A knock echoed through the room.
Not a soft one either. A solid bang against the reinforced door.
Liu Xian turned immediately, his body instinctively bracing for another another order, another staff. But the door slid open instead—and in stepped another drone.
Not the floating orb kind.
This one was humanoid, tall, with slender limbs covered in armor-plated ceramic and faintly glowing joints. Its head was smooth, eyeless, but something about its faceless face still looked directly at him. It held no weapons—none visible, anyway—but Liu Xian knew better than to think that meant anything.
"Subject 46B," it spoke in a neutral, modulated voice. "Orientation begins in ten minutes. You are to follow me."
He didn't respond.
Just pulled his jacket tighter and followed.
The drone didn't slow for him—not even a little. It floated on with cheerful beeps and a pulse of blue light beneath its base, weaving fluidly through the corridors like it had done this a hundred times before. Liu Xian shuffled behind it, his pace sluggish, the rubber soles of his Academy-issued boots squeaking faintly with every step.
He kept his head low, though the hum of the facility pressed in on him from all sides.
"Please remain five steps behind," the drone chirped, its artificial voice chipper and jarringly bright.
Liu Xian didn't answer, just adjusted his pace.
They turned a corner, and suddenly, the walls changed. The metal stopped being dull and started glowing faintly, designed with what looked like shifting geometric sigils—arcane diagrams slowly crawling like living things. He blinked, dazed, but didn't stop. The drone floated through a large door made of what looked like black stone veined with purple light. It parted with a hiss, and the hallway beyond dimmed to a faint indigo.
At the end of the corridor, just past several pipes and translucent panels filled with shining mana currents, the floor abruptly dipped into a circular chamber.
A single black platform sat in the center. It was barely waist-high and humming faintly with pent-up energy, surrounded by a metal ring carved into the ground. Runes flared with soft gold, ready to conduct something massive.
"Please step onto the teleportation pad," the drone said, twirling lazily in the air. "Orientation will begin shortly. Timeliness is mandatory."
Liu Xian climbed the short step onto the pad and stood in the dead center. The drone beeped and zipped back, exiting the chamber entirely.
The moment it crossed the threshold, a dome of white light flickered into existence above Liu Xian's head. The runes on the floor burst to life, crawling with golden lightning. His skin tingled. His hair lifted. For a brief second, his body went weightless.
And then he was gone.
Instantly.
No whirring. No countdown. No stupid warning.
He just vanished and reappeared with a crackle, stumbling forward slightly as gravity returned all at once. The air in the new room was different. Liu Xian caught himself and stood straight, adjusting to the sudden shift in atmosphere.
And then he saw the others.
Rows.
Upon rows.
Of students.
They stood in silence like statues—nearly two hundred bodies, each dressed in a variation of the same uniform, black and white and pressed to perfection. Not a single one of them moved when Liu Xian materialized. Not even a flicker of surprise crossed their faces. No gasps. No curious whispers. Just cold, steady gazes. Most of them stared forward at the massive screen fixed to the far wall, its glowing white letters reading:
"WELCOME TO ARCANE ACADEMY, HEROES."
The orientation hall was enormous—cavernous, even. The ceiling arched high above, supported by beams made of reinforced blackstone. Glass windows lined the far walls, overlooking what looked like floating platforms and training fields suspended in the sky. Glowing walkways ran across the upper levels, patrolled by quiet automatons and hovering drones.
But it was the silence that got him.
It was wrong.
Everyone stood in perfect ranks—first years separated into quadrants by tall banners. Their faces were a mask of detached focus, as if they had already been through far worse than him.
Maybe some had.
Maybe some just didn't fucking care.
Liu Xian stood frozen near the back, feeling small again. The suppression collar around his neck pulsed faintly, it was like a steady reminder. He scoffed under his breath, the sound lost in the overwhelming hush of the room.
He made his way to the edge of one of the rows, planting himself beside a tall, dark-haired girl who didn't even look his way. Her eyes were locked on the screen ahead like her life depended on it. Liu Xian didn't bother speaking. No one here looked like they wanted to talk.
He clenched his fists at his sides, knuckles white as his eyes scanned the hall once more, lingering on the guards at each corner—armed to the teeth, stoic as the rest.
He tilted his head up, eyes landing on the large display again.
"Heroes."
He snorted.