We left the Federation building just past early morning.
The air smelled like rain and ozone—Mystic's residual qi still hanging in the clouds. The crowd outside had thinned, though a few onlookers still gawked as we ascended.
I mounted up, settling into the forward harness on Mystic's back. Lufei trotted gracefully up the spiral ramp and leapt into her side perch. Maxius landed with a sharp whistle, wings flicking as if to say: About time.
"Academy next," I said, checking the info folder.
Mystic turned, her fins catching the sunlight, and took off with the silence of a god passing through mist.
We crossed three city districts in under five minutes.
City R's Academy wasn't some ancient marble fortress or back-alley dojo—it was sleek and compact, a layered floating campus built into the spine of a sky-anchored techspire. Suspended gardens hung like glass terrariums around the tiers, while gravity lifts pulsed between levels. Qi-reactive panels ran like veins through the architecture, adjusting to student auras and beast types.
The main dome shimmered with a protective qi membrane—calibrated to withstand not only beast training but unstable awakenings, stray energy blasts, and the occasional teenage explosion. A place built for survival, not aesthetics.
Mystic descended toward the outer hoverpad—an elevated platform ringed with beast runes and beacon lights. It wasn't designed for whales, but she coiled herself in a lazy spiral of cloud and light, resting against the edge like a living storm halo.
I dismounted smoothly.
"Wait here," I said to Mystic. "No crashing through any roofs today."
She gave a quiet, knowing hum.
⸻
Inside the Academy's main office wing, the lighting was warm and efficient. Walls shifted subtly depending on energy signatures—mine triggered a soft ripple of gold and green. Beast medals, interactive scrolls, and digital projections floated in stasis across transparent panels.
A secretary glanced up as I entered—small, composed, and clearly used to strange things walking through the door.
"Name?" she asked, fingers already on the control ring.
"Fan Yumei. Returning student. I've been undergoing awakening for a few weeks, so I missed some classes. I'm from the Unawakened Sector and now enrolled as a first-year awakener. Here are my Federation papers and license ring issued by the Federation center."
Her eyes flicked between the credentials and the glowing ring on my hand. A flicker of recognition passed through her expression.
"Ah. Yes. Everything's in order. Welcome back. Principal's waiting. Second door on the left."
I knocked once, then entered.
The principal's office was a cluttered hybrid of analog mess and digital brilliance. Holo-maps of beast territories rotated in midair above a desk stacked with hand-annotated tablets, energy-core samples, and a half-eaten bento box.
Principal Zhou looked up, a stylus in his mouth and a holographic migration chart still mid-rotation.
"Oh. You're Fan Yumei."
"Yes, sir."
He stood, mouth twitching like he wasn't sure whether to salute or evacuate. He settled on a half-bow.
"Welcome back. This… this is rare. We don't get many Federation-recognized awakenings out here."
I handed him the folder and my license ring.
He took it gently, like it might shatter.
"Beastmaster… Beast Healer… Rune Master? Six stars?"
"Yes, sir."
He sat down hard.
"This school trains aspiring tamers, garden-tier cultivators… sometimes the occasional Bronze-class qi-user. Not… this."
"Understood."
He nodded, gathering himself. "Right. Okay. Your registration is complete. I'll get your beast data uploaded to the perimeter grid."
He tapped into his desk panel, cross-referencing Mystic's size and energy type. His eyebrows went up again.
"Your… Mystic is not a soul beast?"
"No, sir. She's a mythical-class skybeast. We're still learning the full extent of her capabilities."
"We'll note her in the system so the barrier doesn't panic every time she hovers. May I ask that she remain outside Academy levels unless supervised?"
"She understands," I said.
"Good." He keyed a few more inputs, then printed a slim energy-scroll with my course load. As it slid from the panel, he looked at me seriously.
"Let me explain how this all works. You've been accepted into our main training track. That's a four-year foundational course."
I stood straighter.
"These four years will cover bond cultivation, battle testing, tactical qi control, and controlled evolutions. You'll also receive early-tier survival training, including wilderness deployment simulations. We've got evac drills, ambush responses, and beast synergy modules."
He paused, then added with a slight smile: "And for Rune Mastery, your first modules are What Is a Rune 101 and The Rune Master's Way of Surviving 101. That second one is… practical."
"Understood."
"Field missions start next term. We don't send anyone into danger without a clearance level. That said, the ones who pass… tend to do well when it counts."
He leaned forward.
"Which brings us to the College Meet."
I didn't blink. "What is it exactly?"
He exhaled. "Officially, it's a national talent evaluation. Unofficially? It's a six-month survival realm."
"Realm?"
He nodded grimly. "An unstable pocket dimension seeded with ancient trials, wild qi storms, apex magical beasts, and secret legacy zones. Everyone from the top academies, guilds, government agencies—even rival empires—sends their top talents to it."
"Sounds like a trap."
"Sometimes it is. But the rewards outweigh the risks. Survival means exposure, contracts, offers from noble houses or military commissions. Victory? That makes legends."
"How many survive?"
"Not all. Some vanish. Others return crippled. But those who emerge… are elite."
I nodded once. "Understood."
"Now," he said, flicking a gesture toward the glowing display wall, "let's talk about the system."
A digital leaderboard hovered above the desk, flickering with names and ranks.
"This academy runs on a merit-point economy. Every mission, every exam, every sparring match—points. You spend them to access everything from rare pills and beast feed to high-intensity training rooms and temporary artifact rentals."
He smirked. "Want a personalized gravity chamber? Prove you deserve it. Want access to the beast evolution baths? Win a tournament."
"And betting?"
"Permitted. Only with points or credits. No life debts, no black market trades. We track everything."
"Understood," I said again.
"The clever ones work the system. The best ones break it and rebuild it."
I nodded. "I plan to."
He smiled for real this time.
"I don't know what kind of future you're chasing, Fan Yumei. But I'm glad this school gets to be part of it."
"Thank you, Principal Zhou."
He handed me a high-tech wristband and a sealed kit containing my nano-fiber uniform, gloves, and boots.
"You're authorized to use Mystic for class transport. You have 25 minutes between sessions. She must remain airborne—no rooftop lounging. And remember: training and dueling are allowed, but never between classes. No showing off."
"Understood."
⸻
I changed quickly, slipping into the new uniform. The nano-fiber fit like it was woven from air—light, durable, responsive to qi flow.
This was it.
My first step into real training.
⸻
I stepped out onto the elevated balcony that ringed the dome's outer shell.
From up here, I saw it all—floating bridges linking towers, rune-lit plazas, vertical beast hangars, and open-air arenas flickering with illusory barriers. Students in sleek uniforms moved in disciplined patterns—some bored, some sparring, others laughing with beasts at their heels.
Hawks, foxhounds, lava wolves, and ripple-lizards lounged across platforms. A girl rode a thunder boar across a mag-bridge like she was late for drama club.
I kept walking.
Then I heard it.
"Hey. Hey, isn't that the mortal trash from Sector D?"
It was like someone fired a silence spell.
Dozens of heads turned.
I didn't.
I just walked toward the beast hangar pad, where Lufei and Maxius were waiting. Mystic hovered a few meters above, her presence sending lazy arcs of golden lightning flickering through the air like bored starlight.
Lufei flicked an ear at me. Maxius was halfway through showing her how to mimic a wing-feint against a training dummy.
Then someone blocked my path.
Kid. Nine, maybe ten. Shaved side-cut. Rune mark under one eye. First-year elite badge. Everything about him screamed arrogant legacy brat.
He sneered. "Tch. They really let you in? A seven-year-old from the garbage sectors?"
I said nothing.
He gestured over his shoulder as a few others gathered behind him.
"What's next? Letting in beggars with fake beast licenses?"
I met his eyes. Cold. Still.
He clicked his tongue. "Don't ignore me, trash."
"I'm walking to class," I said flatly.
He stepped again in front of me.
"You don't belong here. Everyone knows you cheated. Dirt sector rats don't awaken unless someone rigs it."
"Clearly someone did," I said. "Because now I have three."
That shut him up.
I turned toward Lufei and Maxius, ignoring the whispering crowd behind me.
Maxius flared both wings—one of them invisible to the naked eye, but still full of razor intent. Lufei's antlers glowed faintly green, ears twitching with suppressed irritation.
"Maxius," I called, "no dive-bombing."
He let out a disappointed screech.
"Lufei, don't eat anyone who smells like spoiled tofu."
She blinked innocently.
Behind me, the boy seethed.
Let him.
Let them all.
I had class to attend, points to earn, and beasts to train.
And I didn't need to prove myself to children, petty arguments, or opinions.