The school cafeteria was filled with the lively, ambient rumble of hundreds of students enjoying their lunch interval.
Trays clattered gently, and the overlapping chatter of various tables filled the large space.
Victor sat with his group, politely engaging with his friends while focusing on his plate of seasoned chicken and grains.
Beside him, Dylan was working his way through a massive portion of the daily special, though for once, he wasn’t entirely talking about his upcoming Passage party.
The conversation around the table had unanimously pivoted to the upcoming afternoon schedule, which was entirely reserved for Scale Practice.
For the final blocks of the Friday schedule, the standard classroom lectures were completely cleared away.
The entire third-year grade was expected to report to the sound-isolated training halls to spend hours developing their control over the Three Static Foundation Scales.
“Man, my throat is already dry just thinking about it,” Marcus groaned from across the table, leaning back against the bench.
“I think I’m going to opt for tactile practice today.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad,” Susie, a female classmate, countered, turning to Marcus.
“But yeah, having the option makes it easier. I think I’ll use my voice for the first hour and then switch to touch once my throat gets tired. Both options are perfectly viable, anyway.”
In their high school curriculum, the instructors allowed a great deal of flexibility during these long technical blocks.
Students could freely choose whether they wanted to practice the scales vocally to train their breath control, or tactilely through their hands to steady their raw physical output.
Since both methods counted equally toward their required training hours, most students frequently alternated between the two to prevent physical fatigue.
Plus, the Graduation Exam could be done both ways.
“It’s easy for you guys to say,” Dylan mumbled around a mouthful of food, turning his hazel eyes toward Victor.
“You’ve already got a stable frequency balance. My adolescent half-tier static is going to make the Scale of the Field look like a flickering neon sign whether I use my voice or my hands. Hey, Vic, what are you going to practice today?”
Victor swallowed his food and offered a calm answer.
“My tact ability,” he replied smoothly.
“You know I don’t like using my voice during practice.”
“What a pity, Vic!” Susie exclaimed from across the table.
“Although I’ve never heard you use your voice with your ability, I feel like your timbre would produce a really nice sound.”
The others at the table nodded in thorough agreement.
They all possessed a solid grasp of high school musical theory, meaning they had spent years training their hearing to distinguish incredibly fine acoustic nuances.
“Forget it, guys. In all these years, I’ve never seen Vic use his voice with his ability once.”
Victor simply shook his head politely.
“My voice is awful, guys. Trust me, just forget it.”
Seeing his firm denial, the group let it go and naturally changed the subject.
Victor fell into a quiet thoughtfulness after the exchange.
‘Hmm.
Now I finally understand why I always disliked using my voice in the past,’ he realized.
A specific, locked memory from Earth surfaced in his mind—a memory of a time he had written a deeply personal song and, after recording his own vocal guide track, watched a massive entertainment conglomerate shamelessly steal the piece for another artist.
‘What a drag,’ he thought to himself, quietly filing the bitter memory away.
His subconscious had been actively protecting his vocal cords all these years, associating the physical act of singing with the pain of betrayal.
As the rest of the table continued to trade strategies on how to alternate between vocal pitches and tactile touch to survive the sixty-second benchmarks, Victor quietly finished his meal.
He preferred peace and quiet, but he remained a well-mannered teenager who valued his friends’ company.
The third-year students filed out of the cafeteria and navigated the wide corridors toward the campus training blocks, eventually arriving at the vast resonance hall reserved specifically for Class 3-B.
As Victor stepped through the threshold, the immediate transition into total acoustic stillness made it clear that the entire architectural structure was lined with premium sound-isolating materials.
The training hall was massive and highly organized, systematically divided into several distinct technological sections designed to accommodate any student’s specific practice routine.
Across the main floor, rows of specialized consoles and interface bays lined the walls, each equipped with its own dedicated processing array.
To the left, the hall featured a sprawling layout of musical instruments—ranging from sleek, acoustic guitars and electronic synths to high-fidelity percussion pads—specifically curated for the students who preferred to channel their bio-sound waves through a melodic medium.
Opposite to that was the non-musical section, a sparse, practical workspace filled with heavy industrial consoles, mock vehicle dashboards, and geometric diagnostic terminals meant for those who preferred to train their frequencies strictly for technical or corporate vocations.
Furthermore, the back perimeter of the hall was lined with a row of elegant glass cubicles.
These private booths were engineered with advanced internal dampening fields, allowing any student inside to blast their vocal pitches or strike their instruments at absolute maximum volume without a single decibel leaking out to disturb their peers on the main floor.
Victor and Dylan joined the rest of their classmates in the center of the resonance hall, the group chatting politely as they waited for the faculty to arrive.
A few moments later, the entrance doors slid open, and Instructor Hal walked into the room, flanked closely by his two teaching assistants, Mr.
Juk and Mrs. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Bates.
The entire third-year class immediately straightened their postures and paid close attention.
Instructor Hal was a formidable Peak Tier 4 Specialist, while his two assistants were both fully certified Beginner Tier 4 Specialists.
Together, this three-person team commanded absolute authority over the class, carrying the massive responsibility of guiding and refining the students’ foundational mechanics.
The division of labor among the faculty was highly organized to match the students’ preferred practice methods.
Mr.
Juk took charge of the left side of the hall, managing the section filled with musical instruments and guiding those who used melody to channel their abilities.
Mrs.
Bates moved toward the right, overseeing the technical, non-musical section to teach the students who preferred training their frequencies on industrial consoles and diagnostic terminals.
Instructor Hal, meanwhile, was a master of vocal resonance, and an active rumor circulated among the third-years that his vocal frequency control was on the verge of breaking through to the highly prestigious Tier 5 Expert level.
He would pace the aisles to oversee the entire hall, stepping in to correct anyone he observed making a mechanical or conceptual mistake.
Stepping up to the central podium, Instructor Hal looked out across the gathered third-years, his posture perfectly rigid.
“Good afternoon, class,” Instructor Hal said, his vocal resonance clear, smooth, and perfectly projected across the vast room without the aid of any mechanical speakers.
“We are officially entering the intensive phase of your scale development. We have less than 6 months until you have to perform for your Graduation Exam. So, from this point forward, every second you spend in this hall matters. I expect absolute dedication, whether you are utilizing a vocal chord or a tactile interface. Do not waste your mental stamina on careless mistakes. Work diligently, listen to your handlers, and steady your baseline.”
He paused, offering a curt nod.
“To your stations. Begin.”
With those few words, the crowd of students immediately dispersed.
Victor walked quietly alongside Dylan toward the technical, non-musical section.
Dylan preferred non-musical instruments because he wanted to follow a sports career, and sports SII machines were non-musical.
Victor had to admit as he walked toward the Non-Musical Section, that he was feeling a little excited.
He was about to practice with his ‘magical’ ability; his Earth memories made the experience more wonderful than he ever felt in these past years.
That’s why, as he connected his hands to the instrument interface and prepared himself to spend the afternoon refining his tactile touch under Mrs.
Bates’s supervision, he felt his heart beating a little faster than usual.