The Extra's Rebellion
Chapter 48: first class

Chapter 48: first class

On his way to class, Zephyr walked beneath long arching halls where morning light bled in through tall crystalline windows. The academy’s vast corridors gleamed, lined with portraits of figures he didn’t recognize—heroes, innovators, perhaps murderers polished by time. The echoes of boots and voices trailed from every direction, and the soft hum of hovering elevators added a futuristic tension to the antique grandeur of the building.

His path twisted once through an open courtyard where students in various uniforms moved in clusters, laughter and conversation weaving between the trimmed hedges and ornamental fountains. No one paid him much attention here. Or rather, they paid too much attention. He heard the murmurs again. That was fine.

When he finally arrived at the General Knowledge lecture hall, sealed his insulting mouth and kept his phone which had been his guide to the lecture hall.

The door slid open and inside was a high, circular room with tiered rows of desks rising like steps in an amphitheater. The back wall was lined with a massive transparent board, faintly glowing with diagrams and aether-maps, but the real curiosity was the seating.

Each student had a pod seat—a one-seater desk molded from pale metal and smooth synth-wood, hovering slightly above the floor. As Zephyr stepped in, one of the unoccupied pods hovered toward him and gently lowered itself.

It was designed to respond to proximity. Once he sat, the desk front automatically expanded, revealing a thin touch interface, quill slot, and a small projection field for books or notes.

He had barely begun to take in the class when he felt it.

Her gaze.

From the opposite side of the curved seating ring, Lunethra stared down at him—like a blade made of ice and silence. Her unnatural striking purple eyes, seemed to strip the layers off his body, down to thought and bone. She didn’t blink.

Zephyr tried not to look. He failed once, caught her eyes again, and looked away.

"Damn," he muttered, adjusting his collar.

Students filtered in one by one, some talking, some already reviewing holographic books. He noticed none of them sat beside him. Whether by silent agreement or veiled hostility, the space around him remained empty.

Then the teacher arrived.

He looked young—barely older than the senior students, his light lilac hair tousled, his eyes sharp with unspent caffeine energy. He wore a high-collared coat over a loose shirt and pants, a single earring dangling from his left ear. With a clap of his hands, he jumped up onto the slightly raised platform.

"Alright, welcome everyone! My name’s Mr. Fisher, and yes, I am young, and yes, I did beat the qualifying exam by rewriting half the curriculum, and yes am not a praise junkie so no need to praise me," he said with a grin, arms outstretched. "So let’s agree to not talk about my age again unless you’re complimenting my skin."

A few chuckles rippled through the room. Zephyr smirked despite himself.

Mr. Fisher clapped again, and the glowing board behind him lit up with the words—

THE WORLD WE LIVE IN— History, Aether, and the Void Between.

"Let’s begin."

Mr. Fisher’s eyes scanned the room, noting the lack of hands raised. He smiled thinly and took a few steps forward, arms behind his back like a man about to drop a truth no one was ready for.

"So You all have heard the pretty version of the Aether origin story—right? That Aether was discovered. That it just... showed up. Let me burn that lie to ash right now."

Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seat, they were been told that the truth they had been living the entire time was a lie. The ones who didn’t know were the vessels of the Grand clans, being members of the vessels clan they didn’t have enough merits to know of such information.

He tapped the projector again. The screen behind him darkened, displaying a swirling violet sphere—almost womb-like, veined with golden cracks and surrounded by primitive murals of humans worshiping it.

"This... was the Aether Womb. Not a metaphor. Not myth. A living construct of pure Aether, buried beneath the world’s crust. A gift—or a curse—from an age long forgotten."

He paced.

"But humanity couldn’t leave it alone. We wanted more. We dug, we drilled, we pierced it. Mortal hubris at its finest. The moment the womb was torn open, everything changed. Aether bled into the world like light through shattered glass—and it wasn’t alone."

The sphere cracked open in the image, and from it poured distortions—black fog, twisted shapes, malformed limbs.

"That was the birth of the Riftspawn—monsters made of Aether corruption, chaos incarnate. They emerged from rifts, which are fractures in reality caused by unstable Aether zones. The more desire we pour into Aether, the more the world tears."

He let that sink in.

"And if the Riftspawn are chaos... the Shades are grief."

The next image was quieter—almost mournful. It showed a translucent spirit clinging to a grave, its body distorted by sadness, fury, guilt.

"When someone dies with a powerful negative emotion, that emotion lingers—rage, sorrow, despair. The soul cannot pass on. And the world, in its twisted mercy, gives it a new vessel. Nature. Storms. Forests. Mountains. Rotting cemeteries. That’s how you get living hurricanes, whispering valleys, and yes—the undead. They’re not random. They’re emotional monuments given form."

A few students were now wide-eyed, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

"That’s the real history. Aether isn’t just energy. It’s a cracked mirror of what we are. Our ambition created Riftspawn. Our pain created Shades. And we still act like we control it."

His tone was now heavy.

"General Knowledge, huh? This is what you’re up against. Now open your screens. Quiz starts now."

As the students scrambled, Zephyr tapped his own desk and leaned back slightly, mind racing.

’classic human behavior, or should I say classic novel pinning the blame on human greed. I should ask Keal how this world ended, it’s definitely not a happy ending from the look of things’.

An holographic screen appeared in his front showing the quiz, with curiosity he touched it half expecting it to go through, but it was like touching a screen.

’cool’.

"The quiz starts in 30 seconds, buckle up everybody". Mr. Fisher voice cut through his thoughts as he readied for the quiz.