Chapter Three: The Rules of the Game
"They call it education. I call it weaponization."
— Professor Calix, Tier One Faculty
_ _ _ _ _
The first day began not with an alarm, but with a symphony.
Low, orchestral tones pulsed through the floor and walls of House Umbra's dorms. Not music in the conventional sense—no melody, no lyrics. Just harmonics engineered to stimulate prefrontal cortex activity and sharpen alertness.
Lucien sat up in bed, instantly awake.
"Noctis doesn't believe in snooze buttons," he muttered, brushing sleep from his eyes.
As he rose, the wall display flared to life:
"Good morning, Lucien Vale. Forecast: overcast. Cafeteria Menu: Nutritional efficiency priority. Tier Rankings: Updated. Orientation begins at 07:30. Good luck."
A drone zipped out of the wall, laying his uniform on a metal rod that hovered mid-air. The clothes were sharp—black, with faint gold pinstripes that shimmered subtly when he moved. The Umbra crest was embroidered above his heart, like a mark.
Lucien stepped into the common lounge, where black marble floors gleamed beneath a holographic chandelier projecting a swirling galaxy above their heads. Students lounged on levitating sofas, drinking synth-coffee, reviewing strategy slates, or whispering too quietly to catch. The atmosphere thrummed with quiet power.
A few eyes flicked toward Lucien's chest—toward his blank badge.
He pretended not to notice.
Then a voice spoke beside him, smooth and sardonic.
"Enjoy it while you can. The moment your Tier appears, everything changes."
Lucien turned to see a tall boy leaning against the edge of a staircase railing, dressed in full House Umbra black with thin silver trim—sharp, composed, and holding a coffee like a prop in a stage play.
"Lucien Vale," the boy said. "Unranked. Arrived yesterday. Transferred mid-year. Mysterious background. Either you're incredibly important or incredibly disposable."
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"I haven't decided yet."
The boy grinned.
"Good answer. I'm Silas Morven. Tier Two. House Umbra's unofficial social engineer. I make sure our students don't eat each other. Well—unless it's politically useful."
Lucien studied him.
"You read everyone like a file?"
"Only the interesting ones." Silas took a slow sip. "You showed up without a Tier or an escort. That alone raised eyebrows. Most new students arrive with connections. Godparents on the board. Generational legacy. You? Just... materialized."
Lucien shrugged.
"Maybe I like making an entrance."
"Or you're hiding something," Silas replied with a smirk. "Academia Noctis has a way of digging up secrets. Eventually."
Lucien glanced around the lounge.
"So what's the game here? I've heard rumors. Rankings, sabotage, surveillance..."
Silas laughed.
"It's all true, and not even the half of it. Think of this place as a chessboard, except no one agrees on the rules, everyone's trying to be the queen, and some of the pawns are venomous."
Lucien looked thoughtful.
"And where do you sit? Bishop? Knight?"
"Observer," Silas said, his smile sharpening. "Until the board flips."
He motioned toward the entrance.
"Come on. Orientation starts soon. And trust me, you'll want to sit close. Some professors eat stragglers."
Lucien followed, eyes already scanning the halls, mentally adjusting to the pressure in the air.
"Let the games begin," he thought.
As they weaved through the sprawl of glass bridges and towering academic halls, Lucien glanced sideways at Silas.
"So… you said we're ranked by tiers?"
Silas nodded. "Yeah. Think of it like a pyramid. Most of us start in Tier Five. Climb or be forgotten."
"Sounds intense."
"That's Academia Noctis for you. Everyone's ambitious. Some are cutthroat. Others just want to survive. And a few—" he smirked, "—like me, learn how to game the system."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "And which are you?"
"A mix of all three." Silas shrugged. "But enough about me. What about you? You don't talk like someone who stumbled into this place."
Lucien hesitated. "Let's just say… I've played different kinds of games."
Before Silas could press further, a voice chimed in behind them.
"Cryptic much? He's not even trying to hide it."
They both turned.
A girl was perched on the low railing of the skybridge, one leg dangling, the other tucked beneath her. She dropped down effortlessly and approached with the grace of someone who didn't just walk—she prowled. Her violet eyes locked onto Lucien.
Nyx.
House Umbra. Midnight-black uniform detailed with subtle silver lines. The crest shimmered like constellations. She gave a lazy half-smile.
"You looked taller in the shadows, Vale."
Lucien's expression didn't change.
"Nice to you meet you againyy" he said.
Nyx tilted her head. "Took you long enough."
Silas looked between them. "Wait, wait—you two already met?"
"Kind of," Lucien muttered.
"I paid him a midnight visit," Nyx said nonchalantly. "A little welcome gift. Just a whisper in the dark."
Silas blinked. "You really have no concept of 'normal,' do you?"
"Normal's overrated," she said, slipping into step beside Lucien. "So, Vale. What's your take on this lovely death trap we call a school?"
"Overdesigned. Overfunded. Probably hiding something."
Nyx gave a satisfied smile. "You'll fit in just fine."
Silas groaned playfully. "Great. Now there are two of you shadowy, emotionally unavailable types."
"Three," Nyx corrected, glancing back at him. "You pretend you're not, but you journal like a villain origin story."
Lucien snorted.
They reached the towering doors of the Grand Hall. Gilded arches stretched into a high dome, light refracting through crystalline panels above. Students filed in, thousands of them—some sharp-eyed and focused, others already whispering alliances and rivalries.
Nyx paused beside Lucien, lowering her voice.
"Heads up. The Obsidian Court watches orientation like a hawk watches prey. You're a new piece on their board, Vale."
"Then I'll make sure they don't forget me."
She grinned.
"Careful. They like their pieces breakable."
The grand bell tolled, deep and resonant.
The hall dimmed. Thousands of murmuring voices fell silent. On the elevated stage, a woman ascended the podium with smooth, commanding strides. Her presence radiated authority—measured, meticulous, and cold as marble.
She wore the Academy's insignia in platinum across her chest, her dark robe threaded with indigo lines that shimmered like veins of lightning.
"Students of Academia Noctis," she began, her voice crisp and clear, "welcome to the crucible."
Lucien leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
"I am Arch-Dean Caldra Virell," she continued. "I oversee academic operations, discipline, and advancement. If the Headmaster is the will of this institution, I am its memory and mind."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd.
"You are here because you are the best. The brightest. The most elite the world has to offer. But make no mistake—only a fraction of you will finish what you've started."
She snapped her fingers. Above the stage, a massive holo-display lit up—columns of subjects, tier symbols, and intricate house banners.
"Your classes will be dictated by your assigned House and your Tier. Advancement is earned—not given. You will be tested weekly, ranked monthly, and re-evaluated constantly."
"Failure to maintain your standing will result in demotion… or removal."
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Caldra's gaze swept over them with clinical detachment.
"And presiding above all else is the Obsidian Court. A student body authorized by the Academy to enforce internal order, mediate house conflicts, and initiate disciplinary trials."
Silas muttered, "Sounds more like a secret police."
Nyx smirked. "They are. But flashier."
"You may think this is a game," Caldra continued. "And you'd be right. Academia Noctis is a game of intellect, of dominance, of secrets and survival. Play well—or be played."
She stepped back, and the lights gradually brightened again.
No applause. Just silence and an unspoken understanding:
The real test had already begun.