Chapter 5 - Chapter 5: MaGia Academy

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DING–DING–DING!

The shrill sound of the bell marked the end of Instructor Gryf's morning class.

MaGia Academy had a strict curriculum designed for the Unsealed.

Mornings were dedicated to history and general knowledge—teaching us about past calamities, the rise of the Unsealed, and humanity's struggle.Midday was for Doctrine Training, where we focused on body strengthening through Aether Circulation—a fundamental skill for survival.After lunch, we took Specialty Courses, tailored to our individual abilities.Afternoons covered mathematics and science, followed by more knowledge about the calamities and their evolving threats.

But what truly made MaGia Academy unique was its twelve divisions, each spread across the world.

Division I – Eastern Coastal City of Huaxing Dynasty we call Hong Kong (Overrun overnight by the calamity of Overgrowth. Officially dissolved.)Division II – Goryeon island nation under the Pacific continent (Dissolved due to an unexplained anomaly. Rumors blame a Xu Jian-type berserker incident, but the government denies it.)Division III – Tika (Avalon State Island Nation)Division IV – Atlalanta (Avalon State Nation)Division V – Revia Kingdom (Europa Continent)Division VI – Sundara Veda (Free Nation under the Crescent Continent)Division VII – Nipon (Pacific Continent Island Nation)Division VIII – Zion City (Free Nation under the Crescent Continent)Division IX – Aurealis (Pacific Continent Island Nation) (Our division.)Division X – Salahadin (Crescent Empire, Major Power of Crescent Continent)Division XI – Solarium Kingdom (Europa Continent)Division XII – Northern Andes Region 

Each division had its own battlefield.

Each one had suffered losses.

We were in Division IX.

Even here—one of the last relatively stable branches—safety was never guaranteed.

No place was safe anymore. Not in Gaia. Not even within MaGiA Academy.

And this wasn't just a school.

Being a student here didn't mean cafeteria lunches and pop quizzes.

It meant training like a soldier.

Living like a weapon in the making.

Admission alone was brutal.

Your capability, Aether compatibility, and combat proficiency were dissected, graded, and ranked.

Only a selected few ever made it in.

And among them, a privileged elite—those with lineage, power, or legacy—were sometimes fast-tracked through closed-door recommendations.

Just saying you were a student of MaGiA carried weight.

The title alone was a badge of honor—envied, respected, and feared.

Aether users from every corner of the world competed relentlessly, desperate for admission.

Why wouldn't they?

Graduates of MaGiA Academy were promised a golden future.

Recruited into the Bureau as elite operatives…

Offered executive positions in mega-corporations…

Or adopted by noble families for roles in their legacy bloodlines.

Since the Academy's founding, nearly 600 graduates had been offered those once-in-a-lifetime seats of power.

But after the catastrophic events that tore through Divisions I and II, only around 500 remained.

Even that number kept shrinking.

Because MaGiA's final exam…

wasn't an exam.

It was a judgment.

Some passed and were regaled as legends.

Some failed and were never seen again—crippled, consumed, or disintegrated by the trial itself.

And if the Queen's prophecy was right…

The worst was still yet to come.

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Thud. Crack. Thud.

My back slammed against the rooftop wall, thin fractures webbing across the concrete like ice under pressure. Pain shot down my spine, but I barely flinched.

"You dare—making me look like a fool?" Sol's voice grated with irritation as he drilled another punch into my ribs.

A normal beatdown usually lasted two or three hits before the bully got bored. But Sol? Sol was different. He didn't just want to hurt—he wanted a reaction. A confession. A crack in my calm. A fight.

Truth be told, his punches were starting to feel like drills. Repetitive. Predictable. Almost boring.

His two shadows—Blake Carson and Wei Fang—stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with casual cruelty. Blake, with his iron-hard skin and massive build, could crush a man with one punch if he wanted. Wei, lean and poised, had the sharp precision of a Huaxing martial artist.

Despite the wall hammering my back, I kept my face blank.

What they didn't see was the flicker of Codex Nexus at every strike. With each impact, I summoned a sliver of punching bag material right between my skin and their fists. It absorbed the force, softening the blows before they could do real damage.

I sold the act well—wincing, staggering, breathing ragged. Each punch drove me back with just enough drama to satisfy them.

They thought I was breaking.

Let them.

The only danger was my face. I had no fabric shield there. One direct hit and the game would be up.

So I danced. Twisting, leaning, making the miss look clumsy. Never enough to provoke suspicion.

As long as they didn't catch on… I could walk away without a mark.

I sat still, observing, reading them. But I already saw it—the flicker of dissatisfaction in Sol's eyes. He wanted resistance. A spark. A reason to justify the violence.

And he got none.

Did I want to fight back? Gods, yes. But what would that prove? That I could throw punches too? Waste Aether just to bruise an ego?

Not worth it.

Blake huffed, crossing his arms. "I was expecting him to at least fight back."

Wei snorted. "What a waste of a bloodline."

Sol exhaled sharply, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His anger had cooled into something worse: disinterest. Without a word, he turned and walked toward the exit.

Blake and Wei trailed after him, throwing glances back that barely registered.

I waited.

Only when their footsteps faded did I let out a slow, steady breath.

At least that's crossed off the list.

I tilted my head back, watching the sky. Clouds drifted lazily above, golden light pooling between them like spilled honey.

Then it hit me.

It's Friday.

Which meant—

Tomorrow is Saturday.

Incursion Day.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt... nothing. No adrenaline. No excitement. Just a gnawing void sitting in my gut. It should've felt like a milestone. A challenge. But instead, all I could think about was how easily Sol had walked away. Unimpressed. Unfulfilled. Like he was waiting for something—something more than fists or fear.

And maybe part of me hated that I didn't give it to him.

I stood up, brushing the dust from my uniform and stretching out limbs that hadn't truly been tested today. With the rooftop behind me, I made my way down toward the infirmary.

When I stepped inside, Haru was still fast asleep, sprawled across the bed like he didn't have a care in the world. His face was peaceful—too peaceful, considering what had happened.

I leaned in close, just enough to whisper in his ear. "Hey, Haru, you can borrow all my games from my room."

His eyes flew open like a triggered trap.

"Really?" he grinned, sitting up so fast it was like he had never been unconscious at all.

I smirked, nodding. "Yeah. Just make sure you return them by Monday."

"Oh, I promise!" he said with boyish excitement, practically bouncing off the bed.

I grabbed his hand and helped him up. "Come on. Let's grab lunch before someone raids the good trays."

We walked side by side toward the canteen, our pace light, our laughter casual.

The two of us headed to the canteen, grabbing whatever food we could before continuing with our specialty courses in the afternoon. The rest of the day passed in a blur—training, exercises, more lectures on our abilities and combat applications.

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And then, the final class of the day.

Instructor Gryf clapped his hands together, commanding the attention of the entire room.

"Alright, listen up," he said, his sharp gaze sweeping over us. "Before you all head home, there's something important you need to know."

The room fell silent.

"Next week," the instructor announced, his voice steady, "we begin preparations for your Final Exam."

A ripple of unease stirred through the classroom. Everyone knew what that meant.

"For seniors," he continued, his eyes scanning the stiffening rows, "the Final Exam is divided into three stages—each more brutal than the last."

"First, the Aether Evaluation. You're all familiar with this. It's not just about how much power you hold—it's about how well you control it. The evaluation machines read everything: your Aether density, control, emotional volatility, and whether you've capped your potential. A final grade will be given to reflect your progress."

Murmurs flickered through the room—uneasy, subdued.

"Second…" Gryf's tone sharpened. "The Aether Clash."

A quiet gasp. Everyone knew the name.

"It's new to most of you. A tournament. Live matches—combat rated. Seniors only, and a handful of chosen underclassmen. We test your survivability. Strategy. Adaptation. Real stakes."

He paused long enough to let the silence fill with imagination.

"And then," he said, voice dropping into something colder, "the third and final trial."

A pause.

"Calamity Incursion."

"Now, before any of you get too excited, let's go over the danger levels," he continued, his voice firm and unwavering. He tapped the holographic display behind him, and a set of classified zone levels flickered into view.

"Danger levels are categorized into four tiers, comparable to storms due to Aether conditions."

Danger Level 4 zones are infested mainly by armies or minions. Aether concentration is dense but relatively stable. These are the least dangerous zones, though that doesn't mean they're safe.Danger Level 3 zones house a significantly larger number of enemies, often led by a General or a high-tier entity. Aether movement in these areas is agitated, like turbulent waters before a storm.Danger Level 2 zones are actively occupied by a higher tier General. Aether movement in these zones is violent—scanners display patterns resembling a brewing hurricane.Danger Level 1 zones are ruled by a calamity Ruler—monsters like the Frost King or the Monarch Queen. Aether density is so overwhelming that scanners struggle to capture clear readings. Instead, the screen shows chaotic surges, as if a tornado is forming.

Gryf paused, allowing the weight of that final tier to settle in before his expression hardened.

"And then… there's Danger Level X. This is the designation given when a calamity Ruler is on the move."

An invasion.

A calamity March.

A moment where an entire region—or even a country—could be wiped off the map.

Gryf allowed the silence to linger before shifting his tone. "Calamity Incursions are typically conducted in Danger Level 4 zones. These areas are strategically secured, with bunkers placed in key locations."

A few students exhaled in relief, but we knew better. Secured didn't mean safe.

"Our roles depend on our year level," he continued. "Freshmen are responsible for collecting Blood Crystals—the remnants left behind when calamity entities disintegrate. These crystals have become the backbone of our economy. Thanks to TechLogia, they have revolutionized both daily life and our ability to fight the calamity."

That much was true. Blood Crystals were everywhere—powering homes, enhancing medicine, advancing technology. Without them, humanity would have collapsed a long time ago.

"Sophomores will handle security and transportation. They ensure collected resources make it safely back to the extraction area," Gryf added.

Then, he turned his gaze toward us.

"But you… you are not freshmen or sophomores anymore." His voice was steady, commanding. "You are seniors."

I felt a shift in the atmosphere. A quiet anticipation. A simmering intensity.

Gryf narrowed his eyes. "This year, there will be no more collecting. No more transportation. This time, you will be responsible for the elimination of calamity threats inside the zone." you are now in the front line. Assigned to active Calamity Zones—with live threats, shifting terrain, and no one to hold your hand."

He stopped, letting the silence press in.

"No one will be watching you. No cameras. No praise."

"You'll make decisions based on everything you've learned within these walls—as a team. Whether you succeed, fall apart, or survive… that will be entirely up to you."

I felt my throat tighten.

This wasn't just an exam.

It was a gauntlet.

"And remember," he added grimly, "this final trial carries the heaviest weight in your overall evaluation. And for many… it may be their final assignment, period."

No one said a word.

Because we all knew this since the beginning

Not everyone returned.

I straightened in my seat.

Instructor Gryf's voice remained steady, but there was an underlying weight to his words. "We will be conducting visits to active calamity zones. Specifically, the nearest calamity site—Xianzhou Continent."

The air in the room seemed to thicken.

"The zones we visit will have minimal danger levels," Gryf assured, "but do not mistake that for safety. You will be entering areas still under active infestation. This is your first real step toward understanding what it means to be an Unsealed."

The classroom remained silent. No one dared speak.

My hands clenched into fists under my desk.

Instructor Gryf's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the responsibility that came with being an Unsealed.

A surge of energy ran through the room.

This was it.

This was what we had trained for.

This was what it meant to be an Unsealed.

My fingers curled into fists. I felt it—the burning passion, the unshakable resolve.

And I wasn't the only one.

Around me, my classmates sat straighter, eyes alight with the same fire.

This was our mission.

The reason we were here at MAGIA Academy.

To fight.

To survive.

To protect humanity's final stand.

Instructor Gryf clapped his hands together, commanding the room's attention once more.

"Alright, listen up. You will be grouped into teams of five for this operation."

A murmur rippled through the students. Some were eager, some tense. We all knew that team composition could mean the difference between a smooth mission or a nightmare.

"Some of you might get lucky," Gryf continued. "You could have sophomores in your team or even someone from Class A. But don't get too confident. Teamwork is what matters, right, Sol?"

The room tensed as all eyes shifted toward Sol. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression completely indifferent.

"Who cares?" he muttered. "It's just a bunch of low-tier weaklings wandering around a danger zone."

A few students stiffened at his remark, but no one spoke against him. They all knew the truth.

Sol wasn't like the rest of us.

Since his freshman year, he had never been assigned to menial tasks like collecting Blood Crystals or transporting supplies. While we were being trained, Sol was already fighting.

He had been eliminating calamity threats side by side with the top five of Senior Class A. He had already stood in the real battlefield—the kind of battlefield the rest of us were only now preparing to step into.

The only reason he was even in Class B was because of his own temper. A violent outburst. A classmate was beaten so badly they had to be hospitalized.

I knew that better than anyone.

Gryf didn't seem fazed by Sol's attitude. Instead, he sighed and shook his head.

"Don't be so quick to judge," he said. "Experience is a great teacher, yes. But so is survival. No one leaves the battlefield the same as they entered it."

The room fell silent.

"Your official team assignments will be posted Monday on the bulletin board." Gryf continued, moving on. "Check them before the afternoon session. And don't forget—Aether evaluations will also take place after lunch."

More murmurs spread through the class.

"That's all." Gryf exhaled, then glanced at the clock.

As if on cue, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

I watched as Sol and his gang—Blake and Wei—left the room first. Their usual routine. They never waited, never lingered.

I let out a slow breath, my shoulders relaxing.

At least there won't be another bullying session today.

Grabbing my bag, I turned and spotted Haru packing up his things.

Right. I had promised to make up for what happened this morning.

"Hey, Haru," I called, stepping beside him. "Let's head home. Remember I'll let you borrow my entire game collection this weekend."

His eyes lit up instantly.

"Sweet," he grinned, suddenly energized.

I smirked. "Yeah. Just make sure you return everything by Monday."

"Deal!" He pumped his fist, already thinking about which games to binge first.

With that, we exited the classroom, leaving behind the weight of Gryf's words, Sol's arrogance, and the looming pressure of what awaited us next week.

For now, it was still Friday.

Tomorrow, however…

Tomorrow was Incursion Day.

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