Inside the massive flying car, the air buzzed with energy and restless excitement.
Laughter bounced between the four of them as the vehicle glided smoothly through the sky.
"Yooh Dawncer," Grenzabell teased, leaning back casually. "I heard there are thousands of pretty ladies in the school."
Dawncer's eyes lit up immediately. He straightened, rolling his shoulders and flexing his arms with a confident grin.
"Then our plan's already halfway done."
His tone carried no hesitation, only certainty.
"We get strong… and we make the most of it."
Thyssara sat composed, arms folded, her gaze calm but sharp as ever.
"Sure," she said plainly, "but you still have to work hard."
Her eyes shifted slightly toward Dawncer.
"Especially you."
A brief pause.
"Reading wouldn't hurt either."
Fally leaned forward slightly, curiosity in her voice.
"What about me?"
Thyssara glanced at her, then gave a small nod.
"You don't have to worry. I'll guide you."
Fally's expression brightened instantly.
Grenzabell, sitting near the edge, spoke up next, tone thoughtful rather than playful.
"I've heard everyone at this academy are geniuses when it comes to Fallless energy."
Thyssara didn't deny it.
"Sure," she replied calmly, "but you haven't seen it yet."
The car shifted slightly as it began its descent.
Gravity seemed to settle in.
The ground grew closer.
Then
Touchdown.
The massive vehicle landed with a controlled hum, its doors opening smoothly.
One by one, the four stepped out.
And all conversation stopped.
Their eyes lifted.
The school stood before them like a giant carved from ambition itself.
Towering structures stretched far beyond what their eyes could comfortably track. Courtyards expanded into vast open fields that seemed to have no end. Buildings connected through elevated walkways and layered architecture, each section more imposing than the last.
"How massive is this…?"
Fally's voice came out softer than usual.
"You can't even see where the field ends…"
Dawncer let out a low whistle, scanning the horizon.
"Yeah… this is definitely not a normal school."
Grenzabell stood still, taking it all in, his earlier energy replaced by quiet awe.
Across the landing area, other flying cars were touching down in sequence.
Groups began to emerge from each one, filling the space with movement and chatter.
And then
Silence from the surroundings gave way to attention.
Hundreds of students already present stood watching them.
Eyes fixed.
Measuring.
Evaluating.
Some curious. Some indifferent. Some clearly judging.
Grenzabell felt it immediately.
He adjusted slightly, a hint of shyness creeping in, but he didn't stop.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
And began leading his group toward the front of the school where a broad man stood waiting.
The man wore a formal suit, his posture relaxed but heavy with authority. His black hair was neatly kept, his expression set in a permanent look of mild irritation.
He scoffed under his breath, eyes narrowing as he observed the arriving groups.
"So this is what Gareth could provide this time…"
His gaze swept over them.
"…they look even weaker than the last ones."
His thoughts lingered behind a mask of professionalism, quietly dismissive.
Meanwhile, Grenzabell and Dawncer walked forward with easy confidence, their expressions calm, even relaxed.
Dawncer's eyes briefly drifted across the nearby students, especially the women, before returning forward with a grin that never quite left his face.
Grenzabell stayed focused.
But as they advanced, he leaned slightly back toward Dawncer.
"we really made the right choice."
His voice was low, certain.
Dawncer smirked, still looking ahead.
"Yeah," he replied.
And for the first time since arriving
The weight of the place didn't feel like it was pressing them down.
It felt like something they were stepping into.
The white-haired boy from Group One stepped forward with composed strides, stopping neatly before the principal.
His posture was straight. His expression calm.
"Principal."
He gave a small, respectful nod.
Around him, the rest of the group scattered their attention in ways that immediately stood out.
One student casually picked his nose without a hint of concern.
Another stared blankly at the crowd of watching students, as if analyzing patterns no one else could see.
No tension. No fear. No visible hierarchy in their behavior.
The principal's eye twitched.
He had expected discipline.
Instead, he was met with indifference.
A slow breath left his nose as he forced his expression into something resembling patience.
"Everyone," he said, raising his voice slightly, "focus your attention here."
The tone was controlled, but beneath it brewed irritation.
His gaze swept over them again.
Noticing. Calculating.
Thinking.
Ways to correct them. Ways to make them remember where they stood.
Meanwhile, not far behind the group's front line, Grenzabell, Dawncer, and Fally stood together, their attention drifting away from the principal entirely.
Their eyes were on the vast field nearby.
Students were playing a match, running across the pitch with sharp movements and coordinated plays.
Then it happened.
A player launched into a backheel strike mid-motion.
The ball curved, struck cleanly, and hit the net.
A small burst of cheers rose from the field.
Fally reacted instantly, her voice cutting through the air.
"Goal!"
Bright. Unfiltered. Genuine excitement.
Dawncer smirked slightly, watching the play unfold.
Grenzabell's eyes followed the movement of the players, studying rather than reacting.
Behind them, the principal's irritation deepened.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes sharpened.
But his face.
It changed.
A smile formed.
Polished. Controlled. Artificial.
"Welcome," he said smoothly, voice now layered with forced warmth.
The contrast was subtle to most.
But the intent behind it was clear.
He had shifted.
No longer reacting.
Now adapting.
Observing them as they observed everything else.
Because unlike before, this time…
The ones standing before him were not looking at him with submission.
They were looking past him.
Talking among themselves.
Laughing.
Engaging with the world around them as if his presence was just another object in the environment.
The balance was not what he expected.
And in that quiet realization, the principal understood something he did not say aloud.
Authority had not been established yet.
And for now…
He would have to earn their attention.
Thyssara appeared without warning.
A sharp step forward.
A swift series of slaps landed across the backs of their heads and shoulders, each one precise enough to sting without injury, enough to interrupt without hesitation.
"Focus."
Her voice cut clean through the air.
"Cooperate. And listen..."
She gestured toward the principal with a subtle tilt of her chin.
"..to that fat man over there speaking."
The principal's eyebrow twitched at the remark.
A flicker of insult crossed his face.
But beneath it…
Approval.
He had seen something more valuable than politeness.
Control.
Command.
She didn't just correct them.
She aligned them.
A rare quality.
He exhaled slowly, smoothing his expression back into composure.
Dawncer rubbed the back of his head, letting out a small grunt.
Fally straightened immediately, a quick "sorry" escaping her lips.
Grenzabell gave a brief nod, adjusting his posture as well.
Thyssara walked them forward with quiet authority, positioning them properly within the group.
Only then did the principal resume.
"Welcome," he said, voice steady once more.
"You are now within The Dawn's Permecia Institution."
His gaze moved across the crowd.
"This academy was founded in the year 1650."
A pause.
"By Selentia Dawn Gloom."
A subtle shift in tone.
"Recognized in history as the strongest of her time."
At that name, a few students reacted.
Whispers.
Recognition.
Grenzabell's eyes widened slightly.
He leaned forward, absorbing the information.
Without thinking, he gave Thyssara a light jab with his elbow, testing her reaction.
She didn't flinch.
But her eyes shifted toward him for a fraction of a second.
Still listening.
Still aware.
Grenzabell smirked faintly, satisfied.
Then
He felt it.
A gaze.
Heavy.
Direct.
He slowly turned his head, scanning the surroundings.
Across the courtyard.
Inside one of the academy's glass structures.
A figure stood watching.
A white-haired girl.
Still.
Silent.
Her eyes burned a deep, vivid red, fixed directly on him.
Grenzabell narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing.
He caught her lips moving.
He read them.
Weak.
New prey's to bully again.
A slow breath left him.
Not anger.
Interest.
Impression.
Something about her presence stood out.
Confident.
Unshaken.
Predatory in a way that didn't need movement.
He nudged Dawncer beside him.
Dawncer had worn his sunglasses, relaxed, half-focused on the surroundings.
Grenzabell pointed subtly toward the glass building.
Several nearby students began to notice the gesture.
Their attention followed.
Eyes turning.
Whispers rising again.
Dawncer paused.
He adjusted his stance.
Then slowly removed his sunglasses.
His eyes locked onto the girl.
His expression changed.
Completely.
Time seemed to slow in his reaction.
His breathing shifted.
Then
His eyes softened.
Tears began to form, uninvited.
"Grenzabell…" he said quietly, voice unsteady.
"I've fallen in love."
Grenzabell blinked.
Then burst into laughter.
Unrestrained.
The sound spread quickly, drawing more attention toward the glass building.
Now even more students were looking.
And even the principal's eyes shifted briefly toward the girl.
His composure cracked for a fraction of a second.
Then returned.
Sharper.
More irritated than before.
He cleared his throat.
"This is not a gathering place for distractions."
His voice dropped colder.
"You two annoying brat's , listen."
A pause.
"You will run laps around the entire field."
He lifted a hand slightly, pointing outward.
"Twice."
The command landed firmly.
No debate.
No negotiation.
A clear assertion of authority.
Around them, the atmosphere shifted.
The academy had just made something unmistakably clear.
This place had structure.
Rules.
And consequences.
And the principal intended to make sure they understood where they stood within it.
The sun had shifted across the sky.
What started as a simple punishment had stretched into something far more brutal.
Six hours passed.
The field that once looked impressive from a distance now felt endless under their feet.
Grenzabell and Dawncer were drenched in sweat, their breaths ragged, legs burning with every step. Their earlier confidence had been stripped down to raw endurance, each lap turning into a test of will rather than strength.
"Second lap…" Dawncer muttered between heavy breaths, voice strained, barely holding onto rhythm.
His steps were uneven now, but he forced them forward.
Grenzabell ran beside him, his expression tightened, eyes focused straight ahead. Sweat ran down his face, dripping from his chin as he pushed through the fatigue.
"Don't stop…" Grenzabell replied, his voice low, controlled through exhaustion.
The field seemed to stretch further the longer they ran.
The same ground.
The same markers.
Over and over again.
Students moved in the distance, training, observing, living their academy lives while the two of them circled the perimeter like a relentless loop had been carved into the world itself.
Their muscles screamed.
Their lungs burned.
But they didn't stop.
By the time they completed the second lap, their pace had slowed to near collapse.
Dawncer staggered slightly as he crossed the invisible finish of the field boundary, catching himself with a hand on his knee, breathing hard.
"Hell… that was… not normal…"
Grenzabell stopped beside him, bending forward slightly, hands on his thighs, taking in deep, heavy breaths.
"Yeah…" he managed.
A pause.
"…but we finished."
Neither of them looked fully intact anymore.
Just exhausted.
Drained down to the core.
But still standing.
Still upright.
And in that quiet moment after the punishment…
There was no laughter.
No jokes.
Only the realization that this place wasn't just bigger than what they imagined.
It demanded more than they had ever given before.
The heat of the field still clung to their bodies like a stubborn echo.
Dawncer and Grenzabell were barely upright now, dropped near the edge of the training grounds, their backs against the ground as they tried to pull air into lungs that refused to cooperate.
Each breath came heavy. Uneven. Slow to recover.
Footsteps approached.
Soft. Familiar.
Thyssara and Fally appeared above them, carrying trays of food and containers of water, their presence calm against the exhaustion sprawled out before them.
Fally crouched slightly, placing a container within reach.
"Looks like you two got wrecked."
There was no teasing in her tone, just observation wrapped in a faint, concerned smile.
Thyssara set down the rest with measured precision, then looked at them quietly, assessing their condition without saying much.
Dawncer lifted his head slightly, squinting up at them before letting it fall back down.
"Yeah…" he breathed out, voice still recovering. "That was… something."
Grenzabell managed to push himself up just enough to sit, one hand reaching for the water. He took a long sip before exhaling sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction.
"Appreciate it," he said, voice rough but sincere.
Dawncer followed, grabbing a container and drinking deeply before letting out a relieved breath.
"Thanks… seriously."
Fally smiled a bit brighter at that.
Thyssara simply nodded once.
No extra words.
No need for them.
Around them, the academy carried on.
But here, in this small pocket of quiet after punishment and effort, the four of them sat in the aftermath of something earned the hard way.
Exhaustion still lingered.
But so did something else.
A shared start.
And the first quiet step into the rhythm of their new world.