It was already class time.

Silence draped over the campus as Yuan Ye Yuta walked alone down the academy path.

As always, his face was set in a scowl. No one knew what annoyed him, nor had anyone ever seen him smile. Yuan Ye Yuta’s grin—and his sister Yuan Ye Misaki’s real age—were both urban legends.

Seemingly aimless, Yuta suddenly halted. His eyes snapped left toward a wall.

Without warning, his left fist—glowing faintly—slammed into the bricks.

No explosion followed. Where the wall should have been, empty space yawned. His arm plunged through.

A shadowy figure burst from the void, rocketing skyward at blinding speed.

"Hmph."

In an instant, Yuta reappeared before him and drove a fist into his face.

*Thud.*

The impact shook the ground as the figure crashed down.

Blood trickled from the masked man’s lip. He sprang up, knowing escape was impossible with Yuta behind him. He dropped into a fighting stance.

Magic Power crackled around him, lightning dancing over his black garb.

Yuta didn’t rush. A cold smirk curled his lips as he raised his left hand, four fingers extended—*come at me*.

Provoked, the spy compressed the lightning into a single beam. *Boom!* It tore through the air, striking Yuta dead-on.

Light was the fastest thing in existence. By the time you saw the flash, the strike had already landed.

The bolt hit Yuta mid-air—but unlike the spy’s expectation, it left not a scratch.

Hovering above, Yuta’s grin turned savage.

"My turn."

The spy’s next move stunned him.

"I surrender! Don’t hit me!"

He ripped off his mask, revealing a gaunt, middle-aged face.

"I’ll accept prisoner status and confess to espionage. I expect proper treatment under your government’s protocols."

Yuta’s lip curled in disappointment.

Three minutes later, academy security hauled the spy away.

Alone, Yuta stared at the tiny projector left behind.

"So Brooks Institute’s new research has drawn flies from every nation? Pathetic. None can take a punch. I’d love to face a Waste Law Society executive for once."

...

...

Asgard Prison lay two hundred meters beneath the southern grasslands of Atlantis—a facility built solely for Mages.

Controlling Mages—beings who wielded Magic Power through sheer will—was difficult but not impossible. Methods like drugs, lobotomies, or brainwave electrodes could suppress their power, but the Mage Guild had banned such inhumane practices long ago.

So how else could you neutralize a Mage without harming them?

Brooks Institute’s research revealed Magic Power as a fundamental particle. Though invisible to eyes and machines, it had mass. And mass obeyed spatial laws. By flooding a space with non-magical particles—like pumping nitrogen into an opened wine bottle to halt oxidation—you could purge Magic Power from an area.

That was Asgard’s secret: strip the space of Magic Power, and Mages became powerless.

Two hundred meters underground, the prison was cold and silent. Weak lights glowed over spotless corridors and cells—a sterile waste for criminals.

In one cell, Waste Law Society executive Bernie Butterworth sat motionless on a steel bed. Dressed in white prison garb, eyes closed, he might have been asleep—or waiting.

Footsteps echoed nearby, then faded as if passing by.

Moments later, Bernie opened his eyes. A folded white paper lay before his door. He rose, retrieved it, and unfolded it in the dim light.

*"The plan proceeds smoothly. Await freedom patiently."*

*—Your comrade and ally, Daniel Ix*

The ink, written in reactive pigment, dissolved as he read. Soon, only blank paper remained.

Bernie returned to his bed. His stillness never broke—but a vicious grin spread across his face.

...

...

Sunday.

Valhalla Academy’s only day of rest!

Strolling downtown with his sister, Yan Lingxuan basked in the stares of passersby—admiring, envious, awestruck. His vanity swelled with satisfaction.

He’d planned this meticulously. Last night, he’d invited Lingyue under the guise of needing help buying daily necessities as a newcomer to Atlantis. A chance to tour this magical nation in the Pacific.

Founded in 2039 by the Mages Guild, Atlantis had flourished into one of the world’s most prosperous nations in just sixteen years.

Forged from 132 former Hawaiian islands, its 30,000-square-kilometer landmass held 1.5 million registered residents and 2 million transient workers. With a density of just 116.7 people per square kilometer, it remained spacious. Tropical monsoon climate kept temperatures steady between 26–31°C year-round—a paradise.

Atlantis thrived on three pillars: tourism, magic-tech industry, and agriculture.

Tourism drew over ten million visitors annually. Its magic engineering sector produced everything from household devices to military-grade magical weaponry, arming Mage units worldwide.

Stable weather made agriculture flourish too. Though pressured by U.S.-led economic blocs, trade partnerships with Zhonghua Region, Russia, Japan, and Korea fueled steady growth.

Blessed with strong economy, ideal geography, and hosting the world-leading Brooks Institute, Atlantis stood at the forefront of global magic and technology.

Ahem. Back to the siblings’ first shopping trip in ten years—*a date*, in Yan Lingxuan’s hopeful heart.

They were on North Town Street, the commercial strip nearest the dorms.

"That shop has nice clothes. Let’s go in!"

Lingxuan tugged Lingyue’s hand. *Her skin is so smooth. I never want to let go.*

"Isn’t this a women’s boutique?"

Bai Lingyue’s innocent confusion made her seem like a gift from heaven.

"You barely own casual wear, Lingyue. Let your brother pick some out. No arguments—it’s a brother’s duty!"

*(Truthfully, he just craved seeing her in new outfits.)*

Lingyue smiled at his earnest chest-thumping. Hand in hand, they entered.

Spotting a white chiffon gown in the display, Lingxuan turned to a clerk.

"Can she try this on?"

"Of course." The clerk beamed.

"It looks a bit... extravagant," Lingyue murmured.

"Wearing it would be the gown’s honor," the clerk replied smoothly. Lingyue had no counter. Lingxuan nodded vigorously.

Though the store used body scans to project virtual try-ons, real fabric felt more authentic.

Minutes later, Lingyue emerged from the fitting room in the gown. Every eye in the shop—including Lingxuan’s—widened.

Chiffon draped over snow-pale skin. Silver hair cascaded down her back. Bai Lingyue looked like a princess stepped from a fairy tale.

"Stunning. Your sister might be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen."

The clerk had already pegged their sibling bond.

Lingyue’s beauty even sparked drama: a nearby couple argued when the boyfriend kept staring. The girlfriend stomped on his foot and stormed out. He chased after her, glancing back at Lingyue one last time.

Lingxuan barely noticed. His gaze stayed locked on his sister. The gown softened her usual sharp, distant aura into something fragile.

*I want to hold her so badly.*

"Wrap these up too."

Lingxuan pointed at several expensive-looking dresses in the display, then added more—especially the black stockings. Knee-highs, thigh-highs, garter belts, bodystockings... *One dozen of each. Budget be damned. Seeing her in these is worth any price.*

At checkout, Lingyue worried about his funds.

"Don’t worry. I’ve saved enough."

He swiped his Wearable Device. The balance plummeted. *Better find a part-time job. How else will I buy her more clothes?* He didn’t know Lingyue had unrestricted access to research funds.

*(Ouri was Atlantis’s digital currency, also used across Europe.)*

After giving the dorm address for delivery, the siblings continued their stroll.

By noon, Lingxuan found the specialty restaurant recommended online.

*Evergreen*—an unassuming Western eatery tucked at the street’s end. Its name felt odd.

Atlantis had few tall buildings; seven stories was the limit. Lingxuan preferred it—no feeling of being caged birds. Chinese architecture dotted the island too, like the red *pailou* gate at North Town Street’s entrance. Han Chinese made up most residents here, their culture deeply woven into daily life.

*Pineapple shrimp stir-fry*

*Tuna salad*

*Pork rice balls*

*Two specialty grilled flatbreads*

Seated, Lingxuan used his WD to order pre-selected dishes. He’d asked Lingyue’s preference, but she’d only said, "Anything’s fine."

"Your order is confirmed. Please wait."

The WD’s polite chime felt warmer than silence.

While Lingxuan admired his sister, Lingyue noticed a waiter nearby.

"Brother, isn’t that your classmate?"

*My classmate?*

Lingxuan followed her gaze. After a pause, he recognized the face.

It wasn’t that Yan Lingxuan had a sharp memory after just one day of school, recalling every classmate. This student simply left a strong impression—he was one of the guys knocked down by shorty Yuta in the hallway yesterday morning. He was also from Class 1-G, and Yan thought his name was Harold Hai.

Harold Hai stood around 180cm tall, with a sturdy build. His skin tone and facial features suggested Chinese descent.

Was he working here? But why did he look so annoyed?

“You’re Harold Hai, right?” Yan Lingxuan greeted him as Harold approached. Harold only gave a cold nod and walked away. This attitude irked Yan.

“We’re still on shift; no slacking off,” Bai Lingyue said with a hint of shared bitterness. “Even though Valhalla Academy covers food and lodging, other expenses require effort. Many students take part-time jobs. After all, I might be the only one who came to Atlantis.” Yan understood and felt a pang of guilt.

...

After lunch, the two left Evergreen Wakaba Restaurant.

Walking with full bellies, Yan Lingxuan and Lingyue strolled through the city, getting familiar with the surroundings. Lingyue had eaten just as much as Yan, yet her stomach stayed perfectly flat. Yan, glancing at his sister’s belly, started daydreaming.

Sunlight in Atlantis—located in the middle of the Pacific—was intensely harsh. Without sunscreen, the consequences could be severe, especially for fair-skinned girls. But downtown pedestrians didn’t worry about UV rays. An invisible energy shield covered the area, decomposing and blocking harmful sunlight. So, despite the blazing sun, no heat touched the skin.

As they walked, Yan noticed many ordinary residents alongside mages. Roughly one in twelve passersby was a mage. It made sense: with only about a million mages worldwide and Atlantis’ population at 3.5 million, non-mages were inevitable.

Atlantis had 353,254 registered mages, ranking top globally per capita.

Back in Cloud Gate City, such peaceful coexistence between ordinary people and mages seemed unimaginable. The Mages Guild must have worked hard for this.

On his fourth day in Atlantis, Yan Lingxuan felt hopeful about this thriving magical nation.

If only peace could last forever.