If power was the currency of Aurelion Academy, then hierarchy was its market.
Kai understood this by the end of his first full day.
The academy did not separate students by dormitory randomly. Allocation was determined by a composite score—combat aptitude, System growth projection, psychological resilience, and social risk index. High-ranking cadets occupied upper-tier residential blocks with better facilities, faster system access, and priority scheduling.
Lower-ranking cadets were placed closer to the ground.
Literally.
Kai's dormitory was located in Residential Block Delta, a wide, utilitarian structure built more for efficiency than prestige. The corridors were clean, but bare. Rooms were uniform, designed to discourage personalization beyond minimal comfort.
His room was small. Bed, desk, storage unit, personal terminal.
Enough.
Kai set his academy-issued bag down and activated the terminal.
A flood of notifications appeared—orientation updates, internal memos, system reminders. Most were irrelevant. One was not.
(NOTICE:
Mandatory Group Assignment – First-Year Cadets
Objective: Faction-based cooperation assessment
Grouping Algorithm: Dynamic, System-guided)
Kai scanned the attached list.
Group Seven.
Names followed.
Most were unfamiliar.
One was not.
Lyra Solenne
Kai closed the file.
So the system—or whoever programmed the algorithm—had decided to accelerate things.
He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
The academy did not create hierarchy accidentally. It engineered friction, then observed who survived it.
That meant conflict was not a possibility.
It was a feature.
The next morning, Group Seven assembled in Tactical Simulation Room 12.
The room was circular, walls composed of segmented panels capable of projecting fully immersive environments. At the center stood an instructor—this one physical, not a projection.
"Faction assessment," the instructor began.
"You will be given shared objectives with limited resources. Performance will influence internal ranking adjustments."
A murmur spread.
Ranking adjustments were dangerous. A few points could mean access to better instructors—or relegation.
The instructor gestured.
Seven students stood in a loose cluster.
Lyra was there, naturally assuming a central position without overt assertion. Two others flanked her—one tall, broad-shouldered male with visible confidence, and a shorter girl with sharp eyes and a restless stance.
Kai stood slightly apart.
The instructor's gaze lingered on him for a fraction longer than necessary.
"Simulation begins in thirty seconds," she said. "You will adapt. Or you will fail."
The room dissolved.
They stood in a ruined urban environment—collapsed buildings, limited visibility, heat signatures flickering in the distance.
Objective data appeared.
(MISSION: Secure a data core located within hostile territory.
OPPOSITION: Autonomous combat units.
RESOURCES: Limited ammunition. No external support.)
The tall male spoke first. "I'm Mark. Frontline.
I'll draw fire."
Lyra nodded. "I'll coordinate. Recon and support on me."
Eyes turned to Kai.
"And you?" Lyra asked.
"Observation," Kai replied. "Adjustment."
Mark scoffed. "Meaning what, exactly?"
"That I'll act when the plan fails."
A tense silence followed.
Lyra studied him for a moment, then nodded once. "Fine. Stay flexible."
They moved.
At first, the plan worked. Mark drew attention. The others advanced in formation. Lyra's commands were precise, efficient.
Then the environment shifted.
Hostile units adapted faster than expected. Routes collapsed. Ambush vectors appeared where none should have existed.
Lyra frowned. "Their prediction speed is increasing."
"Adaptive AI," the sharp-eyed girl muttered. "Too fast."
Mark took a hit. His shield flickered.
The formation broke.
Kai felt it before the alarms triggered.
[Deviation opportunity detected.
Probability instability rising.]
He moved—not toward the objective, but sideways, into a narrow alley no one else had noticed.
"Kai?" Lyra snapped. "Where are you going?"
"To reduce noise," he replied.
He struck a control node embedded in the environment—one the simulation designers assumed no cadet would target. The city shuddered. Enemy prediction lagged for half a second.
Half a second was enough.
Lyra adjusted instantly. New commands. New angles.
They secured the data core with seconds to spare.
The simulation ended.
The instructor stared at the results.
"…That control node wasn't on the tactical map," she said.
Kai met her gaze calmly. "But it existed."
Silence.
Then, grudging acknowledgment.
After the session, Lyra intercepted Kai in the corridor.
"That wasn't improvisation," she said. "You anticipated failure."
"Yes."
"How?"
Kai considered the question. "Because systems optimize for success paths. They are less efficient at modeling avoidance."
Lyra exhaled slowly. "You're dangerous."
"Only if someone insists on playing correctly."
Her lips curved into a faint, thoughtful smile.
From the far end of the corridor, a familiar presence watched.
Nyx Vale leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with interest.
"So that's him," she murmured. "The quiet one."
Her System pulsed softly.
An anomaly had entered her range.
And she intended to test it.
That night, as Kai reviewed the day's data, his System updated once more.
[Factional Influence Detected.
Deviation Index: 0.012%.
Causality strain increasing.]
Kai closed his eyes.
Hierarchy had noticed him.
That meant the real game was about to begin.