# CHAPTER 6: FIRST DAY

  Nael tossed and turned in his bed, plagued by insomnia.

  The mattress didn't feel like his own. The room carried an unfamiliar smell — disinfectant and varnished wood — and through the half-open window came sounds he didn't recognize: muffled footsteps in the corridor, the building settling in the night like something breathing.

  He closed his eyes anyway and waited for morning, drifting in and out of a restless half-sleep.

  The first light of dawn had barely touched the sky when Nael was already on his feet, heart beating fast. Today, at last, classes would begin.

  He headed to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and stepped into the shower.

  The hot water hit his shoulders and he stood there for a moment, eyes closed, letting it run. His stomach felt tight — not quite nausea, but close. The kind of tension that lives in the body before the mind has a chance to name it. He thought briefly of his mother, of the kitchen table two mornings ago, of the way his father had held it together until the very last second. He pushed the thoughts aside. Not now.

  Today was the first day. That was enough to focus on.

  The minutes slipped by unnoticed.

  Knock knock.

  "Mr. Nael, it's time," a voice called from outside.

  He startled, cut the water, and dried off quickly. By the time he opened the door, Lyne was already waiting in the hallway, arms crossed.

  "You certainly took your time."

  Nael smiled awkwardly. She turned without another word, and he fell into step behind her.

  They left the dormitory and stepped outside. The campus was a different world in daylight.

  Students moved in every direction — some in uniform, some in training gear, some carrying stacks of files or equipment Nael couldn't identify. Nobody hurried, nobody seemed lost. They all moved like they belonged here, like the extraordinary was just the backdrop of an ordinary Tuesday.

  To his left, a boy no older than Nael stood alone on a small training patch, repeatedly lifting his arm and sending a column of water shooting upward from a portable tank. Each time it reached its peak, he let it hang for a second, then brought it down with a controlled exhale. Practicing precision, not power. Nael slowed his pace involuntarily.

  "Keep moving," Lyne said without looking back.

  Further along, two girls walked past in deep conversation, one of them absently leaving a trail of frost on the ground with each step — the kind of thing she clearly didn't even notice anymore. Near the steps of a building, a group of older students sat laughing, one of them casually floating a few centimeters off the ground while scrolling through his phone.

  Nael kept walking. He kept his face neutral. But inside, something tightened.

  *Everyone here already knows what they are. Everyone already knows what they can do.*

  He pushed the thought down.

  They stopped before a large wooden door.

  "I'll leave you here," Lyne said. "Good luck."

  "Thank you."

  Nael knocked. A deep voice told him to enter. He pushed the door open.

  The Principal sat behind a wide mahogany desk, arms resting before him, dark eyes fixed on Nael with an unsettling steadiness — the kind of gaze that didn't just look at you, but through you.

  "Take a seat, Nael. I've been expecting you."

  Nael wanted to respond. The words didn't come. An invisible weight pressed on his shoulders, making even the simple act of crossing the room feel difficult. He sat without a word.

  "How old are you?"

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Nael opened his mouth. Nothing came out. The silence stretched.

  "How old are you?" the Principal repeated, his tone unchanged.

  "Uh... seventeen, sir."

  He scratched the back of his head, quietly embarrassed by his own hesitation.

  The Principal leaned forward slightly, fingers interlaced.

  "Do you know why your case is unusual, Nael?"

  "No."

  "Powers typically manifest between the ages of eight and thirteen. Yours appeared at seventeen — which is extremely rare." He paused. "And I've been informed that you came back from the dead. Is that your power? Immortality?"

  "No. I genuinely don't know what my power is."

  "Hm." The Principal studied him for a moment. "That's precisely why you're here. To find out. We're going to help you with that."

  "Thank you, sir."

  Nael hesitated, then ventured: "Could I go to class now?"

  A short laugh broke the austere atmosphere — sudden and genuine. The Principal's face shifted, revealing something almost warm beneath the authority.

  "You're significantly behind the others and you'll need to catch up. But for today, I'll let you go meet your new classmates while I put together a specific program for you."

  The Principal kept talking. Nael was barely listening anymore. His mind had already moved ahead — toward the classrooms, his future classmates, the life that was about to begin.

  Knock knock.

  "Come in."

  A man of about six feet crossed the threshold. A strong smell of alcohol entered the room with him.

  "Split," the Principal said evenly. "You've been drinking again."

  "Sorry, chief." The man shrugged with a relaxed smile. "It helps me think. Just my morning dose."

  The Principal sighed. "You'll never change."

  ***

  Somewhere in Devil-Ass, at the same moment...

  A man walked down the street, a staff in hand.

  The wood was deep black, threaded with silver veins that pulsed faintly, as if carrying something alive within them. The object radiated something wrong — something people felt before they understood it. A mother steered her child to the opposite sidewalk without knowing why. An old man lowered his eyes and quickened his pace.

  The man paid them no attention. He was looking for somewhere quiet. He found a nearly deserted rest area and settled on a stone bench.

  He took out his phone and dialed.

  Ring. Ring.

  A feminine voice answered — light, slightly high-pitched.

  "Hello, Richter! Good morning. Sleep well?"

  "Good morning," he said.

  "Why are you calling so early? I've barely gotten out of bed." A brief pause, then a mock pout in her voice. "You didn't even ask how I was doing."

  Silence.

  "I gave you a task," Richter said. "What's the progress?"

  A sigh on the other end.

  "Ah. So that's why you're calling." Her tone flattened. "It's going well."

  "That's not an answer. I want something concrete."

  "Always impossible to joke with you." Her voice shifted, turning businesslike. "Everything is ready. We can move to the next stage."

  "Good. Stay ready. Tonight, we move."

  A slow smile stretched across Richter's face. His fingers tightened around the staff.

  ***

  Back at the Academy...

  The Principal had dismissed Nael, leaving him alone with Split. In the corridor, Lyne was already waiting.

  "Follow me. I'll take you to your classroom."

  She gave him an encouraging smile, and they set off across the campus.

  *Finally,* Nael thought. *My future classmates.*

  Impatience rose in his chest. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.

  They crossed toward a building with wide glass windows, walked for five minutes, and stopped before a door. From inside came the low hum of conversation — no teacher present, apparently.

  "Here we are," Lyne said. "Take a breath."

  Nael exhaled slowly, straightened up, and rolled his shoulders back.

  Lyne knocked.

  Knock knock.

  The noise inside stopped instantly. The students must have assumed a teacher was arriving.

  Lyne stepped in first, Nael behind her. They climbed onto the platform together. Thirty faces turned toward them.

  "Good morning, everyone. I'd like to introduce your new classmate."

  Nael scanned the room. Thirty expressions, watching him.

  "Hi. I'm Nael. Happy to be here."

  He held a smile, expecting something — a nod, a wave, anything.

  Nothing came.

  No smiles. No murmurs of welcome. Just silence, and the weight of thirty cold stares.

  In the front row, a girl with short hair turned deliberately away, as if he didn't exist. Behind her, a boy leaned toward his neighbor and muttered something, and they both smirked. At the back, a student crossed his arms and held Nael's gaze with open contempt.

  The smile on Nael's face didn't disappear all at once. It faded slowly, like a light going out.

  He kept his hands still at his sides.

  Lyne broke the silence.

  "Nael, you can take the seat at the back, by the window."

  ***

  In the Principal's office, at the same moment...

  Split closed the door behind him.

  "Chief, your call yesterday sounded urgent. What do you need?"

  The Principal was quiet for a moment, eyes on his screen.

  "The police forwarded us something. A link — two years old. The last officer who tried to access it lost his sight."

  Split's expression changed. "Lost his sight? How?"

  "That's what we need to find out."

  The Principal turned his screen toward Split. A single line of text on a white background — a black URL, plain and unremarkable.

  "What does this have to do with me?"

  A slight smile crossed the Principal's face. "I need your power. One of your clones."

  Split put his hand to his chin, pretending to deliberate.

  "Do I have a choice?"

  The Principal said nothing. The answer was obvious.

  Split exhaled. "Fine."

  He closed his eyes and focused. The air around him seemed to shift — not dramatically, just a quiet distortion, like heat rising from asphalt. His shadow, cast against the floor by the ceiling light, began to stretch and rise. It gained volume, gained substance, pulling itself upward until it had mass and form.

  Ten seconds later, a figure stood beside him. Identical in every detail: same height, same face, same clothes. The clone blinked and looked around.

  "Your order, chief," Split said with a dry smile.

  The Principal nodded slowly.

  "Thank you. Now we'll find out what's hiding behind that link."

  His gaze settled on the screen.

  "And I hope we won't regret asking."

  ***

  **END OF CHAPTER 6**