[PoV: Dane Bondou]
My hand moved, picking up a document that lay on the table.
My eyes studied every word, every sentence, of the information on that paper.
After reading and examining the document, I began to speak, asking a question to a young man beside me—his hair was black, and he had dark black eyes. He wore a formal suit and black patent leather shoes.
"So, no identity, no history whatsoever. Can it be confirmed that he is not a citizen of any State in this Federation?"
"That is still an assumption, Sir. We cannot find a single piece of information about him. Even the clothes he wears are strange; they have no production history or official brand," he replied. He is my Assistant, tasked with helping me manage documents and other matters. He is a street child I picked up 12 years ago, and now he is 18 years old.
My other hand picked up a picture that was previously next to this document.
A paper showing a picture of a black-haired man being hit by a truck while saving a child in the middle of the road. He wore a white robe, but it was shabby and dirty with dust. Yet... there was no damage or blood on his body from the collision.
"That's strange. Is he a Mutant?"
"Perhaps, that is the only logical conclusion for the current observation."
"Hmm... Even for a Mutant, they have a fake identity. But him? How could he live in this Federation without an identity? He should have been caught and sentenced to prison, or dead."
"That is what we are investigating, Sir."
Now my hands gripped the document and the picture simultaneously, and I looked at them alternately.
"Continue the investigation, and observe his every move."
"Very well, Sir."
Now, that exam is over. I can't wait to see that stranger in person—I ordered my subordinate to find and hide that person when the accident happened, and insert him into this exam.
Since he has no background, it's even easier for me to make him a "Tool" in the Special Forces to oppose the Government. Because he has no identity.
Perhaps this investigation will lead us to something deep and interesting...
•••
[PoV: Nico #######]
Now, we are all in the cargo hold of the plane, divided into two groups on different planes—two planes were provided for us, one plane carrying 10 successful participants.
And on the plane I'm in now, there are 10 participants—including Farren, Aurel, and William, except for Gerrald and Serra, as they are on the other plane.
I sat on a long bench against the cargo hold wall, squeezed between Aurel and William on either side of me.
The engine roared. The floor vibrated softly. Indicator lights blinked green-yellow in a strange rhythm, as if following the heartbeat of this iron plane's engine.
A safety strap crossed my chest. Across from me, Farren sat upright, his back against the wall, hands resting on his knees, his gaze empty as usual—like someone deep in thought.
William on my right let out a long sigh. "So, are we officially students now?" he asked.
Before I could answer his question, a firm voice answered first—coming from an adult guard standing in front of the plane's control room door. He wore a bulletproof vest and held an Energy Rifle with both hands.
"No, you are not fully official students yet. You must attend the scheduled Admission Ceremony, which will be held shortly."
I looked at him, and his eyes also looked at me. There was something strange about him. Ever since I boarded this plane, he would occasionally shift his gaze towards me.
Even if I thought he was just a Guard assigned to watch over us at this moment, his behavior suggested another order given to him—to "observe" and "investigate" me.
Then I nodded, acknowledging his earlier statement. Then I averted my eyes from him.
•
•
•
The plane began to descend safely, and we started preparing with our feet and our bags. When the plane stopped moving, we stood up. Preparing ourselves wholeheartedly.
The cargo door slowly lowered, creating a blinding light from outside. We quickly shielded our eyes with our arms.
What was actually out there?
Our eyes began to adjust to the light, and we slowly opened them fully as the cargo door opened completely.
We stepped out slowly but surely. A mix of worry and satisfaction for having reached this point began to sprout within us.
I began to realize that the earlier light came from the spotlight of a watchtower.
Were we at an airport now?
As our feet finally stepped onto the solid concrete runway, we were amazed by a magnificent, towering building that soared into the sky like a spear.
Beside that building were other structures, large, but not as large as the central one. They looked modern, filled with advanced protective technologies. And there were many people looking at us from the windows of that building. As if they had long awaited this joyous news.
The night wind entered the open cargo hold, carrying the smell of engine oil and wet steel. Tower lights drew white lines on the asphalt, crossing like giant chalk marks.
From the side, a stretcher passed quickly—carrying people we knew. Gerrald set his foot on the ground, hard, his shoulder wrapped in bandages. And beside Gerrald, familiar hair glinted under the lights: a dull purple. Serra. Her eyes were open a slit, her lips moving as if to say someone's name.
At the end of the path, stood a sturdy, decorated adult man in his uniform. With a label on his chest—Major General.
He stepped forward towards us. Then stopped when he was right in front of us.
"Prepare yourselves! Follow instructions! And don't get lost!" he said firmly.
He turned and walked towards the wall surrounding the magnificent building.
Understanding what he meant, we followed from behind.
When we arrived before the gate, 100 meters tall and perhaps 150 tons heavy, some of us were stunned by the huge gate—not including me.
Then the Major ordered a "Wall Guard" to open the gate.
"Enter, Cadets!" he commanded firmly. He ushered us in, and we followed his instruction without a second thought.
•
•
•
Before the tall building—another building beside the one that pierced the sky.
The metal door was closed in the darkness of the night, and the Major opened the door and again, an intensely blinding light made us instantly blind.
Then a few seconds later, we opened our eyes. Added with a strange cheer heard from inside.
The sound of cheers and applause grew more festive. When we stepped inside, how surprised we were.
The room inside was quite magnificent, everything looked luxurious and festive, like a party—wait, don't tell me this is our welcome ceremony?
Though strange, the people before us proved it enough.
From the young to the old. From men to women. All wore the same black uniform, looking elegant and incredibly charming.
The cheers were like a wave. At first deafening, then spreading, then leveling out—becoming a flat rumble that was strangely calming.
"Welcome to Nethera Academy, Juniors!"
"Congratulations on surviving!"
"Welcome to your new 'Home'!"
William on my right gave a small smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Aurel on my left tightened her bag strap. Farren… remained Farren. Calm like a black stone at the bottom of a river.
During the party, the seniors here were very kind and friendly to us. They told us it was very difficult to get new members in Dormitory Building No. 5—the building we were assigned to. The reason was that Building No. 5 was the last and lowest in the selection. The officials needed to fill the capacity in Buildings 1 to 4 first. It was natural that the seniors were grateful because 7 new Cadets entered Building No. 5: Me, Nico, Aurel, William, Serra, Gerrald, and one more, Yuna, the brown-haired girl.
One of them—the seniors—who left an impression on me was Serena, a friendly fair-skinned woman with black hair fading to light blue, sharp blue eyes, intricate and elegant facial features, a very ideal body proportion, and her thighs to her legs looked smooth.
And from the past story she told, she was a simple woman saved by a student and an Instructor of Nethera Academy when she saved people from the company building where she worked during a terrorist attack; perhaps now she is presumed dead by those close to her.
And one more thing, most of them did not mention their last names as it was Privacy that must be maintained.
.....