Xilo felt the aura lights pulse through the hall, the alien-metal walls fading from view as his focus sharpened on the day ahead. Xilo shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes scanning the gathered assembly—150 students from both divisions, all waiting in hushed anticipation. Professor Halden stood at the podium, an air of quiet authority surrounding him as he activated the holographic displays.
"Since Breakline Day," Halden began, his voice measured yet captivating, "our understanding of human potential has evolved dramatically. The initial introduction of alien technology reshaped our biology and unlocked pathways once thought impossible. Today, our society categorizes these abilities into Core Disciplines: Flow, Cadence, Pulse, Phase, and Forge. Each offers unique strengths, and mastery can propel individuals into higher tiers of power known as Resonance Tiers—The Thread, The Umbra, The Rift, The Pulse, and The Forge."
Halden's hand waved gently, and the holograms shifted, revealing a prestigious list. "The World Council's quarterly Resonance Index ranks the top ten operatives worldwide, evaluating their tier, influence, and mission success. Today's highest ranks include a Rift-tier diplomat famous for peaceful resolutions, a Pulse-tier champion revered for unmatched combat skill, and a Forge-tier engineer known for revolutionary innovations."
He paused, scanning the room solemnly. "Ambition is natural, but beware. Many rogue groups and cults recklessly pursue these tiers—tragedies like the Ashen Circle crisis of '34, where novices overwhelmed their Phase connection and devastated an entire district, still haunt us—mistaking power as an end in itself. True Resonance comes from purpose and responsibility, not from rank alone." Halden paused, allowing the significance of his words to settle. "Let's take a brief intermission," he announced, "discuss amongst yourselves and consider what we've covered."
Whispers rose instantly: "Do you think I'll ever reach The Rift?" one student murmured. Another tapped a holo-scroll, grinning, "I've been training Cadence nonstop—this is our moment." A cluster near the back exchanged anxious glances, hands tightening on their notes as speculation and excitement mingled across the hall.
As the holographic lights faded, students turned eagerly to one another, buzzing with energy and curiosity. Students from the Ascent division were particularly animated, recounting their first-day experiences, their confidence bolstered by prestigious backgrounds or early signs of Resonance awakening.
Aveline Sterling, draped in the Ascent division's midnight-blue insignia, approached Xilo with measured confidence. She tilted her head curiously, her voice smooth yet direct. "Why aren't you mingling like everyone else? You seem pretty determined to stay isolated."
Xilo met her gaze steadily, his response straightforward and unapologetic. "I'm here on a personal mission. I'm not exactly looking to make friends."
She considered his words thoughtfully, her expression softening. "In this new world, friends might be the only thing that stays the same." She offered him a faint smile before returning to her seat. Around them, whispers and jealous glances hinted at envy and speculation.
Meanwhile, Boomslang stirred awake in her dimly lit room, startled by the soft mechanical hum of a hovering drone.
Boomslang stirred awake in her dimly lit room, startled by the soft mechanical hum of a hovering drone. Glitch's voice crackled through the drone's speakers, dripping with playful sarcasm. "Rise and shine. Didn't peg you for the nap-taking type."
She reached gingerly for the medkit, grimacing slightly. Glitch's tone shifted quickly to serious. "Alien tech is evolving fast. This medkit is just patchwork—I'm no medic. You're going to encounter tougher threats at the tournament. NGN needs someone professional soon."
"Precision is what makes NGN effective," he added firmly.
A knock interrupted their exchange. Boomslang looked up to see the shy, familiar face of the 13-year-old clerk from earlier, holding a tray of tea and bread. In her other hand was the blue metal rose Boomslang had lost.
Boomslang's expression softened, reminded vividly of herself at that age. "Why are you working so young?" she asked gently.
The girl shrugged lightly, handing back the metal rose. "We all have our reasons."
"Come by tomorrow," Boomslang invited quietly, accepting the rose with a nod. Alone once again, she carefully applied the medkit instructions provided by Glitch, the quiet music in the room offering solace as she reflected deeply on her near miss and the dangers ahead.
Meanwhile, Xilo was absorbed in contemplation, haunted by echoes of a name: "Solstices." Unable to fully grasp the sensation he'd experienced, he decided that more research was essential. On his way to the library, he nearly collided with Bren, who laughed, slapping Xilo's shoulder.
"Hey, thought I'd lost you back there!" Bren grinned. "Want to hang out later? There are some people I think you'd like."
Xilo almost refused, but the girl's words from class resonated. Realizing he'd never gotten her name, he surprised himself by accepting. "Sure, but first I need to hit the library."
Xilo's wristband buzzed insistently. He checked the display: a message from his aunt—"Your brother's finally showing signs of waking. If you have time this weekend, please visit." A flicker of memory—a hospital room, the steady beep of monitors, his brother's pale hand—stole his breath, mingling hope with lingering guilt."
A surge of emotion tightened his chest: reluctance at facing the past, hope that his new abilities might aid his brother's recovery. Determined, Xilo grabbed his pack and sprinted toward the library, every step fueled by purpose.
He slipped into a back corner of the library, the silence pressing in like a comforting weight. Surrounded by shelves of forgotten theories and archived lectures, he immersed himself in texts about Resonance and combat tiers, chasing clarity—chasing control. The deeper he read, the more questions formed, and the more urgent his search became. Just as his fingers traced a passage that seemed almost too familiar, a quiet, curious voice broke the stillness.
"What are you reading," the voice asked, soft yet insistent, the rasp of fabric and resonant footsteps filling the silent stacks.
Xilo looked up, his heart skipping for reasons he couldn't name. But the figure remained in shadow, their face obscured by the low glow of the reading lamps. Whoever it was, he felt an odd pull—like recognition just out of reach.