The deep hum beneath the floorboards died down in stages, leaving only the soft, rhythmic hiss of released Aether venting into the open night.
For a few long seconds, nobody moved.
They just sat in their seats, staring through the cool glass at the massive white stone and dark iron structures rising beyond the tracks.
Tunde leaned forward, pressing his palm flat against the window pane.
His voice dropped to an awed whisper.
“…So this is Velmora Academy.” Kemi stood up beside him, her hands resting lightly on the back of his seat.
Her eyes traced the nearest watchtower slowly, following its broad stone base up to the pale crystal glowing at its peak.
Zara unfolded her arms and leaned in between them, her dark eyes reflecting the distant lights.
“Looks more like a full city than a school.” Tunde let out a short, breathy laugh.
“Na school be this?” “Apparently,” Zara muttered, though she didn’t look any less impressed.
Outside, the academy grounds sprawled across the valley in massive, structured layers.
Pale stone walls ran alongside heavy metallic frames.
Aether crystals—some as large as a man’s torso—glowed in heavy iron sconces along the perimeter, humming faintly with a steady, blue-white light.
High arched bridges connected soaring towers overhead, casting long shadows across the illuminated courtyards below.
Wide training grounds opened up in every direction.
Dozens of students were already moving across the open stone plazas—some carrying longswords wrapped in leather, others holding polished staves or heavy composite bows.
A few bore weapons the newcomers couldn’t even identify.
Curved metallic blades that hummed on their own.
Crystal-tipped spears that caught the moonlight.
Heavy iron gauntlets pulsing with pale, contained energy.
And then there were the people who clearly weren’t human.
A tall boy crossed the courtyard with long, sleek pointed ears that twitched at the sound of the train.
A girl walking beside him had a thin, dark tail swaying lazily behind her coat.
Further down the path, another student stood beneath an archway, completely human in appearance except for two short, dark horns breaking through the hairline above her forehead.
Tunde stared, his jaw loosening.
“…Omo.” Zara glanced sideways at him.
“What?” “Nothing.” He pointed vaguely toward the horned girl.
“I just dey try understand wetin my eyes dey see.” Kemi smiled faintly, though her shoulders remained tense.
“You’ve been saying that ever since we entered this world.” “Because nothing here makes sense,” Tunde replied flatly, shaking his head.
Zara leaned back against the headrest.
“Get used to it.” Tunde turned his head.
“You sound like you’ve already accepted everything.” “I haven’t.” Zara paused, her knuckles tightening slightly over her arms.
“I just stopped expecting this place to look like home.” Tunde let out a low exhale, his gaze drifting back to the glass.
“Fair enough.” At the front of the section, the heavy carriage door hissed open.
Cool night air immediately rushed into the warm train, carrying the fresh scent of crushed grass, wet stone, and something faintly sweet and floral drifting from deeper inside the grounds.
The twenty-five students slowly stood up from their seats.
Some stretched out stiff limbs; a boy near the back yawned loudly, smacking his lips, while another picked up a small leather bag at his feet.
A girl quietly smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt before stepping toward the aisle.
Nobody rushed.
They had arrived.
But the reality of what coming here actually meant weighed far heavier on them than the journey itself had.
The female guardian stood beside the open doorway, her posture straight and her expression calm.
“Stay together,” she instructed, her voice cutting clearly through the low murmur of the carriage.
“Do not wander away from the group.
Velmora is vast, and you do not know your way around yet.” The students offered silent nods.
One after another, they descended the iron steps onto the stone platform.
The moment their shoes touched the ground, Tunde noticed the floorboards.
Beneath thick, transparent sections of the paved walkways, thin veins of glowing pale-blue Aether pulsed like living arteries, carrying light toward the main academy buildings in slow, steady waves.
Tunde crouched slightly, squinting at his boots.
“…The ground dey light up.” Zara glanced down without slowing her stride.
“Don’t touch it.” “I wasn’t going to touch am.” “You were thinking about it.” Tunde straightened up, adjusting his jacket.
“…Maybe small.” Kemi let out a quiet laugh.
It wasn’t loud, and it didn’t last long, but Zara caught it.
She looked at Kemi for a second, said nothing, and turned back to follow the guardian down the wide central walkway.
They moved through the grounds at a measured pace.
A long line of open food stalls ran along one side of the main path, sending up curls of white smoke and the heavy, rich aroma of roasted meat mixed with fresh, baked bread.
Groups of older students stood around the wooden counters, talking and laughing over large stone mugs.
Beneath a row of broad, dark-leafed trees nearby, others sat on carved benches, reading from thick leather-bound books.
Two younger students scrambled down a short flight of stone steps right in front of them, chasing a woman in grey robes who carried a tall stack of parchment.
“Wait for me, na!” “You’re the one who was lagging behind!” “Because I was trying to finish my meat!” “That is entirely your own fault!” Tunde’s eyes followed them, a faint, genuine smile touching his face.
“So dem really get normal life here.” Kemi looked around at the passing crowds, the tension in her chest easing by a small fraction.
“Looks like it.” That simple realization made the world feel slightly less terrifying.
This wasn’t just a bleak realm of monsters, Monarchs, and blood.
People ate here.
They argued about food.
They studied late.
They complained about being late to class.
The guardian led them past the central plaza, stopping at a wide fork in the stone path between two massive multi-story buildings separated by an open garden.
“These are the residential quarters,” she said, gesturing first to the structure on the left.
“Male dormitory.” Then to the right: “Female dormitory.” Tunde looked up at the stone balconies of the male building.
“At least we get a proper place to sleep.” Zara turned her head toward him.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” “Why?” “We’re still in another world,” she said, her voice dropping.
“Comfort makes people soft.” Tunde’s faint smile faded.
“…True.” The guardian motioned for them to keep moving.
“You will receive your specific room assignments later this evening.
For now, we must get you to your assigned classroom.” They approached a heavy stone building set near the eastern inner wall.
Warm light poured out through the tall, open windows, accompanied by the muffled hum of multiple voices speaking at once.
Tunde’s steps slowed slightly as they reached the wide archway.
“So this is it,” he muttered.
Kemi looked up at the polished wooden double doors.
“Looks like it.” Beside them, Zara cracked her knuckles with a sharp *pop*.
Tunde looked at her hands.
“Wetin you dey do?” “Nothing.” “You always crack your fingers when you’re tense.” Zara shot him a flat look.
“I am not tense.” “You are.” “Keep talking and I’ll use your neck to crack the rest.” Tunde immediately looked straight ahead.
“Okay.
I keep quiet.” The guardian pushed the heavy classroom doors open.
The chatter inside died down instantly.
Twelve students were already inside the spacious, tiered lecture room.
Every single head turned toward the entrance.
The room was vast, built with curved stone desks arranged in wide arcs around a central podium.
The physical presence of the space alone made several of the earth-born teenagers pause on the threshold—the ceilings arched nearly thirty feet high, held up by white pillars that hummed with buried Aether.
Four students sat in the front row, looking calm and composed.
Three others sat tucked into the far left corner, deliberately separated from the rest of the room.
Their postures were stiff, their shoulders hunched, and their eyes darted anxiously toward the open door.
The remaining five filled seats scattered across the middle and back rows.
Most of them were boys, but they were far from uniform.
One possessed long, silver-tipped pointed ears that caught the overhead light.
Another had dark, tiger-like ears breaking through his hair and a thick, striped tail resting against the back of his chair.
A girl near the center sat with two sleek, feathered wings folded tight against her spine.
Beside her, a boy stared at the doorway with pale, iridescent eyes that lacked normal pupils.
Some looked openly curious.
Others looked indifferent.
One boy near the very back barely lifted his gaze from a thick leather journal before turning the page.
The three isolated students in the corner exchanged brief, wary glances when they saw the group entering.
One of them lowered his eyes quickly to his desk; another quietly dragged his chair a few inches further back against the wall.
There was already a clear, sharp division between them and the rest of the class.
The guardian stepped fully into the room, her voice commanding immediate order.
“Everyone.” The twelve students settled into silence.
“We have new classmates joining us,” the guardian announced, gesturing to the group behind her.
“These are the individuals who recently arrived from another world.” A heavy quiet fell over the room as the existing students took them in.
Then, the girl with the pointed ears stood up smoothly from her seat in the second row.
“Welcome,” she said, her voice calm and remarkably gentle.
Another student near the middle gave a firm nod.
“Welcome to Velmora.” Tunde blinked, slightly taken aback.
A small breath of relief left his chest, and he offered a short nod back.
“Thanks.” The pointed-eared girl offered a subtle smile before sitting back down.
A tiger-eared boy in the middle row rested his elbows on his desk, examining the crowd.
“All twenty-five of you are joining this unit?” “Yes,” the guardian confirmed.
“You will share the same curriculum.” Someone near the back let out a low whistle.
“That’s a full house.” Another student muttered softly under his breath, “Thirty-seven people in one class.” Tunde looked around the room, doing the math in his head.
“Thirty-seven?” “Twenty-five summoned heroes,” the guardian explained smoothly, “and the twelve local students previously assigned to this section.” Zara crossed her arms tight across her chest.
“Better than being stranded alone.” Kemi nodded in quiet agreement.
The tiger-eared boy leaned back, his eyes lingering on Zara’s posture.
“You fight?” Zara met his gaze directly without flinching.
“A little.” A slow smile curved the boy’s lips.
“You don’t carry yourself like someone who only fights *a little*.” Zara raised an eyebrow, her tone dry and unbothered.
“And you don’t look like someone who should be asking so many questions.” The boy paused, then let out a low, genuine laugh.
“Fair enough.” Tunde quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide a grin, while Kemi shook her head softly.
The thick tension in the room thawed slightly.
It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but the edge of entering an unknown space had been dulled.
The guardian turned back to face the twenty-five newcomers.
“Before you take your seats, there is an important structure you must understand.” The entire room quieted, listening closely.
“This is a specialized class unit,” the guardian continued, her hand sweeping toward the original twelve.
“These students were brought together for specific reasons—unusual Soul Manifestations, prominent lineages, or exceptional native potential.” Her gaze shifted back to the twenty-five.
“And all of you possess unique circumstances that require direct observation and structured training.” A boy near the middle raised his hand slightly.
“Are all twenty-five of them summoned heroes?” “They are,” the guardian replied.
Quiet murmurs rippled through the native students.
“Furthermore,” the guardian added, “several of the local students already sitting in this room descend from established hero lineages.” The newcomers instantly remembered Karl’s words in the dining hall three nights ago.
Bloodlines.
Ancient history.
Ancestors who had bled and fallen in the long wars against the Ash Throne.
“They have been trained in Aether fundamentals since childhood,” the guardian said, her voice grave.
“From this day forward, you will study beside them, train beside them, and eventually stand on the same battlefields.” She stepped to the side of the podium.
“Treat one another as classmates.
Nothing less.” Everyone in the room knew it wouldn’t remain that simple once training began, but no one voiced the thought.
The guardian gestured toward the vacant rows of stone desks.
“Find your places.” The twenty-five filtered into the tiered seating.
The earth-born teenagers moved with a slight, subtle hesitation—some sitting down cautiously as if testing the weight of the stone chairs, acutely aware of the non-human students sitting only a few desks away.
Naturally, they clustered into familiar groups.
Tunde, Kemi, and Zara claimed a row of seats near the center.
Miss Grace sat quietly near the end of a lower row, her face pale and exhausted, her posture slumping slightly once she sat.
Emma, Godwin, and Daniel took seats directly behind her.
Maxwell, Victor, John, and Wisdom claimed a long desk near the right wall, while Victoria and Ella settled one row ahead of them.
Thirty-seven students.
Thirty-seven different backgrounds.
One room.
Maxwell leaned sideways toward John, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Guy, this place no bad at all.” John didn’t turn his head.
“You’ve been inside this room for less than three minutes.” “I know.” “Then how do you know if it’s bad or not?” Maxwell shrugged smoothly.
“I get strong intuition.” Victor let out a soft, tired sigh from the seat beside them.
“Abeg, don’t start.” Across the aisle, one of the native students—a girl with long, straight black hair and sharp features—glanced back at the twenty-five newcomers.
Her lip curled slightly as she leaned toward the boy sitting next to her, keeping her voice low, though the edge in it carried.
“Tsk.
So what if they’re from another world?
Doesn’t make them any special compared to Aetheris-born talent.” The boy beside her gave a lazy, uninterested shrug.
“They haven’t even proven they can handle raw Aether yet.” “I heard half of them barely survived their first encounter in the wastes,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“They look…
completely ordinary.” The boy snorted softly.
“Watch your mouth.
They might hear you.” “And what will they do if they hear me?” she replied, her voice cold and deliberate.
Neither of them raised their tone to cause an immediate scene, but the clear dismissiveness in their posture was impossible to miss.
In the far left corner, the three isolated students watched the exchange in silence.
The boy with the tired, dark-ringed eyes leaned toward the girl beside him, whispering barely above a breath.
“You see that black-haired girl?
She’s one of the ones who made things miserable for us during orientation week.” The girl kept her head down, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk.
“Just look down.
Don’t draw attention.” “I’m not going to,” the boy muttered, pulling his hands into his sleeves.
The quiet, unspoken rivalries of the room were already taking shape.
Then, the heavy classroom door swung open once more.
Two figures walked in.
The first was a young man with vibrant, fiery red hair that instantly stood out against the muted stone walls.
His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, with his hands slung loosely into his dark jacket pockets, but his eyes swept across the room in a single, calculating second.
Beside him walked a young woman—Christina.
She moved with a measured, effortless grace, her expression perfectly composed.
She didn’t raise her head or project her presence, yet the entire room seemed to adjust its focus toward her the moment she stepped across the threshold.
The reaction among the native students was immediate.
“That’s Cain…” “Christina is here too?” “They’re both active officers from the Luxe Guild…” “I heard they’re direct disciples of a Worldwalker.” “Cain cleared a Master-level rift last month, didn’t he?” “She fought an elite beast unit alone near the southern border.” The two native students who had been whispering insults moments earlier fell instantly silent, pulling back into their seats as Cain’s gaze drifted over their row.
Cain didn’t acknowledge the whispers.
He simply offered a brief, easy grin to the room at large.
Christina stopped beside the main podium, her posture straight and her clear eyes scanning the thirty-seven faces before her.
The guardian stepped forward, introducing them formally.
“Everyone, these are Cain and Christina.
They are active members of the Luxe Guild and personal students of a Worldwalker.” The room stilled once again.
“For your initial adaptation period,” the guardian explained, “they have been assigned to assist with your practical instruction and oversee your integration into Velmora.
While you will still answer to the academy’s senior faculty, Cain and Christina will serve as your primary field guides.
They understand the practical realities of Aetheris, the guild networks, and higher-tier combat far better than any textbook can teach you.” She turned to face the two.
“I leave them in your hands.” Cain’s grin widened slightly.
“We’ll keep them alive.” Christina gave a single, formal nod.
“We will carry out the assignment properly.” Miss Grace stood up slowly from her seat near the front.
Her physical exhaustion was visible in the faint tremor of her hands, but her voice remained steady as she looked back at her twenty-five students.
“Listen to everything they tell you.
Do not be reckless.” Maxwell whispered under his breath, “She really sounds like our mother.” John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud.
Miss Grace turned her head slightly, her gaze fixing on Maxwell’s row.
“Did you say something, Maxwell?” Maxwell instantly sat up straight as a board, his face entirely blank.
“No, ma!
I’m listening attentively!” A wave of quiet chuckles broke out across the middle rows.
Even Miss Grace allowed the faintest, briefest ghost of a smile to touch her lips before she turned back to Cain and Christina.
“Please take good care of them.” “We will,” Cain replied smoothly.
The guardian motioned toward the door.
“Your residential quarter assignments have been finalized.
Your weekly schedules will be delivered to your rooms tonight.” She paused at the threshold, looking back at Cain.
“Try not to cause an incident on your first day.” Cain tilted his head, his hands still in his pockets.
“No absolute promises on that one.” The guardian gave him a long, deeply tired look.
“Precisely what I expected.” She shook her head, turned, and exited the room, with Miss Grace following closely behind her.
The heavy doors closed shut with a solid, echoing thud.
Now, it was just Cain, Christina, and the thirty-seven students.
Cain turned around slowly, his boots clicking against the polished stone floor.
“Well then.” He looked across the tiered seats, his bright eyes glinting.
“Looks like we’ve got a full house.” Christina stepped up to the center of the podium.
“Let us establish proper introductions first.” Her tone was clear, deliberate, and entirely devoid of unnecessary flair.
“My name is Christina.
I am a representative of the Luxe Guild, and as mentioned, I am a disciple of a Worldwalker.” Low, excited whispers broke out among several of the native students once more.
Cain chuckled, leaning casually back against the instructor’s desk.
“I’m Cain.
Same guild, same background.” A student near the front raised a hand.
“Are you both from established hero bloodlines?” Cain nodded once.
“Born and raised.” Another student called out from the back, “How strong are you actually?” Christina offered a subtle, faint smile.
“Strong enough to ensure you complete your first term.” “That isn’t a numeric rank,” the student pressed.
Cain laughed aloud, shaking his head.
“She’s always like this.
Don’t bother asking for specifics.” Christina glanced sideways at him.
“And you talk far too much.” “Which is exactly why they paired us up,” Cain replied easily.
The light back-and-forth broke the remaining awkwardness in the air, allowing the class to relax slightly into their seats.
Then, Christina’s expression shifted.
The easy atmosphere didn’t vanish, but her tone grew noticeably more focused as she looked directly across the rows holding the twenty-five summoned students.
“Before we proceed to your schedule breakdown,” Christina said, her voice dropping into a quiet, measured cadence, “there is a small matter I would like to clarify.” The room settled into complete quiet.
“Most of you were pulled directly from your original realm during a spatial rupture,” Christina continued smoothly.
“It is common for individuals caught in such events to carry items that reacted to the transit.” She paused, her clear eyes sweeping slowly across Tunde, Kemi, and Zara’s row.
“Do any of you happen to possess unusual artifacts?
Relics, ancient gear…
rings, perhaps?” The silence in the room became absolute.
Tunde’s eyes flickered immediately toward Kemi.
His chest tightened, and his jaw shifted as if he were about to speak.
Before a single sound could leave his mouth, Kemi’s foot came down on his ankle under the stone desk.
Sharp.
Precise.
Painful.
Tunde blinked hard, choked back his breath, and clamped his jaw shut, staring straight ahead.
Christina’s eyes caught the tiny, sudden movement.
Her gaze lingered on Tunde for a fraction of a second—not pointing, not accusing, but letting the quiet stretch out between them.
No one in the class raised a hand.
No one spoke.
Cain watched the silent interaction from his position against the desk.
His relaxed smile didn’t fade by a millimeter, but his posture subtly adjusted as he took in the exact body language of the earth-born group.
Finally, Christina gave a single, slow nod.
“Very well.
It was merely a standard inquiry.” The tension dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.
Tunde leaned sideways toward Kemi, his voice barely a breath against her ear.
“Wetin be that for?” Kemi kept her eyes locked on the front podium, her lips barely moving.
“Have you not been paying attention?
Ever since we came out of the ruins, everyone keeps asking about rings and relics.
First Karl during dinner, now them.” She paused, her voice turning icy cold.
“Something is wrong.” Zara sat beside them, her body as still as stone, her eyes fixed forward.
“The library,” she whispered, the sound almost lost beneath the quiet shifting of chairs in the room.
“The guardian showed us the east archive building on the way here.
We check it the first chance we get.” Tunde gave a tiny, almost invisible nod.
All three of them let the conversation die completely.
At the front, Cain exchanged a swift look with Christina—a simple, lingering glance that passed between them.
They both knew something had caught.
They just weren’t going to press it in front of the entire class.
Cain pushed himself off the edge of the desk, folding his arms over his chest.
“Now that we’ve cleared the basic introductions…” His voice carried easily to every corner of the large room, lighter now, but underlaid with a grounded, serious weight.
“From this moment on, you are officially recognized as students of Velmora Academy.” Christina stood beside him, her posture straight.
“We will provide you with the foundation, the resources, and the instruction required to navigate this world.” Cain’s easy expression sobered, his eyes sweeping across all thirty-seven faces.
“…And make sure you are ready for the war that is coming for all of us.”