The Airien Academy.
Towering crystal spires kissed by floating runes.
Birds with literal fire for wings swooped through the air like professors on break.
The architecture? A blend of divine art deco and alien intellect, pulsing with Avian energy veins.
The students stepped through its gates like kids in a myth turned real.
They were no longer strangers to greatness, but this place?
It hummed with power that could crack stars.
Kainen clapped his hands, his cloak billowing like it had its own opinions.
> "You've reached 20 to 25% initiate level in Sage Arts," he said, his voice calm but fierce. "You're climbing the mountain...
But trust me — the mountain hasn't even shown you its teeth yet."
That's when he introduced them to their next evolution:
> Avian Arts.
Not just energy blasts. Not just punches laced with power.
No. These were the sacred hacks of reality itself —
techniques born from understanding Avia deeply enough to whisper into the rules of existence and ask them to kindly step aside.
And to learn it?
They'd be entering a new warzone of social humiliation and sky-high egos:
Merina's Class.
---
They walked into the main Avian hall, and the energy shifted —
Students paused, eyebrows lifted, taunts simmering.
Merina — calm and composed — greeted them.
> "Don't mind them," she said, brushing a braid behind her ear.
"They roast every newcomer. It's tradition… especially if you look remotely heroic or uncertain."
Cue the walking thunderstorm of confidence: Klexis.
Dual hammers. Impact affinity.
Swaggered in like gravity owed him rent.
He looked at the squad like a disappointed coach watching kittens try MMA.
> "Oh look, the Sage kids," he smirked.
"Didn't know cosmic daycare let out early."
He circled them like a shark with a school bell, stopping at Ian.
> "This one looks interesting... Hope he doesn't cry when he sees what real Avia can do."
Ian gripped his sword, eyes flaring. But Merina subtly shook her head — Not yet.
Behind Klexis, the rest of the class appeared, each one a walking power flex:
---
Cayso — "The Dreamer."
Affinity: Concept Bloom.
Could turn ideas into weapons.
Once turned the idea of regret into a spear.
Once turned laughter into a whip.
Wore a hoodie with the phrase "Reality's just my sketchpad."
Targor — "The Nexus Thread."
Affinity: Threadborn Nexus.
Could connect to objects, people, even emotions, for a limited time.
Used it once to steal a dueling partner's heartbeat rhythm mid-fight —
moved in sync, predicted every strike. Unsettlingly poetic.
Hersa — "Boundary Forge."
Could forge abstract boundaries like "doubt" or "luck."
Her sword once couldn't be touched by failure.
Yeah. That's a thing.
Lia — "The Potential Sculptor."
Shy, quiet — but terrifying.
She'd touch a seed, and you'd see its future tree bloom in seconds.
Could sculpt a weapon's potential state and wield it now.
Miria — "Existence Mirage."
Could summon versions of herself —
But not just copies.
Some were what she could've been, others what she once was, even one that was what she might be in a better world.
They all sat in semicircles, waiting.
Klexis spun his hammers and dropped the ultimate challenge:
> "Alright, cosmic campers. If you're gonna join us in the deep end, we wanna see something flashy.
What's your Avian Affinity? Show us your worth."
He grinned.
"Or sit down and let the real freaks run the universe."
---
The test was clear.
No more just Sage arts.
Now... it was time to blend their essence into something truly Avian.
Jack's divine lightning.
Ian's sword of hope.
Osei's instinct manipulation.
Sonia's emotional spectrum.
Charles' inscription flow.
Kennedy's framework logic.
Yvonne's threads of healing and defense.
Henry's kinetic electricity.
All of it, now, needed to take form.
To become Avian techniques.
To evolve from powers into statements.
The sky above Airien City rippled with soft aurora-like currents of Avian energy. Students—old and new—gathered under floating orbs of warm light. The mood? Reflective. Real.
They'd just come out of a mock duel exercise… but the real impact wasn't physical.
Cayso leaned against a statue of an ancient Avian master, hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes on the sky.
Cayso:
"You know… people think Avia's just a weapon.
Like a lightsaber with more personality.
But nah… it's intimacy.
Of all the energies in existence, none is more personal.
It doesn't ask who you pretend to be.
It asks: who are you when no one's watching?"
Hersa, sitting cross-legged, quietly traced glowing boundary lines in the air.
Hersa:
"We still have insecurities. Pain.
Avia doesn't erase it.
But it whispers back… 'You're not alone.'
That… that changes everything."
The newcomers sat in a semicircle, taking it in like thirsty souls sipping soul-truths.
Henry chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.
Henry:
"This place is wild… back on Earth?
We're told how to sit, how to talk, how to breathe.
'Don't speak like that.'
'Don't dress like that.'
'Don't feel like that.'
Here? You just are."
Kennedy leaned back with his classic smirk.
Kennedy:
"Yeah man. Earth's like:
'Find yourself—but don't be weird about it.'"
Charles:
"Avia says:
'Be weird, be loud, be quiet, be you…
Just be.'"
Ian stared into his sword's glint, voice low.
Ian:
"My dad tried to forge me into a blade he never could be.
But here…
I feel like this sword finally belongs to me.
Not to his broken dream."
Sonia smiled softly, eyes moist.
Sonia:
"I was always told I was too much.
Too emotional.
Too sensitive.
Too colorful.
But here…?
They told me my emotions were a spectrum weapon.
They celebrate the thing I tried to hide."
Yyvone nodded, brushing a silver thread of healing from her fingertips.
Yyvone:
"I had to shrink.
Be palatable.
Because on Earth, people fear what they can't box.
But here?
Even my anxiety made something beautiful."
Even Klexis, arms crossed, grinning cocky as ever, shrugged.
Klexis:
"Okay okay, don't get all sappy.
But yeah…
Avia? It's weirdly honest with me.
Knows all my baggage, all my wins.
It sees me.
And I'm…
okay with that."
Everyone turned to Jack, who hadn't spoken much.
He stood quietly, eyes glowing faint with divine lightning, voice a low rumble of realization.
Jack:
"I've spent my whole life shrinking.
So people wouldn't feel small around me.
So they wouldn't call me arrogant.
So I wouldn't stand out too much.
But here?
This world is built on the idea that you're meant to stand out.
Earth teaches survival.
Airious teaches existence.
...Earth was never free."
A long silence settled.
It wasn't heavy—it was sacred.
Then Cayso broke it with a twist of curiosity.
Cayso:
"You know… we studied Earth once.
It's one of the Lost Planets.
Cut off from the Cosmic Flow.
No wonder it feels… strange."
Jack looked up slowly.
Jack:
"…Lost? You mean… it's forgotten?"
Cayso:
"No.
It forgot itself."
And just like that…
the newcomers weren't just training in Airious anymore.
They belonged to it.
They weren't just guests in the realm of Avia.
They were becoming its newest voices.
The fire cracked like it was eavesdropping.
Sparks danced into the star-powdered sky while the soft hum of Airien winds curled around their words like a lullaby of truth.
The students sat in a circle—old and new—letting the silence breathe wisdom.
Cayso, leaning back on his concept-forged hammock, continued,
eyes heavy with that kind of sadness only cosmic knowledge could bring.
Cayso:
"Earth's not just lost.
It's blindfolded…
And the saddest part?
It thinks the blindfold is fashion.
Billions wearing illusion like identity.
They don't know the real truth…
and even if they hear it…
they laugh.
Mock what could save them.
That's the tragedy."
Lia, hugging her knees, her voice barely louder than a whisper, added:
Lia:
"No wonder the Ghouls feast there.
It's like a buffet of brokenness.
Lost souls taste the sweetest to them…
Especially when they still think they're in control."
Charles chuckled darkly, elbowing Kennedy, who snorted.
Charles:
"Man, Earthlings giving up ego?
We'd have to spoon-feed 'em humility—with glitter on top—just to get them to swallow."
Kennedy:
"Yeah, and even then, they'll say:
'Well, my version of humility is better than yours.'"
Laughter rolled around, but Yyvone's soft voice cooled it.
Yyvone:
"Maybe not now…
But truth has a weird way of haunting silence.
Sooner or later, Earth will look up…
and the lie won't be enough anymore."
That silenced the chuckles.
Hersa, hands glowing faintly with boundary runes, spoke next. Her voice wasn't angry. Just… tired and true.
Hersa:
"Avia…
It doesn't come with fireworks.
It doesn't promise you'll become a god.
It's not about theatrics or gymnastics.
It's a friend.
A mirror.
One that nags, one that complains…
but all it wants is for you to open your eyes.
Because when you finally see?
You don't just gain power…
You gain yourself."
She traced a boundary loop in the air—it sparked, then faded into stillness.
Hersa (cont'd):
"If humans ever find the truth…
really find it—
they'll realize pride, ego, greed…
It's all just a glittered prison.
A construct.
A cage you paint from the inside."
Jack, still watching the fire like it was speaking to him in lightning tongues, finally spoke.
Jack:
"So what you're saying is…
humanity still has a long way to go…
to see beyond the threshold.
To see themselves."
Hersa gave the faintest smile. Nodded.
Hersa:
"They'll either wake up…
or the Ghouls will wake them the hard way.
Either way, Avia will still be here…
Waiting.
Unchanged.
Real."
Silence again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
It was full.
Full of reflection.
Full of unspoken oaths.
Full of quiet vows whispered only in hearts.
The campfire roared briefly—almost like it agreed.
---