The entrance to the Silver Spires Academy was not a doorway; it was a vacuum seal that signaled the end of a candidate's previous life. As the massive, three-meter-thick pneumatic gates hissed shut behind the new batch of students, the very air seemed to thicken. In the slums of the Grey Zone, where Sameer had spent seventeen years, the gravity was a natural, forgiving 0.8G. It was a place where movements were fluid and the air was thin with poverty. But here, inside the belly of the most advanced military installation in Pangea, the baseline was a crisp, punishing 1.1G.
Sameer felt the transition in his bone marrow. It wasn't just a physical pressure on his shoulders; it was an atmospheric weight that demanded payment for every breath. His heart, usually a steady, quiet rhythm, had to double its output just to move oxygenated blood to his brain. Every step on the polished, white-polymer floor felt like walking through invisible waist-deep water.
On his forearm, the Neural Pulse Monitor (NPM)—a translucent, high-tech band issued to every student during the intake process—flickered to life. The display was sharp, glowing with the cold, blue indifference of the Academy's central AGI.
[NPM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
Candidate: 812 – Sameer
Intake (I): 0.55x
Efficiency (\eta): 0.05%
Current Density (D): 1.1x
Class: Zero
"0.55x Intake..." a voice whispered from behind him, thick with exhaustion. "That's... that's not even enough to power a high-performance terminal, let alone a human body in a 1.1G zone."
Sameer didn't turn his head. He couldn't afford the energy for unnecessary neck rotation. He could hear the heavy, labored breathing of Toby, the 6'4" giant who had become his shadow since the transport ship landed. Toby's own NPM was flashing a robust 1.4x Intake, but his Efficiency was a standard 1.0%—the baseline for a healthy human who hadn't yet learned to manipulate their internal math.
"It's enough to keep my heart beating, Toby," Sameer said, his voice a low, focused rasp. He reached into the hidden pocket of his frayed jacket and touched the Last Coin. The cold, serrated edge of the metal was his only anchor. It reminded him of his father's grease-stained hands and his mother's tired smile. "In this place, breathing is the first victory. If you can breathe, you can calculate. If you can calculate, you can survive."
The Obsidian Pit
The group of three hundred candidates was led into the Obsidian Pit, a training hall so vast it had its own micro-climate. The floor was composed of high-density polymers designed to absorb the kinetic impact of falling bodies. Above them, the ceiling was a canopy of Gravity Generators, massive rotating rings that hummed with a frequency that made Sameer's 5-element core vibrate in a discordant, painful mess.
"Welcome to Conditioning," a man standing on a raised platform boomed. His skin was the color of charcoal, polished and hardened by years of high-G exposure. His NPM glowed with a terrifying 3.0x Intake. "You call yourselves Breakers. The Academy calls you 'Raw Material.' You think power comes from the fire in your hands or the wind in your lungs. You are wrong. Power comes from Density."
Suddenly, the hum of the generators changed pitch, rising to a scream that echoed in the students' teeth.
[WARNING: LOCAL GRAVITY INCREASING TO 1.2G]
Sameer's knees buckled instantly. The sudden increase in gravitational pull felt as if a giant invisible hand had slammed down on the crown of his head. Around him, the air was filled with choked gasps and the sound of bodies hitting the floor. Some candidates, those who relied on brute physical strength, tried to "push" back against the floor. Their muscles bulged, their faces turned purple, and their NPMs spiked with wasted energy.
Sameer didn't push. He closed his eyes and activated his "Artist's Eye".
In the darkness of his mind, the room dissolved. The white walls and the screaming students vanished. In their place, Sameer saw a world of Force Vectors and Mechanical Gaps. He saw the 1.2G not as a weight, but as a "Noise" in the environment. His 0.55x Intake was a crushing weakness to anyone else, but to him, it was a Precision Instrument. Because he had so little "fuel," he was forced to be a perfect architect of his own energy.
"Vector Analysis: \vec{F} = m \cdot \vec{g}," his Quantum Brain whispered. "If I align my pelvic structure three degrees to the left and lock my second and fourth vertebrae, the downward force of the 1.2G bypasses my muscle groups and flows directly into the structural integrity of my skeleton."
Sameer adjusted his stance. To an observer, he looked like he was barely holding on. But internally, he was rewriting his biological math. He wasn't resisting the gravity; he was Channeling it.
His NPM flickered, the numbers dancing before settling.
[\eta: 0.05% \rightarrow 0.051%]
It was a tiny, microscopic gain. But it was a milestone. While the Elite Brute Units—high-tier students with 2.0x Intakes—were beginning to sweat and tremble from the sheer effort of holding up their own augmented muscles, Sameer was becoming perfectly still.
The Helping Hand
"Sameer... I can't... the floor... it's eating me," Toby wheezed. The giant was a mess of trembling muscle, his Earth-element heart trying to harden his skin to resist the pressure. He was using 1.4x energy to do 0.8x work. He was a machine overheating.
"Stop the intake, Toby," Sameer commanded, his voice cutting through Toby's panic. "You're trying to build a wall of energy. Walls break. You need to become a Lattice."
Sameer reached out and touched Toby's shoulder. Through the physical contact, his 5-element sensitivity allowed him to see Toby's internal "Noise." It was a chaotic storm of Earth-energy that was clumping in Toby's joints, creating massive internal friction.
"Hold your breath for three seconds," Sameer said, focusing his 0.051% efficiency to send a "Symmetrical Pulse" into Toby's arm. "On my count, stop the resistance. Let the gravity settle into your bone marrow. 3... 2... 1... Decouple!"
Toby followed the instruction. As he stopped fighting, his body naturally settled into the 1.2G field. The weight didn't vanish, but the Internal Friction stopped. Toby's breathing slowed, and his heart rate, which had been in the red zone on his NPM, began to descend.
"I... I feel solid," Toby gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm not pushing anymore, but I'm... I'm not falling."
"That is Density, Toby," Sameer whispered. "The Academy wants you to be a hammer. I'm teaching you to be the anvil."
The Shadows Above
From the high-tier observation decks, the Elite Brutes watched the "Zero Zone" with predatory amusement. One of them, a boy with a Fire-element and a glowing 2.1x Intake, laughed as he pointed toward Sameer's group.
"Look at that one. Candidate 812. 0.55x Intake. He looks like a stiff breeze would snap him in half. Why is he still standing while the others are vomiting?"
"He isn't standing," a cold, melodic voice replied from the shadows of the deck.
It was Nisha. Her "Static Eye" flickered with blue sparks as she watched Sameer through the reinforced glass. To her lightning-fast perception, the world moved in slow motion. She didn't see a weakling. She saw a Void—a point of absolute, mathematical stillness in a room full of wasted, screaming energy.
"He's found the 'Zero Point' in a 1.2G field," Nisha continued, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "He's not using his Intake to survive. He's using Architecture. He's rewritten the math of his own weight."
The Last Coin's Weight
As the 1.2G conditioning session finally ended and the gravity normalized back to the baseline 1.1G, Sameer collapsed. The mental strain of holding the Quantum Logic for thirty minutes had pushed him to his limit. Blood trickled from his nose, staining the white polymer floor.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Last Coin. He stared at the rusted profile of the old-world figure stamped into the metal. This coin was the price of his father's health and his mother's freedom. It was the Burden of the Genius.
"One coin. One chance," he thought, his vision blurring. "I am a Zero. But a Zero is the only number that can divide the universe."
Sameer looked at his NPM. His Efficiency had dropped back to 0.05% as his concentration broke, but the "Memory" of the 0.051% was now etched into his neural pathways. He had proven his theory. He didn't need the "Fuel" of the Elites. He just needed the Logic.
"Conditioning is only the beginning," the Instructor barked, his voice bouncing off the obsidian walls. "Next is the Fluidity & Flux class. If you can't move in 1.3G, you'll be sent back to the slums before sunset."
Sameer stood up, his legs shaky but his mind as clear as glass. He didn't have the fire of the Elites, but he had the Blueprint.
He looked toward Toby, Kavi, and Meera. They were his group now. The Misfits. The "Low-Intake" failures. But under his guidance, they were going to become something the Academy had never seen before.
"Toby, help Kavi up," Sameer said, wiping the blood from his lip. "We have a world to rewrite."