Chapter Two: The Gate To Nephron

The morning Utrecht City came into view, Roy understood something he hadn’t been able to put into words before.

Home had always been quiet.

Not silent — Marcus hated silence — but controlled. The kind of place where sound behaved itself. Where the hum of old training equipment blended with the wind outside, where footsteps were familiar, where danger never came from surprise.

Utrecht was the opposite.

The city rose like a living thing, layers upon layers of steel, glass, and awakened infrastructure stacked toward the clouds. Towers curved instead of standing straight, their surfaces alive with faint, pulsing lines of aura-tech that shimmered softly even in daylight. Transport rails floated without support, carrying sleek cars that glided more than they moved. People filled the streets in constant motion — not rushing, not panicking — simply existing with power.

Roy leaned forward slightly in the passenger seat, eyes scanning everything, a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Big,” he muttered.

Marcus snorted from behind the wheel. “That’s Utrecht holding back.”

Roy laughed, the sound light and easy, like this was just another trip, just another place. But his fingers tapped against his thigh in a restless rhythm he didn’t bother hiding. He felt it again — that strange pressure in his chest, the same one he’d felt the first time Marcus had brought up Nephron Academy months ago.

Not fear.

Expectation.

The road curved upward as they approached the academy district, where the city’s noise subtly changed. Less chaotic. More… focused. Buildings here were wider, heavier, their foundations sunk deep into the ground as if anchoring something vast and unseen beneath them.

Nephron Academy sat at the heart of it all.

The structure didn’t scream modernity the way the rest of Utrecht did. It didn’t need to. Massive stone walls reinforced with awakened alloys surrounded the campus, etched with symbols so old their meaning had faded into tradition. Tall iron gates stood open, not as an invitation, but as a challenge.

Roy exhaled slowly.

“So,” he said, tone deliberately casual, “this is where all the scary kids go to break each other, huh?”

Marcus parked the vehicle and cut the engine. “This is where they learn control,” he corrected. Then glanced sideways at Roy. “And where people start paying attention.”

Roy rolled his shoulders, stretching. “People already do that. You should see the stares I get at grocery stores.”

“That’s because you smile like you know something they don’t.”

Roy grinned wider. “Maybe I do.”

They stepped out into the open air. The academy grounds stretched far beyond the gates — training fields, observation towers, wide stone paths lined with awakened trees whose leaves shimmered faintly as students passed beneath them. Groups of teenagers gathered near the entrance, some laughing, some tense, some already showing off small flickers of ability without realizing it.

Roy felt small.

Not weak — never weak — but aware.

Everyone here had power. Everyone had something.

Marcus placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to prove anything today.”

Roy looked at him, surprised. “Since when do you tell me that?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “Since you stopped being five.”

For a moment, something unspoken passed between them — years of bruises, training, meals shared in silence, victories no one else had witnessed. Then Roy nodded.

“Got it,” he said lightly. “I’ll only prove things tomorrow.”

Marcus snorted despite himself.

They walked through the gates together.

The registration plaza buzzed with restrained energy. Massive screens floated above the open stone courtyard, currently dormant, while academy staff moved with calm efficiency among the arriving students. Tutors watched from raised platforms, their eyes sharp, their expressions unreadable.

Roy noticed them immediately.

You didn’t train with Marcus for fifteen years and miss that kind of gaze.

He felt it again — that pressure — tightening slightly as he stepped forward.

Names were being called. Students lined up, placing their hands on awakened scanners that flared briefly with light, projecting their information onto the screens above.

One by one.

Clean. Orderly.

Roy watched as a boy ahead of him stepped forward.

Name: Blake Hector

Age: 16

Registered Origin: Nephron Academy

Ability: Cosmic Speed

Rank: A

A ripple of murmurs followed. Blake scratched the back of his head, clearly pretending not to enjoy the attention, while a woman on the tutor platform smiled faintly — pride carefully hidden behind professionalism.

Roy tilted his head. “Fast guy,” he murmured.

Next.

Name: Connor Ryan

Age: 17

Ability: Blacksmithing

Rank: B+

Connor adjusted his glasses, calm and composed, giving a small nod to the staff before stepping aside. Another tutor — a woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper posture — watched him closely.

Then Roy noticed her.

She stood slightly apart from the others, hands folded behind her back, posture perfect, eyes forward.

Tanya.

No one needed to announce her presence. The air around her felt heavier, as if gravity itself acknowledged her existence. When she stepped forward, the scanner flared brighter than the rest.

Name: Tanya

Age: 16

Ability: Aura Manipulation / Gravity

Rank: S

Silence followed.

Not awe. Not shock.

Respect.

Tanya didn’t react. She simply stepped away, gaze never lifting, as if the world’s response meant nothing to her.

Roy watched her longer than he realized.

“Huh,” he said softly. “Quiet type.”

Marcus glanced at him. “Dangerous ones usually are.”

Then it was Roy’s turn.

He stepped forward, relaxed, hands in his pockets, posture loose. A few students glanced at him curiously — not because he looked special, but because he didn’t look nervous.

The scanner activated.

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then the screen flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And displayed:

Name: Roy

Age: 16

Registered Origin: Nephron Academy

Ability: —

Rank: UNKNOWN

The murmurs were immediate.

“What does that mean?”

“Is that a glitch?”

“Did he fake his registration?”

Roy blinked. Then laughed.

“Guess I broke it,” he said cheerfully.

A few students snickered. Others frowned. One of the tutors straightened slightly, eyes narrowing.

Marcus said nothing.

The staff member at the scanner cleared her throat. “You’ll undergo assessment later,” she said, voice neutral. “Proceed inside.”

Roy gave a casual salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

As he walked away, he felt it again.

That pressure.

Not stronger.

Just… attentive.

The dormitory halls were quieter than the plaza, sound dampened by awakened materials embedded in the walls. Students were assigned rooms efficiently, with minimal fuss.

Roy ended up sharing a corridor with Blake, Connor, and Lira Ben — a girl with pale hair and calm eyes who radiated cold even at rest.

They didn’t talk much at first.

Introductions were brief. Polite.

Real.

It wasn’t until later, as Roy lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, that the weight of the day finally settled in.

Unknown.

He rolled the word around in his head.

Didn’t bother him.

What bothered him was the feeling in his chest — the way it shifted, like something adjusting its position, like someone settling in more comfortably.

He frowned slightly.

“Okay,” he muttered to the empty room. “That’s new.”

No response came.

Just the distant hum of the city outside… and the sense that, somewhere deep within him, something had opened one eye.

And decided to wait.

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