"In Academia Noctis, knowledge isn't power—leverage is."
_ _ _ _ _
The morning sun barely filtered through the tinted windows of the dormitory tower, casting long shadows across the obsidian floor. Lucien sat at the edge of his bed, fully dressed, his mind already spiraling with anticipation and quiet calculation. Today marked the first day of actual classes—the beginning of the real test.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock.
"Rise and shine, boys!" Nyra's voice came from the hall, laced with amusement. The door swung open uninvited, and she leaned against the frame, her curls bouncing slightly with every movement. "Class schedules just dropped. We're late if we don't move."
Silas groaned from his bed, burying his head under a pillow. Lucien stood.
"Let's go," he said.
They moved quickly through their morning routines. The dorm bathrooms shimmered with marble and mirrored glass, and the water temperature adjusted automatically to their preferences. Lucien washed up in silence, his reflection framed in steam and soft gold lighting. He could hear Silas grumbling beside him, half-asleep as he brushed his teeth.
Back in their room, they dressed in the academy's formal wear: tailored black and gold uniforms, adorned with sleek crests denoting their House. Lucien's bore the silver insignia of House Noctis—a crescent eclipse intertwined with a raven feather. The fabric felt like silk-wrapped armor.
In the hallway, students hurried past in small clusters. Some looked excited. Others anxious. Whispers about professors, class types, and trial rumors floated around like static.
Nyra walked with purpose, her gait confident. She handed Lucien and Silas their digital tablets.
"Schedules are on these. You'll want to memorize them. Latecomers get more than demerits—they get attention. And in this school, that's rarely a good thing."
Lucien glanced at the tablet. His schedule was already filled with classes that sounded like strategy games disguised as education. The first was Cognitive Warfare.
They moved through the academy's central plaza—a grand open area filled with students navigating holographic directories. Towering statues of past valedictorians lined the walkways, each frozen mid-stride, eyes cast down like judgmental gods.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of lemon blossom and ozone. A faint mist hovered around the obsidian fountains that marked the center of the court.
Lucien looked up.
The spires of Academia Noctis pierced the morning sky like spears aimed at heaven.
He exhaled slowly. He was ready.
---
Lucian adjusted his tie in the polished steel of a passing service bot, his eyes scanning the towering spires around them.
"Still can't get used to this place," he muttered.
Silas, ever composed, walked beside him, clutching a leather-bound notepad. "Get used to the impossible, my friend. It's the only constant here."
Nyra caught up with them, sipping something too pink to be coffee. "Did you guys hear the rumor? That the cognitive warfare class is like...mental gladiator games?"
Lucian raised a brow. "Sounds theatrical."
"No, seriously," she said, twirling a lock of her hair. "Some kid from House Vireo passed out last year. Brain overload."
They arrived at a minimalist amphitheater-style classroom deep underground—its door opened by scanning their wristbands. A subtle electrical buzz greeted them, and the temperature dropped slightly. Walls of matte black absorbed the light, leaving only glowing lines of code drifting like fireflies in the air.
A tall figure in obsidian robes stood at the center—Professor Marlowe, Head of the Cognitive Division.
"Welcome," he said, his voice reverberating with an artificial modulation that sent a chill down their spines. "This is not your average classroom. Here, we study the mechanics of perception, the algorithms of influence, and the science of suggestion. You will learn to manipulate thought, deconstruct truth, and wage war with nothing but your mind."
The walls flickered, revealing holographic profiles of influential figures throughout history—politicians, cult leaders, CEO titans. Each pulsed with statistics: influence rate, psychological profiles, fallacies mastered.
"Lesson one," Marlowe said, snapping his fingers.
A scenario unfolded in the center: a courtroom, two holographic lawyers, and a robotic judge. The case? A young AI developer was being accused of creating a sentient program responsible for a financial crash. The defense argued it was a mere tool misused by external parties. The prosecution insisted the developer knew what he was doing and should be held accountable.
"You will observe both arguments," Marlowe said. "Then, working in teams, you will rewrite reality. Choose who wins, and make the logic irrefutable."
Lucian leaned forward. This... this was his domain.
Nyra tapped her temple. "Mental chess. Let's go."
Silas smirked. "More like mental demolition. You ready, Lucian?"
Lucian's eyes glinted, shadows dancing behind his calm exterior. "I was born ready."
The trial simulation played out, presenting raw evidence, emotional appeals, expert testimony—all modifiable by student teams. As others scrambled, Lucian watched in silence, his eyes flicking between inconsistencies.
Then he struck.
"We're not defending the developer," he said calmly. "We're reframing the entire narrative. The developer wasn't negligent—he was a whistleblower. The program was designed to expose flaws, not cause harm. The financial crash? Collateral from a system resistant to change."
Nyra's fingers flew across the simulation interface, modifying tone and expression of the AI witnesses. Silas inserted subtle logical progressions and tweaked cross-examinations to highlight the developer's foresight.
Lucian added the killing blow—he introduced a hypothetical future scenario where suppressing this kind of tech would result in a greater crash. "Would you rather punish a visionary... or delay the cure to a terminal system?" he asked during their final argument.
When their scenario was reviewed, even Professor Marlowe paused.
"Well," he said slowly, "either I've underestimated you… or you've been trained before."
Lucian offered a small, unreadable smile. "Just good instincts."
The class ended with a warning.
"Be careful with what you learn here," Marlowe said. "Not everything broken by the mind can be rebuilt."
As they exited into the corridor's artificial light, Nyra whispered, "Did it feel like he was talking to you specifically?"
Lucian's jaw tightened. "Maybe he was."
As they made their way down the stairs to their next lecture hall, a loud metallic crack echoed through the corridor. A maintenance drone, gliding overhead, sparked violently and plummeted.
Lucian reacted instantly, yanking Nyra back as it slammed into the spot where she'd just been standing.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning for more anomalies.
From nearby, a calm voice rang out, "Impressive reflexes."
They turned to see a tall student with silver eyes and a uniform bearing the crest of House Polaris. His posture was immaculate, his gaze calculating.
"I'm Kael Ardyn," he said. "Third-tier scholar. That drone wasn't a coincidence."
Lucian frowned. "You think it was deliberate?"
Kael nodded. "Sabotage happens more often than they like to admit. Academia Noctis thrives on competition, but not everyone plays fair."
Silas narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"
"I keep tabs," Kael replied. "Especially on new players who make an impression. Like you."
Lucian studied him. There was no hostility in Kael's tone—only intrigue.
Kael extended a hand. "Watch your back. And if you ever want to compare notes… I'm always open to a good game."
Lucian shook it, just briefly. "Noted."
As Kael vanished into the stream of students, Nyra whispered, "Well, you've got a fan."
Lucian didn't answer. He was already thinking of the implications.