Ilias woke to agony.
Every muscle in his body screamed. His shoulders felt like they'd been ripped from their sockets. His ribs ached with each breath. Even blinking hurt.
He tried to move. His arm didn't respond.
"Good morning," a familiar voice said.
Ade materialized beside the bed, glowing faintly in the dim light of the dorm room. The small avatar crossed his arms, Yoruba patterns shifting across his form.
"What..." Ilias's voice came out as a croak. "What happened?"
"You overexerted yourself," Ade said simply. "Fighting Caspian, then breaking free from the Vice Dean's gravity, then standing after he slammed you into a crater. Your body paid the price."
Ilias stared at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths.
"You're Blessed," Ade continued, "but you're still human. Your body has limits, even if your power can break them. Push too far, and this is what happens."
"How long..." Ilias swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. "How long will I be like this?"
"Until you push through it."
Ilias turned his head slowly to glare at the avatar. "That's not helpful."
"It's the truth." Ade floated closer. "Your body will recover faster than a normal human's. But right now, you need to understand something: this Academy exists for a reason. You're powerful, Ilias. But power without control, without understanding, will destroy you from the inside out."
Ilias closed his eyes. The memory of the fight flashed through his mind. The rage. The broken chains. The feeling of limitless strength surging through him.
And now, the cost.
"Get up," Ade said quietly.
"I can't."
"You can. It will hurt. But you can."
Ilias lay there for a long moment. Then, slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself upright.
His vision swam. His arms trembled. Sweat broke out across his forehead.
But he stood.
"Good," Ade said. "Now get dressed. You're already late for class."
---
Ilias stumbled into Professor Thorne's classroom twenty minutes late.
Every step had been torture. Getting into his uniform—simple indigo trousers, white shirt, and dark blue jacket—had taken twice as long as it should have. Walking across campus had felt like climbing a mountain.
But he'd made it.
The door hissed open. Every head in the room turned toward him.
Thorne stood at the front of the class—or rather, where Thorne had been standing. Now, a massive tree grew from the spot, its branches spreading across the ceiling, leaves rustling despite the lack of wind. The professor himself sat cross-legged on one of the lower branches, his angelic presence somehow even more serene surrounded by nature.
"Ah, Mr. Venn," Thorne said pleasantly. "So glad you could join us."
"Sorry," Ilias muttered, sliding into an empty seat near the back.
Zael leaned over from the next row. "Dude, you look like death."
"Feel like it too."
"Your fight went viral on Elyria's networks," Zael whispered. "Tamir showed me. You're all over their version of YouTube."
Ilias groaned internally. Great. Just what he needed.
Thorne clapped his hands once, drawing everyone's attention back to the front. "As I was saying before our late arrival, today we're discussing the rarer forms of Blessed individuals. Most of you will fall into the standard categories—those who can channel Resonance through their bodies and project it outward. But there are exceptions."
He gestured, and a holographic image appeared in the air: a humanoid figure glowing with energy, but the energy stayed inside the body, never leaving.
"First, we have what we call Physical Types, or Conductors," Thorne explained. "These individuals can absorb and channel massive amounts of Resonance, but their bodies act as closed systems. They cannot release that energy externally—if they tried, it would kill them. Instead, all that power stays inside, enhancing their physical capabilities to absurd degrees. Strength, speed, durability—all magnified to levels that can rival or exceed other Blessed."
A student raised their hand. "So they're just... really strong?"
"Simplistic, but not inaccurate," Thorne said with a smile. "Though 'really strong' hardly does them justice. I once saw a Conductor punch through a moon."
Murmurs rippled through the class.
"The second rare type," Thorne continued, and the hologram shifted to show a figure crackling with unstable energy, "are what we call Overloaded Types. These individuals have the opposite problem—they have too much Resonance. Their bodies produce more energy than they can safely contain. Using their abilities actively causes them pain, sometimes severe injury. They're walking batteries with no off switch."
The hologram showed the figure's energy expanding outward in a massive explosion.
"About three hundred years ago," Thorne said, his tone growing somber, "an Overloaded Type awakened on a densely populated planet. They lost control. The resulting explosion didn't just destroy that planet—it triggered a chain reaction across fifty nearby worlds. The gravitational disruptions created three black holes."
The classroom fell silent.
"The individual survived," Thorne added quietly. "They spend their existence in a specialized containment facility, keeping their power suppressed. A living reminder of why control matters."
He smiled then, lightening the mood. "On a brighter note, we actually have a student with that ability here at the Academy. Great guy. Haven't seen him in a while, though. I think he's on one of his meditation retreats."
Zael leaned over again. "That's terrifying."
"Yeah," Ilias agreed, though his mind was elsewhere.
His body still ached. Every movement reminded him of his limits. But sitting here, listening to Thorne describe Blessed who could destroy solar systems, who lived in constant pain just from existing...
Maybe Ade had a point. Maybe he did need to be here.
The lesson continued, Thorne's calm voice explaining the nuances of Resonance theory, the importance of understanding one's own limits, the reason the Academy existed in the first place.
When the bell finally rang, Ilias started to stand—and immediately regretted it. His legs nearly gave out.
"Mr. Venn," Thorne called out. "A moment, please."
Ilias limped to the front of the class as the other students filed out. Zael gave him a concerned look but left with the others.
Thorne descended from his tree, landing lightly on the ground. Up close, his presence felt even more overwhelming—not threatening, just vast, like standing next to an ocean.
"Your teacher wants to see you this evening," Thorne said, producing a small envelope from seemingly nowhere. It floated through the air to Ilias's hand.
Inside was a simple card with an address and a time: 7 PM, Building 47, Resonance District.
"Hold back your anger when you meet him," Thorne added, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He might be... annoying."
"Annoying how?"
"You'll see." Thorne's smile widened. "Congratulations on getting a personal instructor, by the way. Not many first-years receive that honor."
Ilias pocketed the card. "Thanks."
As he turned to leave, Thorne called out one more time. "Oh, and Mr. Venn? Try not to destroy any more of the Academy. Aeon doesn't mind regenerating, but even a living planet has its limits."
---
The hallway outside Thorne's classroom buzzed with conversation.
"Did you hear? Ilias got a personal tutor!"
"Wait, seriously? Caspian was wrong about him being trash?"
"Obviously. Did you see that fight?"
Ilias kept his head down, trying to slip past unnoticed. His body still screamed with every step, but he pushed through it.
"Yo, Ilias!"
He turned to see Tamir jogging up, followed by a couple of other students from their batch.
"You got a private instructor?" Tamir asked, eyes wide. "That's insane! Who'd you get?"
"Don't know yet," Ilias said. "Meeting them tonight."
"Man, you're lucky. Do you know how rare that is?" One of the other students shook his head. "Most of us are stuck in group sessions for at least the first year."
"Yeah, well—"
"Excuse me."
The group turned. A tall student Ilias didn't recognize stood behind them, arms crossed. He had an easy confidence about him, the kind that came from never having been told no.
"My boss wants to see you," the student said, looking directly at Ilias.
"Your boss?"
"Yeah. Come on."
The student turned and walked away, clearly expecting Ilias to follow.
Tamir grabbed Ilias's arm. "Dude, don't. That's one of the delinquent groups. Bad reputation."
Ilias pulled free gently. "I'll be fine."
"Ilias—"
"I said I'll be fine."
He followed the student down a series of corridors, each one emptier than the last. They passed fewer and fewer students until finally, they entered a completely deserted hallway.
A group of about fifteen students waited there, all wearing modified uniforms—indigo and blue like everyone else, but cut differently, styled with aggressive angles and dark accents. They'd coordinated their looks, a visual declaration of unity.
In the center stood their leader: a broad-shouldered guy with a scar running down his left cheek and an aura that practically screamed trouble.
"Ilias Venn," the leader said, grinning. "Heard a lot about you."
"That's nice."
"We loved what you did to that stuck-up prince. Watching you drag him around like a ragdoll?" He laughed. "Beautiful. So here's the deal: we want you to join our crew."
Ilias sighed. His body hurt. He was tired. And now he had to deal with this.
"Not interested."
The leader's grin didn't falter. "See, here's the thing. By accepting our invitation to come here, you're already in. So really, this is just a formality."
"Then let me make this formal," Ilias said. "I'm already in a gang. My brother's gang. And I'm not leaving my family for you or anyone else."
The leader's expression shifted slightly. "Your brother's gang is back on your backwater planet. You're here now. New world, new rules."
"Same rules for me. I don't abandon family."
"Look, kid—"
"And since you're saying I'm already in by being here," Ilias continued, his voice dropping lower, "then my first act as a member is beating all of you."
Silence.
Then the leader laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh. "You've got balls, I'll give you that. But you don't know who you're talking to."
"Don't care."
Inside his mind, Ade's voice whispered a warning: "Your body hasn't recovered. You're barely functional right now."
"I know," Ilias thought back. "But they're desperate. They won't retaliate. They need me more than I need them."
"That's a dangerous gamble."
"It's the only move I have."
The leader stepped forward. "Last chance. Join us willingly, or we make you join."
Ilias's answer was to surge forward, his fist connecting with the leader's jaw.
The fight was brutal and one-sided—but not in the way the gang expected.
Ilias moved through them like a storm. Every punch sent someone sprawling. Every kick broke someone's stance. His body screamed in protest with each movement, but he pushed through the pain, using it, channeling it into raw aggression.
The Osh'Kora staff materialized in his hand, and he used it like an extension of his will—sweeping legs, striking pressure points, disarming anyone who tried to pull a weapon or manifest Resonance constructs.
They were organized. They were coordinated.
But Ilias was fury incarnate.
Within five minutes, the entire gang lay groaning on the floor. Ilias stood in the center of them, breathing hard, blood from a split lip dripping down his chin.
The leader pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at Ilias with something between respect and fear. "You're... insane..."
"I'm tired," Ilias corrected. "And I'm not interested in your crew. Leave me alone."
He walked away, leaving fifteen battered students in his wake.
---
Outside the hallway, Zael waited, eyes wide with horror as Ilias emerged with blood on his face.
"What the hell happened?!"
"They wanted me to join their gang."
"So you beat them all up?!"
"Seemed like the right response."
Zael stared at him. "You're going to make so many enemies here."
"Already have." Ilias wiped the blood from his chin. "What's a few more?"
They walked in silence for a moment before zael spoke again. "Hey, random question. How are we speaking the same language?"
Ilias blinked. "What?"
"I'm from Xel'Thar . You're from Elyria . Different planets, different languages. But we understand each other perfectly. You ever wonder about that?"
"I... honestly hadn't thought about it."
Zael reached up to his collar and pressed a small button on the uniform. Immediately, his words became incomprehensible gibberish—clicks and whistles and sounds no human throat could make.
He pressed the button again. "Language translator. Built into every Academy uniform. Standard issue."
"That's... actually really cool."
"Yeah, well, you're from a backwater planet," Zael said, no malice in his voice. "Blessed spawning there is super rare. Most people from places like that don't even know the wider universe exists. Me? I studied everything about Aeon's Cradle before I got here. Wanted to be prepared."
They turned a corner and nearly ran into a group of students huddled in an alcove.
The group didn't notice them at first. They were too focused on the small vials they were passing around, each one filled with glowing powder.
One of them tapped powder onto their palm and inhaled sharply.
Their Resonance flared—a brilliant burst of color and energy that lit up the alcove like a star going supernova.
Then, just as quickly, it crashed back down. The student slumped against the wall, gasping, eyes glazed with artificial euphoria.
"What is that?" Ilias asked quietly.
"Dust," Zael said, pulling him away from the alcove. "Don't mess with it."
"Shouldn't we tell someone? A teacher?"
"Teachers don't bother with it. Can't, really."
"Why not?"
Zael glanced at him. "You remember what Thorne said about Blessed bodies? How they're at peak condition?"
"Yeah..."
"He wasn't exaggerating. Blessed bodies are basically perfect—fastest healing in the universe, immune to almost every disease, poison resistance off the charts. Anything harmful gets expelled automatically. You could drink literal poison and your body would just... reject it."
"So the drugs..."
"Get them high for a few seconds, then their system flushes it out. No addiction. No long-term damage. Their bodies won't allow it." Zael shook his head. "It's one of the only truly victimless vices in the universe. That's why the Academy tolerates it—it can't actually hurt anyone."
Ilias looked back at the alcove, watching another student's Resonance spike and crash.
He filed the information away. Something about it didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't articulate why.
"I've got extra classes," Zael said, checking a device on his wrist. "Catch you later. And hey—try not to get into any more fights before you meet your teacher."
"No promises."
Zael laughed and headed off, leaving Ilias alone in the corridor.
He checked the card Thorne had given him. Still a few hours until 7 PM.
Time to rest. Maybe call Seraph and Kojo. Let them know he was still alive.
Mostly alive, anyway.
---
Building 47 sat on the edge of the Resonance District, a sleek structure that somehow managed to blend cutting-edge technology with organic curves, as if the building itself was alive.
Ilias stood outside at exactly 7 PM, the card in his hand.
Music drifted from one of the upper windows—smooth Afrobeats, the kind of rhythm that made you want to move even if you were exhausted.
He recognized the song: Rema's "FUN." The beat pulsed through the air, layered with that signature confidence and playfulness that made the artist's work so infectious.
Ilias approached the door. It slid open automatically.
Inside, the building's interior was surprisingly spacious. Resonance crystals embedded in the walls provided soft lighting. The air hummed with energy.
He followed the music up a flight of stairs to a large open room.
And stopped dead.
A massive bat hung from the ceiling—a bat . It was easily the size of a small car, its wings folded, its crystalline eyes tracking Ilias's movement.
The music played from a device in the corner, Rema's voice smooth and effortless over the production.
And in the center of the room, a man stood with his back to the door.
He was dark-skinned, well-built, and radiated a presence that made the air feel heavier. A red aura flickered around him, subtle but unmistakable.
He looked maybe thirty. Young for a teacher. Too young.
The man turned, and Ilias's confusion deepened.
"Oh!" the man said, grinning. "You're here to see me?"
"I..." Ilias held up the card. "I'm looking for my teacher. Professor Ehis Odi...aa-"
"Odiase?"
"That's me."
Ilias stared.
The man looked barely older than Kojo. How was this guy supposed to be his instructor?
Ehis seemed to read his thoughts. "Let me guess. Expected someone older? Someone more... professorial?"
"Honestly? Yeah."
"Get that a lot." Ehis walked over to the music device and turned it down—not off, just low enough to talk over. "Age doesn't mean much when you're Blessed. Some of us just look young. Others look ancient. Me? I got lucky."
The Resonance bat shifted overhead, and Ilias tensed.
"Relax," Ehis said. "That's just my partner. Say hi, Ayo."
The bat let out a high-pitched chirp that somehow sounded friendly.
"Your... partner?"
"Pet, weapon, friend. Depends on the day." Ehis gestured to a pair of chairs. "Sit. We've got a lot to talk about."
Ilias hesitated, then sat.
Ehis remained standing, arms crossed, studying Ilias with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.
"So," Ehis said finally. "You're the kid who beat a prince with his own arm, broke free from the Vice Dean's gravity, and then declared war on anyone who messes with you."
"It wasn't—"
"Don't downplay it. I watched the whole thing." Ehis's grin widened. "You're interesting, Ilias Venn. Really interesting. And that's why I chose you."
"Chose me?"
"Every teacher gets to pick one student per year for private instruction. Most go for the prodigies, the nobles, the ones with famous bloodlines. Me?" He pointed at Ilias. "I go for the chaos. And humans as well but you are the only new one I've seen in like a century"
Ilias didn't know how to respond to that.
"You've got potential," Ehis continued. "Raw, unrefined, dangerous potential. But you don't understand your own power yet. You're swinging a sword blindfolded, hoping you hit something."
"I know how to fight."
"Fighting isn't the same as understanding." Ehis leaned forward. "Tell me, what do you think your power does?"
Ilias opened his mouth, then closed it.
He didn't know. Not really.
"It breaks things," he said finally. "Limits. Anything that tries to hold me back."
"Close," Ehis said. "But not quite. We'll get there. First, though, I need to know if you're serious about this. Training with me won't be easy. I don't do gentle. I don't do encouraging. I push until you break, and then I teach you how to put yourself back together stronger."
"Sounds familiar."
"Good. Then we understand each other." Ehis extended his hand. "Welcome to hell, kid. Let's see if you survive it."
Ilias took his hand.
The Resonance bat chirped again, and somewhere in the back of Ilias's mind, Ade's voice whispered: "This one is dangerous. Be careful."
"Dangerous is kind of my thing now," Ilias thought back.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
---
Across campus, in a private meeting room reserved for the Academy's noble students, tension hung thick in the air.
Caspian sat alone at one end of a long table, his face still bruised despite the accelerated healing his Blessed body provided. His hands clenched into fists on the table's surface.
Around him, other noble students argued.
"He's an embarrassment!"
"We can't have someone like him representing—"
""Did you see what that barbarian did to him?!"
Caspian said nothing. His jaw tightened with each comment.
At the head of the table, a figure sat in shadow, silent until now.
"Enough."
The room went quiet.
The figure leaned forward into the light—a young woman with sharp features and eyes that seemed to calculate every angle of every situation simultaneously. Her uniform was modified like the others, but hers had an elegance to it, a refinement that spoke of true nobility rather than purchased titles.
"Caspian's performance was... educational," she said.
"Educational?" one of the nobles sputtered. "He was humiliated!"
"He was tested," she corrected. "And the test revealed exactly what I needed to know."
Caspian's head snapped up. "You planned that?"
She met his gaze without flinching. "I needed to understand what kind of threat Ilias Venn poses. Sending you was the most efficient method."
"You used me as bait."
"I used you as a measuring stick. And now I know." She leaned back. "Ilias Venn is dangerous. Not because he's strong—we have strong students. Not because he's Blessed—we all are. He's dangerous because he doesn't follow the rules. He doesn't care about status, hierarchy, or consequence. He's a wild variable."
"So what do we do about him?" another noble asked.
"Nothing. Yet." Her lips curved into the faintest smile. "We watch. We learn. And when the time is right, we make our move."
Caspian stood abruptly. "None of you faced him. You're all running your mouths, but I'm the one who got dragged through the Academy by my throat.
So unless one of you wants to volunteer as the next test dummy, shut up about what we should do."
He slammed his hands on the table, the impact sending a shockwave through the room that rattled glasses and made several nobles flinch.
Then he turned and stormed out, the door slamming behind him with enough force to shake the walls.
Silence.
One of the nobles cleared their throat. "He's too arrogant. He just got here and—"
"Would you like to be the next test for Ilias Venn?" the woman at the head of the table asked calmly.
The noble went quiet.
"I thought not." She stood, smoothing her uniform. "Caspian has spirit. That's valuable. But Ilias Venn..." She smiled, a genuine expression of anticipation. "
He's going to make this year very interesting. I wonder what entertainment he'll bring next."
She left the room, leaving the other nobles to murmur among themselves.