Morning light filtered through the academy’s tall gss windows, casting colorful reflections on the white stone floor. Menma, dressed in uniform, stood at the edge of one of the vast hallways in the main building, watching as students hurried off to their csses.

  He had barely slept. All night, he’d been repying the awakening of his Arche—this strange power of amplification, still barely understood. He had tried, alone in his room, to replicate what he had done with the small object the day before — without success. All he could feel was a faint tingling at his fingertips, as if something was lurking, waiting, unwilling to emerge.

  “Maybe it was just a fluke…” he muttered to himself.

  The morning bell rang out insistently through the main building, its vibrations echoing down narrow corridors and through wide halls. This was no longer the welcome ceremony, nor the time for formal introductions — true learning began today.

  Students crowded the hallways, a mix of nerves and excitement in the air, their footsteps echoing on the cold tiles. Most were already wearing their css uniforms. The bck, elegant outfits of the Nova students stood out with golden accents that caught the morning light, while the Orion css wore simpler uniforms with silver-gray details. Menma watched in silence, his gaze drifting across the passing silhouettes.

  In the main amphitheater, the two csses gathered. Rows of seats were filled with young faces, anxious, each bearing the mark of a budding power—an Arche, a unique bond with the Flux of Aeloria. All around, whispers passed from mouth to mouth, sometimes hushed by the solemnity of the moment.

  “Look over there. It’s her,” murmured a voice behind Menma.

  He turned his head slightly and saw, a few rows ahead, a girl with long bck hair, shimmering like onyx under supernatural light. She sat straight as an arrow, her piercing gaze scanning the room with a cold, distant air.

  “That’s Ayame,” the voice continued, with something like reverence. “Nova css. Her magic is an Alteration Arche. Complex and very rare.”

  “She’s ice-cold… I think she’s from a major family.”

  A chill ran down Menma’s spine. This girl seemed different from the others—not just in aura, but in the imposing silence she wove around herself.

  Nearby, a boy was chatting calmly with another student. His smile was natural, and there was a noble air to his posture, as though he quietly carried heavy responsibilities.

  “That’s Masaru,” the student behind Menma expined. “His Arche is Divine Light. A rare, sacred power.”

  Menma looked down at his own hand, loosely clenched into a fist. Amplification. That single word felt hollow compared to the glowing descriptions of those two.

  The morning passed quickly, filled with theoretical csses and low-voiced discussions. But it was the afternoon that marked the true beginning of things.

  In cssroom 2-Orion. It was a spacious room, though more modest than those of the Nova csses. Around thirty students had taken their seats—some chatting, others quiet and solitary. The atmosphere was typical of the start of the school year: curious, tense, hesitant.

  The teacher entered a few minutes ter. He was a rather pin-looking man in his thirties, wearing a dark shirt and rectangur gsses. His name: Calem.

  “Welcome to Orion css. I’m your main instructor for the year,” he said pinly. “We’ll start with basic magical manipution exercises. Nothing too demanding today—just enough for me to observe.”

  Some students looked disappointed. Others, relieved.

  Calem raised a hand, and a small sphere of light appeared in his palm.

  “The goal is simple: focus your magic and give it a form. Any form. Shape, color, size... you’re free. This isn’t a test, just an introduction.”

  The Orion students were led outside, to a rge open training field. The sun shone brightly in a clear sky, bathing the area in golden light that contrasted with the cool breeze. No extravagant décor, just raw space—perfect for the task.

  Each student found a patch of grass or stone to work with. Menma sat apart, on a wooden bench. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and extended his hands.

  “Amplification…”

  He felt the familiar faint quiver. He focused on a small rock nearby, like he had the day before. Nothing. Not even a tingle.

  “Why isn’t it working?”

  He clenched his teeth. This power, already deemed useless by the examiners—was it refusing him now too? He thought of the others. Of the bck-haired girl—Ayame—who had altered the nature of a spell with ease, as if it cost her nothing. Of Masaru, the respectful boy with the clear eyes, who had lit up the entire room with radiant light.

  Menma had amplified an object just once… by accident?

  “What exactly are you doing?”

  The voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned around to see Ayame, arms crossed, staring at him without expression.

  “Uh… I’m trying to make something appear. Like the teacher said,” he replied.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re not emitting anything. You feel like a rock.”

  “Thanks. That’s reassuring.”

  She gave the faintest hint of a smile—barely perceptible—then walked away without another word.

  Menma looked down at his hands. A rock, huh…

  He clenched his fists. That simple remark stung more than he wanted to admit. He looked around again. Most students were forming small fmes, water shapes, glimmering lights, or tiny gusts of wind. They all seemed… “visible.”

  And him? Still nothing.

  But as he stared at a small stick near his bench, a chill ran up his arm. He felt a click—a brief, clear sensation. He pced his hand on the stick.

  A moment ter, it trembled slightly.

  “I felt it…”

  Grasping it in both hands, he closed his eyes and whispered inwardly: Amplification.

  This time, something happened. The stick grew heavier, denser. When he lifted it, he felt stronger, as if the stick itself reinforced his grip.

  But that wasn’t all. A trail of energy seemed to spread from the stick, a faint aura—subtle but tangible. It didn’t shine, but it felt... more present. As if its very existence had been amplified.

  He smiled.

  “I think I get it now…”

  He wasn’t amplifying an effect. He was amplifying the essence of things. Their potential. Their nature.

  A little ways off, Calem was watching discreetly. He hadn’t noticed Menma at first—there were so many students, and the first few days were mostly observation. But now, something caught his attention: the aura around the stick.

  It was subtle. Quiet. But undeniable. The stick radiated a calm strength. And this wasn’t just an enchantment. It was something else. Calem narrowed his eyes.

  “That’s… odd. There’s no clear visual effect, but the object’s magical density just tripled…” he thought.

  He approached silently, without drawing attention.

  At the same time, Ayame, a short distance away, had also gnced over. Menma, crouched down, focused on a simple stick… She looked away, but her thoughts lingered on him for a moment.

  “He’s weird, that guy. Gives off nothing, and yet…”

  She blinked, then murmured:

  “…and yet, he keeps trying.”

  The rest of the session went by without issue. Calem took some notes, not interfering. At the end of the exercise, he addressed the students:

  “You’ve all shown promising beginnings. Some of you need control. Others, understanding. And some… need a trigger.”

  His gaze flicked briefly—but clearly—toward Menma.

  “We’ll build on this in the coming sessions. For today, that’s all. Same time tomorrow.”

  The students began to leave. Masaru went to greet a few cssmates. Ayame walked off without a word.

  Menma, meanwhile, stayed on the bench a moment longer, still holding the stick.

  “I did it. Just a little… but I did it.”

  For the first time since his awakening, a genuine smile crossed his face.

  And, from behind the cssroom window, Calem was still watching. Silently. A slight smile on his lips.