The silence in the Director's office was not an absence of sound, but a presence. It was the deep, resonant quiet of immense power held in check, of weighty decisions waiting to be made. The room was circular, lined with floor-to-ceiling reinforced glass that offered a panoramic, dizzying view of the Hero High campus, now bathed in the amber glow of sunset. In the center, a large, obsidian table seemed to drink the fading light.
Director Julian Vance sat at its head, his hands steepled, his weathered face illuminated by the soft glow of holographic data-streams floating above the table's surface. Seated around him were the six individuals responsible for molding the next generation of humanity's shields.
The air hummed with the subtle, contained energies of their abilities. Felicia North, poised and unnervingly still, sat to his immediate right. To his left was Hugo Anderson, the Alpha first-year instructor, a man with a physique carved from granite and a gaze that felt like a physical weight. Across from them sat the second-year instructors: Dr. West Chester, an older man with sharp, intelligent eyes behind spectacles and an air of academic precision, and Doris Cyrus, a woman whose very presence seemed to warp the light slightly, her form never quite solid in one's vision. Completing the circle were the third-year mentors: Ethan Klaus, whose sharp features and perpetual scowl spoke of a man with no patience for failure, and Rhoda Stone, a woman with kind eyes set in a face of unyielding determination, her hands, resting on the table, looking as though they could crush stone.
"The first day concludes," Vance began, his voice a low rumble that required no amplification. "Let us take the measure of our new stock. Hugo, your Alphas."
Hugo Anderson leaned forward, the holographic display populating with images and stats of the top first-years. "The potential is… significant. Elster McQueen, Psionic-C class, shows remarkable control and tactical foresight. Kyle Olsen, Pyrokinetic C-, raw power but needs discipline. The standout, as expected, is Athena Knight. Spatial-Gravimetric manipulation, B+ rating. Her performance was not just superior; it was… clinical. She operates on a different conceptual level." He paused, a rare hint of awe in his voice. "She is the heir the Knight family has been waiting for."
Vance nodded slowly, his eyes scanning Athena's data. "And the others?"
"A predictable distribution of elemental, kinetic, and biological abilities. Strong. Malleable. They will make fine heroes with the correct… guidance." Hugo's tone left no doubt about whose guidance he meant.
Vance's gaze shifted to his right. "Felicia. Your Betas."
The air in the room seemed to grow denser. Felicia North did not move, but the hologram shifted, displaying the roster for Class B. A cascade of data scrolled, highlighting unstable power signatures, low-yield outputs, and crippling limitations.
"This year's Beta cohort contains the highest statistical concentration of sub-standard and defective abilities in the academy's recorded history," she stated, her voice devoid of judgment, merely factual. "We have a Terrakinesis user who can barely shift pebbles, a phaser who cannot fully reintegrate without nausea, an invisibility-gifted who cannot control what objects on her person are affected. The median potency rating is D-, bordering on E."
A faint sigh, heavy with disdain, came from Ethan Klaus. "A waste of resources. They should be filtered into support roles immediately. The Gates do not care for our charity."
"They are children, Ethan," Rhoda Stone countered, her voice calm but firm. "And sometimes, will can compensate for what power lacks. My third-year Betas have saved Alpha squads on more than one occasion through ingenuity, not brute force."
"Anecdotes are not data, Rhoda," Doris Cyrus interjected, her form flickering slightly. "The battlefield is a brutal statistician."
It was then that Dr. West Chester, who had been silently observing the Beta class data, adjusted his spectacles and leaned forward. "There is an anomaly in Felicia's report that the aggregate data obscures." His finger, precise and deliberate, tapped the air, and a single file expanded, dominating the hologram.
GREYSTONE, ARK. POWER CORE: NULL. STATUS: PROVISIONAL ADMISSION.
"A Null," Hugo Anderson stated, his brow furrowed. "I saw the waiver. A administrative curiosity, nothing more. Why is he being discussed?"
"Because this 'Null,'" West Chester continued, a strange, almost nostalgic light in his eyes, "defeated a C- ranked Metal-Absorber in a sanctioned duel this afternoon. With no visible power usage. His file states he passed the Adaptive Stress Test with a 71% efficiency rating, a score that would be respectable for a D-ranked physical enhancer."
A ripple of muted surprise went around the table. Ethan Klaus scoffed. "A fluke. Hendricks is a blunt instrument from a polished family. The boy got lucky."
"I observed the duel," Felicia North interjected, her calm voice cutting through the skepticism. "It was not luck. His movements were preternaturally efficient. His reaction time exceeded his physical stat projections by forty-three percent. He did not simply dodge; he processed, predicted, and exploited. There was a… calculated precision to his final strikes that was unsettling for an untrained adolescent."
The room was silent for a moment, digesting this.
"Greystone…" West Chester murmured, the name tasting familiar on his tongue. "I knew that name. I knew his parents. Brilliant minds, both of them. Researchers, not fighters. They died in that awful accident." He paused, his gaze growing distant. "And the grandfather… Alistair Greystone. He was my mentor. A genius engineer, decades ahead of his time."
All eyes were on him now.
"He took me under his wing when I was a young, un-Awakened researcher," West continued. "He believed technology could bridge the gap for those like us. But then… I Awakened. My path diverged. It was the last time I saw him properly. He was a proud man. He saw my Awakening not as a celebration, but as a betrayal of his purely scientific ideals."
He tapped the table, and a new data-window appeared, showing the logo of a sprawling tech conglomerate. "I kept tabs, as one does. He went to work for GALAXY CORP. Their R&D division. He was their star, until he wasn't. He was pushing theories… dangerous ones. About the true nature of the Gates. About 'extradimensional data-streams' and 'consciousness integration.' The board deemed it heretical, unscientific conjecture. They forced him out. He vanished from the public eye after that."
The implications hung in the air, thick and unspoken. The grandson of a disgraced genius, a man obsessed with extradimensional data, now displayed abilities that defied explanation.
"And the boy he defeated," Director Vance finally spoke, his voice low and intent. "Brody Hendricks. His elder brother, Freed, is currently leading the third-year deep-strike team on the Xylos recon mission beyond the Centauri Gate."
Ethan Klaus straightened up, a flicker of professional pride overshadowing his earlier disdain. "Freed Hendricks is one of our finest. A true A-rank Magnetokinetic. He will make General one day. This… embarrassment for his family will not be taken lightly when he returns."
"Which is precisely why this matter requires a delicate touch," Vance said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled instructors. "We have a potential latent ability, or something else entirely, tied to a name with a controversial and brilliant legacy. He has publicly humiliated the brother of one of our most promising upperclassmen, from a politically powerful family. And he resides in a Beta class full of volatile, high-risk abilities."
He leaned back, the holographic light casting deep shadows across his face.
"Felicia, you will continue to observe Greystone. Closely. I want to know the source of his precision. Is it a undiscovered psionic gift? A unique physical mutation? Or something… else. But do not intervene unless necessary. Let the ecosystem of the academy test him."
"Understood," Felicia replied, her expression unreadable.
"As for the Hendricks boy," Vance turned his gaze to the window, towards the stars where the third years were fighting. "His humiliation is a lesson he needed. Whether he learns from it or breaks from it will determine if there is a hero in him after all. The rest of you, manage your students. The equilibrium of this year is fragile. An anomaly like Greystone can be a catalyst for greatness… or for chaos."
The meeting was effectively over. The instructors rose, their forms disappearing through the various exits—some through the door, others, like Doris Cyrus, simply fading from view.
Soon, only Vance and the shimmering image of Ark Greystone's file remained in the darkening room. The Director stared at the word "NULL," a frown etched on his face. He knew, with the certainty of a man who had seen empires rise and fall, that the word was a lie. What lay beneath was a question, and at Hero High, questions had a habit of turning into explosions.