May 3rd, 2047 — Arkenridge City, 7:24 AM
The school bus rattled gently as it turned onto the long road out of Arkenridge. The windows were slightly fogged, the morning air still clinging to the glass. Some students chatted in small groups, a few adults spoke quietly, and others had their faces buried in books.
Near the back—third seat from the end—he sat alone.
Silent. Still. Watching.
Not bored. Not tired. Just... aware.
His name was Kairon Vale. Sixteen. Crimson hair shifting slightly as the cold breeze slipped through a cracked window. No social media. No hobbies worth talking about. No friends on the bus.
To everyone else, he was ordinary.
Too ordinary.
But that was fine. That's exactly how he wanted it.
He looked out the window as the city's skyline slowly disappeared behind a blanket of mist. Up ahead, the hills rolled into view like waves frozen in time.
He blinked. A scene flashed in his vision—a man harshly grabbing a child by the collar. Kairon didn't flinch. He simply looked away, adjusting the tie on his white shirt.
Then he glanced around the bus, golden eyes calm and unreadable. Watching. Scanning. Quietly analyzing.
> Humans... The so-called higher species. Scientists label them advanced, but in truth, they follow patterns. They fit into types. Always have.
His eyes narrowed slightly as his thoughts began to flow:
The Wise. Thinkers. Seekers of truth. Driven by logic.
Plato once called them the rational class—the ones meant to lead.
The Brave. Doers. The ones who act. Who stand up.
In Plato's "Republic," they were the spirit of the soul. Warriors with discipline and justice in their blood.
The Masses. The Desirers. Most people. Living for wealth, comfort, pleasure.
They produce. They consume. They follow.
And then... Nietzsche's view:
The Herd. The crowd. Always following, afraid to stand out. Holding back greatness to stay safe.
The Creators. Rare. The ones who break rules and make new ones. Artists. Leaders. Rebels.
The Overman. Übermensch. The ideal. Beyond fear, beyond rules. Living by their own strength.
> Fitting yourself into one of these categories helps you understand yourself... but once you do, are you ready to accept what that really means?
A girl suddenly stood up near the center of the bus.
"Um… I lost a necklace," she said softly. "Has anyone seen it? Or maybe someone picked it up by accident?"
Silence.
No one answered.
Kairon stared ahead.
> Wrong move.
He spoke quietly in his mind.
> "The moment you said 'accidentally,' you made it sound like you're accusing them. And humans… when they feel accused, even gently, they turn cold."
The girl tried again. "Please… it might've dropped somewhere."
A boy stood up, scoffing. "What? You think we stole it? It can't be that expensive. Buy a new one."
"That's not what I meant," she replied calmly.
"Then what did you mean?" the boy snapped.
She smiled politely. "Just that… mistakes happen. Maybe someone picked it up without noticing."
"No one has your necklace. Stop wasting our time."
He sat down.
She quietly walked back to her seat, still smiling.
Kairon watched. His eyes lingered for a moment.
Then he turned back to the window, catching his own reflection in the glass.
His calm golden gaze stared right back at him.
He closed his eyes… and let the world fade.
---
Not long after, the bus came to a halt.
Students filed out, stretching, grabbing their bags.
Kairon stepped out last.
The sight in front of him made him pause.
A towering building stood ahead—gothic spires, silver gates, banners fluttering with crimson and black. It looked more like a noble estate than a school.
Crimson Vale Academy.
> A place built on intellect, discipline, and silent competition. A school where kindness meant nothing... and merit meant everything.
Or at least, that's what he'd heard.
The wind picked up. His dark blue trousers fluttered slightly, the golden crest on his dark blue coat catching the light.
He adjusted the collar of his coat, hands calm, eyes steady.
"…I finally made it, huh," he muttered under his breath.
"Crimson Vale Academy… let's see what you have to offer."