“Augment Compatibility!” Hisame announces, pacing across the front of the classroom with her high-heeled augments clack clack clacking against the floor. “A term many of you are already familiar with—but how many of you actually know what it means?”

  I sit with my head buried in my hands, trying to melt into my desk. Tama sits beside me, leaning in with a mischievous little grin.

  “Bu-nny-chan~” she whispers, inching her face closer and closer to mine. “Whose butt was that?”

  “Uuugh!” I moan, sinking deeper into my arms. “Please stop asking~ it was just a stupid mistake.”

  “I can’t stop asking. I have to know whose butt you were so interested in looking at last night.” She keeps going, relentless. “Was it Emi’s? No, she wears the shorts uniform, and her butt’s way bigger than the other girls here. The one you were looking at was firm—like, surprisingly firm. Definitely not Emi’s.”

  “Tama~ please!” I groan, my face hot enough to melt metal.

  Ahem!

  The professor’s voice cracks across the room like a whip. “If I can have the everyone’s attention!”

  A few girls giggle. Tama frowns and slides back into her seat.

  “As I was saying.” She snaps back into her lecture. “Augment Compatibility is a genetic factor that determines how well our bodies and minds can sync with the neuro-linked tech used in our augment systems. Without it, attempting to perform any synchronization maneuvers will result in severe neurological damage to the brain.”

  She flicks her wand toward the display board. Two images appear: a diagram of a skull and brain, and a stylized chemical structure labeled ‘AC’.

  “AC is a chemical that forms naturally in the brain and is exceptionally abundant in young children—specifically young girls,” she continues. “However, once a girl reaches a certain age, her ability to produce this chemical drops drastically until she can no longer use any high-grade augment systems. But no need to worry—casual and cosmetic augments remain safe well into old age.”

  I listen closely, tapping notes onto the holo-display built into my desk. But I can feel Tama staring at me—waiting for her next chance to interrogate me about what I was watching last night.

  It’s not like I actually went through with it. I was just… curious.

  If Tama finds out it was her butt I was looking at, I’ll literally die.

  I shake my head furiously. I cannot let her figure it out.

  I shoot my hand into the air. “Professor, how does this correlate with the different AC ratings we get?!”

  Hisame’s eyes widen for a moment before softening into a small smile. “Excellent question, Miss Kisuragi.”

  Good—something to distract me and keep Tama off my back. Besides, it’s actually good info to know.

  “From an early age, girls are put through special screenings to determine how much of this chemical we produce.” Hisame flicks her wand, and a chart unfolds across the display. “Most people—including boys—only have an AC rating of C or lower. This prevents them from using powerful augments, which completely eliminates them from the Idol selection process. The bare minimum needed to become an Idol is a B. A and S ranks are considered high, and allow those who have them to use more advanced augments for longer durations.”

  Right. I have an A-Rank AC.

  It made getting accepted into AII easier… but it wasn’t guaranteed like the S-Rank girls.

  Another girl raises her hand. “Uh, ma’am, what determines our AC rating before we get tested for it?”

  Hisame nods slowly. “Another good question,” she mutters. “But I want to see if any of you can guess. I’m sure one of you already knows the answer.”

  I freeze.

  Wait—I don’t know the answer to this. I always fangirl over Idols with S-Rank AC, but I never actually looked into what made them so special.

  “Is it our parents?” one girl blurts out. “If they have a high AC, does it get passed down to us?”

  Hisame shakes her head. “Wrong. Both my parents had low AC, but I was given a decent rating.”

  “Does it have to do with our diet?” another asks. “Like if we eat healthy when we’re younger?”

  “Wrong again.” The professor’s tone is flat. “Diet has no bearing on the AC rating we are born with.”

  She resumes pacing, circling the room once before stopping at Kanna’s desk. Her eyes drift down to meet hers.

  “Maybe you know the answer, Kanna,” Hisame murmurs. “Being the first Idol from the Koleida family to receive an S-Rank AC.”

  Kanna puffs out her chest with a bratty little grin.

  “It’s luck,” she says—like it’s something to brag about. “The AC rating you’re born with is completely random.”

  “Correct.”

  Murmurs sweep the room—gasps, whispers, the sound of confidence cracking.

  “So let this be a reminder,” Hisame snaps, her voice turning sharp and cold. “You aren’t here because you’re special or because you worked hard to get here. You made it into this school because you were born lucky.”

  Her words pierce straight through the room—straight through me.

  Why is she saying this? She’s our teacher… shouldn’t she be encouraging us?

  But if what she’s saying is true, then… is my AC rating really just a fluke?

  My parents always said it was a gift but…

  Tears prick my eyes, and my breathing starts to shake. I’m not the only one—everyone around me looks the same. Doubt settling in like a fog.

  Was I wrong to come to this school?

  Did I really throw away every other opportunity… based on luck?

  “No, that’s wrong!”

  A voice cuts through the silence—loud, raw, trembling.

  Every head in the room snaps toward her.

  She’s standing, fists clenched, voice shaking but strong.

  “You say we were just born lucky, but that’s far from the truth!” she shouts, glaring straight at the professor. “I know plenty of girls who didn’t make it into this school despite having an even higher AC than me!”

  Hisame doesn’t interrupt. She just steps back, hands behind her, watching with a faint smile.

  “We did work hard to get in here—I worked hard to get here!” she continues, her voice echoing through the room, washing away the doubt hanging over everyone. “It doesn’t matter if luck played a part. That just means we were meant to be great!”

  Her words ripple through the class, lifting faces from despair to something brighter.

  But…

  It’s hard to believe them.

  Hard to accept that what she’s saying is true.

  But how can I doubt those words now…

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  When I was the one saying them?

  Tama practically launches out of her seat with an excited grin. “Yeah! I was born with an S-Rank AC because destiny knew I was gonna be awesome!”

  “Hmph.” Kanna folds her arms, chin high. “I can’t believe anyone was discouraged by the thought. Fate decided I was meant to be in the spotlight from the start.”

  One by one, more girls chime in—calling out their ACs, bragging about their training, talking about how hard they pushed themselves to get here.

  Soon the room is filled with laughter and bright, confident voices.

  Hisame leans back, her smile stretching wide. I even hear a tiny chuckle slip out of her.

  “So let me guess…” she says, letting the room settle. “No one was discouraged by the truth?”

  We all look back at her with renewed confidence. For a moment, she looks proud—before her expression twitches in irritation.

  “Emi, put your hand down. Everything discourages you,” she barks.

  All of us turn to Emi. Her face is already bright red… but she doesn’t lower her hand.

  “A-actually…” she mutters, “I just wanted to say… I may not have gotten into this school the same way as the rest of you, but I have talents that can’t really be explained by normal hard work or anything…”

  Her gaze drifts to me, her face growing brighter by the second.

  “But if being born with these talents means I was always meant to be special… then maybe I don’t have to feel bad for being born lucky.”

  I meet her eyes and nod.

  “Ahem—anyway!” Hisame blurts out, snapping the room’s attention back to her. “Thank you, Rika, for your inspiring words. It seems you and your classmates have fully understood the message behind today’s lesson. As a reward, we will be going on a field trip.”

  “A field trip?” I turn to Tama, confused. “On the second day of school?”

  Tama shrugs. “Maybe Teach is cooler than we thought.”

  Hisame claps her hands once, and the display behind her shuts off. “That’s right. I want everyone to line up and head for the roof—I already have a transport vehicle waiting for us.”

  She already prepared a vehicle? This field trip must’ve been planned way in advance. But what could she possibly be planning?

  “Come on, we don’t wanna miss out on this!” Tama grabs my arm and yanks me forward.

  We join the back of the line, Hisame leading the pack down the corridor. Tama starts bouncing with each step, humming that soft little tune she always sings when she’s excited.

  It doesn’t sound like a happy song, though. It’s more like… a lullaby. Gentle and eerie.

  As we approach the elevators, Tama suddenly stops humming. Her eyes widen, and her whole face goes serious.

  “Hm? Did you notice something?” I whisper.

  “No. More like I remembered something,” she says—flat, cold.

  She turns her head toward me while we walk.

  Then that serious face cracks wide open into a devious, toothy grin. “I remembered I have to find out whose butt you were looking at!”

  I flush immediately. I’m so sick of this stupid bit. “Tama, can you please stop!”

  “No way!” she shouts. “This is very important. I’ve gotta investigate every possible candidate’s butt!”

  She freezes mid-step.

  “Oh!” Her eyes sparkle. “A butt investigation!”

  A few classmates glance back at her outburst, but only for a second.

  I groan, already dying inside.

  Tama leans to the side, peeking down the line. Her eyes lock onto the professor—still wearing a student uniform—and narrow.

  “Hmm… the right amount of firmness…” she mutters, tracing the shape of Hisame’s rear with her hands. “But her butt looks too mature to be the one I saw.”

  I slap my face and moan into my palm. “This is never going to end, is it?”

  “Nope!” she sings gleefully.

  ?

  We all board the transport bus and lift off toward the center of the city. Flying past the Idol Academy’s front plaza, we soar through the Arcadian skyline.

  The city is massive—even from high above the tallest towers, it stretches so far that the horizon just swallows it. Pale-blue metal skyscrapers jut up in neat clusters, their edges trimmed with soft pink lights that flicker across massive mounted displays. Dozens of suspended walkways and floating platforms connect building to building, layering the skyline until the ground disappears entirely.

  Below us, hover cars weave through aerial lanes like glowing beads on a thread. The monorail system snakes around the city in arching loops; no matter where I look, there’s always another train car sliding by every few seconds.

  And above even that—giant blimps drift lazily through the air, holo-screens wrapped around their bodies showing rotating ads for the newest rising Idols. I brighten at the sight of a few I recognize, pointing them out before Tama nudges me with a laugh and starts rambling about her favorites.

  Even if the city looks overwhelming like this, it’s still home. I didn’t grow up in the Central District, but I’ve always lived surrounded by neon towers and towering holo-ads and giant Idol murals.

  And even though I’ve only been gone for a day… flying back over Arcadia feels comforting.

  I tilt my head up—and freeze.

  A massive shimmering barrier stretches across the sky, curving over the entire city like a protective dome. The Anti-AI Barrier. Blue energy ripples through its surface in an endless wave, forming translucent hexagonal panels that pulse with light.

  I can’t help smiling. This gleaming wall of science and engineering keeps every scrap of artificial intelligence from functioning inside the city.

  And every Eidolon—every single monster—relies on that AI to move.

  With this here… Arcadia is safe.

  The bus dips lower as we approach a rare clearing in the city—a huge circular space where the buildings finally break, revealing the actual ground beneath. The true center of Arcadia.

  Sitting at the northern edge of the clearing is a towering building with a giant “IC” across its front: Idol Corp Headquarters, the birthplace of the Stars of Arcadia.

  Below it, a massive dome sits half-open, revealing a stadium packed with tens of thousands of Arcadian citizens. A full broadcast concert is already underway—Idols dance and sing on the central stage as the crowd roars in bright, rhythmic waves.

  Everyone’s eyes widen as the bus descends toward the open dome.

  “Are we going to celebrate Idol Lumina Day?!” a girl shouts—and immediately the entire class erupts.

  Squeals. Shouts. Someone slapping the window. The whole bus turns into a firestorm of excitement.

  Emi shrinks into herself at the very back, arms tucked tight.

  Tama and I press forward in our seats, eyes shining.

  Hisame tries to speak over the noise—once, twice—but no one hears a word. The class just gets louder, feeding off each other’s energy.

  Until—

  “Enough!”

  The shout slams through the bus. Every single girl freezes.

  “Ahem.” Hisame dusts off her uniform sleeve, composing herself with a stiff inhale. “We are not here to celebrate—we are here to observe. I expect everyone on their best behavior, following my lead. Quietly.”

  We hold our breath. She waits.

  “Is that clear?!” she snaps, clapping her hands so sharply.

  “Yes, ma’am!” we shout in chorus.

  The transport lands near a back entrance of the dome, and we file out in a perfect single line behind her. I glance across the lot—it’s packed with cars and buses, but none look anything like the one we arrived in.

  I lean toward Tama and whisper, “Are there no other classes from AII here?”

  “I d’know.” She shrugs with that toothy grin of hers. “Maybe we’re just special.”

  Hisame leads us through a series of corridors and gated walkways, flashing her badge at every checkpoint. Eventually, we reach the central under-stage area.

  It’s surprisingly spacious down here—wide halls, stacked equipment, crates, dressing rooms, lighting scaffolds. Dozens of performers move around us. Some look sweaty and exhilarated, fresh off their performance—others are packing up, changing, or rushing toward another rehearsal point.

  I guess it’s already near the end of the day.

  A thought hits me. It really is a shame we were stuck in school, unable to celebrate the holiday with everyone else across Arcadia.

  But I shake my head and force a smile. That doesn’t matter anymore.

  I’m an Idol now.

  That means I’m the reason people get to celebrate.

  “Alright everyone, we’re here,” Hisame calls out. “You’ll get to watch the rest of the performance before the lesson begins.”

  The class sprints forward to a wall of monitors covered in live POV feeds from the drones circling the stage. I stay back and approach Hisame.

  “Uh… Ms. Hisame—”

  “That’s Mrs. Hisame,” she corrects immediately. “But yes, Miss Kisuragi?”

  I bow fast, then stand with my hands clasped together. “I’m a little confused. What lesson are you giving us?”

  She smiles faintly and looks toward the monitor wall. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  That doesn’t calm me down. But I sigh and follow the others.

  On the monitors, the current performers finish their number. A few seconds later, they head offstage and make their way down here, mingling with the crowd of staff and other Idols as they pass us by.

  Then before I know it—

  “Thank you, everyone!”

  A warm, masculine voice echoes through the entire stadium. The screens flicker, and there he is on stage—Takeshi Hoshikawa.

  “I’m so happy to be here, hosting the Idol Lumina Celebration Festival for the second year in a row,” he says into his mic, his smooth voice rolling over the cheering crowd. “Y’know, when I first became the Director of Idol Development, I thought my first year would be the most nerve-wracking… but no. I’m even more nervous this year than the last.”

  The stadium lights dim all at once, until a single spotlight locks onto him.

  “But when I was sworn into this sacred duty,” he continues, “I promised not just to myself, but to all of Arcadia, that I would guide the next generation of Idols into battle against the threat that endangers humanity.”

  He pauses.

  The crowd stills with him.

  “Against AROURA.”

  A chill rips straight down my spine.

  I wrap my arms around myself, teeth clenched.

  Th-that name…

  The entire stadium seems to recoil—my classmates too. Except Tama and Kanna, who stand firm like it doesn’t faze them at all.

  “And yes,” Takeshi says gently, “I know that name reminds us of the hardships we live with every single day. I feel it too. Growing up in a world where that monster pushed humanity to the edge of extinction… it brings me no joy to speak its name.”

  Soft musical notes begin to swell through the stadium—hopeful, bright, rising like a sunrise.

  “But fifty years ago today, the Lumina Barrier came to life, preventing all Eidolons from invading what remained of humanity’s territory! And only twenty years after that came the first Idols—our Stars of Arcadia—and our first great victory in this war!”

  He moves across the stage with practiced showmanship, and the crowd erupts again. Even my nearly-broken nerves feel lighter, steadier.

  “Idol Lumina Day is not just a celebration of survival,” he shouts over the rising cheers. “It is a promise—one day, we will end this war!”

  His voice booms through every speaker in the dome, ringing all the way from the Central District to the outer colonies.

  “Idol Lumina Day is the day we thank the Saviors of Humanity!”

  The stadium explodes—cheers, applause, screams, glowsticks flashing like a sea of stars. Takeshi can only bow and laugh nervously as he waits for the noise to settle, his bright, beaming smile never fading for even a heartbeat.

  As the noise finally dies down, the dome begins to close above us, darkening the stadium until the spotlights are all that remain.

  Takeshi readjusts his mic.

  “Ahem. For tonight’s final performance…” he says, voice softening with reverence, “I would like to reintroduce you to the Idol who makes everyone feel hope.”

  My classmates immediately start whispering, buzzing with guesses and excitement.

  But I already know.

  There’s only one Idol they’d save for last.

  The same Idol who has inspired Arcadia from the moment she first stepped onto a battlefield.

  The Idol everyone still talks about like she’s a living legend.

  “The Idol who once fought bravely against the Eidolons with her very all!” Takeshi declares. “The Idol who showed us what reaching the absolute pinnacle truly looks like!”

  Yup. It’s her.

  I don’t even need to look at the screen—

  “CLARA!!!”

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