eyes sharp — scanning the students as if weighing their worth.
Sir Trelawney turned briefly toward her, then addressed the crowd.
"Students of Novacrest Academy," his voice carried — steady, resonant. "Today was meant to honor your senior peers, the third-year returnees…"
He paused, his tone shifting heavier.
"…but the situation outside our walls has changed."
Murmurs spread among the students.
Olivia leaned toward James. "Changed? What does that mean?"
James didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the General as she stepped forward.
"My presence here," said General Anna Franchitti, her voice clear and commanding, "is by order of the Southern Haven government — those who have given you shelter, laughter, the right to breathe and dream. We built this Academy not merely to educate you, but to forge the protectors of our future."
Her boots echoed sharply on the metal floor as she paced the stage. The hall was utterly still — only her voice filled the space.
"I see the faces of our third-year students," she continued, stopping before the white-clad line. "You stand proud, bearing the name of Novacrest and the honor of Southern Haven. I am proud as well…"
She drew a short breath. Her tone hardened.
"…but today, that pride comes with an official order."
A wave of whispers surged. Olivia gripped James's hand tightly.
General Anna's eyes swept over the third-years.
"This order comes directly from President Albert Hayes," she declared. "Effective immediately, all third-year students of Novacrest Academy are to be reassigned to the elite battalion under Captain Solaris — for the operation to reclaim the Northern Fortress."
Silence.
No applause. No cheers.
Only the suffocating stillness of disbelief.
In the front rows, the third-years stood frozen — some lowering their heads, others swallowing hard.
Mirabel Acusta remained upright, her composure unbroken, though her fingers trembled behind her back.
Beside her, Aisan Drank clenched his jaw, his posture rigid with restrained fury.
They all knew — the Northern Fortress wasn't just a danger zone.
It was the Graveyard of Supers.
"But we just returned from the Red Zone! That's not fair!" shouted a voice from the back.
"I'm not ready to die!" another followed, panic spreading like wildfire.
"General!"
A young woman stepped forward.
All eyes turned toward her. Mirabel and Aisan both looked up, recognizing the voice instantly.
"Yes," said General Anna coolly, "state your name."
"Lucia Adrama, requesting permission to speak."
"Go ahead, Lucia."
Lucia took a trembling breath. "General, you know we've just returned from the Red Zone — five months of survival training. Many of our friends didn't make it back… many more are still in the infirmary. Those standing before you now," her voice cracked, "are the few who survived!"
"Speak plainly, Lucia," said the General evenly.
Lucia's fists tightened. "The Northern Fortress — that's a Black Zone! It's crawling with Primals, creatures stronger than Nova-class Supers! You can't seriously expect—"
"We can't do this, General!" another student shouted, cutting her off.
General Anna's eyes swept over them, cold and unwavering.
"This is not my decision," she said firmly. "The order comes directly from the President of Southern Haven — and it has been approved by your Headmaster… and by your families."
Lucia's voice broke. "What?! Our families agreed to this?"
"Yes," Anna replied without hesitation. "They all consented. None of you are being forced."
"Not forced?" another voice rasped from the crowd. "You're sending us to die! What else do you call that?"
General Anna straightened, her voice slicing through the air.
"Then die with honor!" she snapped.
The hall went dead silent.
A few students lowered their heads, tears slipping quietly down their faces.
The silence was suffocating. Only the faint hum of the vents remained.
Finally, Headmaster Trelawney stepped forward, his tone calm but weighted.
"General," he began, "perhaps we should allow the students some time. They've only just returned from field trials. They're not—"
"With all due respect, Headmaster," Anna cut in sharply, "the decision is final. Preparations begin next week."
-----
"I feel sorry for them…" Olivia said quietly, her eyes still fixed on the stage.
"At least we're not third-years," she whispered — loud enough for James to hear.
James shot her a brief glance, his jaw tightening.
"What difference does it make, Olivia? Maybe it's not us today, but one day, we'll face the same thing."
Olivia shrugged, exhaling softly.
"At least we still have time to breathe."
James frowned. "Hey, Olivia."
"Yeah?"
"Could you, I don't know… use that brain in your head before you talk?"
Olivia turned to him, a faintly sarcastic smile tugging at her lips.
"Oh, I did use it, James. And it gave me the answer I just said. Satisfied?"
James let out a slow breath, shaking his head.
"Don't think being a second-year makes you special."
Olivia tilted her head, her smile widening.
"Whatever you say. But what can I do? I was born strong."
James stared at her for a moment — half annoyed, half impressed.
Inwardly, he knew the truth: Olivia was the strongest student in the entire first-year class.
-------
The evening sun fell slowly over the silent stone garden of Novacrest Academy.
The scent of metal and dust from the afternoon drills still lingered in the air, and every passing breeze seemed to carry an echo of General Anna Franchitti's voice — "All third-year students will join the elite forces under Captain Solaris…"
Mirabel stopped by the edge of the garden, her eyes catching the lone figure of Aisan Drank sitting on a steel bench, shoulders hunched as if bearing the weight of all Southern Haven upon them.
She stood there for a few seconds before speaking softly.
"Hey, Aisan."
The young man looked up slowly. His eyes were tired, yet still sharp.
"Mirabel?"
"Yeah. I thought you'd gone back to the dorms."
Aisan shook his head faintly.
"I needed some space to think."
"About the order?"
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"An order is just another word for a sacrifice they've already planned."
Mirabel stepped closer, resting her hand lightly on the edge of the bench.
"But you've faced worse than most of us. You killed four Primals, didn't you? That's no small thing, Aisan."
He stood abruptly, tension flashing across his face.
"You think I'm proud of that, Mirabel?"
He slammed his fist against the iron pillar beside the bench.
"To kill just one, five of my teammates died. Five! I only lived because of luck — not strength. And now they expect us to face thousands?"
Mirabel said nothing. The wind carried faint voices of students from afar, but here, silence settled like dust.
Aisan lifted his gaze; his eyes were dim, the rims faintly red.
"I don't mind fighting. But… knowing my own family agreed to that order…"
He drew in a sharp breath, his voice trembling.
"I don't even know how to feel, Mirabel. They said they believed in me — but it feels like they've already handed me over to death."
Mirabel clasped her hands to her chest, trying to steady her voice.
"They believe in you. Maybe… they think you can prove something out there."
Aisan turned slightly, a bitter half-smile crossing his lips.
"Or maybe they've already made peace with losing me."
He walked away — slow, without looking back.
Mirabel could only watch as his silhouette disappeared among the trees.
"If we die… then we die with honor," she whispered to herself, her voice raw, heavy with emotion.
"But… how long can honor replace a life?"
---------
After three days had passed.
On a quiet, desolate night, Victor Sergei walked slowly through the thick fog. The special goggles on his face helped him see in the dark. Two large bags hung from his body — one in front, and another on his back.
His pace was steady but cautious. Every movement was deliberate. From time to time, he stopped to kneel beside the corpse of a strange creature sprawled on the ground.
Without hesitation, he set down the front bag and sliced open the creature's belly with a short machete. The faint sound of tearing flesh echoed through the mist.
"Why are there fewer of them tonight…" Victor muttered as he pulled something out from the creature's stomach.
He stood, slung the bag back over his shoulder, and continued walking. His face was calm — as if the dangers around him were nothing more than trivial inconveniences.
"Elara! Elara!" he called out, his voice muffled by the fog. "Where did she run off to this time…"
His steps quickened. Through the veil of mist, the faint outlines of half-collapsed buildings came into view.
Boom!
Two creature corpses fell right in front of him.
"Elara! You scared me, kid!"
A soft laugh came from somewhere in the fog. "I think this place's empty now, Dad."
"Yeah… I noticed. Not like before."
"Maybe we should look somewhere else," replied Elara Queen, stepping out of the mist while wiping blood from her hands.
"There's nowhere else left," Victor said quietly.
Elara frowned. "Why are you collecting all those stones, anyway?"
"They're our fortune."
She tilted her head, unimpressed. "You said the same thing two months ago… but our lives haven't changed."
"Patience," Victor said while slicing open another carcass. "When the time comes, you'll understand."
Elara sighed deeply. "Why do the authorities just leave this place like this?"
"They don't want to," Victor replied, pulling a glowing stone from inside the creature. "They can't. So we make it our treasure ground."
"I've checked everywhere. There are no creatures left."
"Then this must be the last one," Victor smiled at his daughter. "And guess what — I've been planning to move us out of here."
"To where?"
"To Jarab City, under the Eastern Domain Alliance. They don't separate Supers from ordinary humans — they live side by side. But to start a life there, we'll need wealth."
"And what's the difference? Sounds the same to me."
"Not this time. With these stones, we'll finally be rich."
Elara shook her head slowly — but suddenly, her eyes sharpened, focusing on something deep within the fog.
"What is it?" Victor asked, immediately alert.
"I fought one strange creature earlier — different from the rest. Strong… but I cut off its arm. It ran. Wait here, Dad, I know where it's hiding."
Before Victor could respond, Elara shot into the air and disappeared into the mist.
Victor chuckled. "That's my girl."
He took out a cigarette, just about to light it when —
Boom!
A massive creature's body crashed before him, shaking the ground.
Victor crouched slightly. "What in the world is this thing?"
"No idea," Elara said calmly as she descended. "I think it was their leader. Pretty strong, too."
Victor set down his bag and knelt beside the carcass. With the machete in hand, he sliced open its chest and reached inside, rummaging around while Elara watched silently.
"Got it!" Victor exclaimed, pulling out his hand — clutching something that glimmered faintly.
"Wow… it's a crystal!" His eyes widened. "We're rich, Elara! This time, we're really rich!"
Elara frowned. "Seriously… aren't all those stones the same?"
"No!" Victor laughed heartily. "This one's Idocrase! Worth as much as an entire city! Hahahaha!"
He jumped with joy, his laughter echoing through the fog.
"The Northern Bastion really is our goldmine, Elara!"