The fluorescent lights of Wellston’s main corridor cast harsh shadows as students hurry past, their abilities unconsciously flickering like nervous tics. I watch from the administrative interface as another day unfolds in this powder keg of teenage power dynamics. The morning air thrums with unspoken tensions - a mid-tier student accidentally bumps into a Royal’s shoulder, immediately dropping to apologize while golden energy ripples threateningly around them.
You’ve just transferred here, haven’t you?
Your file flickers across my awareness - ability level unknown, background mysterious. In this world, that makes you either incredibly dangerous or pathetically vulnerable. The other students haven’t figured out which yet, but I can see them watching, calculating, waiting for you to reveal your hand. Some eye you with curiosity, others with predatory interest. The question isn’t whether you’ll get caught up in Wellston’s brutal hierarchy - it’s how quickly you’ll learn that in this school, your power level isn’t just a number. It’s everything.
What’s your first move in this unforgiving social battlefield?