Nemo awoke with a jolt.
His heart pounded. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then the details snapped into place—the curved metal ceiling, the rows of seats, the sleeping or murmuring passengers. But something was different.
The rumble of the engine was gone.
No gentle shaking. No hum of motion.
They had landed.
Before Nemo could fully process it, a sudden, brutal wave of hunger crashed into him. He started sweating, limbs trembling. His body felt like it was about to shut down again. The fog of unconsciousness hovered at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him under.
His hand shot out, blindly grasping Arbil's arm.
He squeezed with surprising force, his voice raw. "F-Food… please."
Arbil flinched, blinking as if waking from a trance. He looked down at Nemo's desperate grip, then at his face.
"Oh shit," he muttered. "I forgot."
He bent down and pulled a large bag out from under his seat. "Here. Eat."
The bag was filled with food—chicken, potatoes, salads, and fruit. Nemo grabbed it with both hands and began devouring it, uncaring of appearances. It was as though something primal had taken over, and the food was the only thing holding him to the world.
While he ate, the plane hatch began to lower with a soft mechanical whir. Cold air and early morning sunlight poured into the cabin, stirring the other passengers. Some rose to their feet, excitement building.
Nemo barely noticed. He was still eating like a man possessed.
The hunger felt endless. He scraped through the bag, chasing every last crumb. By the time the others were moving toward the exit, his body had stabilized, though he still felt hollow inside.
He stood shakily, his legs unsteady. Arbil was behind him in an instant, steadying him with a hand. Nemo murmured, "I need more food," before walking forward.
The tone in his voice was strange—calm, almost commanding. It wasn't the tone of a confused recruit. A more prideful instructor might've taken offense. But Arbil just stared at the boy's retreating back and touched the part of his arm where Nemo had gripped him.
Then he followed.
Nemo stepped out into blinding sunlight and squinted. The air was fresh, heavy with jungle moisture. The warmth was rising quickly—he could feel it on his skin. He scanned the gathering crowd and spotted Giada.
"Hey," he said, catching up to her, "sorry to bother you. I was out cold until just now. Did I miss anything important?"
Giada turned to him with a polite smile. Her hair—almost white with a tinge of pale blue—caught the light. Her amber-colored eyes were soft, muted.
"Not really," she said. "They just told us to follow the escorts to the meeting point. We'll get further instructions there."
Nemo nodded, about to fall back when curiosity struck. "Has your hair always been that color?"
She raised an eyebrow but didn't seem offended. "Not really. It used to be a white-blonde. Changed after my Awakening and some… other things. Why? Did yours change too?"
"I don't know. What color is it now?"
"I'd call it dirty blonde," she said.
"I'd call it light brown," another voice said.
Nemo turned to see Mena, the young girl from earlier, holding Giada's hand. She smiled brightly.
He grinned. "Hi. Your name was Mena, right?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically, clearly happy he'd remembered.
He gently patted her head. "Nice to see you again."
Then to Giada, "Guess my hair didn't change. Maybe something else did."
"I think a lot of things changed," she said, tone quiet.
Nemo could guess what she meant—but now wasn't the time. Instead, they walked together toward the tree-covered path ahead.
Their calm was broken as Holt trotted up beside them.
"What do you think the first test will be?" he asked eagerly.
Giada looked at him with thinly veiled exhaustion. "I hope there isn't one. The Awakening chambers were already torture. I just want a shower, a room, and a warm bed."
Holt glanced at Nemo. "Bet this guy ate enough for two already, huh?"
Still chewing the last bits of potato, Nemo looked at him and said plainly, "I'm still hungry."
Right on cue, Arbil reappeared in front of them, holding two more bags.
"Hey, I found you some more. One's got heavier stuff—chicken, bread, carbs. The other is mostly fruit. Pace yourself; too much protein will slow you down."
He handed the bags over and walked off again.
Nemo didn't hesitate. He opened one and resumed eating. Holt stared, speechless. After a beat, he shook his head and muttered, "Monsters walk among us," then stepped in beside Nemo with a smirk.
By the time they reached the meeting point, Nemo had finished one bag and was crunching into a juicy pear.
The meeting site was a clearing surrounded by jungle. Nestled beyond it were rows of compact bungalow-style huts, densely packed. A small central tower rose above the center of the camp, like a watchful eye.
Three figures stood at the front, awaiting them. They were striking—perfect posture, expressions unreadable. The woman in the center had short, raven-black hair and radiated quiet authority. The two men flanking her were identical: long blond hair, white eyes, and an unsettling stillness.
Nemo instinctively looked away, discomfort crawling along his skin. Holt, on the other hand, stared openly.
Once the group gathered, the raven-haired woman stepped forward.
"Welcome, new recruits," she said. "I am Raven. I'll be introducing you to the Academy."
She gestured behind them.
"These are the central accommodations. All new students will stay here in their first year. Every morning, you'll assemble beneath the tower. That is your central gathering point."
She continued crisply, "Training will begin once more recruits arrive. Until then, you're free to explore, attend any available classes, and take guided tours of the island. You'll learn more over time. Or you can ask your fellow students—many have been here longer."
Raven's voice dropped into something colder. "One rule: no one is allowed beyond the camp perimeter at night without proper clearance. You'll need to complete martial arts and advanced martial arts before that's permitted. That alone should tell you how dangerous the forest is."
With that final warning, she turned and walked away, leaving the two blond men behind to divide the group into teams of four.
Not long after, Nemo found himself assigned to a bungalow with Holt and two unfamiliar faces.
"I'm Holt," he said confidently. "Eighteen. Planning to become an Edgerunner."
The first stranger stepped forward. He was tall, with slick black hair and a tired look. "Bast. Twenty-five. I don't know what I want yet. Just want off this jungle-infested island."
The other was more cheerful. Dark brown hair, skin, and eyes—he had a grounded, earthy feel.
"Name's Lars. Nineteen. My aspect is nourishment. I want to be a farmer—apparently that's a rare one in Atlantis."
Holt perked up. "That's awesome! People would kill for that job."
Bast turned to Nemo. "And you?"
"I'm Nemo. Twenty. I haven't decided yet. I just want to learn more about how to use my aspect."
Lars nodded. "Then take the 'Introduction to Aspects and Aspect Usage' course. It's the best place to start."
"The day's still young," Bast said. "We can show you around, if you want."
Nemo glanced at Holt, who grinned. They both nodded.
Outside their hut, the camp buzzed with restrained energy—so much untapped potential waiting for direction. And somewhere just beyond the edge of the jungle, danger waited, patient and unseen.