The UNE judges were gone.
No goodbye.
No last glance.
Just absence—
too abrupt, too uncaring,
as if escorting them had never been a matter worth emotion.
Eghosa watched the doorway for a second longer than necessary before turning away with a quiet sigh.
Maybe they didn't care.
Maybe they weren't meant to.
Maybe, in a world where galaxies were ruled like cities, students like them were just cargo delivered to a location.
As she walked with the others toward Villa 7-14, her mind spiraled quietly.
With their technology…
they could've given each of us an entire building.
A whole mansion per person.
Hell, a floating castle for each race.
So why force seven strangers to live together?
Interracial integration?
That explanation was too… human. Too simple. Too hopeful.
The Eghosa who had stared into the mouth of a dimensional tear did not believe simple answers anymore.
Her gaze drifted to Amos.
He was reading again—
that same children's book with faded illustrations.
He carried it everywhere.
His eyes lifted for less than a heartbeat to meet hers,
as if acknowledging her thoughts without needing to hear them,
before returning to the page.
That small moment of awareness only deepened her unease.
They followed the guidance of their Identifiers toward the villas.
The deeper they walked into the student dimension,
the more the world around them changed.
It wasn't just beautiful.
It was unreal.
A massive, open valley stretched to infinity—
forests of impossible green,
rivers of shimmering silver water,
birds with transparent wings drifting like floating jewels.
It was so big that they had been walking to their villa ever since but they hadn't met anyone yet, they hadn't bumped into anyone.
It felt untouched.
Not engineered—
preserved.
A paradise so perfect it felt mythic.
Melissa whispered,
"…This looks like Genesis."
Olenna brushed her fingers along a glowing leaf.
"It feels soft like memory. Like something old."
Rek'thar sniffed the wind and growled low.
"This is not natural.
The balance is too perfect.
Forest, water, scent, air… no decay. No rot. No death."
A Baka could smell life or death from kilometers away.
It was how their people hunted.
"There is life," Rek'thar continued,
"but no cycle.
Only birth."
An artificial Eden.
Something the Empire made—
but designed to look untouched.
The floating corridor leading to Villa 7-14 was breathtaking.
A walkway of translucent stone—
smooth like river glass—
hovering above a quiet lake that reflected the sky perfectly.
Their footsteps made no sound.
The air swallowed everything.
Melissa whispered,
"…This place feels alive."
"It is not alive," Sol-Vaar replied without turning.
"It is engineered.
Designed to imitate life so well… you forget it is not breathing."
Rek'thar grunted,
"Bad hunting ground. No prey. No blood. Only illusions."
Eghosa touched the nearest pillar.
Warm.
Like sunlit skin.
Not stone. Not metal. Something in-between.
Her brother's profession flashed in her mind—
ecosystem architecture, the delicate art of designing technology that blended into nature without disturbing it.
But this…
this was beyond anything humans could create.
This was nature sculpted by intelligence, not grown by time.
The villa doors slid open without sound.
Eghosa stepped inside—
and everything she believed about "student housing" collapsed.
Light poured from the walls like liquid dawn.
The ceiling rippled like a water surface reflecting three suns.
The floor felt soft—alive—responding faintly to her touch.
The house reacted to thought.
When she wondered where the stairs were—
the stairs assembled themselves from ripples in the wall.
"This is…"
Eghosa's voice failed her.
Olenna giggled.
"This is probably a standard student villa."
"STUDENT?" Eghosa choked.
Rek'thar sniffed.
"No traps."
Sol-Vaar drifted upward, unimpressed.
"Acceptable."
Cairn puffed his chest.
"I claim the top-left room—!"
He didn't finish.
Because Rek'thar LEAPT—
not with brute strength,
but with predator agility.
From floor to upper railing in a single fluid motion.
"That room is mine."
"By what right!?" Cairn demanded.
"Right of dominance."
Cairn clenched his jaw.
Rek'thar did not even blink.
Meanwhile, Sol-Vaar ascended without moving his body at all—
as if gravity had politely stepped aside.
The ceiling unfolded like a petal, welcoming him.
"My room will be the highest."
Rek'thar exhaled hard, almost like a growl of annoyance.
He had wanted the highest room too—
but now claiming it would look desperate.
One by one, the rooms claimed their occupants.
Sol-Vaar → Room 1
Rek'thar → Room 2
Cairn → Room 3
Amos → Room 4
Melissa → Room 5
Eghosa → Room 6
Olenna → Room 7
Rek'thar walked into the kitchen first.
He froze.
He stared at the nutrient dispensers—sleek, quiet, producing sterilized sustenance.
Then—
"WHERE IS THE MEAT!?"
His roar shook the panels.
"WHERE IS THE BLOOD!?"
"WHERE IS THE HUNTING GROUNDS!?"
To a Baka, eating was sacred.
A Baka only earned the right to eat by hunting worthy prey—
facing it without armor or tech—
honoring it with death.
This…
paste…
gel…
nutrient cubes…
This was insult.
He punched the wall.
The wall punched back.
Rek'thar was launched halfway across the villa and landed in a sofa with a massive thud.
Olenna squealed happily.
"Yay! Automatic defense!"
Cairn whispered, horrified,
"The… walls fight back?"
Melissa sighed.
"Well, at least we're safe at night."
A panel lit up:
WELCOME, VILLA 7-14.
PLEASE AVOID VIOLENCE.
AUTOMATIC PREVENTIONAL MEASURES ARE ACTIVE.
Rek'thar groaned.
"Correction hurts."
Sol-Vaar snorted.
"Weak wall."
The wall quivered—in offense.
"…I apologize," Sol-Vaar said stiffly.
The wall calmed.
Eghosa pressed her palm against her forehead.
"…This house has feelings."
Gradually, the chaos faded.
Everyone drifted into rooms.
The villa dimmed its lights naturally, like dusk settling.
Only Eghosa and Amos remained.
She stood by the stair rail, hands fidgeting.
She had stayed intentionally.
She needed answers.
She needed clarity from someone who saw more than she did.
But now that they were alone…
her throat tightened.
Amos finally closed his book.
"You wanted to speak," he said quietly.
She blinked.
"…You noticed?"
"I notice everything."
He stood, pointing at a wall panel.
The panel responded instantly—
not with random code—
but with intention.
It displayed an exterior view, shifting the angle as if sensing exactly what Amos wanted.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
"I—it reacted to you."
"No," Amos corrected gently.
"It reacted to the thought before I made it."
Eghosa stared.
She felt something cold move inside her chest.
"…Amos, what are you saying?"
"This academy wasn't built by humans.
Or by any Master Race."
"That's obvious—"
"No," he said again, firmer.
"You're missing the point."
He looked toward the ceiling—
those shimmering wave patterns that never repeated.
"Think carefully.
If any of the twelve Master Races had built this place,
it would reflect their culture, biology, architecture.
Fremick structures.
Planticus ecosystem design.
Jada mental interfaces.
Omini-Narian energy patterns."
He tapped the wall.
"This place is none of them.
It ignores all racial needs.
It follows none of their styles."
Eghosa's mind began racing.
"Then… this place is built by the Empire alone.
Which—"
"No," Amos said sharply.
The word struck like a blade.
"The Empire does nothing without purpose.
Nothing without advantage.
Nothing without a reason that benefits them."
His voice grew lower.
"Ask yourself:
Why would the Empire—the most dominant force in the galaxy—
create something that unites all twelve Master Races?"
He took a step closer.
"Why would they want us in the same place?
Why mix our species?
Why expose us to each other?
Why build all this?"
Eghosa swallowed hard.
She felt something shift inside her—a realization too big to name.
Amos continued:
"Everything here…
the hall…
the corridors…
this villa…
the technology…
the walls that feel…
the dimension itself…"
He looked straight at her.
"It's not just a school."
The villa lights flickered—
once—
like a heartbeat.
Eghosa's breath hitched.
"Then what is it?" she whispered.
Amos answered:
"A system."
A silence deeper than fear fell between them.
"A system built to shape us.
Test us.
Measure us.
Maybe even control us."
The walls rippled faintly—
as if listening.
Eghosa stepped back instinctively.
"Amos… you're scaring me."
"You should be scared," he said softly.
"We all should."
He touched the wall.
It pulsed beneath his fingers like warm flesh.
"Because whatever built this place…"
He paused.
"…is not something any race here can challenge."
The villa grew still.
Too still.
Like something holding its breath.
Their new life had begun.
And the Empire Royal Academy—
alive, aware, observing—
had already opened its eyes.