The Central Academy buzzed with deafening excitement.
The National Seminar, the event that gathered the most promising talents from the country’s various divisions, was in full swing.
In the vast central courtyard, between glass pavilions and marble statues, thousands of students sized each other up.
Freshly arrived from their Southern Division, Kaïs Trabelsi and Leila Amrani pushed their way through the crowd.
“Just look at all these people, Leila!” Kaïs exclaimed, his hands behind his head, visibly energized.
“This isn’t like our little training grounds.
Have you seen the equipment from the Eastern Division over there?” “I mostly noticed that there are only three emergency exits for I don’t know how many people,” Leila replied sharply, her eyes methodically scanning the surrounding arcades.
“If a stampede starts, we’re dead.
Stay focused, Kaïs.” Further away, near the central fountain, Professor Elara, a strict woman with a military bearing, was reprimanding a group of students.
“Straighten your ranks!” she barked.
“Captain Thiago will not tolerate any lack of discipline during his speech.
You represent tomorrow’s elite.
Act like it!” Leaning against a nearby pillar, Tariq El-Hashem and Issa Kaneshiro watched the sea of students with icy detachment.
“Tomorrow’s elite…” Tariq muttered bitterly.
“Listen to them laughing.
If they saw what we saw this morning, they’d be crying in their mothers’ skirts.” Issa adjusted his cracked glasses, his gaze empty.
“Let them keep their illusions, Tariq.” Suddenly, the courtyard’s attention shifted.
The ambient temperature dropped, not because of cold, but because of a sudden heaviness in the air.
The oxygen itself seemed to thicken.
The crowd parted with almost servile haste, whispering in equal parts admiration and fear.
Goman Arashi had arrived.
Heir to the Arashi bloodline, one of the Five Great Families, he walked with the natural arrogance of those born to rule.
The Arashi possessed Spirits derived from climate control.
Goman’s was particularly overwhelming: the manipulation of barometric pressure.
He could create zones of high or low pressure at will.
With every step he took, the air crackled, heavy and oppressive upon the shoulders of anyone foolish enough to approach too closely.
“Clear the way,” Goman sighed in a lazy voice.
A massive third-year student named Kenji, famous for his Rock Reinforcement Spirit, stepped in front of him with his arms crossed.
He refused to bow before a first-year student, even if that student was an Arashi.
Goman did not even stop walking.
He lazily raised two fingers.
The air above Kenji condensed violently.
Several tons of pressure crashed down upon the stone giant, forcing him onto one knee with a sickening crack.
Unable even to raise his head, he remained pinned in place.
Goman walked past him with a mocking chuckle, followed by his personal entourage.
The Great Families were not a myth.
They were monsters.
High above, from a maintenance walkway reserved for technical personnel, two other pairs of eyes observed the scene.
Raad Charara, immaculate in his uniform, leaned against the railing.
Beside him, Soura Sayal kept a low profile, hidden beneath a municipal work uniform borrowed from Raad’s father in order to pass security.
“The guy with the silver hair…” Soura murmured, his muscles tense.
“His flows are monstrous.
He compresses the air with disgusting ease.” “Goman Arashi,” Raad replied.
“Let’s just say he doesn’t spend his days cleaning alleys.
He’s a pure aristocrat’s son, and his Spirit is insanely powerful.
They say he’ll become the future head of his clan.
But for now, he’s just another student.” Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.
BZZZZZ!
BZZZZZ!
A heavy, deep, distant alarm tore through the sky.
It was not the Academy’s siren.
It was the city’s.
On the ceremonial balcony, Captain Thiago Vane’s phone vibrated.
His expression froze.
Stepping forward, his amplified voice echoed throughout the entire complex.
“A Level Orange Suppuration has appeared in the business district.
This is a critical threat.” “My intervention squad and I are departing immediately.
Containment procedures are now active.” “No student is to leave.” “You are safe here.” Without wasting a second, Thiago launched himself forward, his amber Spirit chains propelling him over the rooftops.
The moment he departed, massive armored shutters sealed every entrance.
The lockdown was complete.
Then silence returned.
But it was a heavy silence.
A suffocating silence.
The courtyard floodlights flickered before exploding.
The air changed abruptly.
An unnatural dryness descended upon the courtyard.
Humidity seemed to be sucked from the walls themselves.
First- and second-year students began collapsing by the hundreds, clutching their throats as their lungs burned.
At the center of the courtyard, Goman Arashi grimaced as he felt the oxygen slipping away.
But instead of collapsing, his eyes ignited with fury.
“No one…
crushes me!” he roared.
He slammed his palms together, generating a dome of high atmospheric pressure around himself.
The invisible assault was repelled, and the students within his group remained alive.
Elsewhere, Professor Elara and several veteran students activated their defensive auras.
They resisted the phenomenon while searching desperately for its source.
Amid the panic, our six protagonists had not fallen to their knees.
Kaïs breathed with difficulty, but his body, already accustomed to enduring the internal pressures generated by his own explosive Spirit, absorbed the strain.
Leila, sweat beading across her face, circulated her green healing aura through her body in a closed loop to maintain oxygen flow within her bloodstream.
As for Tariq, Issa, Raad, and Soura, they remained standing through resilience alone.
They were accustomed to surviving in the real field.
The places where the air always smelled of death.
The diversion had worked.
Within the shadows beneath the arcades, the air had begun to distort.
Four individuals had just entered the slaughterhouse.