Elizabeth adjusted her bag strap as she walked through the polished gates of Vanguard Hall, the morning sun casting long shadows across the courtyard. South lay the Vanguard Wing, her home base, while the Obsidian Hall loomed to the west, dark and imposing, its elite students moving with precision. To the north, the Aether Wing remained quiet and serene, and to the east, the Training Grounds buzzed with early drills.
Her heels clicked against the stone path, and her thoughts drifted to the message on her phone. Austin Tesla… the richest man in the world, she murmured, recalling the infamous name. She passed the fountains and the fluttering banners of Vanguard, acutely aware that somewhere in Obsidian Hall, Liana and her friends were watching, always just out of reach.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. Today was only her second day at Vanguard Hall—but already, everything felt different.
Aurora floated above Clover's shoulder, flickering faintly. "You know," she whispered, tone half-teasing, half-serious, "Aetherfang can disappear. Not just you—it can vanish into thin air. Your home? Her home? Practically invisible if you really need it."
Clover blinked at the faint silver-blue shimmer dancing along the sword's edge. "…Right. Useful. Not creepy at all," he muttered, adjusting his bag, a small grin tugging at his lips.
The bell rang.
Down the hall, Elizabeth Hemsworth strode gracefully, dark hair catching the sunlight, uniform crisp and neat. She glanced at her phone, thumbs flying over the screen, a small frown forming. Mr. Tesla… again. That name keeps appearing in every headline.
Across the courtyard, Clover dashed toward the classroom, heart hammering. "Five minutes late again…" he muttered, weaving between students like it was a training drill.
He reached the door just as Elizabeth pushed it open—and his momentum carried him straight inside.
"Whoa!" she exclaimed, steadying him.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Clover sputtered, brushing himself off.
From the front of the classroom, Professor Lionel Hawthorne clapped his hands theatrically. "Ah-ha! Late again, Clover Yeager? And Ms. Hemsworth, second day and already fashionably tardy? You two are giving punctuality a bad name!"
Elizabeth blushed, trying to hide a smile, while Clover's cheeks flamed red.
Aurora hovered by Clover's ear, whispering: "You might wanna blame me if you get detention. Totally my fault. Not really."
The class burst into suppressed laughter, and even Professor Hawthorne's glasses slid down slightly as he tried to hide a chuckle.
Clover groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Great. Embarrassed on the first day and made the teacher laugh at me."
Elizabeth offered a small, sympathetic smile. "Could be worse," she whispered.
They slipped into the classroom just past the start of the lesson. Aurora floated beside Clover, flickering faintly. "Late again, Yeager," she muttered. "Don't embarrass yourself—well, not too much."
The door slammed open. First in was Michael Caldwell, tall and composed, carrying a stack of papers and a leather-bound Bible. "Good morning, students," he said crisply. "Discipline applies to mind, body, and soul—even here in Vanguard Hall."
Right behind him, Julius Fairborne swaggered in, a plate of pastries in hand. "And never forget!" he declared, spinning a chocolate croissant onto a desk so it landed upright. "Brain power comes from proper nutrition! Let the lesson—and the snacks—begin!"
From the back row, Jax rolled his eyes. "Oh boy…" he muttered. Ty whispered, "This guy's gonna drop a donut on someone's head."
Rina giggled quietly, Lina smirked calmly, already taking notes with her observant eyes, and Kade leaned back, arms crossed, unimpressed but curious.
Michael adjusted his glasses, shaking his head. "One day, Mr. Fairborne, you're going to turn my classroom into a food battlefield."
"That day is today, Caldwell! Who wants a caramel surprise?" Julius grinned.
The students tensed, some ducking behind desks, some already laughing. Elizabeth's fingers hovered over her phone, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.
Aurora floated higher, whispering to Clover, "Welcome to Vanguard Hall. Enjoy the chaos."
The chocolate croissant teetered on the desk edge, wobbling as if alive.
"Ah! Perfect balance," Julius announced, snapping his fingers. The croissant leapt into the air, splitting into three smaller pastries that spun like frisbees toward random desks.
Jax ducked. Ty groaned. Rina squealed. Lina calmly caught one pastry with her shadow powers before it hit the floor. Kade smirked, leaning back in his chair.
"See?" Julius said, tossing a sticky caramel candy onto a ceiling lamp. It sizzled and glimmered. "Food isn't just delicious—it's tactical!"
Aurora hovered beside Clover, whispering with amusement, "Yeager… you might need more than Aetherfang to survive this one."
Clover tensed, watching pastries spin and tumble like tiny missiles. Elizabeth stayed quiet, briefly checking a news article about Austin Tesla—someone she knew personally.
"Class," Julius clapped dramatically, sending a swirl of powdered sugar into the air, "before anyone panics—let's learn the biology of food in motion! Observe how proteins and sugars interact with air currents, creating unpredictable trajectories. Pastries are more than snacks—they're living lessons in physics and biology! Notice the caramel's viscosity, the croissant's flaky layers, the candy's adhesion…"
He tossed a marshmallow that bounced off a student's head and stuck to the blackboard. "Ah! Perfect demonstration! Cellular density, my dear pupils!"
"Yeager, stay sharp," Aurora whispered. "This is a full-contact biology class."
Suddenly, the classroom door burst open. Branson stormed in, eyes wide at the airborne pastries. "WHAT IN THE—?!"
Shage Yeager followed, adjusting his glasses, calm but radiating icy authority. "I see… chaos. Interesting method of teaching, Fairborne."
Pastries hung mid-air like floating landmines. Cocoa dust sparkled faintly, coating desks and uniforms.
"Uh…" Julius waved innocently. "Just a… practical demonstration in applied biology, I swear!"
Branson loomed over him. "Demonstration or not, this classroom is now a battlefield."
Shage scanned the scene with calculating eyes, subtle probability ripples making pastries pause. "Clean it up. Immediately. And Mr. Fairborne… keep the food on your plate next time."
Aurora smirked at Clover. "Nothing stays normal here. And today… you're just getting started."
Clover clenched his fists, the faint silver glow of Aetherfang pulsing at his side. "This school is insane," he muttered.
Elizabeth glanced at Liana, who quietly shifted her shadow around a bouncing éclair to catch it mid-air. "She's calm even in this mess…" Elizabeth whispered, impressed.
Julius twirled a chocolate éclair like a baton. "Ah! Excellent! Cellular adhesion and momentum! This is why biology is the most delicious subject! You're welcome, class."
Branson crossed his arms. "I don't know whether to scold him or applaud him…"
Shage adjusted his glasses. "I think… both."
The sticky caramel candy stretched across the room, barely missing Branson's shoulder.
Michael Caldwell strode in, hands on hips, eyebrows raised. "Julius… seriously? Again?"
Julius twirled another éclair. "Practical demonstration! Culinary physics in action!"
Michael groaned, snatching it mid-spin. "This is not a lab! It's a classroom! Your pastries are a hazard!"
Julius smirked. "Oh, come on. Admit it—you love the chaos as much as I do."
Michael's stern glare met Julius' teasing grin. "I tolerate order. You… tolerate nothing. That's the problem."
"Ha! And yet the students adore me," Julius puffed proudly.
Michael shook his head, smirking. "One day, your ego will burn hotter than this caramel."
Julius laughed. "Then I'll just eat more chocolate to cool it down."
The class groaned. Aurora floated past Clover, whispering: "This is going to be fun… and messy."
Across the city, a narrow alley reeked of damp concrete and rust. Shadows clung to every corner, hiding secrets the streetlights dared not touch. A figure crouched atop a fire escape, hood pulled low, face obscured by dark green fabric. In gloved hands, a high-tech camera whirred softly, scanning the scene below.
Three men huddled around a crate, exchanging documents. One paused, tossing a suspicious envelope to the second, who tucked it into a leather satchel.
The hooded figure adjusted a lens, zooming in until every detail was crisp. A faint digital display glowed inside the camera, marking timestamps, locations, and environmental readings.
A flicker of movement—a rat scurrying across the alley—made the figure flinch. A soft, almost inaudible click echoed. The camera had recorded everything.
The figure leaned back slightly, whispering into a hidden comms device, voice low and firm: "This is Riven. Target secured. Preparing to extract intel."
A metallic scrape below made the figure freeze. The men moved again, unaware they were being watched. Eyes narrowed beneath the hood—tonight was going to get dangerous.
Somewhere deeper in the dark, a glint hinted at backup—or perhaps a rival—waiting to strike.
The figure stepped forward, voice calm but cutting through the alley like steel. "Hey… wanna play?"
The men froze. "Who… who are you?!"
A faint grin showed beneath the hood. "Riven. Your worst nightmare."