Hello, dear reader. How are you doing today?
As for me, everything is perfect. Especially during this time when we're slowly transitioning from autumn to winter, the weather is cloudy and occasionally has strong winds. This is perfect for writing or finding the inspiration to create something. I hope it stays this way.
Alright, that's settled. Now, let's get into the details of our new story. In this part, we're going to take you to a crazy academy and its interesting classes. In this story, where we will enter the world of our protagonist, Robert, he isn't even aware of the world he is about to step into—but he will be.
In these lines, you will read about his journey to discover his potential, and our imagination will travel at the speed of light. In this interesting world where the paragraphs will pull you in, fantastic events await. It's a story that will unfold in the shadow of new friends, things left behind, a set goal, a mysterious power, passion, and determination. I hope you enjoy it.
First, I must mention a few things. I generally love both writing and reading "portal" stories—like encountering someone from another world while living on Earth, or transitioning directly from a normal life to a different world. I can say that Transformers is embedded in my subconscious in this regard. I mean, that moment in the first movie: the first encounter with the robot and that initial reaction of shock. That moment when codes that would take decades to crack were broken in seconds. And the state of uncertainty those people fell into at that point—I really loved all of that.
Of course, it's not just that, friends. There's a lot more inspiration, naturally. But works like these are truly beyond magnificent.
Now, we move on to the warnings section. This will significantly influence whether you decide to read this story or not.
The story contains elements of violence.
The story contains sexual implications and direct erotic interaction scenes.
Readers with moral sensitivities or a sensitivity to violence, please be advised.
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The night that descended upon the town of Oakhaven was no ordinary darkness. It was like a heavy, velvet shroud dipped in ink; a living entity swallowing the sky, the sea, and the trembling silhouettes of the pine trees. The tempestuous spirit of the Atlantic had driven its monster, Hurricane Icarus—nurtured for weeks in tropical waters—to the shore, and now nature was vomiting its fury, like a god whose patience for mankind's hubris had run out. The wind howled like the muffled wail of a grieving giant, tearing branches from the ancient oaks one by one and hurling them about with an invisible rage. The rain was no longer drops falling from the sky but a horizontal bombardment; it kept a soloist's rhythm, as if ten thousand tiny glass marbles were striking the house's wooden facade all at once.
In the very heart of this chaos, in the basement of the two-story, white-painted house on the coastline, an entirely different universe reigned. This was Robert's sanctuary, his laboratory, his temple. In the air, the sharp metallic smell of solder smoke, the electric tang of ozone, and the distinct earthy scent of dusty concrete intertwined. At the center of the room, the machine he called "Project Prometheus"—a contraption of copper coils, complex circuit boards, flashing LEDs, and nested glass tubes—was operating with a low, vibrational hum. At the machine's heart, a small plasma sphere glowed like a miniature purple sun, visibly warping the air around it.
Twenty-one-year-old Robert, sunk into an old office chair in front of this miniature sun, couldn't tear his eyes from three different monitors. His eyes were bloodshot from sleeplessness and hours of staring at the screen. His sandy, disheveled hair fell across his forehead; his sharp jawline and determined expression proclaimed his unwavering dedication to his project despite his fatigue. On the left monitor, live satellite imagery of the hurricane and atmospheric pressure data streamed by. On the middle screen, thousands of lines of code he had written himself cascaded like a green waterfall against a black background. The right one was filled with complex graphs showing Prometheus's real-time energy draw and resonance frequencies.
His project danced on that fine line between madness and genius. It aimed to harvest the static electricity in the atmosphere and the kinetic energy of storms, converting it into a stable, usable form of energy. In theory, a massive weather event like Hurricane Icarus held enough energy to power a small city for years. Robert's machine was no different than a bucket tossed into the middle of this ocean, but to see that bucket fill would mean his theory was proven. Tonight was Prometheus's greatest test.
The creak from the stairs, followed by the gentle opening of the door, tore him from his deep concentration. His mother, Sarah, entered holding a tray. The worried expression on her face was even more pronounced in the basement's dim light. On the tray were a steaming cup of coffee and two sandwiches. "Robert, honey," his mother said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "At least eat something. You've been down here since morning. Can't you hear the storm outside? The governor declared a state of emergency."
Robert murmured without taking his eyes off the screens. "I hear it, Mom. I'm not just hearing the storm, I'm listening to it. Every gust of wind, every bolt of lightning is data. Prometheus is at the richest buffet of its life right now."
Sarah placed the tray on the nearest clean table. Her eyes anxiously fixed on the humming, glowing machine. "This thing... isn't it dangerous? Playing with this much electricity in this weather..."
Robert finally turned to his mother. A soft smile appeared on his face, filled with the eagerness of explaining something to someone who might understand. "What's dangerous isn't the electricity itself, but its lack of control. And I'm trying to control it. Just like building a dam on a river. Look," he said, pointing to the right monitor. "The resonance frequency is stable. Energy draw is up 17%. This is incredible!"
Sarah had always admired her son's passion and intelligence, but right now, all she felt was fear. The house shook to its foundations from a violent assault by the wind. The sound of something toppling over came from upstairs. The electricity flickered, the basement lights stuttering. The hum of Prometheus faltered for a moment, but its own internal power source kicked in, and it continued to run.
"Please come upstairs, Robert. Let's all sit in the living room together. Your father is
worried, too."
"It's almost done, Mom. I just need to make a few more calibrations. I have to collect the maximum data before the eye of the hurricane passes over us. I promise, if there's any danger, I'll be the first to shut it down."
His mother knew he couldn't be persuaded on this. She sighed, "Alright. But be careful. And eat those sandwiches," she said, heading for the stairs. When the door closed behind her, Robert returned to his own world, to the symphony of code, frequencies, and the storm.
Hours chased each other. The howl of the wind reached an unbearable level. Creaks and groans came from every corner of the house. Robert had completely forgotten the outside world. His fingers danced over the keyboard like a pianist's, his eyes searching for anomalies and patterns within the data. The plasma sphere at Prometheus's heart was now a brighter, more vivid purple. The energy draw graph had exceeded 30%. This was beyond his wildest dreams. He leaned back with a momentary sense of triumph. He had done it. His theory worked.
It was at that exact moment that a deafening crash erupted. He guessed a large branch from the giant oak tree next to the house had broken off and fallen on the roof. Immediately after, the basement's only small window shattered, and a pressurized torrent of wind, rain, and leaves flooded in. Robert was thrown backward in his chair as papers and small tools flew through the air. He lunged toward the machine, wanting to protect it.
But the unexpected happened. Prometheus reacted to the sudden change in atmospheric pressure from outside and perhaps the electromagnetic pulse from a nearby lightning strike. The machine's hum transformed into a high-pitched, ear-splitting shriek. Blue sparks began to arc around the copper coils. The central plasma sphere was no longer purple but glowed with a blinding, pure white light. The room was illuminated as if by day.
"No, no, it's overloading!" Robert shouted, scrambling for the emergency shutdown switch. But it was too late. The white light expanded to swallow everything in the room. Robert was shaken by a sensation he had never felt in his life. It felt as if every atom in his body was being simultaneously pulled and pushed. Colors, shapes, and meaningless patterns exploded before his eyes. The sound of the storm, the shriek of the machine, and his own heartbeat merged into a single, overwhelming noise. His consciousness, like a candle flame, flickered and was suddenly extinguished.
The awakening was a slow, viscous process. His consciousness was like a bubble, slowly rising to the surface from deep, dark water. At first, there was nothing. No sound, no light, no sensation. Just the most fundamental, undefined state of being. Then, one by one, his senses reluctantly returned.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. The relentless howl of the storm, the patter of the rain, the shriek of the machine... all gone. In its place was an absolute, almost painful silence. It was less a place without sound and more a void where sound was absorbed, swallowed.
Then came the sense of touch. Beneath his back was a strange, gelatinous surface, neither hard nor soft. It perfectly conformed to his body temperature, neither cold nor causing him to sweat. Over him was a light covering, silky yet cool, which didn't cling to his body. The place where he lay was unlike any bed he knew.
He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy, as if glued shut. After a few attempts, they finally parted. The sight before him was an image suspended in the purgatory between dream and reality, one his brain struggled to comprehend.
The ceiling... there was no ceiling. Or rather, it was a flawless, seamless, matte white surface where it was impossible to tell where the walls ended and the ceiling began. The corners of the room were rounded; there were no sharp lines or angles. The light didn't come from a specific source; it was as if the walls themselves were emitting a soft, shadowless, milky luminescence. There was no window, no door, no furniture. Only the low, white platform he was lying on, and himself.
Robert slowly sat up. His head was spinning. He checked his body. Instead of his own clothes, he was wearing a single-piece, seamless garment of the same silky, gray material. He had no wounds, no bruises. The storm, the explosion... was it all a dream? But that feeling of being pulled and pushed, that white light, had felt so real.
He stood up. The floor seemed to be made of the same material as the walls and yielded slightly under his feet. He touched the walls of the room. The surface was smooth and cool, like marble but not as cold. He walked along the wall, searching for an exit. There were no handles, no hinges, no gaps. He was trapped in a perfect cube.
Panic began to seep in from the edges of his mind. "Hello?" he called out. His voice came out strangely muffled, absorbed by the walls, making no echo. "Is anyone there? Where am I?"
No answer came.
At that moment, he began to hear conversations around him. But the sounds weren't coming directly to his ears; they were more like whispers inside his mind, difficult to distinguish from his own thoughts. They were speaking in a language he didn't understand, one that was melodic yet sharp and technical. Two words repeated over and over: "Tonoflenya" and "H.G.C. Academy."
Was this a hospital? Some kind of observation room? Had he been kidnapped? Was his family okay? The hurricane... what had happened to their house? The questions grew into an avalanche in his mind. Just as he was about to surrender to panic, a section of the wall in front of him silently rippled inward, like a ring opening on the surface of water, forming a passage.
The two beings who entered took Robert's breath away.
They were humanoid, but not human. They were slightly taller than him, with slender, elegant builds. Their limbs were a bit longer in proportion to humans, giving them a spidery grace. Their skin was pale and smooth, like polished alabaster. Just beneath their skin, bioluminescent patterns in pale blue and green hues were visible, shifting slowly, pulsing. They were like living tattoos that changed color based on their mood.
Their faces were the most striking and unsettling part. They had no prominent nose or earlobes; only thin slits. Their mouths were small and linear. But their eyes... Their eyes were a deep indigo, almost black, with miniature galaxies swirling inside. They had no pupils, making it impossible to read their expressions. There wasn't a single hair on their heads.
They wore smooth, form-fitting jumpsuits the same color as the room's walls. Their movements had a fluid and perfect economy of motion. Not a single wasted gesture, not a moment of hesitation. They entered the room silently and stopped, leaving a few meters between them.
Robert took a step back, his back hitting the cool wall. His heart was pounding, trying to break out of his chest. This had to be a dream. A vivid hallucination brought on by sleeplessness and stress.
One of the beings slowly raised its long, elegant-fingered hand. In its palm rested a small, pearlescent pill. It took a step forward and offered the pill to him. Robert shook his head in fear.
The being stopped. It tilted its head slightly, as if in a gesture of curiosity. It held a momentary communication with the other being, one that Robert couldn't hear but felt, like a vibration in the air. Then, the first being focused on Robert again. It slowly pointed to its own linear mouth, then made a swallowing motion, and pointed back at Robert. The meaning was clear: Eat this.
Robert hesitated.
Could this be poison? A drug? But what choice did he have in his current situation? He was trapped, surrounded by beings he couldn't understand. Perhaps this was the first step in communication. Perhaps this was the key to the door of all his questions.
He took a deep breath and slowly extended his hand. He flinched slightly as his fingers touched the being's cool, smooth skin. He took the pill. It was small and heavy. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of his family, his project, that stormy night in Oakhaven. Then he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed.
The effect was almost instantaneous. It left a strange taste, a mix of mint and metal, as it went down his throat. Then, he felt a cool wave spread through his brain. The meaningless whispers in his mind, that melodic but incomprehensible language, suddenly became clear. As if a radio frequency had been perfectly tuned, the words and sentences suddenly gained meaning.
"Be calm," said the being who gave him the pill. Its voice was toneless, almost synthetic, yet with perfect inflection, as if it were speaking directly into his mind. "We will not harm you. You are in the High Genetic Capacity Assessment Academy. We are the Malken. You were detected as an 'anomaly' of your species and brought here to understand your potential."
Robert's mouth fell open in astonishment. He could speak, or rather, he could understand. "Anomaly? I... I'm not an anomaly. I'm a scientist. My name is Robert. I want to go home!"
"Robert," said the other Malken, its voice nearly identical to the first. "Concepts may hold different meanings for us. The place you define as 'home' is a dimension you can no longer access. For you, the new reality is here. Tonoflenya."
"Tonoflenya..." Robert whispered, repeating the word that echoed in his mind.
"First, we must gather baseline data on you," continued the first Malken, whom Robert had mentally dubbed 'Observer One.' "This is the first step in a series of tests that will determine your placement. Please do not resist. Your cooperation will make the process easier for everyone."
Observer Two approached, holding a small, cylindrical device made of smooth metal that Robert hadn't noticed before. "We will take a blood sample."
Robert instinctively pulled his arm back. "A needle?"
Observer Two's bioluminescent patterns rippled faintly, perhaps a sign of surprise. "Primitive. No." It pressed the device lightly against Robert's arm. He felt a momentary coldness on his skin. A soft, green light emitted from the device, and it was withdrawn. There was no mark on his arm, no pain. A small indicator on the device lit up.
"Data collected," said Observer Two.
"Now follow us for the next phase," said Observer One. The wall behind it opened silently, just as it had when they arrived.
Robert had no other choice. Fear and curiosity were strangely merged within him. If he wanted to learn the rules of this unbelievable situation and survive, he had to comply. He stepped out into the milky white corridor after the two Malken.
The corridor was an extension of the room. The same self-illuminating walls, the same rounded contours. But as he walked down the corridor, he could 'hear' sounds, or rather, mental echoes, coming from other rooms. Equations he didn't understand, images of artworks he had never seen, melodies he had never heard... This place felt less like a prison and more like a school, an institute.
They brought him to a larger, circular room. At the center of the room stood a single chair. The chair looked like a cross between a dentist's chair and a futuristic pilot's seat. From the headrest, dozens of metallic tentacles, resembling fine fiber-optic cables, hung down.
Around the perimeter of the room, there were several observation windows embedded in the walls. Robert could see the silhouettes of other Malken behind the glass. He was being watched. He had been turned into a complete lab rat.
"This is the Dream Machine," Observer One explained, gesturing to the chair. "It will allow us to map your subconscious potential, your creativity, your problem-solving abilities, and your emotional core. Your mind will turn your thoughts into an observable simulation for us."
Robert swallowed. The idea of the deepest corners of his mind being read by these strangers was far more disturbing than having his blood drawn. "Do I have to do this?"
"Yes," said Observer One, without the slightest trace of emotion in its voice. "Your capacities will determine your place in the Academy. Whether the Engineering and Configuration Division, Abstract Thought and Philosophy, or perhaps System Security... The machine will tell us where you belong. Please, sit."
Robert walked slowly to the chair and sat down. The material molded to his body, cradling him comfortably. Observer Two slowly lowered the metallic tentacles from above his head. The tips of the tentacles made gentle contact with his temples, forehead, and the back of his head. They were cold and smooth.
"Just relax," said Observer One's voice in his mind. "Resisting will only lead to corrupt data. Let your thoughts flow. Start with your strongest, most dominant thoughts."
The chair began to recline. A slight vibration emanated from the metallic tentacles. Robert closed his eyes. The white of the room faded, replaced by the darkness of his mind.
His strongest thought... His project. Prometheus.
Suddenly, he was no longer in the white room. He was in the basement of his house in Oakhaven. Everything was recreated in perfect detail. He could smell the solder, feel the coolness of the concrete, see the clutter on his workbench. In front of him stood Prometheus. But there was a problem. The plasma sphere was flickering, its resonance frequency dangerously fluctuating.
He was inside a simulation, but he was in complete control. He immediately turned to the monitors. The data showed an anomaly created by the storm. His brain went into overdrive. His fingers flew across a non-existent keyboard, changing lines of code, rewriting energy-routing protocols. Within seconds, he had solved the problem, stabilized the frequency, and made the machine more efficient.
This wasn't a memory. This was a demonstration of his ability.
Then the scene changed. He was no longer in the basement, but in the living room with his family. The storm raged outside. He saw his mother's anxious face, his father's tense posture, trying to remain calm, his little sister clinging to him in fear. This was not a problem-solving scenario. This was his emotional core. His bond with his family, his instinct to protect them.
The scene changed again. Now he was alone on the beach, in the middle of the storm. Giant waves crashed toward him, the wind trying to knock him down. He felt fear, yes, but also a profound awe. He felt both helpless and mesmerized by this raw, untamable power of nature. This was his curiosity, his desire to understand the universe.
And then... abstract thoughts. Numbers, formulas, and equations transformed into three-dimensional shapes before his eyes. Musical notes danced as colorful ribbons of light. For a moment, he felt he understood the structure of the universe, from subatomic particles to galactic clusters. This was his mind in its purest, most creative state.
While all this was happening, in the observation room, the Malken were silently watching the images projected onto a massive, holographic screen on the wall. What they saw was an artistic interpretation of the simulation Robert was experiencing. His ability to understand and manipulate complex systems, his strong emotional tethers, his logic under pressure, and his boundless creativity... all appeared on the screen as colorful, fluid patterns and data streams.
"Structural logic and systems engineering scores are well above expectation," said one of the observers, a mental whisper. "The emotional anchor is surprisingly strong. This usually leads to instability in their species, but in him, it serves as a focus point."
"The abstract thought matrix... unusual. Chaotic, but with an order to it. We have not seen a pattern like this before."
Observer One stood with its arms crossed, watching the screen impassively. In the depths of Robert's mind, there was something they had never seen in any other subject. A spark. A raw, unpredictable potential.
Robert, inside the Dream Machine, at the peak of the experience, saw one final image. The moment Prometheus exploded. That blinding white light... But this time, there was something inside the light. An invitation. A gateway. He felt that what brought him here was not just an accident, but that somehow his project, his desire, had created a resonance with this strange Academy at some point in the universe.
Then everything slowly faded to black. He felt the machine's tentacles withdraw from his head. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the circular room. Observer One and Two stood before him.
Observer One's bioluminescent patterns were glowing a pale gold. Perhaps this was a sign of... approval.
"The tests are complete, Robert," said the voice in his mind. "The data has been analyzed. We have determined a department for you. The results... are quite extraordinary."
When the metallic tentacles of the Dream Machine detached from his head, Robert surfaced to consciousness, as if emerging too quickly from a deep dive. The milky white reality of the observation room settled like a cold cloth over the formulas, stormy memories, and cosmic visions still dancing in his mind. The two Malken standing before him, Observer One and Two, were no longer just strange aliens, but beings who had just read the most naked map of his soul.