The corridors of the Spirit Martial Academy had descended into a state of absolute, high-decibel anarchy. For the first time in the history of the institution, no instructors were patrolling the halls to enforce the "no-shouting" policy, nor were the prefects attempting to herd students back into their designated meditation zones. The reason was simple: the faculty members were just as transfixed as the students, their faces pressed against the reinforced glass of the windows, staring at the atmospheric catastrophe unfolding in the skies above Forest City.
Outside on the main promenade, the Headmaster, Gordon Jordan—known to his staff as Old Lewis—stood alongside the Vice-Principal, Old Rowe. Both men were breathing hard, their eyes reflecting the violent, multi-colored strobes of energy
