As Iris opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by an inky black void. The only light came from a swarm of glowing butterflies, each a different color, with various events flickering within their delicate wings. She marveled at the sight, trying to make sense of the scenes before her.

The first butterfly, a vibrant green, depicted a world slowly consumed by thorns and monstrous plants ravaging the lands. A palpable sense of despair emanated from its wings. Next, a light blue butterfly displayed an ice age engulfing an entire continent, its wings radiating feelings of self-hatred. An orange butterfly followed, its wings showing flames burning across the world, ending in a large explosion, with a powerful sense of betrayal woven through its images.

A light gray butterfly fluttered next, illustrating a massive war that consumed the world. Desperation permeated its wings, and something about it felt strangely familiar to Iris. The fifth butterfly, which was yellow, revealed a plague-ridden world where families suffered slowly. An incredible sense of loneliness seeped from its wings.

Then came a dark purple butterfly, its wings filled with visions of zombie hordes overtaking a kingdom. Regret glowed with its deep purple hue. A golden butterfly followed, showing scenes of mass destruction and radiating immense anger. The next butterfly, black as night, depicted images of great beings being slain, causing the very world to change. A profound sense of grief could be felt from this one.

The second-to-last butterfly was a deep crimson red, showing a fierce battle between brothers. The winner was unclear, but an overwhelming desire to protect pulsed from its wings. Finally, a multicolored butterfly fluttered into view. Within its wings, Iris saw fragments of each vision from the other butterflies, stitched together like a patchwork quilt. Determination emanated from this butterfly, along with that familiar feeling she couldn’t quite place.

As she watched the multicolored butterfly, Iris felt a strange connection, as if it held the key to understanding the chaos and emotions swirling around her. The visions seemed to call out to her, each butterfly a piece of a larger puzzle she was meant to solve.

“Images from a future that was never meant to be, but forced upon that miserable wretch, ©№₫♢♪☈,” the man sighed, pausing for a moment. “It looks like I’m not allowed to give spoilers yet,” he said, as he stepped into the light illuminated by the butterflies.

The man stood at an unassuming height, his white hair a striking contrast to his pale skin. A solitary mole beneath his right eye drew attention to his face, where glowing golden eyes shimmered with quiet wisdom behind a pair of sleek black circular glasses. He was dressed in a sharp black suit accented by a vibrant yellow tie, and a delicate butterfly brooch adorned his lapel—a small emblem hinting at hidden significance. Completing his ensemble were pristine white gloves, giving him an air of meticulous precision.

“Who are you, and where am I?” Iris asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

A gentle smile played upon the man’s lips as he regarded her with calm assurance. “You may call me Fate,” he replied in a voice that was smooth and soothing, as if it were a gentle caress. “We are currently within the domain of your mind—a sanctuary of your innermost thoughts. I chose this private realm so that we might meet without the clamor of the outside world.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Iris questioned, her voice trembling with confusion and a touch of fear.

“This place is boring, no offense, but I'm going to change this a bit,” Fate said with a mischievous smile as he snapped his fingers.

The inky black void transformed into a cozy jazz club. Floating instruments began to play the blues, their melodies weaving a soothing atmosphere. Fate gestured for Iris to take a seat as two plush couches appeared at either end of a small table. Various snacks materialized on the table, but when Iris reached for them, they disappeared like mirages.

“Please, sit,” Fate said, taking a seat himself. “It's best we hurry before you’re woken up.”

“You have many questions, I’m sure,” Fate said, leaning back and crossing his legs. “I’ll do my best to provide the answers you seek, within the bounds of what I’m allowed to reveal, of course.”

Iris nodded, her mind racing with questions. The butterflies, the strange visions, and now this enigmatic man named Fate, it was all too much to comprehend at once. But amidst the chaos, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Perhaps, here in this strange yet comforting setting, she might begin to unravel the mysteries surrounding her.

“As for your first question, it's as I said, I simply wish to speak to you and to congratulate you,” Fate said with a warm smile.

“Why are you congratulating me?” Iris questioned, her eyes filled with fear.

“That night you were destined to die, yet thanks to your own luck, a bit of my help, and that miserable wretch, I guess I'll call him by his false identity, Nihil, for now, to avoid the spoiler filter anyway, you survived, for now,” Fate said energetically.

Iris sat there with a blank expression, unsure of how to react to this information. She couldn't speak or say a word; she simply sat there, frozen.

“I don't mean to stress you out, but you’re not safe yet. Your next ordeal is imminent, so please prepare,” Fate intoned, his tone shifting from gentle reassurance to a grave seriousness that sent a shiver down Iris’s spine.

Eyes wide with fear and confusion, Iris pleaded, “Tell me, why is this happening to me?”

Fate’s expression softened with a pained regret as he replied, “I must apologize, but I’m not permitted to reveal all the details. Just know that no matter which path you choose—whether to save or to destroy the world—I will always be on your side.” His calm assurance carried a weight of inevitability that both comforted and haunted her.

A long, sorrowful pause ensued before Fate spoke again, his voice imbued with finality. “It seems my time here is running out. Goodbye, dear Iris.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Iris stammered, her voice barely a whisper. But before she could utter another word, Fate snapped his fingers. In that instant, the private realm of her mind shattered like fragile glass—and Iris woke up.

As Iris slowly opened her eyes, she found herself in a room that felt like a sanctuary compared to the chaos she'd just escaped. She sat up in a surprisingly comfortable bed, one that seemed to promise a reprieve from her recent nightmares. The spacious bedroom was thoughtfully furnished—a neat desk, a generous wardrobe, and even a television adorned one wall. Two doors stood before her: one leading to a cozy bathroom and the other to the corridor beyond. It was a far cry from the cramped, dilapidated school dorms the author of this webnovel is currently staying in.

The room exuded calm and safety, a stark counterpoint to the dark, tumultuous void she’d left behind. Iris took a deep, steadying breath, her mind slowly processing the surreal encounter with Fate and the ominous warning that still echoed in her thoughts. Though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, at this moment she allowed herself a small, precious respite.

That fragile sense of comfort, however, was abruptly shattered by a loud banging at her door. A familiar voice followed the knock, laced with both urgency and a hint of playful exasperation.

“Hey, sorry about this, but I overslept and forgot to wake you up…or set up your alarm clock. Somewhere in there, you’ll find your uniform—get dressed and get out here,” Wallace’s voice called through the door.

Startled but motivated by his call, Iris quickly changed into the uniform awaiting her. The crisp white dress, emblazoned with the A.E.G.I.S logo, and the durable yet comfortable black pants transformed her from a frightened, disoriented girl into someone ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Iris stepped out into the corridor and immediately spotted Wallace leaning casually against a railing. He was sipping coffee from a pristine white mug emblazoned with “World's Best Brother.” The third floor of the sprawling apartment complex loomed overhead, with two more floors visible above, lending an air of urban majesty to the otherwise modest surroundings.

Wallace caught her eye and chuckled. “I forgot the trainees had to wear those tacky uniforms. It’s been a while since I’ve been stuck in here,” he quipped, taking another sip of his coffee.

Iris scanned the unfamiliar space, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Where exactly am I?”

“This is A.E.G.I.S.'s Alpha Facility,” Wallace explained, his tone a mix of pride and resignation. “There are three other branches, but this one is by far the nicest. It’s dedicated solely to training the Awakened. Unfortunately, since we overslept, breakfast is off the table today—but I promise I’ll make it up to you eventually.”

Iris managed a small smile despite her lingering uncertainty. “Um… alright. I won’t deny I’m pretty hungry, so let’s hope lunch is good,” she replied, following him out of the apartment complex.

They stepped into a sleek, modern elevator. The polished metal interior and the digital display show their descent into the facility. As the elevator doors opened onto the first floor, Iris couldn’t help but be impressed by the facility’s immaculate design. The hallways were spotless, the floors gleaming under bright, efficient lighting, and the walls lined with screens that pulsed with informational updates and soothing visuals.

Wallace led her through a series of bustling corridors. Trainees hurried about in crisp uniforms while staff in more casual attire navigated the halls with purpose. The controlled activity created an atmosphere of disciplined energy that both reassured and overwhelmed Iris.

“From now on, you’ll be attending classes,” Wallace explained as they walked. “You’ll learn everything from monster hunting to artifact usage—and you’ll even be expected to master at least three other languages by the time you graduate. You can learn as my as you desire for example, I know English, French, German, Mandarin, Spanish, Russian…” He droned on listlessly, and Iris couldn’t help but feel her interest wane as the details piled up.

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“This is a lot to remember,” Iris complained, her voice soft with exasperation as her mind struggled to keep pace.

“You won’t be expected to learn all of it immediately,” Wallace reassured her. “Your first year will mainly focus on helping you adjust to your ability.”

As they strolled down the corridor, a gallery of photos caught their attention—large bold letters above each image proclaimed “Valedictorian.” Wallace’s own photo was proudly displayed among them. He chuckled, his tone turning wistful. “That was a long time ago. I miss my graduating class—now it’s just me and Markus left.”

“What happened to them?” Iris asked, her brow furrowing in genuine curiosity.

“Envy,” Wallace replied tersely, leaving the subject shrouded in mystery.

The atmosphere grew heavy as they arrived at Iris’s new classroom. Wallace quickly snapped back into his professional demeanor. “This will be your main classroom. Your teacher, Mrs. Stone, is one of the few sane people in this facility, so things should work out well. Lastly, you’ll need to wear this watch at all times.”

With deliberate care, Wallace produced a sleek white watch with a small, integrated screen and fastened it around Iris’s wrist. The moment the watch touched her skin, Iris’s eyes lit up as she eagerly explored its features.

Wallace, noticing her growing fascination, began to list features, “There’s a heart monitor, a directions app, a class call feature—you can even send texts…” His voice trailed off as Iris’s attention began to waver.

“What astounding patience you seem to have,” Wallace teased lightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m sure Mrs. Stone will be thrilled.”

“How many classmates will I have?” Iris asked, cutting through Wallace’s playful sarcasm.

Wallace paused, counting on his fingers as if trying to recall each face from memory. “In total, besides you, there are six others. Each one’s got a unique ability—just like you. And, if the blonde one ever gets mad, I’d recommend you duck,” he added with a conspiratorial grin as he led Iris into the classroom.

Stepping into the room, Iris immediately took in her surroundings. The classroom had a familiar, almost comforting layout. Neatly arranged desks sat in orderly rows, each outfitted with the standard array of school supplies. At the front of the room, a large blackboard—worn with years of chalk dust—spoke of countless lessons learned. Off to one side, a well-loved wooden table supported a slightly faded globe and various educational tools, lending a touch of the ordinary to this extraordinary environment.

The room buzzed softly with the murmur of six other students. They glanced up as Iris entered, their eyes reflecting curiosity and quiet welcome. There was a striking diversity among them—different ages, varied backgrounds—and subtle hints of their unique abilities were apparent. One student’s nearby air even felt distinctly cooler, while another carried an intense, almost electric gaze.

At the front, Mrs. Stone stood, her presence commanding immediate respect. Her confident, calm demeanor and assessing gaze gave the impression that she had seen it all. With a posture as straight as the lines on the blackboard, she set a tone of quiet authority and order.

Just then, Wallace reappeared at the classroom door. “I’m very sorry for being late—I accidentally overslept,” he apologized sincerely, his tone carrying genuine remorse.

Mrs. Stone’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “I won’t complain, especially since you managed to convince that stingy—ahem, Jonathan—to give me a raise,” she replied, careful to catch herself before any inappropriate words slipped out. Her tone was a delicate blend of gratitude and exasperation, professional yet with a hint of humor.

Wallace couldn’t resist one last quip. “Be careful—you don’t want to lose to Markus in our running bet,” he teased with a light laugh before slipping out of the room, leaving behind the echo of his playful remark.

Turning her attention to the new student, Mrs. Stone’s expression softened. “Good morning, Iris. Please, take a seat. We’re just about to begin.”

A flutter of nerves mixed with excitement danced within Iris as she surveyed the bustling classroom. The gentle murmur of settling students, the cool, smooth surface of a desk beneath her fingertips—it all helped ground her racing thoughts. Choosing a seat in the middle, she felt a small surge of hope that here, in this carefully organized space, she might finally find her place.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Stone addressed the class. “Now, I’d like each of you to introduce yourselves. Please say your name, your ability, and share one fun fact about yourself.”

As the room hushed in anticipation, Iris listened intently, her heart both nervous and excited for the journey that lay ahead.

A young boy with short, tousled brown hair and warm, caramel-toned skin eagerly raised his hand, his somber brown eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. “Hello, everyone—it's so good to meet you all! My name is Jacob Forester. My ability is called Doll Manipulation; I can control and animate toys and dolls. And my fun fact is, I’m really excited to be here!” He finished with a bright, infectious smile that lit up his entire face.

The room stirred with a mix of nods and murmurs of acknowledgment, the atmosphere lightened by Jacob’s cheerful introduction.

From the back of the room, a voice cut through the warmth with a dose of biting sarcasm. “Yeah, there was really no need for the fun fact,” Charles remarked. “I’m pretty sure we could all guess that.”

Mrs. Stone’s eyes flashed a sharp, disapproving look in Charles’s direction, but she quickly chose to address the situation with calm authority. “You seem eager to speak, Charles. How about you go next?” she said, gesturing invitingly toward him.

With an air of indifferent nonchalance, Charles—whose medium-length blonde hair partly veiled his right eye—rose to his feet. His piercing blue eyes swept the room coolly as he replied, “Fine, but only to get this over with. I’m Charles Wells. My ability is telekinesis, and my fun fact is that you can go ahead and die.” His dismissive tone sent a chill through the room.

Without warning, Charles extended his hand, and a pulsating purple aura enveloped his desk. With a swift, deliberate flick of his wrist, the desk soared across the room toward Mrs. Stone. The air crackled with the raw force of his telekinetic power as the desk hurtled forward with frightening speed.

Mia’s eyes widened in alarm. In a seamless, practiced motion, she summoned a shimmering barrier of water that materialized just in time between the oncoming desk and Mrs. Stone. The desk collided with the barrier, shattering into a cascade of droplets that scattered harmlessly across the floor.

Chaos erupted as students ducked for cover. Iris and several others scrambled to shield themselves from the flying debris, while Theo—ever protective—clutched his sister tightly, determined to keep her safe.

“Charles!” Mrs. Stone’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as she emerged from behind the watery shield. Her expression was a mix of seething anger and stern resolve. “This is not how we behave in this classroom. Such displays of aggression are utterly unacceptable.”

In response, a vivid violet stream of water erupted from Mrs. Stone’s hands, coalescing into a powerful current that surged toward Charles. The water moved with a precision that belied its ferocity, wrapping around him and effectively restraining his movements. Charles struggled against the aqueous bonds, attempting to counter with his telekinetic abilities, but his efforts grew increasingly feeble under the force of Mrs. Stone’s controlled assault.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she declared, her voice weary but unwavering. “Now, who would like to introduce themselves next?”

The commotion subsided gradually, and the students slowly returned to their seats, though an undercurrent of nervous tension still lingered in the room. A girl with short red hair and a single green eye hesitantly raised her hand. An eye patch covered her other eye, and every inch of her demeanor exuded shyness and vulnerability.

“Um… I can’t do this, Theo. You go first,” Celia whispered, her voice barely audible as she partially hid behind her protective older brother.

Theo, with matching short red hair and his own solitary green eye hidden behind an eye patch on the opposite side, stood confidently. “My name is Theo Hill,” he began, his tone a careful blend of assertiveness and protectiveness.

He continued, “My ability allows me to remove one of the five senses from another person. And as for my fun fact—if anyone dares to pick on my sister, I’ll beat them up.” His gaze sharpened as he cast a pointed look toward Charles, who still struggled under the violet restraints of water.

Charles, in a feeble act of defiance, sneered and flicked an eraser at Theo, lightly tapping his head. “Fine, that’s my last one,” he muttered wearily. “I’m tired anyway.”

Mia, ever the observant one, decided it was time to release Charles from the aqueous bonds. With a subtle wave of her hand, the shimmering water dissipated, allowing Charles to slump back into his seat as he grumbled softly.

Theo turned back to Celia, offering a gentle, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Celia, you can do this. I believe in you,” he said, softly patting her on the back.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Celia’s flushed face trembled as she began, “M-my name is… my name is Celia Hill. My ability is called… w-watcher. It allows me to see anyone as long as I’ve marked them beforehand. My—my fun fact is that I…” Her voice faltered, and tears welled in her eyes as the pressure of the moment overwhelmed her. With a soft sob, she retreated, seeking the solace of her brother’s protective presence.

Theo gently wrapped an arm around her, his eyes filled with both concern and quiet pride. “You did your best, Celia,” he murmured reassuringly.

Mrs. Stone, who had been watching the tender exchange with a warm, encouraging smile, spoke up softly, “It’s perfectly alright, Celia. You did your best, and that’s what matters. Now, let’s continue. Who would like to go next?”

Alice raised her hand timidly and stepped forward with a blend of apprehension and resolve. Her striking crimson eyes and hair—a captivating mix of white and red—gave her an almost otherworldly appearance. The glasses she wore, reminiscent of Wallace’s own, lent her an air of scholarly charm.

“Can I go next?” she asked softly.

“Of course, Alice,” Mrs. Stone replied with an encouraging nod.

“My name is Alice West,” she began, her voice steady yet gentle. “My ability is called the Authority of Reality. I’m not entirely sure what it does—Dr. Wallace advised me not to use it without proper guidance.” She paused briefly to adjust her glasses, a nervous habit, before continuing, “And my fun fact is that my favorite book is The Wizard of Oz.”

A ripple of interest and curiosity passed through the classroom as Alice spoke. Her mysterious ability, coupled with a beloved classic, seemed to spark a connection among her peers. Mrs. Stone’s eyes twinkled with genuine pleasure as she responded, “Thank you for sharing, Alice. I’m quite a big fan of that book as well.”

As the teacher’s attention shifted back to the rest of the class, her gaze fell upon a student who had been asleep throughout the session. The boy—sporting medium-length cyan hair that had been tied into a ponytail, piercing red eyes, and black square-framed glasses—slumped in his seat. Without hesitation, Mrs. Stone conjured a small, precise ball of water between her fingertips and flung it expertly at the sleeping child, rousing him instantly.

“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t sleep during my class,” Mrs. Stone said sternly, a hint of reprimand in her tone. “I’m aware that your parents work here, Xavier.”

A somber mood settled over the classroom as the mention of Xavier’s parents stirred a quiet undercurrent of envy and melancholy. The news evoked memories of personal loss among many of the students, casting a shadow over the room as they silently compared their own absent loved ones to Xavier’s still-present family.

“Anyway, Xavier,” Mrs. Stone said firmly, her voice cutting through the reflective silence, “since you were not paying attention, I’ll repeat myself. Please state your name, your ability, and a fun fact about yourself.”

Xavier let out a resigned sigh as he slowly sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. His tone was flat and indifferent as he began, “My name is Xavier Walker. My ability is Cryokinesis.” With a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned a small, shimmering shard of ice that glistened in the ambient light before dissolving into thin air. “And my fun fact is that I want to go back to sleep,” he added dryly, before slumping back into his seat with a soft groan, clearly uninterested in the proceedings.

The room fell quiet again, the earlier tension hanging heavy as Mrs. Stone shifted her focus to the last student. “Alright, Iris, you’re the last one left,” she announced gently. “Please introduce yourself.”

As all eyes turned toward Iris, the atmosphere brimmed with anticipation—a delicate mix of hope and apprehension—as she prepared to share her story and step further into a future that was as uncertain as it was inevitable.