He had barely sat down when a hand tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned his head.
It was Li Feng.
The name imposed itself on his mind with natural clarity. Li Feng. His friend. His only true friend in this academy—the one who had shared childhood, games, and even the academic curriculum with him.
His friend smiled at him. But something on his face seemed off. A shadow, slight, barely perceptible.
"Are you doing alright this morning?" Li Feng asked.
"Yes," Raven replied.
"Feeling confident about tomorrow?"
The question fell into the classroom air, and Raven immediately understood its weight. Tomorrow. The day their future would be decided. The day of the awakening ritual.
"I'll manage," he said in a serious tone.
Li Feng nodded slowly, his eyes distant.
He was a solidly built boy, with broad shoulders for his age, and something grounded in the way he carried himself—the kind of frame one acquires growing up in a military family. His father served in the armed forces of Dome M-77. A Commander, even. A man who had the means for his ambitions, and had put them at his son's service.
Li Feng had access to resources many students could only envy. Supervised training sessions, rare supplements, constant monitoring. The result: his compatibility rate reached 49.5%.
Barely half a percent from the threshold.
The dome academies agreed on this figure: 50%. Above it, the chances of success in the awakening ritual were considered solid, almost guaranteed. Below it, lay uncertainty. Li Feng was standing on the wire.
"Raven."
Li Feng spoke again after a short silence. His voice had changed. The underlying worry Raven had sensed from the beginning was now rising to the surface.
"I'm a breath away from ensuring my awakening. My father bought me two bottles of low-grade spirit liquid for the final sprint."
He paused.
"He gave me one for you."
Raven didn't answer immediately.
Spirit liquid. He knew the substance. Once absorbed, the mana it contained integrated durably into the organism—it didn't dissipate, didn't escape. It remained there, dormant, waiting for the ritual to be awakened and channeled. The effect on awakening chances was significant. For someone like Li Feng, already at forty-nine point five percent, a single bottle would likely be enough to cross the threshold.
Li Feng held the flask out to him.
"And before you refuse..."
He locked his gaze onto Raven's, his voice firm.
"If you refuse, I will no longer consider our friendship."
The threat was direct, unambiguous. It left no room for negotiation. His look was serious, almost hard, as if he were putting the full weight of their years of friendship on the line to force Raven to accept.
Raven looked into his friend's eyes.
They didn't lie. Behind the displayed firmness, behind the barely veiled threat, there was genuine concern. The fear of seeing his friend fail where he himself was likely to succeed.
Raven took the flask.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Li Feng nodded, and something loosened in his face.
Raven briefly squeezed his shoulder. Li Feng understood. His face lit up with a more authentic smile, free of the melancholy that had veiled it before. He nodded once, and returned to his seat, a few rows away.
He was not the former Raven.
This fundamental truth imposed itself upon him as he felt the weight of the flask against his thigh. He had faced more trials than this uniform and this face suggested. He had learned that misplaced pride was a luxury only those with nothing to lose could afford.
Right now, pride would get him nowhere.
In twenty-four hours, he would undergo the awakening ritual. With 36.5% compatibility, his chances were slim. The spirit liquid Li Feng had just given him could make the difference between failure and success. Refusing it out of pride would have been pure folly. He would repay this favor, one day, when he had the means.
Li Feng kept the flask in his bag until they left class.
The two friends exchanged a few more quiet words amidst the ambient buzz of the filling room. Li Feng briefly mentioned his father, the pressure he felt. Raven listened without answering much, merely nodding at appropriate moments, true to the taciturn character he had crafted for himself.
The door opened with a slight creak.
The homeroom teacher entered the room.
A man in his fifties, his face marked by years of teaching. A sober robe in the academy colors. Greying hair neatly swept back. He swept the class with his dull brown eyes, possessing the quiet authority of one accustomed to being obeyed.
Silence fell instantly.
Conversations died as if cut by a knife. Standing students hurried back to their seats. Tablets disappeared into bags. Within seconds, the room was silent, all eyes turned toward the podium.
The teacher placed a stack of papers on his desk, then began distribution.
He called the students one by one. Sighs of relief. Groans of disappointment. Faces lighting up or darkening.
"Raven Scrow."
He stood, walked the few meters to the desk, and took the document handed to him. His eyes scanned the grades written in red.
History of Terra Nova: 16. Dome Geography: 15. Applied Mathematics: 17. Fundamental Sciences: 18. Mutant Species Biology: 16. Mana Technology: 15.
Solid results, clearly above average in all theoretical subjects.
At the bottom of the paper, in a separate box, a number was written in bright red.
36.5%.
Mana synchronization rate. A figure that contrasted cruelly with the rest. Fourth out of thirty-three students—and yet, the one with the least chance of awakening among the top of the class.
When Li Feng's name was called, Raven discreetly turned his head. His friend returned to his seat with a closed face, his eyes resting on his paper with a resignation tinged with bitterness.
"😮💨 Meh," he let out.
He was clearly not made for academics. 11 in History, 10 in Geography, 9 in Math. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing distinguishing either. But his compatibility rate spoke for him.
After hours of lessons, the teacher addressed the subject weighing on everyone's mind since morning.
He explained the process of the awakening ritual, what was expected of the students, how things would proceed. Then his voice became slightly less formal.
"And for those who do not awaken... it's not the end of the world."
He paused, sweeping his gaze across the class.
"There are the martial arts."
He pronounced these words with a certain respect. A consideration that contrasted with the contempt displayed on several faces in the room.
"And the Official function. Stable, honorable positions that do not require wielding mana."
But in the rows, disdainful pouts multiplied. Averted gazes. Smirks exchanged between neighbors. The words "martial arts" and "official" seemed to trigger an almost visceral rejection. For them, there was only one path worthy of being taken.
The teacher understood, or pretended not to see.
"After the awakening, both those who succeeded and those who did not will graduate from the academy. You will simply pursue different paths."
He inclined his head slightly, gathered his belongings, and left the room without another word.
Groups of students formed immediately. Most headed toward the strengthening rooms—those spaces where one spent hours passively absorbing ambient mana, hoping to scrape a few fractions of a percent before the next day.
Li Feng grabbed Raven's wrist and pulled him in that direction without asking his opinion.
Raven let himself be led.
They found an available room, its indicator light glowing green. Pushing the door open, they discovered a modestly sized space, lit by a soft, diffuse light. The walls were covered in a matte material that seemed to absorb sound. On the floor, thick mats arranged in a circle. Five students were already settled—some with closed eyes, focused; others who briefly opened them at the newcomers' entrance before closing them again.
Raven crossed the threshold.
The transition was immediate, striking. The air inside the room was not the same as the hallway's. Denser. Heavier. Charged with an invisible yet palpable presence, like bathing in warm water without water—a diffuse, enveloping heat that saturated every inch of the space.
He felt at ease in a way he couldn't explain.
A tap on his shoulder brought him back.
Li Feng had taken two light blue bottles from his bag. Flasks identical to the one he had shown earlier, but full-sized. The tinted glass let a pale, almost phosphorescent glow filter through. The liquid inside was translucent, traversed by shifting reflections, as if animated by its own life.
He handed one to Raven.
Raven took the bottle. A sensation immediately imposed itself upon him—the pressing urge to drink the contents.
"Come on," said Li Feng. "Drink."
He had already uncorked his own and emptied it in one gulp. He settled onto one of the free mats, legs crossed, hands on his knees with palms facing upward, and closed his eyes.
Raven imitated him.
He settled onto a nearby mat. Back straight. Slow breathing. He uncorked the bottle—a soft pop—and a scent escaped, fresh and invigorating, something mentholated mixed with a deeper, mineral note.
He brought the neck to his lips and drank.
The first sip slid down his throat like cool water. But no sooner had it reached his stomach than a chain reaction began. A heat different from the ambient mana—more intense, more localized—radiated from his center, spreading throughout his entire body.
Tingling.
It started in his stomach, where the liquid had pooled, then spread. Millions of tiny needles, not painful but perfectly perceptible, traveling through his veins, his muscles, his organs. The mana contained in the spirit liquid was carving a path through his tissues, forcing his body to adapt.
Raven closed his eyes.
His breathing matched Li Feng's slow rhythm. He focused on the sensations coursing through his body. The tingling intensified in waves, then receded, then returned. Each cycle seemed to leave a trace behind—a subtle modification, imperceptible to the eye, but real.
He remained still, letting the mana do its work.