Khalil Morrison had exactly three rules for surviving Nexus Academy:One: Keep your head down.Two: Don't make eye contact with anyone above C-Rank.Three: Never, *ever* stand out.For two years, these rules had kept him alive. Alive and invisible, which in a school full of vampires, werewolves, elves, and system users who could level buildings with a thought, was about as good as it got for an F-Rank human with a system so basic it might as well have been a calculator.Kal adjusted his backpack as he navigated the crowded hallway of Nexus Academy, keeping his eyes on the scuffed linoleum floor. Around him, the usual chaos of a Friday afternoon swirled—students laughing, admins floating beside their users like luminous companions, the occasional spark of magic as someone showed off."Did you see the rankings update?" someone said nearby. "Marcus hit A-Rank. Youngest vampire in the academy to do it.""Of course he did. Voss family probably bought him premium dungeon access."Kal tuned

Kal's apartment was exactly as he'd left it that morning: small, cramped, and depressingly empty.He locked the door behind him, triple-checking the deadbolt out of habit. The studio was barely four hundred square feet—a bed shoved against one wall, a kitchenette that consisted of a hot plate and a mini-fridge, a bathroom so small he had to stand sideways in the shower. The only window looked out onto a brick wall three feet away.It was all he could afford on his part-time salary and the pittance the government gave to orphaned system users. Most kids at Nexus lived in the dorms, but those cost money Kal didn't have. So he'd found this place in the Rust District—the part of Neo-Chicago where rent was cheap because nobody wanted to live there."Charming," Regis said, materializing beside the door. He looked around with obvious distaste. "Truly, the lap of luxury.""It's fine," Kal muttered, dropping his backpack on the bed. His hands were shaking now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Kal woke to Regis poking his face."Rise and shine, soon-to-be-dead person! We have a dungeon to conquer."Kal groaned, swatting at the tiny floating figure. His hand passed through golden light. "What time is it?""Seven-thirty. You have approximately nine hours before your quest timer expires." Regis perched on the edge of Kal's phone screen. "I let you sleep six hours. You're welcome. Now get up. We have preparations to make."Every muscle in Kal's body ached from yesterday's improvised spear training. He rolled out of bed, his new leather armor creaking where he'd left it on the floor. The spear leaned against the wall, wrapped in cloth that already looked worn.This was really happening.Kal moved through his morning routine on autopilot. Shower—lukewarm because hot water cost extra. Protein bar for breakfast because cooking took time he didn't have. He strapped on the leather armor, adjusting the bracers Viktor had thrown in. Everything fit, barely. It smelled like someone else'

Kal stood at the Safe Room barrier, psyching himself up to step back into the dungeon, when light exploded behind him.Not the harsh white of the Safe Room. Not the sickly green of dungeon energy.This was pale blue, soft and luminescent, like moonlight given form."What—" Kal spun around, broken spear raised defensively.A figure materialized above the table, roughly the same size as Regis. Eight inches tall, floating, glowing with that gentle blue light. But where Regis was all sharp edges and golden arrogance, this figure was...Beautiful.She had delicate features, smooth dark skin that seemed to shimmer with starlight, and hair that flowed like liquid silver down to her waist. Her eyes were the pale blue of her glow, wise and ancient. She wore robes that shifted between modern and ethereal, similar to Regis's style but more elegant. Where Regis had a crown, she wore a circlet of silver that pulsed with soft light.And she was smiling at him with an expression of infinite patience

Khalil Morrison floated in darkness.Not the darkness of death—he'd experienced that once already, and this was different. This was *aware* darkness. Conscious. Watching.Judging.Voices echoed around him, distant and distorted:*"—pressure on the wound—"**"—HP is too low, he needs—"**"—just STAY ALIVE, you stubborn—"*Regis and Glim. Fighting even now, trying to keep him from dying a second time.But Kal couldn't focus on them. Something else demanded his attention.The darkness shifted, becoming less empty. Shapes formed—abstract, impossible to define. They circled him like predators, but without hostility. More like... examination.Then one shape stepped forward.It had no face, no body, no definable characteristics. But Kal understood it immediately, with the same instinctive knowledge his Absolute Comprehension provided.This was a Concept.Unawakened. Unclaimed. Waiting.And it was offering itself to him.Words formed in the void—not spoken, but *known*:```══════════════════