Everett turned around.
There he was.
Guruji Gopalan. Clad in his familiar white monk's robe, barefoot on the beach-like terrace of Nalanda University, with the starlit water shimmering behind him like the cosmos was eavesdropping.
"Guruji?" Everett blinked. "Are you also a student here?"
Guruji smiled like the question had tickled a constellation.
"In a mystic sense… perhaps," he said. "Wherever thy shadow is cast, the lesson follows."
Everett grinned. "So that's a yes?"
Guruji winked. "A yes wrapped in a maybe, sprinkled with a suspicious amount of truth."
They sat by the strange shoreline. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was restful. Like the world had paused for tea.
"I didn't expect to see you again," Everett said.
"I expected to be seen," Guruji replied, plucking something invisible from the air and examining it as if it held the meaning of life—or lunch.
Everett chuckled. "You're not just here to haunt me, are you?"
Guruji's eyes glinted. "No. I am here to learn, just as you are. Tier-One student, Class of Prophecy. Intelligence Type."
Everett sat up straighter. "Wait—Tier-One? You too?"
Guruji nodded. "And also something more peculiar: a subclass. Prophecy, but Combat-based. Some call it 'The Foresight of Blades.' Others call it unnecessary. I call it fun."
Everett couldn't tell if that meant dodging bullets before they were fired—or ensuring they were never fired at all.
"That sounds... unnecessarily awesome."
Guruji shrugged. "The universe is excessive."
"Do you know how many of us are Tier-One?" Everett asked.
Guruji shook his head. "That is not a number I carry. The stars only whisper names, not tallies. Also, I'm bad at math."
---
The days passed quietly. Everett and Guruji spent the next nine days exploring Nalanda—flickering between gardens, data-halls, debate temples, and ancient AI archives. They trained, sparred, joked.
Guruji once followed Everett into a Frost Realm simulation Everett had unlocked—a 'Frost Run' challenge meant to test adaptability and strategic combat. Everett managed to distract two Wind Elephants at once while Guruji eliminated three on his own.
Afterward, Guruji fell into the sand and said, "If you hadn't held those two… I might've joined the snow."
Everett laughed. "You're ridiculous."
"But alive. And occasionally dramatic."
They both grew stronger in those days. Everett realized he wasn't the only one evolving—his peers were rising too. The Frost Realm had given him something: a new Domain ability. Something cold, precise, and a little bit haunted.
Still, he didn't regret it.
Then, on the tenth day, a message pinged his system:
"Orientation begins at 10:00 AM. Route uploaded."
---
By 8:00, Everett was dressed and walking toward the Orientation Spire. Along the way, he met Guruji and Gloria Cheng, who was chatting with two unfamiliar faces while pretending not to show off.
The Orientation Hall wasn't a hall.
It was a hole in space.
A dome folded inward, woven from living gravity and hovering glyphs. At the center, a sphere pulsed with names, data, and light. Everett scanned the information, his eyes catching on a single line:
"Tier-One Confirmed: Total Students — 14."
Fourteen?
Hundreds. Maybe thousands. That's what he expected. Instead—just fourteen.
He stared, stunned.
Gloria noticed. "You didn't think Tier-One was a scavenger hunt, did you?"
"I just thought—"
She smirked. "Only the top of the top make it. You survived the Frost Realm's third day, didn't you?"
Everett nodded slowly.
"Then maybe luck had a say," she added. "What's your rank?"
"Grade 1. Rank 9."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Seriously? Only one realm entry and you're Rank 9?"
Everett felt his ears heat.
Grade 1, Rank 9. He hadn't even known what that meant until yesterday. Now? It felt like a quiet badge of honor… or a very loud warning sign.
She smiled. "Not bad. Me? Grade 1. Rank 3."
She tapped her chest. "Let's see how long you last, newcomer."
---
Before Everett could reply, the lights in the Orientation Hall shifted.
A beam of soft violet light descended from the ceiling, and out of it stepped a tall, slender figure with silver hair tied back into a sharp braid. His robes shimmered with moving constellations, and his eyes were the pale blue of someone who had seen too much—and cared very little.
He walked to the center of the sphere.
"Good morning," the man said, his voice a perfect balance between tired and terrifying. "I am Professor Alabast Renn. Tier Guide of Cohort 21. Grade 2. Rank 8. Class: Mystic Power of Mind. Intelligence Type."
The air seemed to quiet around him. Even the data sphere pulsed more gently.
"Yes, I'm stronger than all of you combined," he added dryly. "But don't worry. I'm far too emotionally stunted to abuse my power."
A few chuckles rippled through the students.
Everett whispered to Gloria, "Mystic Power of Mind? Sounds like a brain-class."
"It is," she said. "One of the elite mental builds. Telepathic. Predictive. Terrifying if developed right. Also, wildly bad at parties."
Alabast Renn continued. "You are the top fourteen among roughly three hundred thousand qualified applicants. Don't let that swell your heads. Tier-One is not a prize. It is a problem."
He made a sweeping gesture, and the sphere broke apart into floating glyphs and names.
"Tier-One students are expected to reach Grade 2 within three years. Most will fail. Some will die. All will be watched."
His eyes swept the room, pausing for the briefest second on Everett.
"You will not compete against each other. Not yet. But your realms, your ranks, and your outcomes will determine everything—from funding to mentorship to mission selection."
He raised a hand, and the sphere shifted to show a map of several colored zones—some marked "Simulation," others "Live Realm Access," and a few labeled "Unknown Origin: Sealed."
"These are your training sectors. You'll be briefed soon by AI Node Administrators. You'll also be randomly assigned a temporary squad for the initial month. Try not to betray them."
Then he stepped aside.
A new voice entered the room.
Cool. Confident. Slightly theatrical.
"So… introductions, then?"
It was Gloria.
She stepped forward, arms casually folded behind her back.
"Gloria Cheng. Class: Tactical Swordsman of Unconvincing Bravado. Don't ask—it's more effective than it sounds. Somehow."
A small ripple of surprise spread across the students.
Someone whispered, "Wait, that Gloria Cheng?"
Gloria smirked. "Yes. That one."
Then, with a pointed glance at Everett, she added, "Try not to let your past define your performance. Especially if your past includes frozen elephants."
Everett raised his hand.
"Everett Miracle. Class: Cube of Becoming. Realm-type. I… don't know what it means yet. But it hasn't tried to kill me. Yet."
Guruji chimed in next, seemingly from nowhere like a well-timed hallucination.
"Guruji Gopalan. Prophecy Class. Intelligence Type. Subclass: Combat Prophecy. I stab with foresight."
Another chuckle moved through the crowd.
And then, one by one, the remaining Tier-One students began to introduce themselves—names Everett didn't yet recognize, but would soon come to remember. Names that would become rivals, allies, or something stranger. A girl with antlers and a fire-coded voice. A boy who spoke only in riddles. A pair of twins who answered as one.
As the introductions faded, the sphere pulsed one last time.
Then Professor Alabast spoke again.
"Your first test begins tomorrow. Get some rest, if your dreams allow it."
The hall dimmed, and the glyphs vanished.
Everett stood still, the words echoing in his chest.
He had arrived.
And the real game was only just beginning.