Lucas jolted awake to the sharp buzz of his alarm. The clock on his wrist device blinked 05:32. He was late. Again. With a groan, he jumped out of bed, grabbing his uniform in a rush. His dreadlocks, hanging halfway down his back, swayed as he moved, but there was no time to adjust them properly now. 05:35. He could hear the bustle of cadets already out in the halls. Another day, another close call.
The academy pulsed with an undercurrent of competition, a living entity of its own. Its towering structures, more organic than mechanical, seemed to breathe, their sleek surfaces a blend of nanofiber and flowing energy fields. Everything about the academy was engineered not just for efficiency but to create an environment that shaped and tested its cadets at every turn. Walls glowed softly with data streams, feeding directly into the AI network that controlled everything from schedules to atmospheric adjustments.
Among the technological marvels were the drones—small, golf ball-sized spheres that hovered silently in the corridors. Each drone was a marvel of microengineering, scanning everything from micro-expressions to hormone levels, subtly adjusting the cadets’ surroundings—temperature, light, even the mix of oxygen in the air—to ensure peak performance. Their presence was so common that most cadets barely noticed them anymore. These drones weren’t the most sophisticated aspect of the academy, but they played a vital role in the ecosystem of constant evaluation and adjustment. Each student’s data was fed into the academy’s massive AI network, ever calculating, ever watching.
Lucas darted through the corridors, weaving between groups of students. Every 14-year-old across the nation was drafted here—the start of the path to citizenship. Lucas had been here six years now, striving to secure his future. By 25, cadets would be set on a path determined by their performance, shaping their future roles in society. This wasn’t just school—it was survival.
The glowing screens lining the walls constantly updated the rankings, a stark reminder of the competition. His name hovered just outside the top ranks, always within sight of the elites, but never quite there.
Above him, the sleek glass bridges seemed to glide through the air, suspended without visible support, as if held aloft by invisible forces. Reserved for the academy’s elite, the bridges offered not just speed but a symbol of status—those who walked above rarely mingled with those below. The structures shimmered faintly with the same energy fields that powered the academy, an ever-present reminder that everything here, even the architecture, was designed to push cadets toward their potential. His brothers, both within that elite, used them regularly, while Lucas preferred the rush of the ground floor. He liked the energy—the crowd, the constant movement. His brothers teased him for it, but for Lucas, the main corridors were where he felt most alive. The bridges were for those more concerned with efficiency. Lucas liked the chaos.
Ahead, he spotted Gabriel and Tristen waiting for him near the training yard.
Gabriel, always the strategist, was absorbed in his datapad, scanning through information with focused intensity. His neatly tied dreadlocks were as controlled and calculated as he was. Tristen, meanwhile, stood with his arms crossed, his posture as disciplined as his personality. His gaze followed Lucas’s approach, already prepared for his brother’s habitual tardiness.
“Late again,” Gabriel said without looking up, his tone even, almost teasing.
“You guys take the bridge?” Lucas asked, grinning as he slowed to a stop in front of them.
Tristen glanced up at the glass walkway above them, then back at Lucas. “Of course. It’s faster, and some of us actually care about being on time.”
“You’re always late,” Tristen said, his voice edged with the same authority he carried in every aspect of his life. His dreadlocks, shorter and neatly in a ponytail, undercut and faded on the sides matched the disciplined, soldier-like aura that clung to him. “We can’t keep slacking, Lucas. This place isn’t a joke, and you need to take it seriously.”
Gabriel smirked, eyes still glued to his datapad. “You know, Lucas, efficiency has its perks. You should try it sometime.”
Lucas laughed, brushing it off. “You two miss all the fun down here. And you know me—I like keeping it interesting.”
Tristen raised an eyebrow. “Fun? This place is about advancement, not amusement.”
Lucas forced a grin, the familiar bravado slipping into place like a well-worn mask. “What can I say? Every great story needs an entrance.” The words rolled off his tongue easily, but underneath, his heart pounded. His brothers might see the humor, but they didn’t see the gnawing worry beneath—the fear that one day, his entrance might not be enough.
Lucas shrugged, though the weight of Tristen’s words settled heavily on his shoulders. “Just keeping things exciting.” He tried to sound lighthearted, but the words rang hollow. There was no way around the pressure. Tristen’s words echoed what he already knew: he couldn’t afford to mess up. Not now. Not when everything you did was evaluated by the AI.
Gabriel glanced up, his expression a mix of amusement and sympathy. “At this rate, you’re going to run out of entrances to make.”
Lucas chuckled again, masking the slight unease at the reminder of how often he cut it close. Still, a wide smile began to creep across his face as he thought to himself—even if he had elite status like his brothers, he wouldn’t take the prestigious bridges. He couldn’t deny the thrill of the crowded floor, though—being in the middle of the movement, the buzz of competition. Even if he didn’t have the efficiency of the bridge, there was something about this space that fueled him.
Before Lucas could respond with another joke, the academy’s intercom crackled to life, slicing through the noise with abrupt authority. “All cadets, report to the main auditorium immediately.”
The chatter around them died instantly, leaving a strange void in the air, as if even the walls had drawn breath, waiting. A chill ran through Lucas as he exchanged glances with his brothers.
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“That’s new,” he said, quieter than intended, his earlier bravado slipping away.
Gabriel tucked his datapad under his arm, his expression sharpening. “Yeah, something’s definitely up.”
Tristen was already moving, his strides purposeful. “Let’s go. Whatever this is, we’re not going to be late for it.”
The auditorium was already filling by the time they arrived. Cadets streamed in from every direction, taking their seats as the massive holographic screens above the stage flickered to life. Lucas slid into his seat beside his brothers, the tension in the room thick and palpable. The lights dimmed, and the instructors lined the walls, their faces set with quiet intensity.
Lucas scanned the crowd. The usual buzz of conversation had quieted, replaced with a growing sense of anticipation. The air seemed to hum, charged with the weight of the unknown. He exchanged glances with his brothers, each of them on edge, as if the entire room was collectively holding its breath.
The screens sharpened, displaying the emblem of the global government, casting a cool blue glow over the room. All eyes turned toward the center screen as the figure of the President of the Global Military Council appeared, his presence dominating the room.
“Cadets, citizens, and allies,” the president’s voice rang out, steady and commanding. “For decades, we have trained for this moment. Your future, your performance, everything you have worked for has led to this.”
Lucas leaned forward, his breath catching. This was it.
The president’s image shifted to a map, unfamiliar yet tantalizing. Strange landscapes and alien terrains filled the projection—places that were not of this world.
“For nearly fifty years, the existence of another realm—a world of untapped potential, mysteries, and impossible threats—has been the greatest secret of our government,” the president continued, his voice low, almost reverent. “This world, unlike anything we’ve ever encountered, is a nexus of ancient power and unknown technologies, a place where our most sophisticated systems pale in comparison to the forces at play. Until now, no one was prepared for what lies beyond.”
A thrill surged through Lucas. The simulations, the endless drills—it had all been leading to this. His heart pounded in his chest. He turned to his brothers, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, we’re doing this, right?”
Gabriel gave him a measured look, the datapad now resting on his lap. “We need to think this through. This isn’t the simulations. We have no idea what’s over there.”
“Exactly,” Lucas shot back. “We’ve been waiting for something real. This is our chance. Instant citizenship. A fast track to the top.”
Tristen’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tense as if weighing the gravity of their decision. “This isn’t just another mission, Lucas. One wrong move out there, and we’re finished. No resets, no second chances.” His words hung in the air like a warning, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.
Lucas’s grin faded. “I know.” The gravity of it was starting to settle. “But we’ve always had each other’s backs. This time won’t be any different.”
Gabriel nodded slowly, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “If we do this, we do it together.”
The brothers exchanged a silent look, the unspoken promise hanging between them. They had made it this far because of each other, and they wouldn’t stop now.
As the cadets filed out of the auditorium, the weight of the decision pressed heavily on them. Lucas’s thoughts raced, excitement and fear warring in his chest. The stakes had never been higher. A whole new world awaited—one full of dangers, yes, but also unimaginable possibilities. And for the first time, Lucas felt like they were on the verge of something monumental.
---
Back in their shared room, the tension followed them like a shadow. Lucas flopped down on his unmade bed, his violin resting against the wall where he’d left it. His fingers itched to play, to find some rhythm that would quiet the storm in his mind. But the weight of what they’d just learned sat heavy in the room, making even the simple act of reaching for the violin feel like too much.
Gabriel sat at his desk, the glow of his datapad illuminating his thoughtful expression as he pulled up more information on the portal. “I’ve been digging through whatever records I could find,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “There’s a lot we still don’t know about the new world. Most of the official reports are full of speculation. But they’ve been preparing for this for decades.”
Tristen sat on his pristinely made bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. “And yet, they’re offering instant citizenship. That alone tells us how dangerous this really is.”
Lucas finally picked up the violin, running the bow across the strings. The soft notes filled the room, easing some of the tension. “I wonder what kind of powers we’ll have over there,” he mused, his tone casual, as if he were imagining the next level of a game. “If it’s anything like the simulations, we’ll probably have to adapt quickly.”
Tristen’s gaze sharpened. “This isn’t a game, Lucas. Powers or not, we’re talking about real-life consequences now. Real danger. Maybe even real death.”
The weight of Tristen’s words settled in the room like a cold stone. Real death. They’d never spoken of it out loud, but Lucas knew it had crossed all their minds. In the simulations, mistakes meant a reset, another chance. But in this new world, there wouldn’t be a do-over.
Gabriel looked up from his datapad, his eyes hard. “We don’t know what we’ll be facing over there, but whatever it is, they wouldn’t be offering citizenship as a reward if it wasn’t high stakes.”
Lucas’s hand stilled on the violin. For a moment, the room was filled with silence, broken only by the faint hum of the academy’s machinery outside. This wasn’t just a challenge. It was survival.
“I get it,” Lucas said quietly, the usual playfulness gone from his voice. “But still… if we do this, we’ll finally be free.”
Tristen met his gaze, the unspoken fears passing between them. “Yeah,” he said softly. “If we survive.”
---
### The Next Morning
The academy buzzed with anticipation. As the brothers lined up with the other cadets, the weight of the previous night’s announcement still hung in the air. Lucas glanced up at the displays lining the corridors, the rankings shifting in real-time. His name, along with Gabriel’s and Tristen’s, hovered near the top, a reminder of how far they’d come. But it didn’t feel like enough—not anymore.
Tristen read the glowing displays ahead of them, his hazel eyes narrowing. “They’re treating this like a colonization effort. We’re the front line.”
Gabriel nodded, his fingers dancing over his datapad as he cross-referenced information. “They’ve been planning this for a long time. We’re just the next phase.”
Lucas couldn’t help but grin, even as his heart pounded. “At least we’ll have powers while we’re over there. Think of what we can do with that.”
Tristen remained serious. “Powers or not, we need to be careful. This isn’t just a simulation anymore.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the excitement bubbling up inside him. The thought of wielding actual abilities, of stepping into a real world with real stakes—it was thrilling. “Isn’t it, though?” he muttered with a sly grin.
As the line moved forward, Lucas, Gabriel, and Tristen finally stepped into the processing center. The sterile white walls and hum of machines felt cold, almost clinical. They stood side by side, ready for whatever came next.
Lucas adjusted his uniform, his violin case slung over his shoulder, the familiar weight a comforting reminder of who he was, even in the face of the unknown. “Let’s do this.”
As they approached the first terminal, an energetic voice called out.
“Hastings.”
The brothers exchanged a glance before saying in unison, “Which one?”
The voice responded without hesitation, “Lucas Hastings. Step forward.”
Lucas’s heart skipped a beat as he stepped toward the terminal. This was it. There was no turning back now.
---
Lucas entered the sterile room, the metallic clink of restraints snapping over his wrists and ankles as he sat in the chair. The disembodied voice that filled the room was calm, clinical, almost indifferent. “Please remain calm. You are about to undergo the baseline compatibility test.”
His heart raced as the robotic arms extended, injecting him with substances that made his skin feel too hot, then too cold. His body reacted to each sensation, his mind spinning as he tried to grasp what was happening. His DNA was being tested, reshuffled, examined in ways he couldn’t comprehend.
Finally, the voice returned: “Baseline compatibility confirmed.”
Relief flooded through him, though it was tinged with an unfamiliar sense of unease. What had they just done to him?
The restraints unlocked with a soft hiss, and Lucas stood, his legs unsteady beneath him. But before he could gather his thoughts, the back wall of the room shimmered, revealing a swirling, iridescent portal.
“Lucas Hastings, please proceed through the portal. This will complete your processing and determine your final compatibility.”
His heart pounded. This was the moment they’d been training for, the moment that would define their future. Lucas took a deep breath and stepped toward the portal, the energy crackling around him, pulling him in.
Everything shifted. For a moment, the world was dark and silent, and then—with a rush of light and sound—