The skies above Virelia shimmered with a sheen of neon-blue light, the buzz of skycars zipping past skyscrapers like digital dragonflies. In this polished city of wealth and legacy, people didn’t just live—they competed, climbed, and crushed whoever stood in their way.
Which made Luca stand out like a busted neon sign in a luxury district.
He sat on the edge of a half-collapsed rooftop in District Nine—the kind of place where elevators didn’t work, and kids learned to throw punches before they learned to read. A half-eaten protein bar dangled from his mouth, barely chewing as he stared at his handheld tablet. His mop of jet-black hair was a mess, his hoodie ripped at the shoulder, and his sneakers had more holes than fabric.
But his eyes?
Sharp. Alive. Calculating.
“Let’s see…” he muttered, tapping through the screen. “Two-point-three percent odds. Not bad.”
“Bad” would’ve been zero percent. But Luca was an optimist.
The screen displayed a glowing interface: ARCHLIGHT ACADEMY: ELITE ENTRANCE LOTTERY. STATUS: ONE SLOT AVAILABLE. TAP TO CONFIRM ENTRY.
Arclight Academy wasn’t just any school. It was the school. Built by the ruling Houses of Virelia, it trained the best of the best—people born with powerful Innate Techniques, destined to join the city’s elite defense forces, or worse… the political elite.
Luca had no family name. No sponsors. No connections.
Just his fists and a dumb little thing called Overcharge.
People thought his ability sucked. It didn’t make things explode. It didn’t create illusions or rewrite code. It just let him push his physical abilities—speed, strength, reflexes—a bit beyond normal. The kind of thing most called “low-tier.”
But they didn’t have Luca’s mind.
“Time to test my luck,” he said with a grin, tapping the screen.
ENTRY CONFIRMED.
He didn’t expect much. Honestly, he’d only signed up because it was free and the alley market vendor promised him a free snack if he entered. It was a one-in-a-million chance.
So when his tablet chimed an hour later…
CONGRATULATIONS, LUCA. YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN ARCHLIGHT ACADEMY. REPORT WITHIN 48 HOURS.
…he choked on his protein bar and nearly fell off the roof.
Two days later, Luca stood in front of Arclight’s towering gates, trying not to look like a tourist.
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The academy was a sprawling fortress of glass and steel, its spires piercing the clouds. Drones hovered overhead, scanning new arrivals. A massive arch pulsed with electric-blue light as students poured in, their uniforms sleek and customized. Most came in luxury transports or were escorted by House guards.
Luca arrived by train. Standing alone, backpack slung over one shoulder, he couldn’t help noticing the stares.
“Who’s the street rat?”
“Wrong gate, maybe?”
“Definitely doesn’t look like House material.”
Luca just stretched, popped his neck, and yawned loudly. “Man, they weren’t kidding. Everyone here looks like they were born from money.”
A pair of students in tailored uniforms sneered as they walked past. One of them bumped his shoulder—on purpose.
“Watch it,” the guy said.
Luca blinked. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you needed the air to walk.”
The guy paused. “You got a smart mouth, no-name.”
“And you’ve got a sharp jawline. Looks fragile.” Luca grinned, hands in his pockets. “We all have our burdens.”
Before it escalated, a voice cut in.
“That’s enough.”
The student turned. The moment he did, he straightened like a soldier.
Because the one walking toward them wasn’t just anyone.
He had silver-blond hair, piercing violet eyes, and the unmistakable posture of someone born to rule.
Reign Halvorsen.
Heir to House Halvorsen. One of the Ten. A prodigy. Rich. Dangerous. Perfect.
And the guy who would become Luca’s rival.
Reign looked at Luca, eyes cool. “Name?”
Luca raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I was already getting interrogated. You the welcoming committee?”
“You’re not House. You’re not on any of the top-tier recruit lists. Which means you’re either a fluke or a fraud.”
Luca chuckled. “Or I’m just the guy who beat the odds.”
Reign didn’t smile. “Luck won’t carry you far here.”
“Good thing I packed something better,” Luca replied. “A spine.”
Their eyes locked. Around them, students went quiet, sensing tension. Then, without another word, Reign turned and walked away, the others falling in line behind him.
Luca exhaled. “Man, they really don’t make ‘em like back in the slums.”
He took a step forward—and accidentally bumped into someone else.
She was shorter than him, but the aura around her was… intense. Her hair was tied in a sharp ponytail, and her uniform was already customized with red linings. Her gaze flicked up, eyes sharp like glass.
“Watch it,” she said, calm but curt.
Luca raised his hands. “Wasn’t aiming to start a war. Friendly neighborhood fluke, reporting in.”
She studied him for a second. “Name?”
“Luca.”
A pause.
“Kaela Virelith,” she said.
He blinked. “Virelith like… House Virelith? The cybernetics empire?”
“Yes.”
Luca let out a low whistle. “Damn. Hope you don’t vaporize people with eye contact.”
She didn’t laugh. But she didn’t walk away either.
“You’re not from a House.”
“Nope.”
“Then this place will chew you up.”
Luca gave a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ll learn how to bite harder.”
Orientation was a blur. Rules, rankings, room assignments.
What mattered most?
Ranks.
Students were placed from D-Rank (lowest) to A-Rank based on testing simulations. The S-Rank was something else entirely—only ten students were allowed to hold that title at any time. The strongest of the strong. Legends in the making.
Luca wasn’t aiming to survive.
He was aiming for S-Rank.
He didn’t want to live on the streets. He didn’t want to beg, scrape, or dodge rent. He wanted more.
Respect. Safety. Maybe even a real bed.
And if he had to outsmart, outfight, and outlast the rich kids of Virelia to get it?
So be it.
As the digital announcements buzzed in the hall, listing initial test schedules, Luca leaned back against the wall and grinned to himself.
“Alright, Arclight. Let’s dance.“
