Brayeal City Central Zone — The Vance Estate
The car ride had ended, and the gates to the Vance estate had opened like a dream pulling back its curtains.
Even through the tinted windows, Arion had been able to feel it that subtle sense of power, of history, of wealth soaked into the foundations of the massive estate. Now, walking up the wide, polished steps and into the main hall, he was greeted by sweeping arches, high ceilings painted with soft lights, and floors of white marble that shimmered under his feet.
The house was luxurious, yes but not in the sterile, cold way he had feared. It was lived in. There were plants in the corners, warm tones on the furniture, and pictures on the walls ,family photos, smiles frozen in time. His face was in many of them.
His father's voice broke through his quiet awe. "Welcome home, son."
He turned. Marcus stood tall and firm, but there was something hesitant in the way he spoke. His mother, Lily, followed behind, her arms gently brushing his as if grounding herself in the moment.
"Do you remember anything?" she asked softly.
"No," Arion replied. Not from this world. He didn't add that.
She gave a small nod, as though she'd expected that, and smiled anyway. "That's alright. We'll help you remember. This is your home. And we're your family."
He looked at her. Really looked. Even in another world he hadn't known warthm like this. He didn't remember his mother in this life, but something about Lily's voice, her scent, the softness in her eyes,it stirred something.
He followed them further into the estate, through winding halls and past wide doors. Servants gave small bows or polite nods. Every room was beautifully designed,open, sunlit, soft with velvet and glass but it wasn't the beauty that got to him.
It was the quiet.
So much quiet. So much peace. He wasn't used to peace.
They brought him to his room a large space on the second floor with high windows, a bed big enough to fit four of him, and shelves full of things he didn't recognize.
"Everything's just the way you left it," Lily said, a little too hopefully.
Arion nodded and stepped inside. He ran a finger across the shelf. Books,fantasy, science, and comics. Drawings taped to the closet. He saw a crude sketch of a red dinosaur and another of what looked like an armored warrior with lightning for arms.
The handwriting below read: Arion the Brave.
He blinked, expression unreadable.
There was a mirror in the corner. He approached it, staring at his reflection. This face. His face now. Younger, rounder, smoother. No scars, no war paint, no ash. The boy who once lived here had been gentle. Dreaming. Hurt. Bullied.
That wasn't him.
But maybe he could carry the dreams the boy had dropped.
Dinner that Night
The dining room was long, almost too formal. A glass chandelier hung above the table. The food smelled rich roasted meat, spice-rubbed vegetables, sweet sauces.
Arion sat in silence for the first few minutes, unsure what to do with the silverware laid before him. He copied his father.
"You used to eat like a wolf," Lily teased gently, breaking the quiet.
Arion blinked. "Did I?"
"Mm-hmm." She offered a small smile. "We had to teach you table manners twice."
Marcus chuckled, a deep sound. "And even then, he'd sneak food from the kitchen when he thought no one was looking."
A ghost of a grin crossed Arion's face.
They were trying. He could feel it. Every sentence was an attempt to bridge five years of silence. To reach someone they didn't fully recognize anymore.
"I… want to go to school," Arion said suddenly, surprising even himself.
They paused.
"You don't have to rush," Lily said. "You've just woken up"
"I want to see the world," Arion said. "Understand it. This world. What people do, how things work."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll make arrangements. You were enrolled in one of the best elite schools in the district. They still consider you a student. We'll reach out to them."
Arion's eyes dropped to the plate. "Thanks."
They resumed eating. The food was good. The room was warm. He didn't quite feel like he belonged but maybe he could grow into this life.
Two days later, Marcus took him into Brayeal's heart.
They passed checkpoints guarded by armored drones and officers in chrome suits. The central zone gleamed glass towers, hovering transport, vertical gardens clinging to the sides of buildings.
"This is Sector Five," Marcus explained. "Each sector in the city handles different needs government, education, combat training, tech. We live in the residential sector. But this is where most decisions happen."
Arion peered out the window. Digital screens danced across buildings. In the distance, near the outer sectors, he could see massive walls and what looked like turrets embedded into the skyline.
"What's out there?" he asked.
"Wilderness zones. Old ruins. Creature territory. But we've pushed most of the real threats back over the last thousand years. The city's stable. The danger's in the cracks."
They stopped near a tall administrative building for identity re-registration. Arion was scanned, fingerprinted, and updated in the citizen database.
Afterward, they visited a gear outfitter, and Marcus let him pick a personal suit for future training ñlight, adaptive fabric with mutation-threaded lining. Expensive.
"Isn't this too much?" Arion asked.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You're my son."
Fair enough.
On their way back, a news broadcast flashed across a large plaza screen:
"A mutated Stonehide Boar was spotted near Sector 9's fringe wall. Hunter forces subdued it after three casualties. Citizens are advised to avoid fringe zones without escort clearance."
Arion watched the footage grainy but clear. The beast was massive, armored like a tank. Blood splashed the frame. One of the dead wore a student uniform.
This world was not peaceful. Not really.
The next morning, he dressed in his uniform dark jacket, symbol of Brayeal Elite Institute stitched in silver across the shoulder and stepped onto the transport that took him to school.
The building was modern, high-tech, and large. Students milled about in groups some chatting, some practicing combat stances in the outdoor courtyard, others lounging with holopads.
He drew glances. Whispers followed him.
"That's Arion Vance… wasn't he in a coma?"
"Five years, right?"
"He's cute. But I heard he was a weirdo."
A teacher met him at the gate a woman with short hair and hard eyes. She introduced herself as Ms. Rale, his homeroom instructor.
"Welcome back, Arion. I hope you're ready to work hard."
"I am."
His schedule was light at first literature, world history, basic science, and combat theory. Not everyone here had awakened powers yet. Some students would never awaken. But all of them were expected to train, study, and prepare for the day they did.
In class, he listened more than he spoke. Took notes quietly. Compared everything to what he had known in his previous world.
This one was more advanced. But it was built on pain. Mutations. War. Fear.
And yet, people smiled.
That was new to him.
That night, as he stood in his room, the voice returned.
> Recovery Phase Complete. Training Recommendation: Physical Development Tier 1 Focus: Strength, Stamina
A message pulsed across his vision:
> Initiate Training Protocol?
Reward: Minor Stat Boost, Access to Internal Combat Grid Simulation
"Yes," he whispered.
The system displayed a basic routine pushups, sprints, balance drills. Simple, but taxing. He followed the directions to the letter. His muscles burned. His lungs ached. Sweat soaked through his shirt.
After an hour, he collapsed, trembling.