The academy representative cleared her throat, a crisp sound that cut through the burgeoning whispers. "Alright, girls. Settle down. The introductory lesson is about to begin." Her gaze swept across the room, lingering on Andrew and the girl beside him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. No one else spoke to Andrew, though many glanced his way, curiosity warring with a newfound reticence.
General classes started, a dry recitation of their study schedule. The representative outlined the curriculum, the hours they would spend on theoretical cultivation, practical applications, and spiritual exercises. She then moved on to the intricate system of "contribution points."
"These points," she explained, holding up a sleek, metallic tablet, "are your currency within Vavilon. They grant you access to advanced techniques, powerful elixirs, and even special training sessions with our esteemed elders." A hushed reverence filled the room at the mention of the elders. "You earn them by completing tasks for the academy. These tasks range from simple chores to complex research, from assisting in city maintenance to participating in defensive drills." She swiped the tablet, and a holographic display shimmered into existence, listing a myriad of tasks, each with its corresponding point value. "The more challenging the task, the more points you receive. And remember, these points directly contribute to your growth. They are the key to unlocking your true potential."
Andrew absorbed the information, his mind already calculating, strategizing. The system seemed efficient, designed to motivate and reward effort. But the thought of tedious chores made his shoulders sag.
During the first small break, the girls dispersed, some heading to the lavatories, others clustered together, whispering excitedly about the contribution points. Andrew, however, remained in his seat. The formal droning of the academy representative had bored him. He turned to the girl beside him.
"You still haven't moved," he observed, his voice a low murmur.
She flinched, her shoulders tensing. Her head remained averted, but he saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. A tiny sound, like a swallowed gasp, escaped her lips.
"I… I didn't want to disturb you," she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. She finally turned her head, her dark eyes, wide and unsure, meeting his. Her long black hair, tightly bound in her braid, seemed to pull her features taut. She was beautiful, even with the flush painting her cheeks.
"You won't disturb me," Andrew assured her. He leaned back in his seat, a casual ease in his posture. "What's your name?"
"Amanda," she breathed, her gaze darting away, landing on a scuff mark on the polished floor. It took her a moment to gather her courage, then she added, "My name is Amanda." Her voice gained a fraction of strength as she finished the sentence, as if surprised she managed it.
"Andrew," he supplied, extending a hand. She hesitated, then slowly, tentatively, placed her small hand in his. Her palm was cool and slightly damp.
"It's… nice to meet you, Andrew," she stammered, pulling her hand away quickly. Her eyes, however, showed a flicker of something more, a nascent curiosity behind the shyness.
"So, Amanda," Andrew began, "why were you so determined to avoid looking at me?"
She blushed again, a furious crimson that spread to the tips of her ears. "I… I didn't think you'd want to speak to me." Her voice was so quiet, he almost missed it. "I'm not… not like the others."
"Like the others?" Andrew prompted, his gaze unwavering.
"They're… from important families," she explained, her voice gaining a touch of wistfulness. "Their parents are cultivators, powerful people. I… I'm just from a village. My parents are farmers." She looked down at her hands, twisting them together. "I only got in because my aptitude test was good."
"Second level, right?" Andrew asked. He recalled the details from the introductory lecture, where their aptitude levels had been briefly mentioned.
Her head shot up, her eyes wide with surprise. "How did you know?"
"They showed the aptitude results on the general display before class started," Andrew replied simply, a small smirk playing on his lips. He saw her shoulders relax slightly, a tiny breath escaping her. The tension in her posture, however, remained. She was clearly unused to this kind of attention. The notion of speaking to a talented male student, one who had already garnered such attention and respect, unnerved her. She seemed to view him as something extraordinary, an object of wonder, almost.
"Oh," she said, the realization dawning. A small, tentative smile touched her lips, quickly vanishing. "Yes. Second level. Just like you." She still seemed to struggle with the concept of their shared aptitude, as if it were a fantastical fluke rather than a real similarity.
Andrew nodded. "So what do you think of all this?" He gestured around the echoing hall, the polished floors reflecting the shimmering holographic displays.
Amanda bit her lip. "It's… a lot. My village was just fields and a few dusty houses. Here, everything glows. And the points system… it sounds complicated." She wrung her hands. "I heard some of the tasks mentioned during the lecture. Assisting in city maintenance. That sounds like a lot of work. Do you think they make us do plumbing?"
A low snicker rippled through a group of girls a few rows ahead. They twisted in their seats, their eyes flicking between Andrew and Amanda, then quickly darting away when Andrew met their gaze. Their hushed whispers followed.
"Plumbing?" Andrew repeated, a slight arch to his brow. "I imagine the rewards for fixing a leaky faucet are less than, say, defending a caravan from mutated beasts."
Her eyes widened. "Mutated beasts?" The color drained from her face. "Do we have to fight those?"
"Eventually, maybe," he conceded. "That's what cultivators do, isn't it? Protect the city, expand human territory." He paused, sensing her unease. "But I doubt they'll throw first-year students at anything too dangerous. Probably just basic Qi circulation exercises, learning how to manipulate elements."
"I hope so," she said, her voice small. "Learning to float sounds nice, though. My parents would never believe it. They'd think I was dreaming." A soft, wistful smile touched her lips, a stark contrast to her earlier apprehension. She gazed at the ceiling, as if imagining herself soaring through the air.
The break drew to a close. The representative returned, her voice once again cutting through the murmurs. "Alright, everyone. Back to your seats."
As the lecture resumed, Andrew found his mind wandering. He observed Amanda from the corner of his eye. She sat straighter now, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the representative. She seemed to absorb every word, every gesture, as if her life depended on it. He noticed the delicate curve of her jaw, the way her long black hair, despite its tight braid, still managed to frame her face in soft wisps.
The general curriculum continued with instruction about the history of Vavilon and its matriarchal society. The representative spoke of the city's founding, of the great matriarchs who had led their people through hardship, building a haven in a world ravaged by cosmic changes. She spoke of the importance of community, of each citizen contributing to the collective strength of Vavilon. Andrew found himself listening intently, piecing together fragments of information, his modern knowledge providing context for this strange new world.
When the next short break arrived, Andrew turned to Amanda again. "You seem to know a lot about this place already."
She looked up, startled. "Not really. My village was far out from here. We heard stories, of course. Grand legends about the Matriarchs, about how they brought rain to the desert, how they fought off monsters with their bare hands." She chuckled, a shy, musical sound. "My grandmother used to tell me tales every night. She made it sound so magical."
The group of girls nearby leaned in, their interest piqued. One of them, a tall girl with a confident air, caught Andrew's eye. She quickly looked away, but not before he saw a flicker of envy.
"And you believed them?" Andrew asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.
"Of course," Amanda replied, her eyes wide. "They were true. Weren't they? How else could Vavilon exist? A city this grand, built in the middle of… nowhere." She gestured vaguely.
"Grandmothers have a way of making any story sound convincing," Andrew mused. He remembered tales his own grandmother used to tell him, though those had involved mischievous fairies and talking animals, not powerful matriarchs.
"Did your grandmother tell you stories?" Amanda asked, her voice softer now, less inhibited.
Andrew paused. He remembered fleeting images, fragmented words, but nothing concrete. "Not really. Mostly my mother and aunt." He noticed a subtle shift in the girls' postures around them. Their whispers intensified, but their gazes remained glued to him and Amanda.
"Oh," Amanda said, her brow furrowing in sympathy. "That's also good." She seemed to forget her shyness for a moment, her compassion overriding her reticence. "And you have amazing talent. Everyone says so."
"Everyone?" Andrew smiled, a genuine, unforced smile. "Who's 'everyone'?"
She looked around, as if searching for an excuse. Her gaze landed on the instructors at the front of the room. They, too, watched him and Amanda, their expressions unreadable but clearly interested. "The instructors," she mumbled. "And… and the other students. They all talk about it. How you're almost a Foundation Establishment cultivator. And you're so young. It's… incredible." Her voice held a note of awe, free of any jealousy or judgment.