Five long days had passed within the walls of the Veridan Institute. Each day for Aysse felt like a slow, grueling climb up a steep learning curve. The sparse, single room he was assigned featured a high glass ceiling that cast a constant, pale light.

  Every waking hour, he immersed himself in understanding his Faery—a silent, pulsing extension of his body that now wielded mysterious, raw power.

  Aysse’s mind churned as he observed the Vindows Operating System materialize within his consciousness. It didn’t appear as a rigid, mechanical interface with sterile icons and neatly arranged menus. Instead, it unfolded like a living entity—a cascading array of translucent ribbons, their surfaces shifting between liquid smoothness and intricate fractal patterns. The system responded not to a mouse or keyboard but to the raw intent of his thoughts, each flicker of decision sending ripples across the interface.

  At first, the sensation was overwhelming. Lines of code shimmered at the periphery of his awareness, threading themselves into the flowing textures like delicate veins of light. Some pulsed softly, awaiting interaction, while others coiled and unraveled in response to his subconscious probes. It felt as if his mind had been stretched into an entirely new dimension, where commands were no longer issued but woven into existence.

  When he reached for the Faeriar readings, a deep, resonant hum began reverberating inside his skull—a sound that was not heard but felt, like the distant call of an unseen force pressing against the edges of his thoughts. Colors bled into sensations; data whispered in his bones. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic, but with it came an undeniable sense of power. Aysse was not simply accessing information—he was becoming one with it.

  For a moment, he hesitated. The interface shimmered in response, pausing as if sensing his doubt. But then he took a deep mental breath and plunged forward, letting his thoughts entwine with the pulsing currents of Vindows. The system welcomed him, its luminous strands of logic wrapping around his awareness like an embrace, and together, they reached into the unknown.

  He spent hours navigating functions like Faery Cache Status, Skill Library, Temperature Readings, Faeriar Readings and Resource Logs. The memory superposition had clarified some basics, but the sheer volume of new information loomed before him like the daunting task of a child asked to count to a thousand. "Mastering my Faery is the only thing that matters. Everything else is irrelevant." he resolved silently.

  During these intensive days, Elias made brief, intermittent appearances. On one visit, with a wry smile that belied the casualness of his words, Elias remarked, “Internship. House Veridan keeps interns busy.”

  Aysse had learned that Elias was a third-year student at Velstein Academy—he was just here on an internship at his own house's establishment, the Veridan Institute. Each rare visit brought a few concise pointers. “Practice. It's all about getting the feel for it,” Elias had added, words that would echo in Aysse’s mind as he threw himself into practical experimentation.

  Matter Production

  For his experiment in Matter Production, Aysse followed the on-screen instructions of the Vindows overlay. Closing his eyes, he envisioned a simple, solid cube and directed a measured flow of Faeriar into his palm, watching the OS register every input. His initial attempts conjured only faint, purple cubical shimmers that vanished before solidifying. Sweat beaded on his brow and a subtle twitch of his forehead tentacle betrayed his wavering focus as understanding began to spark at the edges of his concentration. Perhaps it’s not just about the intensity—small adjustments in the Faeriar flow can affect size and stability, he mused.

  He began tweaking the parameters on the OS interface, meticulously monitoring Faeriar levels and temperature in real time. After several attempts—and with his heart pounding in anticipation—a small, dull purple cube materialized in his hand. It was rough and brittle, far from the perfection of a finely crafted object, yet it proved one essential truth: he could shape Faeriar into matter.

  Energy Production

  Next came Energy Production. Guided by the on-screen instructions and the echo of Elias’s advice, Aysse concentrated on sparking a controlled burst of energy. He focused intently, feeling a tiny flicker of heat dance upon his palm before it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Drawing in a deep breath, his mind raced with calculations. Too little Faeriar and the energy fizzles out; too much, and it goes out of control, he thought, every failure deepening his understanding of the delicate balance between energy output and stability. He learned that every adjustment in Faeriar flow affected not just the intensity of the burst but also his ability to keep everything under control—an insight that would prove vital for survival.

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  Understanding the Economy

  Not content with abstract practice alone, Aysse turned his attention to the practical side of life in Eurory. He navigated a specialized section of the Vindows OS dedicated to memory superposition—a repository designed to help new Otherworlders adapt quickly. Here he uncovered the harsh economics of this strange world: everyday necessities were priced in Faeriar currency. A simple meal of rice meat and tap water demanded 10 Faeriar, while even a basic night’s lodging cost a steep 40 Faeriar.

  Faeriar isn’t just raw power—it’s the essential currency for staying alive, he murmured, the realization settling in with a sober weight.

  He now understood that Faeriar was essential not only for powering his abilities but also for securing food, shelter, and even a moment’s comfort.

  Observing the Training Ground

  Each day, Aysse found himself drawn to the training ground—a vast, open area where Otherworlder recruits sparred with Lesser-Class creatures. He watched as recruits dueled with wolf-like beasts whose Faeriar signatures were weak, their attacks clumsy and predictable. Every move here is a lesson. I must learn the flow of energy in combat as much as in creation, he reflected, recording every movement: the swift Simple Slash, the steady Basic Shielding, and the nimble Agile Boost—techniques freely available at the Veridan Institute for those who installed them into their Faery.

  As he observed the ebb and flow of Faeriar energy during combat, clear patterns emerged, and slowly, a quiet confidence began to take root within him.

  One afternoon, he watched a particularly clumsy recruit struggle against a Lesser-Class creature. The recruit’s wild, inefficient strikes drained his Faeriar reserve so rapidly that his system began to overheat. Aysse observed the recruit’s desperate attempt at a Counter Block, only to see the shield flicker and fail at the crucial moment.

  He’s pushing too much Faeriar into the initial block, Aysse noted with a narrowing gaze. He needs a shorter, sharper burst for the block, then a controlled flow for the counter-attack—or he’ll overheat his Faery before he can capitalize.

  He replayed the battle in his mind, noting every misstep and wasted burst of energy.

  I see now—the rhythm of the beast and the precise timing of each strike can mean the difference between success and failure.

  He concluded that while a single Lesser-Class creature might be manageable without any reliance on Faery skills, facing two or three simultaneously would demand careful maneuvering, precise strikes, and a meticulously controlled expenditure of Faeriar.

  As the fifth day drew to a close, Aysse sat beside a beautiful young woman, her serene face illuminated by the dim light of the room. Emiri—his partner from the organization—had come to this world with him, but unlike Aysse, she had yet to wake. She remained unconscious from the Insertion, her breathing steady but unresponsive, a small Faery tentacle resting on her forehead, mirroring his own. Aysse himself had been unconscious for two months before he awoke, and some people took as long as five months before their first awakening. He could only hope Emiri would open her eyes soon.

  But even as he watched over her, one truth remained unshaken: before all this, before his memories had been tampered with, he had been part of a humanitarian organization dedicated to sending people like him across different worlds to prevent major crises that threatened humanity. Their missions were never random—they were always guided by necessity, by the need to prevent catastrophe. That knowledge sat at the core of his being, untouched by whatever forces had rewritten the rest of his past.

  A clearer picture of his purpose began to solidify in his mind. He recalled Elias’s cryptic words—“The future of this world has already been sold. The question is—to whom?”—and the constant, underlying unease that had shadowed his thoughts since his Insertion. The fragmented memories of his past, the lost year, the sudden plunge into this strange world... all pointed to something larger, something more significant than a random arrival.

  I wasn’t just any Otherworlder, he realized, I was sent here for a reason—a mission buried beneath layers of overwritten memories. A chilling certainty settled over him. He hadn’t simply stumbled into Eurory; he had been sent—sent for a purpose he could not yet fully grasp, one that intertwined with the destiny of this world.

  In the quiet moments, it became clear that influential nobles, wielding power beyond even House Veridan’s reach, were engaged in world-threatening endeavors. Slowly, the weight of that potential destiny pressed upon him.

  I am not here merely to survive. I must understand this destiny and harness the strength within my Faery to fulfill it, he vowed softly.

  His journey to Velstein Academy was no longer just about mastering new abilities or enduring a hostile environment—it was about reclaiming his true purpose and standing against the darkness that threatened Eurory and its people.