CHAPTER 4 — FORCE AND FURY
Snow flurried over the metallic roofs of Germmy Institute as the morning siren blared across the southern training block. The red sunrise reflected off the transparent dome shielding the academy from external radiation, painting everything in amber hues.
Inside Dormitory 47, Sector 6, a loud yawn broke the silence.
Emma stretched his arms lazily, his hair sticking in all directions. "Another day, another episode of How to Survive Without Powers, starring me," he muttered, sliding off his bed.
Iyke was already dressed in his standard black uniform, his silver badge clipped perfectly at the chest. "You're lucky they didn't make us run five laps this morning," he said, pulling his boots on.
"I'd still win," Emma replied confidently, walking toward the mirror. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair, striking a pose. "God, I'd date myself if I could."
Grent groaned from his bunk. "Bro, you look like someone who wrestled a toaster."
"Exactly," Emma said with a grin. "And I won."
Vorden chuckled quietly as he adjusted the cuffs of his uniform. "Save your charm for later, Emma. You might need it when the nobles start acting up again."
"Oh, you mean Raale and his merry band of ego-inflated jackasses?" Emma scoffed. "Please. I'm a professional at ignoring jerks. I'll be fine."
The moment he said that, a digital bell chimed from the wall console. Breakfast time.
The cafeteria at Germmy Institute was a sight of luxury and chaos combined. Massive holographic screens floated overhead, showing rankings of top Awakener students. Long metallic tables gleamed beneath ceiling lights, and the aroma of fresh bread, grilled meat, and caffeine filled the air.
Emma carried a tray of food—bread, cheese, and a hot cup of chocolate—and searched for an empty spot. He saw Eren from afar, sitting alone as usual, her face unreadable, her eyes half-lidded but observant. She noticed everything, even when pretending not to.
He found a seat beside Vorden and Grent, just as a sudden hush fell over the hall.
The reason: Raale Vaalion had entered.
He was tall, platinum-haired, wearing a sleek uniform modified with his clan's crest—two crossing spears surrounded by spiraling energy. He carried himself like a walking explosion of arrogance.
"Well, if it isn't the powerless boy," Raale said as he approached Emma's table. His eyes flicked over Emma's tray, then to his uniform. "Still wearing that commoner badge? How cute."
Emma rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh, look, it's the king of the cafeteria. Should I bow or throw bread crumbs?"
A ripple of laughter spread through nearby tables. Raale's smirk faded.
"You think you're funny, do you?"
"Not really," Emma said. "Cause apparently, your face is funnier than mine."
The air tightened. Raale's hand twitched. Then, without warning, he picked up Emma's cup and poured the milk over his head.
The entire hall gasped.
Cold liquid slid down Emma's hair, dripping over his cheek and collar. He froze. Every part of him wanted to curse, to yell, but instead, he kept quiet with streams of rage bubbling inside him.
"How do you like that? Huh!" asked Raale. "I guess running your mouth isn't as good as you think right?"
Emma kept his head down with the spilled milk still dripping from his head to his uniform.
Iyke and Grent sat down across the table with jaws dropped as such they almost touched it.
The whole canteen was quiet. It was as if the time was paused like a movie.
"At the very least you'd know your place, dick head,"Raale said as he swung his hand to strike him, but before it landed, a blur of movement intercepted—Vorden.
The cup shattered in mid-air, frozen by a ripple in space.
"That's enough," Vorden said quietly, eyes glowing faintly silver. The air around him distorted slightly, as if space itself bent in deference.
Raale grinned darkly. "Oh? The noble space brat wants to play?"
"Try me," Vorden said—and vanished.
The cafeteria erupted in chaos.
Vorden reappeared behind Raale in a flash, his fist connecting with the boy's jaw, sending him stumbling. But Raale quickly retaliated, his body glowing with faint blue lines. The air shivered as invisible waves radiated from his hands.
Force Control.
Tables exploded apart, trays flew through the air, and students screamed as the two clashed at the center of the room.
Vorden teleported again, dodging a crushing pulse of kinetic energy that tore a crater into the floor. He reappeared above Raale, delivering a spinning kick enhanced by folded space.
Raale blocked with a wave of dense air, the shockwave rattling the entire cafeteria. The lights flickered; glass cracked.
"Stop them!" someone shouted, but no one dared intervene.
Emma stumbled backward, shielding his head from flying debris. "Shit," he muttered, ducking as a fork whizzed past his face. "This is totally abnormal! What a morning…."
Across the hall, Eren stood calmly by the wall, her arms folded. Her expression didn't change even as chairs exploded around her. Her sharp eyes followed every move, studying both fighters with the precision of a scientist examining prey.
Raale thrust his hand forward, and Vorden was thrown backward, slamming into a pillar. The space around him rippled again, cushioning his landing.
Vorden's expression darkened. He flicked his fingers—and suddenly Raale's body twisted unnaturally, space folding around him like invisible threads.
"You talk too much," Vorden said.
Raale's eyes flared. "And you rely too much on tricks!"
He unleashed a pulse of kinetic force so strong it blasted Vorden's folded space apart. The air cracked with pressure. The ground shattered beneath them.
Students ducked for cover as two gods-in-training tore through reality itself.
Emma felt the pressure of their powers, even without awakening. His breath came shallow. The room trembled like a beast beneath their feet.
"Stop it!" Emma yelled, stepping forward.
Big mistake.
Raale noticed him—and smirked.
"Out of my way, mongrel."
He flicked his wrist, sending a violent kinetic burst toward Emma. It hit him squarely in the chest, and before he could even register pain, he was airborne—flung fifteen meters across the cafeteria.
The world blurred. A single thought crossed his fading mind:
So this is what flying feels like...
Then—darkness.
When Emma opened his eyes, sterile white lights greeted him. The faint hum of medical pods filled the air.
"Welcome back, sleeping beauty," Brent said from beside the bed.
Emma blinked. "Did I die?"
Iyke snorted. "No, but you flew. Like a bird. A very clumsy bird."
Emma groaned. "Damn it... what happened to Vorden?"
"He's fine," Iyke said. "Didn't even get punished."
Emma frowned. "Wait—why not? He literally demolished the cafeteria."
Grent looked away. "Because he's not just anyone. He's from the Azren Clan—space manipulators, one of the most feared noble families. Even the lieutenants can't lecture him too hard."
Emma sat up slowly. "So… my roommate's a walking legend, and I'm the powerless idiot who got used as a projectile?"
Iyke chuckled. "Pretty much."
Emma sighed, rubbing his face. "Fantastic. My life's a cosmic joke."
Vorden walked in right then, his face calm as ever. A faint bruise marked his cheek.
"Hey," Emma said. "Nice teleporting out there. Real flashy. You made me look like a background character."
Vorden smirked slightly. "You were brave, standing up like that."
"Brave? I was stupid. Big difference," Emma muttered. "Next time I'll just play dead."
The group laughed quietly. The tension in the air lightened, though Emma noticed Vorden's distant eyes. There was something deeper behind them — an unspoken burden.
Outside, snowflakes drifted gently past the window, melting on the warm glass.
Emma leaned back, watching them fall. "You know," he said softly, "the snow doesn't care who's a noble or who's not. It just falls... evenly. Unbiased."
"Deep words," Grent teased.
"Yeah," Iyke said. "Too bad they came from the guy who tripped on his way to the infirmary."
"Gravity betrayed me," Emma replied dryly. "That's all."
They laughed again, unaware that in another part of the dorms, Raale sat with his friends, a dark smile curling his lips.
"I'll make him regret it," Raale said coldly. "If I can't touch the space brat... I'll crush his little friend instead."
"Who?" one of his lackeys asked.
Raale's eyes gleamed. "The big one from Sector 31. Grent."
Back in the infirmary, Emma closed his eyes again, replaying the fight in his mind. The pressure, the fear, the helplessness—all of it burned inside him like a quiet storm.
He wanted strength. He needed it.
Not for revenge.
But to never feel that powerless again.
The fight had become the talk of the moment between the first years and a few second years.
Outside, the night sky dimmed, the neon lights of Arcion flickering faintly beyond the horizon.
The snow continued to fall—soft, cold, and eternal.
Emma whispered, half to himself, half to the universe,
"One day… I'll stop falling too."