THE CODE

  The Academy of Stars buzzed with energy as students gathered in the Virgo Wing’s grand alchemical hall. Unlike the combat training grounds of Aries or the arcane laboratories of Aquarius, this classroom was an expansive workshop—lined with enchanted tools, raw materials, and floating orbs of soft golden light illuminating every corner.

  Today’s lesson was not about powerful spells.

  Professor Alden Greybourne sharp, calculating eyes, stood at the front of the hall, his hands clasped behind his back. He scanned the eager—or in some cases, nervous—faces before him.

  “Alchemy,” he began, his voice smooth yet firm, “is the art of transformation. The world around us is not rigid or immutable—it is code waiting to be rewritten.”

  Ethan’s fingers twitched at the word code.

  Professor Greybourne gestured, and before him, a slab of wood and a chunk of silver floated in mid-air.

  “Today, we will learn how to read the essence of a material—its ‘code’—and infuse it into another substance. In simpler terms…” He waved a hand, and the wooden slab shimmered, turning sleek and metallic, taking on the durability of silver while retaining the weight of wood.

  Gasps of awe rippled through the room.

  Ethan’s eyes widened. That’s… possible?

  “Alchemy is not merely about mixing potions or inscribing runes. It is about rewriting reality on a fundamental level,” Greybourne continued. “Now, I will show you how to do it yourselves.”

  Professor Greybourne raised his hand, his aura flaring—a deep emerald green.

  “The first step,” he instructed, “is to extend your aura into a material. Feel its essence, its code. Let your aura become your eyes.”

  He placed his fingers gently on the silver, and suddenly, faint golden symbols rose from its surface, shifting and moving like lines of living script.

  Ethan leaned forward. The silver has a code… just like computer data.

  Greybourne moved his hand over the wood, and again, symbols appeared, though different in structure and flow.

  “When you can read the material’s language,” the professor continued, “you can transfer it. Now, place your hands on your assigned materials and run your aura through them. Observe their structure.”

  Students shuffled to their workstations, where pairs of raw materials awaited them—wood and iron, stone and silk, paper and glass.

  Ethan sat beside Orion and Callan, his pulse quickening.

  This was different from everything he had learned so far. But at the same time… it felt familiar.

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  One by one, students attempted the technique.

  Some succeeded quickly, their auras illuminating faint symbols across their materials. Others struggled, unable to perceive the intricate energy patterns.

  Callan furrowed his brow. “I can kind of see something… but it’s faint.”

  Orion groaned. “I see nothing. Just a block of wood. Should I apologize to it?”

  Ethan, meanwhile, placed his hand over the silver.

  He closed his eyes.

  Then, he did something different.

  Instead of just pushing his aura outward, he focused it toward his heart.

  He centered himself, feeling the rhythm of his pulse, and then let the aura spread outward—slowly, naturally—through his fingertips.

  And suddenly—he saw it.

  Not just faint golden lines, but intricate patterns, weaving together in elegant complexity. The code of silver unfolded before his eyes like a living script, each symbol containing instructions for its hardness, weight, conductivity.

  The code of the wood beneath his other hand pulsed differently, its script softer, more fluid—structured for flexibility rather than density.

  A realization clicked in Ethan’s mind.

  This is programming.

  Just… not with computers.

  He wasn’t just “seeing” the material’s code—he was understanding it, breaking it down into functions, variables, and commands just like he would in a programming language.

  His heart pounded.

  No one else in this room was seeing it this way.

  This was his advantage.

  The next step was to transfer the essence of one material into the other.

  Professor Greybourne moved around the room, observing students. Some had already succeeded in small ways—making stone slightly softer, or wood a little heavier.

  “Once you understand the structure,” Greybourne said, “you must ‘rewrite’ it carefully. Do not simply force the change—convince the material to accept the new properties.”

  Ethan exhaled slowly.

  If this was programming, then he needed to input the correct commands.

  He focused on the silver’s code, isolating the attributes he needed—density, durability.

  Then, he shifted his attention to the wood.

  How do I transfer it without corrupting the data?

  In programming, copying a function improperly overwrites essential code—leading to errors. In alchemy, the same principle likely applied. If he forced too much of the silver’s code into the wood, it might reject it or even break apart.

  Carefully, Ethan isolated the lines of script that defined hardness and durability, while leaving out unnecessary aspects like weight or conductivity.

  Then—he pushed the changes into the wood.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then—the wood shimmered.

  Its surface hardened, its texture changing ever so slightly. The color remained the same, but when Ethan tapped it—

  Clink.

  The sound was not of wood, but of metal.

  Ethan’s breath caught. It worked.

  Orion and Callan stared.

  “Dude,” Orion whispered. “That… is insane.”

  Professor Greybourne, who had been walking by, stopped mid-step.

  His sharp eyes turned toward Ethan’s workstation.

  A moment of silence passed.

  Then, the professor smirked.

  “Well now,” he murmured, folding his arms. “It seems we have a natural.”

  Ethan exhaled, sweat forming at his brow.

  This wasn’t just alchemy.

  This was coding.

  And if he could apply his knowledge of programming to alchemy—

  Then he could do things no one else had even imagined.

  From across the room, Lysandra Vaelith sat at her own station, her fingers curled slightly against the desk.

  She had been watching him.

  Again.

  And what she saw… bothered her.

  Ethan wasn’t just keeping up with the lesson—he was mastering it.

  More than that… he was seeing something that the others couldn’t.

  Her grip tightened.

  “How…?” she muttered under her breath.

  As students filtered out of the workshop, Ethan felt a presence approaching him.

  He turned—and found himself face-to-face with Professor Greybourne.

  The older man studied him for a long moment before speaking.

  “You saw more than just the materials, didn’t you?”

  Ethan hesitated. “…What do you mean?”

  Greybourne’s lips curled slightly.

  “Don’t play dumb, boy. You saw the underlying structure—the code beneath the code.”

  Ethan’s pulse quickened. How does he know?

  Greybourne stepped closer, lowering his voice.

  “Be careful,” he warned. “You are treading into knowledge even the academy does not fully understand.”

  He turned, walking away without another word.

  Ethan stood frozen.

  His heart pounded.

  Because now, more than ever—he needed answers.