No smoke trailed behind it into the night.
No engine hammered against the iron tracks.
The only sign of movement ran quietly under the floor—blue-white veins of Aether pulsing through crystal conduits.
Every rhythmic pulse sent a small, low shiver through the seats, through the soles of the students’ shoes.
Outside, Aetheris was a vast, black sheet.
Dark hills came and went in silence.
Distant lights appeared far off across the plains, too faint to make sense of, then slid behind the train like they had never existed.
Inside the carriage, twenty-five students sat scattered across the rows.
Tunde had the window seat, his forehead resting lightly against the cool glass.
Kemi sat beside him, her head resting against his arm.
Zara sat directly across from them, her arms pulled tight over her chest as she stared at nothing in particular.
Nobody had spoken for a long time.
Then Tunde cleared his throat softly.
“…All this still feels like a dream.” Kemi turned her head slowly, her cheek lifting off his sleeve.
“Yeah.” She nodded, but it was a quiet motion meant more for herself than for him.
“Feels worse than a dream,” Zara said, her voice dry.
Tunde glanced up at her.
“Why?” “If somebody told me three weeks ago we’d leave Earth for another world,” Zara went on, shaking her head, “I would have told the person to go and sleep.” “Same here,” Tunde agreed with a short, quiet exhale.
Kemi’s fingers had been tracing the frayed edge of her sleeve.
They stopped.
There were faces she didn’t want to think about right now.
People who should have been sitting somewhere in these empty seats, breathing the same air, complaining about the cold.
She let her eyes drop to her lap, her throat tightening.
Tunde noticed the sudden shift in her posture.
He didn’t push.
He didn’t ask.
He turned toward Zara instead, shifting his weight.
“So…
you don get used to the food here?” Zara’s face twisted instantly.
“Don’t remind me.” “I just forced myself to eat,” Kemi said, her voice small as her nose wrinkled.
“No choice.” “Too many leaves,” Zara muttered.
“Like…
why are there so many leaves in one meal?” Kemi let out a tiny laugh.
“You ate the whole thing, though.” “I was hungry!” “You were complaining while eating.” “Because I was hungry!” Tunde shook his head, a faint grin breaking through his tired face.
“Omo.” Kemi laughed again.
It wasn’t loud, and it didn’t last very long.
But for a brief, fragile moment, they all looked like themselves again—just teenagers sitting around after class.
Zara leaned her head back against the cushion and let the quiet return.
This time, the silence didn’t feel quite as heavy.
Further down the carriage, Maxwell had leaned across the aisle, pulling John, Victor, and Wisdom into a tight, low circle.
“Guy, I heard men are rare among these people,” Maxwell whispered.
John frowned, leaning away slightly.
“What are you saying?” “I’m serious.” Maxwell leaned in closer, his eyes wide, speaking like he was handing over a government secret.
“Even those people in white robes that welcomed us at the hall.
You noticed?
More women than men.” Victor paused, rubbing his chin.
“Come to think of it…” “There are more women,” Wisdom confirmed quietly, looking up from his hands.
“By a lot.” Maxwell’s eyes widened even further.
He sat back, slapping his own knee.
“Omo.” He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
“Maybe we need to find wives for ourselves.” John reached out and smacked the back of Maxwell’s head with a dull *clack*.
“Idiot,” John muttered.
“What?!” Maxwell rubbed the sore spot on his scalp.
“You just entered another world and that’s your first plan?” “Abeg, I am preparing for the future!” Maxwell defended himself, straightening his shirt.
Victor laughed softly.
“What future?” “Our future!” Wisdom shook his head.
“You haven’t even reached the academy yet.” “Exactly,” Maxwell insisted.
“That’s why we need to plan early.” A few rows ahead, Victoria turned in her seat, resting her chin on the backrest.
“You people are shameless.” Maxwell frowned at her.
“Why?” “You don’t know anything about this world,” Victoria said, her voice crisp.
“You’re only guessing.” “That’s why I’m asking questions,” Maxwell shot back, unbothered.
“A man who wants to marry should know the market.” Ella covered her mouth, a small snort escaping her fingers.
The boys kept arguing back and forth, but their voices gradually faded into the steady, low hum of the train.
Victoria turned back around in her seat.
She rolled her right shoulder in a slow circle.
The thick muscle near her neck had been stiff and aching ever since their escape from the ruins.
She pressed her fingers deep into the knot, but the sharp pain stayed locked in place.
“Your neck?” Ella asked softly from beside her.
“Since yesterday,” Victoria muttered.
“You should sleep.” “Sleep doesn’t fix this.” Victoria tried to stretch her head to the left, and a dull spike of pain shot straight down her upper arm.
She winced, dropping her hand.
“I need someone to just press it out.
That’s what I need.” Ella didn’t say anything.
Neither of them needed to speak the name aloud.
*Success.* The word hung heavy in the narrow space between their seats.
“She had hands of iron,” Victoria said after a long moment.
Her voice was flat, but the flatness was a thin shield over something raw.
“You remember?
Five minutes and any knot was completely gone.
She never even complained.” Ella looked down at her own lap.
“She always came when you called,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Victoria swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry.
“She always came.” The train hit a slight curve on the track, making the carriage sway gently.
“I keep trying to remember the last thing I said to her,” Victoria’s voice dropped even lower, almost lost under the hum of the Aether conduits.
“But I can’t.
It was always something small.
Something mean.
I never thought…” She stopped, her jaw clenching as she stared at the dark seat in front of her.
Ella began picking at a loose, pale thread on her sleeve, pulling it tight.
“She used to braid my hair.
During break time.” Victoria turned her head slightly to look at her.
“I never asked her,” Ella said, her voice trembling just enough to show.
“She would just come behind my chair and start.” Her fingers stopped moving against the thread.
“One day I told her not to touch me.
I called her…” She trailed off.
She couldn’t bring herself to say the word aloud in the dark.
The carriage rocked again as the train leveled out.
“I thought we would have time,” Victoria said, staring up at the curved ceiling.
“You know?
Time to grow up and become better people.
To look back at secondary school five years from now, apologize, and laugh about how stupid we were.” She pressed her palm flat against her eyes, breathing heavily through her nose.
“We were supposed to get that chance.” Ella didn’t answer.
“The morning everyone was running…
I saw her,” Ella finally spoke, her knuckles turning white against her skirt.
“In the crowd.
She was looking right at me.
Like she was waiting for me to say something.” Victoria lowered her hand slowly.
“What did you do?” Ella’s jaw tightened until her cheek muscles ached.
“I looked away.” The background noise of the carriage filled the silence between them.
Victoria didn’t speak for a long moment.
Then, looking back out into the black night, she whispered, “I’d give anything to hear her call my name again.
Soft, the way she did.
Like she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to say it.” “But she is never boarding another train,” Ella said.
“No.” Victoria’s shoulder throbbed with a slow, heavy pulse.
She didn’t reach up to massage it this time.
She just stared at her own reflection in the dark glass.
There was no fixing that knot.
At the very front of the section, Miss Grace sat alone.
Her head was rested back against the cushioned seat, her eyes half-closed, but the deep crease between her brows remained.
She hadn’t truly slept since their return—just short, shallow stretches of rest that left her head pounding and her body more exhausted than before.
Behind her, Emma kept glancing forward every few minutes, checking on her.
Godwin sat quietly, staring out his window with his chin resting in his palm.
Daniel had his arms folded tight across his chest, his gaze locked on the floorboards.
No one disturbed Miss Grace.
Other students filled the remaining seats around them.
Some talked in low, muted whispers.
Some stared through the dark glass, watching the empty landscape pass.
One boy near the back had fallen fast asleep with his mouth open, his temple pressed directly against the cold glass.
Twenty-five.
Twenty-five ordinary people who were no longer ordinary.
All of them heading toward a place they had never seen, and none of them sure what would be waiting for them when the doors opened.
Kemi’s voice broke the quiet near the middle rows.
“But you still remember everything from three days ago, right?” Tunde’s faint smile faded completely.
“Yeah.” Zara turned her head toward them, her face growing serious.
Kemi looked back out the window.
“Everything?” Tunde paused, taking a slow, heavy breath into his chest.
“Everything.” The train carried them forward through the dark.
And three days earlier…
The very first thing the survivors had noticed after returning from the Forsaken Dream Land was the silence.
No one was screaming at them to run.
No one was forcing them to pull weapons or fight for their lives.
They were given clean rooms.
Hot food.
Time.
Some of them slept for the better part of that first day, too exhausted to even remove their shoes.
Others lay awake in the middle of the night, their eyes wide, listening for monsters or scraping sounds that were no longer there.
Slowly, their bruised bodies began to heal, even if their minds couldn’t move quite as fast.
Three days passed in that quiet holding facility.
On the third evening, a female attendant dressed in soft grey robes knocked on their doors, gently informing them that dinner was ready in the main hall.
The students drifted out of their rooms one by one, filling the long stone hallway.
Most of them were thinking only about filling their stomachs.
Then one of the boys stopped mid-step near a large arched opening.
“Wait.” The others paused, looking back at him.
“What?” “Have you actually seen outside?” He pointed out through the tall, unglazed window frame.
They walked over, crowding around the opening.
For the first time since their arrival, they had enough peace to stop and actually look.
The stone building they were staying in stood high on an elevated ridge, overlooking a vast basin.
Below them, the city stretched farther than any of them could measure with their eyes.
Wide paved roads pushed between dense districts.
Massive stone towers rose toward the night sky.
Enormous temples dominated almost every sector, lit from within by the soft, steady glow of white Aether light.
Lamps hovered silently above some of the main avenues without any poles supporting them.
Others were embedded directly into the defensive walls.
Strange vehicles moved along the lower streets—some rolling on heavy iron wheels, others gliding an inch above the stone road, pulled along by thin, glowing tracks of pale light.
Nobody spoke for a long time.
“This place is huge,” Tunde said softly, stepping closer until his hands rested on the cold window ledge.
Kemi stared at the towering structures in the center.
“Are those…
churches?” An attendant standing near the archway shook her head with a gentle expression.
“They are temples.” “Temples?” “Yes.
This territory is home to devoted followers of the Divine Shepherd.” Several students turned around.
“The Shepherd?” The woman offered a polite smile.
“It is how many in this realm describe our faith.
Our families have served the Shepherd for generations.
This city has stood longer than my grandfathers could count.” Tunde looked back out over the glowing streets.
“So…
do they have a king?” “A king and a queen,” the woman answered smoothly.
The response surprised him.
The grand temples and the royal crown existed side by side in this place.
Aether hummed beneath the roads, and creatures he couldn’t even name walked alongside ordinary human citizens down in the plazas.
It felt somewhat familiar—lights, movement, structured order—yet completely alien in every detail that mattered.
“Your dinner is getting cold,” the attendant reminded them gently, gesturing toward the double doors at the end of the hall.
The spell broke.
They stepped away from the window.
The dining hall was vast, featuring a single massive wooden table that ran down the center of the polished floor.
Karl sat at the far head of the table.
Miss Grace sat directly to his left.
Kemi, Tunde, and Zara found empty seats further down the side.
Emma, Godwin, and Daniel took their places to Karl’s right, while the rest filled in the remaining chairs slowly, their wooden legs scraping against the stone.
For the first few seconds, no one touched the platters placed before them.
Some dishes contained recognizable roasted vegetables.
Some held thick cuts of dark meat.
Others defied any simple explanation, steaming with faint blue vapors.
Maxwell leaned sideways toward his plate, squiting.
“What is this one?” John shrugged, his hands resting on his knees.
“How should I know?” “Touch am first, na.” “Why me?” “You’re closer to the plate!” John stared at him flatly.
“That’s not a reason.” At the far end of the table, one of the quiet boys picked up an unfamiliar piece of seasoned meat, sniffed it cautiously, and took a small bite.
He chewed slowly.
His eyes widened.
“…Oh.” His friend leaned in immediately.
“Good?” The boy gave a quick, firm nod.
“Very.” That was all it took.
The students reached for the serving spoons, the tension in their shoulders easing slightly.
Kemi took a tiny bite of a pale green vegetable, chewed carefully, and paused.
Tunde noticed.
“Good?” She nodded.
“Not bad, actually.” Zara was already eating with rapid, focused efficiency.
“I don’t care what this is called,” she muttered between bites.
“I’m starving.” A few small chuckles broke out down the line.
The stiff silence in the room cracked open.
Then Karl stood up.
The chatter died instantly.
The room settled into quiet.
Karl didn’t raise his voice, but his tone naturally commanded the space.
“Welcome again.” His dark eyes moved steadily across the table, taking in every face.
“I know it is still hard for many of you to accept everything that has happened over these past weeks.
You were living ordinary lives.
You were suddenly pulled into this place.
You were told that this world needs to be saved.” A few students looked down at their plates, their hands tightening around their eating utensils.
“I do not expect you to understand or process all of it tonight,” Karl said calmly.
“But I need you to understand this clearly: you are in Aetheris now.
And whether you accept that reality or fight against it, you must begin to adapt.” No one argued.
The truth of his words was written on their bodies in fresh scars.
“In three days, you will leave for Velmora Academy.” The mention of the name caused a subtle shift in the room’s temperature.
“The academy will teach you the fundamentals you need to survive in this realm,” Karl continued.
“But before you arrive there, there are truths you must know.” He paused, placing his large hands flat on the wooden table.
“You are not the first heroes this world has seen.” Students exchanged quick, uncertain glances across the table.
“This world has its own native heroes,” Karl explained.
“They are known as Born Heroes—individuals born within Aetheris who possess extraordinary natural potential.
In past generations, some reached the Saint level.
A rare few reached Transcendent.” His voice flattened into a grim line.
“They stood against the Four Monarchs of the Ash Throne.
For a time, many believed they would win.” He looked around the table.
“They didn’t.” The dining hall was dead quiet.
“Some died in battle.
Some were betrayed from within.
Some vanished into the waste,” Karl said, letting the weight of the words settle on them.
“And many of the men who fought in their armies died alongside them.” He leaned forward slightly.
“This is what you must understand.
The Monarchs are not ordinary opponents.
They stand at the Transcendent level of power.” A few students swallowed hard.
“They are not alike, either,” Karl said.
“Two of the Monarchs are women who have demonstrated a deep, historical hatred for men.
Their campaigns took a brutal toll on our male population.” His expression hardened.
“But the other two are no gentler.
One of the male Monarchs has slayed countless men himself.
There are records of him draining the life force of male combatants after taking them.” Somewhere down the table, a student shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Karl moved on smoothly.
“The ranking system within Aetheris is structured and absolute.” He raised one finger.
“Initiate.” A second finger.
“Elite.” A third.
“Master.” Then: “Sovereign.
Saint.
Transcendent.” He let the final word ring in the quiet air.
“Most native humans will reach Sovereign if they possess enough talent and undergo rigorous training.
But Sovereign is generally the absolute ceiling for normal mortals.
Exceptional humans can sometimes breach that ceiling and touch the Saint tier.” His eyes locked onto the students.
“Summoned heroes are different.
You possess the inherent structural potential to reach Saint…
and even Transcendent.” A low murmur ran through the table.
Karl raised a single hand, cutting the noise instantly.
“Potential is not achievement.
You will not become strong simply because this world demands it.
You will become strong only if you earn it through blood and discipline.” One of the boys near the middle raised his voice slightly.
“What about Sovereign?
What did you mean earlier about authority?” Karl’s mouth curved up into a brief, subtle mark.
“When an individual gathers enough raw authority over a concept or property, the world itself begins to recognize them.
That recognition manifests as a physical title.” He looked down the length of the table.
“A healer who masters the authority of life may become known by a title that reflects their restoration.
A man whose entire existence revolves around collecting unpaid debts…” He paused, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second.
“…He may one day be recognized by the realm as a Debt Collector.” Tunde leaned forward without realizing it, his breath holding.
“Titles are not mere reputation or street names,” Karl emphasized.
“They are a direct reflection of the authority you have carved out.
Remember that.” No one spoke.
Karl gestured toward the platters of food.
“We will not cover every detail tonight.
You will study these concepts in depth at the academy.
But there is one final reality you must understand about our society.” The students waited, attentive.
“This world currently contains significantly more women than men.” Maxwell instantly straightened up in his seat, his back sticking straight as a board.
John noticed the movement immediately out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t,” John muttered under his breath.
Maxwell ignored him completely.
“The ancient wars claimed vast numbers of men,” Karl explained calmly.
“Others fell beside the Born Heroes in the centuries that followed.
That loss has fundamentally shaped our culture.” He paused.
“Men are highly valued across most territories.
Polygamy is widespread and legally protected.
In many regions, men are actively encouraged to take multiple wives to ensure the survival of lineage and bloodlines.” Every boy sitting at the table stopped chewing at the exact same second.
Maxwell’s eyebrows rose up inch by inch.
Victor pressed his lips together, staring intently at his wooden cup.
Wisdom raised his eyes to study the stone ceiling rafters.
John’s whisper was a sharp hissed warning.
“Do not say a word.” “I’m not saying anything!” Maxwell whispered back fiercely.
“Your face is saying everything!” Across the table, the female students reacted quite differently.
One girl frowned deeply, crossing her arms.
Another looked genuinely startled.
Victoria leaned forward with open, sharp curiosity, while Ella muttered softly, “How do women even agree to that?” Karl continued without breaking stride.
“Not every woman accepts these arrangements, of course.
Nor does every man desire them.
There are regions where the dynamic is reversed, where women marry multiple men.
There are territories where women treasure men, and others where they exploit them.” He met their eyes steadily.
“Do not assume every person you meet in Aetheris adheres to the same set of rules.
Customs vary wildly between kingdoms.” He paused briefly.
“The Beastfolk territories in the Far North, for instance, are ruled absolute by a matriarchal Queen.” Maxwell couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Omo.” John drove a sharp elbow straight into Maxwell’s ribs.
“Behave!” Maxwell just grinned, rubbing his side.
Karl waited patiently until the light chuckles died down.
“Do not allow these social differences to distract you from your purpose.
You were brought into this world because Aetheris is facing total collapse.
You are meant to become strong enough to alter that balance.” His voice softened slightly, losing its sharp edge.
“But for tonight…
eat.” A few students slowly reached back out for their plates.
“And rest,” Karl added as he began to sit back down.
“After evaluating everyone’s current state and raw capacity, we have selected twenty-five of you to proceed to Velmora Academy.” The entire table stilled once more.
Twenty-five.
Out of everyone who had been dragged into this nightmare…
they were the ones moving forward.
The memory dissolved back into the dark carriage.
Tunde blinked, his eyes refocusing on the blue-white pulse of the Aether conduits beneath the floorboards.
The train was still moving smoothly through the night.
Kemi was staring silently through the glass.
Zara had her arms folded tightly across her stomach.
Tunde let his breath out in a slow, tired stream.
“So much happened in only three days.” Kemi gave a quiet nod.
“Yeah.” “And now we’re going to school,” Zara said, rolling her head back against the headrest.
Tunde let out a short, breathy laugh.
“School.” He shook his head slowly.
“After everything we saw in those ruins…
it’s still school.” Zara shrugged.
“At least we won’t be fighting monsters every second.” “Don’t be so sure,” Tunde said softly.
Zara frowned at him.
“Don’t say that, abeg.” He cracked a weak smile.
“Sorry.” A few rows forward, Victoria and Ella still hadn’t found a way back into normal conversation.
They sat in the kind of thick, heavy quiet that doesn’t heal anything, but simply exists.
Ella had finally stopped pulling at the thread on her sleeve.
Her hands lay flat and open in her lap.
Victoria’s right shoulder still throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.
Neither of them had shifted position for several minutes.
Then Victoria spoke, her voice steady and quiet.
“I’m going to say sorry to her.” Ella turned her head slowly to look at her.
“Success is dead, Vic.” “I know.” “Sorry doesn’t reach dead people.” Victoria’s jaw tightened until her teeth clicked together.
“Then maybe I’ll say it anyway,” she said, her eyes fixed on the dark glass ahead.
“Every night.
Until I stop seeing her face every single time I close my eyes.” Ella didn’t have an answer for that.
She turned her head back toward her own window.
The train kept gliding through the black landscape.
At the front of the section, the official escorting them—a tall man dressed in a sharp blue-and-silver uniform—stepped into the center of the aisle.
“Everyone,” he announced, his voice carrying clearly over the hum of the engine.
The scattered conversations died down instantly.
“We are approaching Velmora Academy,” the officer stated.
Students shifted in their seats, several pressing their faces closer to the cold glass.
“You will receive a formal education here,” the escort continued, walking slowly down the center aisle.
“But Velmora is not merely a place of books.
You will study the fundamental nature of Aether.
You will unlock and refine your Soul Manifestations.
You will train your physical bodies and learn real combat tactics.
You will master weapons, unit coordination, strategy, and field survival.” He paused near the middle of the carriage.
“The academy exists for one primary reason: to prepare its students for the violent conflicts that are coming to this realm.” A hand went up near the back—Maxwell’s.
“What about nobles?
Are there rich people there?” “Princes and princesses attend,” the officer replied calmly.
“High nobility, commanders’ children, and gifted students from dozens of kingdoms and races.
You will not be the only ones walking those halls.” Then he added, “However, you will be placed in a specialized track.
All twenty-five of you will form a singular class unit.
A small, selected group of native Born Heroes with exceptional potential will be assigned to learn alongside you.” Zara leaned past Tunde, looking down the aisle.
“So…
we’re the weird class.” The escort’s strict expression softened by a fraction, almost touching a smile.
“You could call it that.” A few nervous chuckles broke out across the rows.
“Do not expect the academy staff to treat you like fragile children,” the officer warned, his tone growing serious again.
“You will work.
You will bleed in training.
You will study late into the night.
You will improve, or you will fall behind.” The smooth vibration beneath their feet suddenly shifted, growing lower and heavier.
The train was beginning to decelerate.
People started standing up from their seats, grabbing their light bags.
“Are we there?” “Look outside!
Look!” Tunde pressed his face right against the window pane.
He stopped breathing for a second.
Kemi stood up beside him, leaning over his shoulder.
Zara pushed in at his other side, her hands gripping the top of the seat.
Beyond the dark glass, immense structures of white stone and dark iron rose out of the night plain.
High defensive walls stretched for miles, punctuated by soaring watchtowers and massive arched gates.
Floating beacons of intense light hovered along wide stone walkways like artificial stars.
Below, figures were moving across illuminated courtyards—students in crisp, dark uniforms, guards carrying heavy polearms, and individuals walking alongside massive, quadrupedal beasts that Tunde couldn’t even identify.
The train slowed to a crawl, approaching the central iron gates of the outer wall.
No one in the carriage spoke.
Tunde pressed his palm flat against the cool glass, his voice dropping to an awed whisper.
“So this is Velmora Academy…” Zara stared out, her mouth slightly open.
“Whoa.” Behind them, Maxwell’s loud voice broke through the silence.
“Omo…” Victor laughed, slapping Maxwell’s shoulder.
“Guy, close your mouth, abeg.” “I’m trying!” Maxwell stammered.
“You’re drooling, bro.” “Look at the size of that gate!
I have never seen anything like this in my life!” The massive iron gates swung open with a deep, grinding echo that vibrated right through the train’s chassis.
The carriage slid smoothly through the threshold.
Inside the outer walls, the lights stretched wider, brighter, and grander than any of them had imagined back in their quiet rooms.
Twenty-five survivors.
Twenty-five summoned heroes.
A new, dangerous life waiting for them just beyond the platform.