The moment Brin stepped into his dorm, the door hissed shut behind him—like the final seal locking a vault.
The room was spotless. Unnervingly so.
Chrome floors reflected soft blue light. Reinforced walls thrummed with quiet, sterile energy. A single cot sat beside a sleek metallic wardrobe, cracked open to reveal skin-tight uniforms threaded with glowing seams. Overhead, a circular screen cast drifting sky patterns on the ceiling—serene, distant, fake.
On the wall, white script pulsed to life:
ROOM 0372 – HERO ID: KINETIQ
Name: Brin walker
Rank: 117
Brin's breath caught.
It was real. All of it. He'd made it.
Across the academy, similar moments played out.
—
ROOM 0289 – HERO ID: SENTINEL
Name: Tson Marrow
Rank: 001
Tson Marrow—Sentinel—sat motionless on his cot, the hiss of shifting metal echoing as he detached the gauntlet from his arm. Beneath, where a hand should've been, lay a scarred, grafted mass—a relic of battles long before the simulation. He flexed phantom fingers and stared, silent.
—
ROOM 0455 – HERO ID: GHOSTSHADE
Name: Kevin Ashon
Rank: 03
Kevin Ashon—Ghostshade—phased through the wall too quickly, glitching as the dorm's system recalibrated. Half-submerged in the wardrobe, he muttered a curse and reformed in the center of the room.
"Too real," he whispered. "Way too real."
Kevin Ashon stood in silence near the mirror, arms folded across his chest, his thoughts elsewhere.
He could've been something else.
A top fighter in EXCORE. Maybe even ICL. The instinct was there—the drive, the discipline. But something pulled him here instead.
He studied his reflection. Cornrows braided tight. Youthful face, steady brown eyes. His earrings glinted. The twin chains around his neck shifted softly as he moved.
He allowed himself a small smile—more resignation than pride.
A battle in my head, he thought. Did I give up the dream… or just reshape it?
Either way, he was here now. And this was real.
—
Beyond their rooms, Hero Vortex Academy drifted in slow orbit above the clouds.
But something else moved with it—quiet, watching.
—
Back in his room, Tson stood in front of the mirror, hair untied now, posture relaxed. No cameras. No pressure. Just him.
Would his mother recognize him? Not as Sentinel—but as Tson?
He smirked faintly. "I trained for this. Even if it was just a sim…"
A pause.
"I won."
—
ROOM 0372 – HERO ID: GEARS
Name: Renji Alver
Rank: 300
Gears peeled off the uniform one layer at a time. Underneath the armor and tech, he was just a boy with long, messy hair and glasses that slid down the bridge of his nose.
He spotted a photo pinned beside the desk—him as a kid in a knockoff superhero suit, striking a pose beside a battered bike.
He chuckled. "Guess this was always the plan."
A flicker of his Mechalume Eye brought up design specs, blueprints layering over his vision. His brain didn't slow down. Couldn't.
There was always something to build next.
—
Above the clouds, the academy spun—gleaming, magnificent.
But behind every hero ID and glowing uniform, real people settled in. Real minds. Real scars.
And tomorrow, it would all begin—for real
ROOM 0124 – HERO ID: KAELIS
Name: Kaeli Thorn
Rank: 057
Kaeli stood barefoot in the center of her dorm, staring up at the false sky ceiling. Her silver hair shimmered faintly in the light, catching on the edges of her cheekbones like moonlight on glass. Her uniform lay untouched on the cot—she hadn't even approached it.
The room felt too clean, too hollow.
She turned toward the mirror. A ghost of herself stared back.
She touched the edge of her jaw, tracing the spot where the implant used to buzz. Her father had installed it when she was ten. Said it would "help her focus."
It didn't.
She closed her eyes. Inhaled.
No more ghosts.
Kaeli reached for the uniform.
Tomorrow, she'd show them what real focus looked like.
ROOM 0498 – HERO ID: TYRA
Name: Tyra Menen
Rank: 023
The dorm lights dimmed automatically as Tyra dropped into meditation, sitting cross-legged with her palms resting on her knees. The floor vibrated faintly beneath her—an oscillating hum she could feel in her bones. She tuned into it, syncing her breath with the rhythm.
Stillness before strike. Calm before storm.
These mantras weren't just poetry to her. They were survival.
A sudden buzz snapped her eyes open.
A message hovered in mid-air:
"Initiation Match Schedule Pending. Opponent: Sentinel."
Her brow furrowed.
"Off the gate? They're putting me against him?"
She smiled grimly.
Good. She preferred a challenge.
ROOM 0100 – HERO ID: PSYSTAR
Name: Unknown
Rank: 002
No cot. No personal touches. No wardrobe.
The room pulsed with violet psychic energy—gravitational fields arced across the ceiling, and symbols floated like flakes of snow. In the center, a single figure levitated, limbs crossed, face veiled behind a cracked porcelain mask.
No one knew where Psystar came from.
No one had ever heard him speak.
But he was always on the board. Always near the top.
The room shimmered—then fractured for a moment, as if resisting he's presence.
He opened one eye.
The walls stilled.