The Classroom
Wayne didn't mind the anonymity; he cherished it. He wasn't much of a people person, and the constant, buzzing attention his brother received was draining. Near the front row, a new student sat quietly, adjusting a silver four-point star necklace. She carried herself with a rigid, practiced grace, her eyes tracing the room with quiet precision.
The twins settled into their usual corner seats, navigating the lingering greetings from their classmates.
"Okay, so how exactly are we going to get a car?" Wayne asked, opening his backpack with no intention of pulling out books.
Damien was already strategizing. "We can't afford one, and stealing is not an option. We need someone wealthy enough to give us one."
"And who, in this poverty-stricken school, is going to do that?"
Damien's eyes flickered to the exact opposite corner of the room. "We'll ask Cecelia."
Wayne's face twisted into a scowl. "You're joking. That girl doesn't speak to anyone. She radiates 'go away' energy."
"We'll just be the first to break the ice," Damien said, standing up.
Where Damien was a magnet of heat and noise, Cecelia was an island of absolute frost. Sitting in the furthest corner, dressed entirely in black, her skin appeared almost translucent. She was the daughter of one of the world's wealthiest families, a perfect loner, and Damien's absolute polar opposite. Her official record listed her at a staggering 92% Negative Energy—the highest non-combatant rating post-war.
Wayne took one look at her unsettling stillness. Flames silently engulfed his body. He began to burn himself alive, a quiet, desperate plea for escape.
Damien, unconcerned, easily extinguished the flames with a swift bubble of water that condensed and burst over his twin's head.
"Don't be dramatic, Wayne," Damien chuckled, dragging his damp twin toward Cecelia's desk.
They sat heavily in the empty desks directly in front of her. The new girl in the front row turned slightly, her gaze tracking them.
Damien's smile was radiant. "Hi."
Cecelia's dead, pale eyes slowly lifted, panning from the blank wall behind Damien to his bright face.
"What?" she said, her voice weak, as though she hadn't used it in weeks.
"Well, first, we'd like to know how you're doing."
Cecelia stared at Damien silently for ten long, agonizing seconds. The awkwardness felt like an eternity to Wayne, who quietly ignited himself again, his body flickering with a weak orange glow.
Damien put him out with a precise, cold spray. "Don't mind him," Damien said.
"I'm leaving," Cecelia stated simply. She stood, her movements slow and deliberate, and walked toward the door.
"Cecelia, wait—" Damien called, but she was already past the threshold.
Muffled student whispers followed her departure. Why is Damien trying to talk to that weirdo? She's so creepy. Cecelia didn't flicker. She continued walking, leaving the school entirely.
Wayne wiped the residual water from his face. "Told you."
The Power System Lecture
The door swung open. The class teacher, Mr. Han, walked in, adjusting his crooked glasses.
"Good morning, class. Settle down," Mr. Han said, gesturing to the front row. "Before we begin, we have a new transfer student joining us today. Please welcome Alex."
The girl with the star necklace stood up smoothly, offering a polite, perfectly symmetrical nod to the class before sitting back down.
"Today, we're doing a quick recap of the power system," Mr. Han continued, gesturing toward the whiteboard. "As you all know, we each possess a mixture of positive and negative energy, paired with an innate ability. Alex, your file states your ability is purely informational?"
"Yes, Mr. Han," Alex replied, her voice measured and calm. "I see real-time energy percentages. But looking around, the official school logs seem... inaccurate. They treat energy like a fixed stat."
"An excellent observation," Mr. Han said. "Energy is dynamic; it fluctuates based on emotion, trauma, and environment. The logs are just a baseline."
"I noticed," Alex said, leaning forward. She glanced toward the door Cecelia had just exited. "The girl who just left—her public file says ninety-two percent Negative. But when she stood up to walk out, her real-time reading spiked to ninety-four. Is a deviation that sharp normal for an extreme negative?"
The twins shifted in their seats. Wayne glanced at Damien, whose cheerful demeanor faltered for a fraction of a second.
"For individuals at the extreme peaks, fluctuations are volatile," Mr. Han explained, his tone sharpening. "Think of power as a mountain range with three peaks. Those at the far ends possess the highest polarization. Damien anchors the Positive end. Cecelia anchors the Negative. At the center lies perfect synchronization—fifty-fifty—which is nearly impossible because finding that balance requires embracing the opposite of what you are."
Mr. Han paused, adjusting his glasses. "But remember, Alex, energy numbers do not dictate morality. One of the most notorious criminals in the Simba prison has seventy-five percent positive energy. Your sight tells you what kind of attacks to expect, nothing more. High positive indicates wind and water affinities, scaling up to cosmic techniques. High negative indicates fire and earth, scaling into the spiritual. If you fight Damien, you won't see fire."
The entire class yawned in unison, the esoteric lesson losing them.
Mr. Han sighed heavily. "Homework is on page fourteen. And Wayne," he added sternly. "Do your homework this time."
"I'm sick of being subjected to information I don't need," Wayne retorted. "I'll never be a mathematician, so I don't need to do math homework."
Mr. Han pushed his glasses up his nose. "Your innate ability relies on mathematical operations to quantify your energy. It pains me to see someone with the potential to match his twin waste it by ignoring algebra."
Wayne threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Then it seems like I need to ask the Deities why they gave me powers that require me to be a nerd."
"I'll help him, sir," Damien offered with a reliable smile. "We'll get it done."
Mr. Han smiled back, genuinely relieved. "Thank you, Damien. Class dismissed."