New Year's Day, Post-Great Cataclysm, Highlight, Year: 24, Day One.
54:00 – Glory Academy.
The golden sun rose slowly, shining brilliantly across the morning sky. The early light spilt across the city-like campus of Glory Academy.
The academy was unusually quiet—that was to be expected, most students were still asleep.
But Tandav was awake.
He stood alone on a secluded terrace built into one of the higher platforms of the East Dormitory Wing.
It wasn't much—just an open expanse of tiled floor, some meditation rings, and a functioning lumina-lantern flickering in the corner. But it caught the morning wind just right. And that was enough for him.
Tandav laid his mat down and unrolled it carefully. He touched his forehead to it once, briefly, in respect and then rose.
He wore a jet-black silk robe, elegant and fitted. Bound at the waist by a serpent-cloth belt that shimmered from crimson to gold, like living fire.
Strange bells chimed softly around his bare ankles, which appeared to match the cuffs around his wrists.
Above his brows rested a gold circlet, shaped like a burning crescent moon. At its centre rose an upright cobra, its fangs bared.
And beneath the robe, unseen by the world, lay a divine mural inked into flesh.
'Ananda Tandava…'
"Aashvi, start the music."
It began softly, joyfully and ancient.
The tattoos across his chest and back ignited in golden brilliance. The Eye of Horus, interwoven with a three-pronged trident, the Trishula, flared across his spine.
Etched lines of divinity flared like a burning script, alive with each motion, pulsing in perfect harmony with the dance. Like a beating heart.
His body felt like fire, burning with the brilliance of life. The Ananda Tandava, the dance of bliss. It was a sacred performance passed through generations from his homeland, Suryet. Ceremonial. Fierce. And profoundly joyful.
His name came from this dance.
When the music ended, he stood beneath the full warmth of the sun, chest rising slowly. The world around him felt like heaven.
He smiled brightly, so bright that it seemed blinding.
"Happy New Year."
***
A young boy walked along a desolate street, the boy's arms swinging wide for balance as he skipped, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like they meant something.
He appeared no older than six or seven. With a mop of black hair, a hoodie some sizes too big, and sneakers that lit up with every step.
Giuseppe wasn't sure why he was following.
He couldn't tell if he was walking, if he was drifting, or simply being pulled—but the boy always remained just a few paces ahead, close enough to see, never close enough to reach.
The night sky above was overcast. Chinatown's lights blinked through the grey fog. Giuseppe didn't recognise the place. It felt older than anything he knew—like the old world, Earth, maybe.
A sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by the crack of a puck against glass.
He blinked.
Now he sat in the stands of an ice hockey rink, the cold seeping through the metal bench. On the ice, the boy had grown—now twelve or so, and more... spirited. He shoved a teammate hard to the ground, his face scrunched in frustration as the final buzzer sounded. Evidently, they had lost.
And with another blink.
He sat in the backseat of a car. Rain streaked the windows. In the front, the boy leaned against the glass, silent, while a woman—his mother, most likely—shouted at him.
The words were muffled, like voices heard underwater, but Giuseppe didn't need to hear them to understand.
"What do you——doing, Kyle? ARE YOU———Kyle!?"
Blink.
Giuseppe glanced around a small, dimly lit bedroom. Posters lining the walls. The boy he'd been watching—though for what amount of time, he couldn't say—was now fifteen.
He watched as the boy sat hunched at a battered desk, eyes dull, glazed over in exhaustion, devouring games, anime, webnovels—an endless consumption of anything that could drag him somewhere else.
On the computer screen, a novel page stayed open, its title burning into Giuseppe's mind:
Warcraft Online
Another blink.
And the streets of Chinatown had returned. The street was now filled with emergency service cars. The sirens rang in his ears, but he ignored them, turning his head to look at the sight next to him. A boy, he was no longer. At nineteen, his body lay lifeless on the ground.
Paramedics worked frantically over him, but even Giuseppe could tell it was hopeless.
He glanced back at the truck that had rammed into a supermarket wall. Multiple other pedestrians lay dead on the ground.
What looked to be a middle-aged officer yanked the driver out of the vehicle, and a bottle of whiskey fell from the man's hands. He looked around deliriously as if he couldn't understand what was happening around him.
Giuseppe blinked again.
He was in a dorm room—smaller, humbler than his own, but he could still tell. He had returned to the world he knew. He was at Glory Academy.
In the half-light, a young man stirred groggily as he awoke from the floor: blonde hair, plain face, solid frame.
Giuseppe recognised him.
Ryan Reidus.
…
Giuseppe's eyes opened slowly. He heard the familiar soft hum of the dormitory's morning systems kicking in—air circulation, light calibration, background noise dampeners. But still, golden sunlight crept through the gaps in the window blinds.
For a moment, he lay still, staring upward. His long, tangled hair clung to the sides of his face, damp with sweat. Giuseppe pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling the moistness.
There was a faint sense that something had just happened—like the lingering aftertaste of a dream he couldn't quite catch. Though it didn't feel like a nightmare. No fear clung to his heart—only a strange, hollow confusion.
"…What the fuck was that about?" he muttered.
He sat up, glancing around his room as if half-expecting to find something out of place. But everything was normal.
His boots were by the door. His coat was draped over the back of the chair. His many glorious bucket hats are on their shelf. His Connector remained at his bedside table.
And his Game-Pod is... yeah, that thing is not going anywhere.
Everything he gave a damn about was accounted for, all in place, as all things should be.
Giuseppe ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall over his eyes as he stood up from the bed.
He shook his head, brushing off the thought.
'Whatever.'
***
Daniel stepped out of his room, adjusting the strap of his satchel slung casually across his chest. He wore a dark, earth-toned plaid shirt left unbuttoned over a black turtleneck. With a simple necklace holding a small crescent moon charm.
He glanced up from his Connector, just in time to see Giuseppe striding down the hall. Dressed in his usual style, he wore white running trousers, a white long-sleeve shirt patterned with swirling golden cloud designs, and black sneakers.
And, of course. His signature white bucket hat sat atop his head.
He was also carrying a bucket full of water, for some odd reason.
Daniel blinked.
Giuseppe, face set with determination, marched straight to Marcus's door and—
BANG!
Kicked it open without a hint of hesitation.
From inside, Daniel could hear Marcus's groggy voice ring out in panic.
"Wait—wait! I'm awake—!"
Splash!
The freezing water hit Marcus dead-on, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to make. A high-pitched shriek echoed down the hall—more squeal than scream—before it turned into a growl of pure rage.
"YOU'RE DEAD!"
Giuseppe was already fleeing, arms flailing like a man escaping a burning building. He slammed Marcus's door shut behind him.
"Yihihihihi~"
As he sprinted down the hall, he shot Daniel a thumbs-up as he passed him, grinning like he'd just won a grand prize.
Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair.
'This guy, man…'
***
Marcus stepped into Tandav's room—the group's unofficial meeting spot—and was immediately greeted by an absurd scene.
Giuseppe was busy using a ridiculous amount of Val Tape to bind Daniel to a wall, grinning like a madman.
Arthur was rolling on the floor, wheezing and clutching his stomach, as he struggled to breathe through hysterical laughter.
And Tandav sat calmly at the table, sipping tea, watching a holographic screen religiously as if nothing unusual was happening.
Marcus blinked. He stood frozen in the doorway and couldn't help but ask the one burning question in his mind.
"Uhmm…? What exactly is going on here?"
Giuseppe gave a half-hearted shrug, while Daniel's muffled voice tried to escape the absurd amount of tape.
"It's a very, very long story. You took ages to get ready, man." Giuseppe said, shrugging far too casually.
Marcus stared blankly. Witnessing the audacity in front of him, a thousand comebacks and retorts flooded his mind in the span of a heartbeat.
But he let them all go with a silent exhale as he realised that none were worth the effort.
What was the point? If he complained about the bucket of water, Giuseppe would just fall back on his usual nonsense, and say something like—
"Geez, you're still going on about that. You need to learn to be more forgiving, you can't die with grudges like that, man. It's bad for your health."
'I can already hear it. Word for word… Not happening. No sir. Not this time.'
So instead, Marcus did something unthinkable—something that would throw Giuseppe so far off balance he might actually shut up for once.
He smiled.
"I forgive you."
That smile would haunt Giuseppe for however long it would take for him to forget about it entirely.
Marcus walked past him without another word. Giuseppe just stood there, frozen in place. Daniel threw him a desperate, pleading look.
Marcus ignored it completely.
Despite his reputation as a saint among the students at Glory Academy, Marcus knew the truth: he only looked saintly because of who he stood next to.
When you were constantly compared to a demon like Giuseppe, anyone would look like the pope by contrast.
Arthur saw the twitch in Marcus's lips as he looked at Daniel; he was clearly trying to hold back his laugh.
"So.. we're just leaving him like that?" Arthur said through choked laughs as he pointed at Daniel.
Marcus gave a casual shrug. Then, without another glance, he turned to Tandav, who hadn't moved an inch the entire time.
Marcus, Arthur, and a newly-rebooted Giuseppe drifted behind him, peering over his shoulder at the floating holographic screen he appeared to be so fixated on.
The moment they saw what was playing, all three of them fell silent.
"Dude... Are you serious?"
"I think he's still in denial."
"That's literally a man."
But, Tandav stared back at them, with a smile and shining bright eyes.
"I know... and I don't care. She is Kori to me."
***
"A-ahem... C'mon, guys, we need to get to the Main Hall. They're handing out the Mythlinks," Marcus announced, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention.
The room was immediately overcome by a cathedral-like silence.
A Mythlink—officially called an Aetherlink Key, technically—was one of the most valuable things a student could ever receive.
Because The Mythlink was the only gateway into Warcraft Online.
Marcus watched the familiar gleam ignite in everyone's eyes. He couldn't help but smile a little. Even for someone like him, who tried to keep his calm, stoic, nonchalant image, it was impossible not to feel it.
Then, an electronic chime cut through the air.
[Notice: All first-years, please report to the Main Hall immediately.]
The message flashed across their Connectors, confirming what they already knew.
It was time.
________________________________
Author Note
;)