Time stopped feeling like time.
Days blurred into patterns—fight, rest, learn, repeat—until weeks quietly turned into months. We trained like that for three months inside the barrier zone, stepping into the portal world almost every day, returning exhausted, stronger, and more certain than before.
The portal world stopped feeling alien.
We learned which areas were safe, which paths led to creatures, which plants were edible. Some looked nothing like Earth's crops—thick-skinned fruits glowing faintly, vine clusters shaped wrong—but when we tasted them, they were familiar. Sweet. Sour. Filling.
We discovered this by accident.
A wolf-like beast had been stalking us for days—lean, fast, its body traced with lightning-shaped patterns that sparked when it moved. When Monisha finally summoned it properly, it didn't attack. It hunted.
It brought back fruit.
Later, a monkey-like creature joined it—agile, curious, clever enough to mimic our movements. It tested plants before we did, watched reactions, learned quickly. Both creatures became part of Monisha's training, responding better the more confident she became.
She changed.
Not just stronger—but steadier.
So did we.
The fights became sharper. Cleaner. Less panic. More coordination. We learned to rotate positions, cover blind spots, retreat without breaking formation. Kazim's suit responded like a second body now. Aira's fire burned hotter and longer. Ren's control stretched wider, his vines tougher and faster.
And I—
I stopped hesitating.
Power levels stopped being just numbers, but we tracked them anyway.
Kiyoto — 68 / 100
Kazim — 70 / 100
Aira — 65 / 100
Ren — 60 / 100
Monisha — 73 / 100
We were no longer the same people who had run from the academies.
It had been two months since any of us last stepped on Earth.
Far away from us, the academies were changing too.
And not for the better.
Academy One expanded its intake.
Younger recruits. Faster conditioning. Training stripped of mercy. Children were molded into soldiers before they understood what they were being trained to kill for.
Academy Two turned outward.
They sold equipment. Traded technology. Built quiet relationships with powerful families and VIPs. Influence became currency, and currency bought protection.
Academy Four and Five took the land.
Agriculture zones stretched wider, optimized for efficiency, not sustainability. Food production became centralized, controlled, rationed. Dependence was intentional.
And Academy Three—
Academy Three grew darker.
More equipment. More experimentation. More children processed instead of taught. Summoners were treated like tools, broken down for parts, their usefulness measured only by output.
Cruelty wasn't hidden anymore.
It was systematic.
Cold.
Efficient.
The academies weren't preparing for defense.
They were preparing for domination.
For reclaiming Earth.
For erasing anything—or anyone—that didn't fit their design.
And somewhere deep in their systems, our names still existed.
Flagged.
Tracked.
Unresolved.
While we trained beneath another sun, they were building an army under ours.
Two worlds were growing stronger.
Only one of them believed mercy was a weakness.