The soft hum of morning broke through the cracked blinds.
Noah's eyes blinked open slowly. A ceiling. Familiar. Bare. The fan above spun slowly, creaking with every turn. Another day. Another breath. Another weight he didn't ask to carry.
He sat up in bed, dragging his fingers through his messy black hair. The warmth of the sun streamed lazily through the window. He stood, walking toward it, and pulled the curtain aside.
Outside, the city stirred to life.
"Morning again," he muttered.
At first, when a child wakes up, the world is still bright. They expect to be free — to run down the streets barefoot, to chase after kites and ice cream trucks, to laugh in a world full of light.
But that world?
It doesn't exist.
Not anymore.
"All those dreams," Noah whispered, "they're just pieces of a broken Dreamland."
He moved slowly, quietly. The faucet hissed as he washed his face. He brushed his teeth, threw on his white academy uniform — simple, neat, a bit wrinkled from being worn too much — then swung his worn bag over his shoulder.
And with one last look at the cracked mirror, he stepped outside.
---
The street was calm.
Surprisingly so.
Vendors set up their stalls. A street artist strummed his broken guitar for coins. Parents walked their kids, hands held tightly. Laughter echoed from somewhere nearby.
It almost felt peaceful.
Noah narrowed his eyes. A boy rushed past him, holding his mom's hand, giggling. For a second, his heart softened.
But then he closed his eyes.
And it hit him.
> It wasn't always like this.
The towers that once reached the heavens stood half-collapsed, vines crawling over their steel bones. What used to be glowing billboards now flashed static or propaganda. The streets, once clean and full of wonder, now wore scars — bullet holes in walls, scorch marks from riots, and puddles dyed red that never washed away.
There was a time when the city stood as a monument of pride.
But civil war… tore everything apart.
It started with whispers — rumors in the council, subtle power plays. Then riots. Then purges. Factions rose from every corner, rebels clashed with loyalists, and in the end, what remained… was a jungle of sin.
Now, there were no laws. Only power.
The east was ruled by drug syndicates. The west was a no-man's land — warlords and bombs. The central district? A marketplace for nightmares: human trafficking, cyber-smuggling, illegal magic.
Noah had seen it all.
And yet…
He walked.
A man in a black mask rushed past him, snatched a woman's purse, and disappeared into an alley.
No one even blinked.
A girl no older than sixteen leaned against a wall in heavy makeup, eyes empty, her smile forced as an old man approached.
Noah's fists clenched.
"The world's broken," he muttered. "And everyone's just… living with it."
The cops?
Just another gang with better uniforms. Their badges meant nothing anymore — only who they served and how much they were paid.
Once, children saw police as heroes. Now? They ran from them just the same.
This world didn't need more power.
> It needed a true hero.
---
He kept walking.
And then it came into view.
The towering structure that didn't belong in this world — the one untouched by corruption.
Velmont Institute of Advancement.
Silver gates. Drones hovered silently overhead. The glass buildings reflected the smoky sky, standing tall like the last bastion of order. Marble walkways cut through glowing gardens, with wind chimes ringing gently above.
Students passed through the gate, each dressed in pristine uniforms, each holding devices worth more than Noah's apartment. It was another world. Inside Velmont, the real world didn't exist.
Noah stepped forward.
The gates hissed open, scanning him silently.
He walked in.
He didn't belong here.
But he was here anyway.
---
He made his way through the elegant halls, students brushing past him without a glance. Some whispered, recognizing him as the "quiet one," the scholarship kid. Others didn't care.
He turned toward the locker room, needing to drop off his books.
As he passed through the corridor, a girl brushed by him. He didn't look at her. Just kept walking.
He opened his locker, placed his books inside.
"Good morning," came a soft voice.
He paused. Turned.
The same girl stood beside him, arms crossed, frowning slightly.
"…Morning," Noah replied, closing the locker.
She blinked. "Do you not recognize me?"
He tilted his head. "I don't think so?"
She sighed. "We've been seatmates for over a month."
He scratched his head awkwardly. "…Really? Sorry. I think your name was… Meira?"
The girl deadpanned. "That's not even close. It's Nyre."
"Oh. I see. My bad."
"Honestly," she groaned. "What are you, some old man?"
"Do I look that old?"
Nyre smirked. "Come on. Let's walk to class together."
They moved through the hallway, the floating projectors flashing current rankings and class announcements.
"You're seriously strange, you know," Nyre said. "We sit beside each other every day, and you didn't even know my name?"
"Does it matter?"
She pouted. "Tch. Whatever."
Then the air shifted.
A sudden hush fell across the corridor.
The main gate swung open.
Black cars rolled in like royalty had arrived. Students froze. Phones came out. Heads turned.
Out stepped men in black suits. They opened the door.
From the car stepped a girl — golden hair flowing like sunlight, her uniform flawless, her eyes cold.
Celeste Virellian.
Nyre smiled slightly. "There she is. The princess of Velmont."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"You don't know Celeste?" Nyre stared. "Her dad is the Supreme Chancellor. She's the top student here. She's practically untouchable."
Noah shrugged. "So she's the queen of this place."
Nyre laughed. "Now you get it."
All the students bowed their heads as Celeste walked past.
All except Noah.
He stood there, hands in his pocket, staring blankly.
Celeste's heels stopped in front of him.
She turned.
Those piercing eyes locked onto his — silver and cold like a frozen blade.
A moment passed.
One of her guards stepped forward. "You do not stare into the Lady's eyes."
Nyre's eyes widened. "Noah!" She yanked him down into a shallow bow. "He's new! Just transferred! Forgive him!"
Celeste said nothing.
Her gaze lingered.
Then she walked away.
Noah straightened, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"
Nyre smacked his arm. "You idiot! You could've gotten your face rearranged!"
He chuckled softly. "Sorry. Just… didn't know there were rules about looking at people."
"You're unbelievable."
As the students filed into their classrooms, Nyre glanced sideways. "Why are you smiling?"
Noah scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. Guess I'm just… glad someone's looking out for me."
Nyre's cheeks flushed. "C-Cut it out already! We'll be late!"
She ran ahead.
Noah followed, walking slowly, his hands still in his pockets.
His eyes drifted back to the gates.
The world beyond.
The darkness waiting.
He took a deep breath.
And whispered to himself—
> "This world doesn't need another monster…
It needs a hero.
A true one."
He stepped into class.
But in his heart…
He knew it had already begun.