The cafeteria was already alive when Evan and Fred arrived.
Rows upon rows of long stone tables stretched across the massive hall, illuminated by glowing aether lamps embedded in the ceiling. The place buzzed with conversation—voices overlapping, laughter breaking out here and there, the unmistakable sound of excitement that came from hundreds of young awakeners gathered in one place for the first time.
Evan followed Fred toward the food counters, his eyes scanning the options laid out before them.
Then he froze.
On the large metal trays being passed along the counter lay thick slices of cooked meat—steaming, fragrant, and unmistakably rich with aether.
"…That's tier-1 beast meat," Evan said slowly.
Fred nodded as if this were the most normal thing in the world. "Yup."
Evan stared harder. Tier-1 beast meat was not rare, but it was far from cheap. It was the foundation of nutrition for awakened bodies, packed with refined energy that strengthened muscles, bones, and internal channels over time.
Outside the academy, one kilogram cost nearly two hundred credits.
And here it was.
Being served for dinner.
"For free," Evan muttered.
Fred grinned. "One of the perks of being an academy student. You think they'd let us starve?"
Evan took his tray in silence, still slightly stunned. This alone told him just how deep the academy's resources ran. Feeding fifteen hundred students tier-1 meat daily was not something even large noble families could afford casually.
They found an empty spot and sat down.
As Evan ate, warmth spread through his body. The meat was cooked simply, yet perfectly, the aether within it harmonized rather than clashing. He could feel his muscles subtly responding, his body absorbing the nutrition naturally.
This wasn't luxury.
This was preparation.
While eating, Evan's gaze drifted across the cafeteria—and stopped.
Chris.
He sat a few tables away, laughing loudly, talking animatedly with several students clustered around him. His posture was relaxed, confident, as if he had already claimed his place.
"He made friends fast," Fred commented between bites.
Evan nodded. Chris had always been that way—sharp, outspoken, and ambitious. It was no surprise he had already gathered people around him.
Evan looked away.
He wasn't here to compete over popularity.
After finishing their meal, they returned their trays and stepped out of the cafeteria. The sky above the academy had darkened slightly, stars faintly visible through the thinning clouds.
As they walked back toward the dormitory, Fred finally tapped the manual tucked under his arm.
"So," he began, "you didn't read it, right?"
"Not properly," Evan admitted.
"Good. I did," Fred said proudly. "And trust me, you don't want to mess up."
Evan listened carefully as Fred explained.
Classes began at exactly six in the morning.
Late arrivals would face penalties—what kind, the manual didn't specify, but the wording made it clear that punishment was guaranteed. The first lecture would be Introduction to Schedule, a foundational Class meant to align students' understanding before practical training began.
"There's no leeway," Fred added. "They don't care if you're talented. Rules are rules."
Evan's expression hardened.
He had no intention of finding out what happened to rule-breakers.
Back in their room, Evan skimmed through the manual himself, confirming Fred's words. Everything was precise, strict, and unforgiving. The academy did not coddle its students.
Satisfied, Evan closed the book.
They went to sleep early, neither wanting to risk oversleeping on their first official day.
Morning came too quickly.
A sharp voice pierced Evan's dreams.
"GET UP, YOU LAZY WIND BRAIN!"
Evan jolted upright, heart pounding.
Fred stood beside his bed, arms crossed, scowling.
"What—what time is it?" Evan croaked.
Fred thrust a clock in his face. "Five twenty-five!"
Evan's eyes widened.
"I—thanks," he said quickly, swinging his legs off the bed.
Fred grumbled as he turned away. "You library freaks are all the same. Stay up late reading and die in the morning."
Despite the insult, Evan smiled faintly. "I owe you one."
They rushed through their morning routine and sprinted toward the academic building. Fred cursed under his breath the entire way, blaming Evan's "lazy soul" for their lack of preparation.
By the time they arrived, students were already pouring into the classroom.
It was massive.
The lecture hall easily accommodated three hundred students, arranged in ascending rows. Evan quickly realized that this was only one of five such classes.
Fifteen hundred first-year students.
They were assigned to Class B.
Unfortunately, the good seats were already taken. Evan and Fred were forced to sit near the back.
"Next time," Fred panted, "you're waking up first."
Before Evan could reply, the room fell silent.
A woman stepped in.
She was young—far younger than Evan had expected. Her long dark hair was tied neatly behind her back, her posture straight, her presence calm yet commanding.
"I am Christine," she said, her voice clear and steady. "And I will be your instructor for the entirety of your first year."
A murmur rippled through the room.
She was beautiful.
Whispers spread instantly, especially among the male students. One particularly bold student raised his hand.
"Instructor… may I ask your age?"
Christine stared at him.
"I am thirty," she replied flatly. "And I suggest you refrain from asking such foolish questions again."
The room went dead silent.
Evan's eyes widened slightly.
Thirty.
And an instructor.
That meant—
Tier-4.
A genius.
Christine cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention back.
"Tell me," she said, scanning the room, "what do you believe is required to become strong?"
Hands shot up everywhere.
She pointed randomly. "You."
Fred nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Uh—resources!" Fred said confidently. "Background matters!"
Christine nodded slowly. "Shallow."
Fred froze.
"The most basic requirements," Christine continued, "are resources, information, and guidance. These three move together."
She paced slowly. "Youngsters like you cannot easily obtain these outside. That is why you are fortunate."
She tapped the podium lightly.
"The academy provides all three—as long as you work hard and earn merits."
She spoke of her own background—ordinary, unremarkable, without external support. Everything she had achieved came from proper use of the academy's systems.
Then her tone sharpened.
"You will fight for merits," she said. "Your first opportunity comes in one month—the Academy Ranking Exam."
The room erupted in excitement.
"The ranking exam will assess your foundational body strength," Christine continued. "True training begins afterward."
She announced monthly merit allocations.
"Evan Windback—three hundred merits."
Evan stiffened slightly.
Fred turned to him slowly. "Three hundred?"
"Fred Mason—one hundred fifty merits."
Fred slumped. "Unfair…"
Christine concluded the lecture by instructing them to focus on sensing surrounding aether and strengthening their physical bodies over the next month.
With that, class was dismissed.
As Evan and Fred walked back to their room, excitement buzzed in their veins.