By the third day of classes, the routine had begun to settle in like a rhythm Vahn could almost predict. The day unfolded in much the same way as the first, a light lecture from Professor Martis, followed by movement to their selected courses.
For Vahn, that meant Physical Combat and Library studies.
As he and Han made their way to the training arena under the bright, chilly morning sky, Vahn noticed something different. It wasn't just the way the students talked in hushed groups or cast lingering glances toward one another, it was the tension that hung in the air like the calm before a storm.
Han nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, Vahn, have you joined any faction yet?"
Vahn blinked. "You knew?"
Han laughed lightly, a soft exhale of relief. "Yeah, of course. I'm actually surprised you knew. I figured I'd have to catch you up."
Vahn rubbed the back of his head. "My roommates mentioned it yesterday."
"Same here," Han replied. "Carla introduced me to a faction. Pretty decent people. Are you thinking of joining one?"
"Yeah… sure," Vahn said. It wasn't a lie exactly. He was more curious than committed, but after everything he'd seen so far, it was probably necessary.
When they reached the training grounds, Trainer Tremblin greeted them with his signature hearty smile and booming presence.
Today's lesson involved refining the basics stances, posture, footwork.
After nearly an hour of exhausting drills, the class was dismissed with a firm instruction: master these stances before the next session.
Later, at the library, Vahn expected to see Carla, but she was nowhere to be found. A twinge of guilt stirred in his chest. Maybe she was avoiding him because of the conflict with Jarred.
But instead of dwelling on it, he buried himself in research on marked beasts, trying to understand their unique behaviors and how to recognize their traits in the wild.
Evening fell, and Jarred showed up like clockwork.
But this time, something was different.
"You got any faction in mind?" Jarred asked, his tone strangely formal.
"Yeah," Vahn answered, "Han told me about one. I don't even know the name yet though."
Jarred nodded slowly. His eyes, once sharp with insight and mischief, now looked hollow.
"Well, with everything I've told you so far, you should be able to control space now."
"What?" Vahn looked at him, confused. Jarred was talking like their mentorship had come to an end.
"Haa…" Jarred sighed. "I have nothing more to teach you. From here, you're on your own."
Vahn's heart skipped. "Is this… about the factions?"
Jarred didn't reply immediately. His expression grew cold, as if something inside him had shut off.
"Leave. Now. Don't come to me again."
Before Vahn could even form a response, Jarred vanished into thin air.
He stood there in silence, stunned. Had he really just been abandoned over something so... petty? Or was there something deeper going on?
...
The fourth day rolled in, and things had only worsened.
In the Ability class, the air had changed. Students now sat in tight-knit groups, whispering among themselves and casting wary glances at their rivals. Factions were no longer rumors, they were real, dividing the student body with invisible borders.
The professor, still unnamed, stood at the front. His voice cut through the murmurs like a knife. "Last class, I told you to feel your Est. Today, you understand it. Your Est is the root of your power. The more you understand it, the more it becomes yours."
Vahn sat cross-legged near the back, trying to meditate, but his thoughts were too loud. 'Why did Jarred push me away?' But he pushed away the thought and cleared his mind, and eventually, slipped back into that strange world, the dry, cracked land.
This time, it came to him more naturally. The silence didn't feel as foreign. The parched earth, the scarred skies, it all felt familiar now.
'Let's try it.' He raised his hand, focusing on the space around it.
The air rippled.
He punched forward, and space twisted before erupting in a burst of invisible energy.
'Nice.' Without hesitation, he began using the incantations Jarred had taught him. Though the reactions were small, he could feel the space responding to his will.
He experimented more, visualizing blades of compressed air, pockets of vacuum, spatial barriers… his mind teemed with ideas. But most of them required something he didn't have here, his sword.
Back in the real world, unseen to him, cracks of invisible energy were forming around his seated body. Space bent and quivered as if the universe itself feared his reach.
Eventually, his eyes opened, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.
He smiled faintly. 'Nice…' he thought, clenching and unclenching his fist. He could feel it now, raw power waiting to be refined.
Then a shadow fell over him.
Fifteen students stood before him, led by a striking girl with intense eyes.
"Hello there," she said, smiling with a veneer of politeness.
"Hi," Vahn said casually.
"Are you in a faction?"
"Yes," he replied, not missing a beat. He had told Han he'd join, and for now, that was good enough.
"Which one?" A towering boy behind her demanded, his tone skeptical.
"I don't know," Vahn answered honestly.
A wave of suspicion rippled through the group.
Thankfully, the professor's voice interrupted. "Class dismissed."
By the time the group turned to look back, Vahn was gone.
"What? Where did he go?"
"He just vanished!"
They searched, but in the chaos of dismissal, he had already melded into the crowd and disappeared.
'Who is he?' the girl wondered. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him.
"Whew…" Vahn sighed, peeking from between the dispersing crowd. "First time using teleportation since the fight."
This incident had only reinforced his resolve to join a faction. He couldn't be a lone wolf in a pack of beasts.
His next stop was the Weapons Class.
Professor Malia greeted him with a nod, her calm demeanor always putting him at ease. The students were told to practice connecting the movements they'd seen in the training video.
Vahn spent thirty minutes just watching, thinking.
'How do I connect them?' Thrusts, slashes, diagonal arcs, they felt like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit.
Eventually, he began experimenting. Thrust first, then a horizontal cut, followed by a diagonal slash, and finally the powerful vertical slice. But nothing truly felt right.
When class ended, Malia approached him.
"Why were you trying to rearrange them?" she asked, her voice gentle but curious.
"Because... they don't flow together."
"Flow?" With a flick of her wrist, she unsheathed her blade and began demonstrating the exact sequence from the video.
But in her hands, it was something else. Her movements were fluid, graceful, like music translated into steel.
"Who cares what the proper order is?" she said, mid-swing. "Swordsmanship isn't about right or wrong. There's a saying: All swords lead to one."
All swords lead to one.
The phrase echoed in Vahn's mind.
He picked up his blade and began again, whispering the phrase. His muscles moved on instinct. This time, everything flowed.
Unknown to him, inside his military uniform, his sword trembled faintly as if resonating with joy.
"Good," Malia said, eyes gleaming. "You're a fast learner. Next time… we spar."
'She really loves the sword.' Vahn wordlessly muttered.
Then, something struck him.
None of the professors, Martis, Tremblin, Malia, or even the ability professor, not a single one, had asked about the factions.
'Are they watching silently… or planning something?'
He couldn't shake the feeling that the games had only just begun.