2004/2/1
If you don’t mind, I’d like to propose a question.
What is fairness?
People like to think it’s simple. A concept upheld by rules and principles. But perhaps fairness is just a word—dragged across mouths to justify convenience. A multi-faced mirror. Everyone sees a different reflection and calls it "just."
So say fairness ans the sa treatnt for all. But does that an a fish and a bird must climb the sa tree? Others argue for fairness in results—give more to those who need more. But who decides the weight of need? Then there’s fairness by opportunity: let everyone run the sa race. Ignore who was born with a leg disability.
Is talent fair? Is beauty fair? Is being born clever or being born broken fair?
No.
Are human beings fair?
Of course not.
And yet... we build systems, label them with justice, with rit, with equality—and hope it holds. Hope it doesn’t tilt too hard toward the gifted. Hope the ones below don’t notice the cracks.
Today was my first written exam.
My blank expression stared back at in the reflection of the white page. No na, just a number printed in the top right corner. The paper slled like recycled dust.
All around sat older children. Six, maybe seven. I was younger. Shorter. Maybe dumber. We were spaced out in even lines, one ter between each desk, but the illusion of equality ended there. Their desks weren’t chipped. Their pencils were sharper. Their uniforms looked newer. Their materials—cleaner, heavier, better.
They had gifts.
Apparently, that alone warranted better treatnt.
We were all taking the sa math test. Numbers and logic. No room to fake charm. No space for imagination. Just formulas. Equations. Calculations. Sothing soone, sowhere, thought could asure human potential.
I don’t know where this place is. They never told us.
The room was large, rectangular—too clean to feel built from scratch. The walls were a dull grey, not tal, not concrete, but sothing colder. No windows. The only light ca from long fluorescent tubes humming from the ceiling. Cold light. Sickly white. You couldn’t tell the ti in here. Ti didn’t exist.
Only Perfection.
Each of our desks was bolted to the floor. Every chair squeaked if you moved even a little. There were security caras in the corners, blinking red.
One man stood silently by the door. Not a teacher—too tall, too still. His presence wasn’t academic. It was threatening. A deterrent. His hands were behind his back, and his eyes swept slowly across the rows like a machine programd to detect motion, whispers, or signs of fear.
There were no clocks. Only silence. Only the weight of a pencil in my hand, and the question of whether I would be allowed to exist if I failed to impress them.
Fairness?
Fairness doesn’t sit in this room. Fairness doesn’t wear black gloves and hold clipboards. Fairness doesn’t watch children like test subjects.
Fairness... is not for .
Then, I picked up the pencil.
It was cold. tal-tipped. The kind of pencil that etched your worth into records—permanent, statistical. I looked at the top of the paper again. A number stared back at .
44.
That was .
The last-ranked subject.
The imperfect.
I wasn’t like the rest of them—those kids with flawless genes, picture-perfect brains, shining eyes full of predictions and possibilities. Prodigies, every one of them. Made to be excellent. And ? I was the failed experint that wasn’t thrown out. Maybe as a joke.
I didn’t belong here.
Their imagination ran ahead of reality. Their thoughts could anticipate the outcos of future history. I could barely rember my own birthday. But... I suppose everyone has sothing. Even if it’s buried.
It’s up to you to see what you can actually do.
My fingers hesitated, then scribbled sothing beside my number.
-Kaiser-
My na. I wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t necessary. They never cared for nas here.
But she did.
The woman who takes care of —Unit 9 caretaker, Cartethyia. She asked to write my na. Passionately. Like it mattered. She said she just wanted to know which paper was mine. Said she wanted to see how I did.
I think she knew I wouldn’t do well. But still...
Often or not I asked her why she cares about so much. In my world, caring for soone else is nothing but placents of being betrayed. She shouldn’t bother with soone like .
But she always told one answer.
"Because I love you."
I never asked what that ant.
I lowered my eyes to the paper, and the test began.
Question 1:
Given a non-linear differential manifold 𝑀 defined over a set of rational eigenvectors from a Hermitian matrix group, construct a quantum Fourier transform to estimate the behavior of a collapsing probability wave within a topological torus space. Use nurical thods to approximate the convergence rate.
Question 2:
Derive the inverse Laplace transform of a function representing a third-order control system with a chaotic attractor, then integrate it into a non-Euclidean geotry optimization algorithm for a rotating rigid body in 6D space. Normalize the result using stochastic calculus.
Question 3:
Solve a recursive set-theoretical function with cardinality ℵ1 , where the domain is constrained by Galois fields and is affected by rotational matrices in complex vector spaces. Use tensor algebra to describe the output behavior in high-dinsional spin groups.
Question 4:
Model a zero-sum Nash equilibrium ga using algebraic topology, where player decisions are encoded in Markov chains layered over fractal probability spaces. Predict the long-term ga outcos using asure theory and entropy minimization.
Question 5:
Create a statistical regression model that predicts the collapse point of a multidinsional Riemann zeta function under high-energy quantum states, incorporating modular arithtic transformations, chaos theory bifurcation diagrams, and Bayesian inference.
I blinked.
Then softly murmured in my head:
1. Differential Geotry, Linear Algebra, Quantum chanics.
2. Control Theory, Non-Euclidean Geotry, Stochastic Processes.
3. Set Theory, Abstract Algebra, Tensor Calculus.
4. Ga Theory, Probability, Topology.
5. Statistics, Number Theory, Chaos Theory.
That’s all.
They looked scary. But everything breaks down if you look at the roots.
Question 1 was just about movent inside a warped space. Question 2 was about stabilizing chaos. Question 3 wanted patterns from infinite sets. Question 4 dealt with decisions layered in patterns. Question 5 was asking when things collapse.
I’ve been taught these before. Cartethyia often asked the teachers where they got such terms and books from. They always gave her wave of off, but once they answered. Saying they received such terms and books from another ’world’.
It isn’t hard to believe other-wordly things can’t arrive at ours. But specifically education is suspicious. Regardless, my only goal was to win.
It was just life.
On paper.
What’s the point of asking such questions?
To the untrained, they might seem like puzzles with no purpose. But I’ve been trained—trained to observe, to decode intent behind information. I’ve been punished for failing to do so. And so I learned.
Human beings are self-interest driven. Even those who preach about justice and progress are rely camouflaging their ambition. They want results.
They want power.
The scientists here—along with the mages who oversee the arcane side of the program—aren’t trying to educate us. They’re trying to filter us from the defects.
Turn us into weapons
These questions...
They’re not academic.
I could see it clearly now:
Celestial magic—prediction, dinsional understanding, compression of divine logic into pure forms.
Cursed magic—chaos, instability, recursive breakdown of structure.
Elental magic—calculation of flow, interaction, energy control.
They’re trying to embed magical structure into our thinking, not just our bodies. To make math into magic.
Or perhaps more simply—they just want to see who survives.
Who among us has the raw, unfiltered genius to endure this complexity and remain sane.
Every exam is a sieve.
Separating waste from weapon.
They test everything:
General intellect. Specific aptitudes. Creativity. Visual manipulation. Emotional resilience.
Psychomotor discipline.
I breathe once.
Then I begin writing.
Answer 1 – Dinsional Probability in Quantum Geotry
"This one’s about wave behaviors in warped space. The idea is to analyze probability collapse inside a looping dinsion using group-based coordinates. It blends quantum logic with geotric alignnt. Just treat it like tracking movent on a twisted board ga where every tile shifts position."
Answer:
Let M = set of rational eigenvectors from Hermitian matrix group
Coordinates (x1, x2, x3, x4), all rational
Use Fourier transform: psi(x) = sum (k = 0 to n-1) of (phi_k * e^(2piikx/n))
Approx convergence: limit (n -> inf) of [1/n * sum (k=0 to n-1) of e^(i * theta_k)]^2 = delta(n, inf)
Use Euler’s adaptive thod with step-size h = 0.01
Apply on toroidal manifold of dinsion 2
Answer 2 – Stability of Chaos in Control Systems
"This one’s about taking a chaotic control system and stabilizing it across warped space. Think of it as putting a chaotic machine inside a rotating cube and predicting when it’ll break. The trick is using probability to model its collapse."
Answer:
Transfer function F(s) = (s^2 4s 5)/(s^3 6s^2 11s 6)
Inverse Laplace gives ti response: L^-1{F(s)} = A * e^(-t) B * t * e^(-2t) C * t^2 * e^(-3t)
Rotation matrix R = e^(theta * J), with J = skew-symtric, Add stochastic effect: dx = mu * dt sigma * dW(t)
Normalize with Ito correction factor = (0.5 * sigma^2 * dt)
Answer 3 – Recursive Functions in Galois-Tensor Space
"This is about recursive sets influenced by abstract number systems. It’s like stacking infinite decks of cards where each card is influenced by hidden forces and directions. The goal is to predict their behavior."
Answer:
Function f(S) maps subsets of N to GF(2^n). Use recursive set T(n 1) = A(n) * T(n) B(n) * T(n-1)
Initial T(0) = Identity, T(1) = Matrix A, Decompose via Jordan matrix over C^8 vector space, Spin group transformation rho: SU(2) to GL(V), where V is 8D complex - Output evaluated over fiber space bundle V x C^n
Answer 4 – Fractal Ga Theory Over Infinite Decisions
"This question wraps ga theory over a looping probability pattern. It’s testing how players act when every move changes future space itself. A decision-based paradox locked in infinite dinsions."
Answer:
Strategy set S = {s1, s2, ..., sn}
Transition matrix P, size n x n
Limit of P^k as k -> inf = steady state matrix Pi
Ga board = fractal set F with dinsion d = log(5)/log(3)
Entropy minimization: H(x) = -sum(p_i * log(p_i))
Find equilibrium under constraint: sum(p_i) = 1
Use Laplace smoothing factor alpha = 0.01
Answer 5 – Collapse Point of Multidinsional Zeta Model
"This one simulates how pure number theory reacts to quantum pressure. The collapse of order under energy, guided by chaos. Predicting when a theoretical structure breaks."
Answer:
Zeta(s) = sum (n=1 to inf) of 1/n^s
Regression model: Y = beta_0 beta_1 * theta beta_2 * H(E) error
Apply modular transformation: f(z) -> f((az b)/(cz d)), matrix in SL(2, Z)
Predict collapse point with: x(n 1) = r * x(n) * (1 - x(n))
Bayesian posterior update with prior P(H), likelihood L(D|H)
Soon I was done.
I set the pencil down gently.
My expression still blank.
I stared at the paper—not with pride or fear—but a still, quiet acknowledgent.
It was over.
At least... for now.
As I was quietly waiting for the exam to end, still seated, hands folded over the desk, the boy beside began to shake.
At first, it was subtle—his pencil rattled against the desk. Then it slipped from his hand.
His breathing turned jagged.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the tremors overtaking his arms. Then his whole body convulsed, and he collapsed forward, slamming into the floor with a loud, sickening thud.
The room didn’t react.
Not the kids. Not the man by the door. No alarms. No voices.
Just silence, and the spasms of one mind cracking under its own weight.
His back arched unnaturally. His limbs jerked as if short-circuiting. And then it began—blood leaking from his mouth, then his ears, then finally, slowly, his eyes.
A seizure, triggered by neurological overload. I’d read about it during the neuro-conditioning module. A collapse of brain function from cognitive overexertion. He’d tried to visualize a solution—tried to simulate the entire structure in his head without grounding it in basic logic.
He activated high-order cortex patterns—spatial mory, recursive visual loops—without having built the mathematical foundation to stabilize them.
In short, he imagined too much.
And his brain exploded.
Literally.
Blood pooled beneath him.
His body kept twitching for a while, but he was already gone. He’d disappear from the facility soon enough. Taken away, docunted, erased.
I stared at it blankly.
Not disturbed. Not afraid.
Just... watching.
This is the reality of our world.
Imagination can often be far more cruel than reality.
These children—they are brilliant. Gifted. Destined. But sowhere along the line, that gift stopped being a blessing. Here, it is nothing more than a survival tool.
And survival tools break.
Giftedness isn’t a guarantee of success. It’s a potential for it. That’s the part people like to forget. The adults here... they don’t see children. They see weapons.
They don’t raise you.
They test you.
They don’t nurture your potential.
They see if it can carry itself.
If you can’t wield your own gift, then it consus you.
Until you kill yourself using it.
I have no special talent.
I am only adaptable.
I survive by doing what needs to be done.
Soon, the exam ended.
We were dismissed without a word. No announcent. No ntion of the body still lying beside desk #43.
Our daily routines followed—silent training, al protocols, neural reviews. Nothing new. Nothing strange.
Eventually, I was handed my test score. It was sealed, stamped, marked by cold hands. I didn’t open it.
I was told to report to a different room.
A resting chamber.
That was rare.
I made my way down the sterile corridors. No signs. No clocks. The light buzzed overhead in rhythmic patterns—always white, always buzzing.
Then I entered.
And she was there.
Cartethyia.
The woman who takes care of .
Her eyes widened when she saw , then without hesitation, she rushed over. Her arms wrapped around , pulling into a tight embrace, pressing my head against her chest.
Tight.
She held like I’d returned from the depths of Hell.
Like I was sothing fragile.
I don’t understand why she’s happy to see .
I was just doing what had to be done.
"Kaiser!" she smiled, standing up, arms already open. "You’re back!"
I gave a slight nod. No smile. No change in tone. "I was told to rest here."
I didn’t hug back. I just let her.
"How was it? The exam?" she asked gently, brushing a few strands of my hair out of my face.
"It was just basic math," I replied, voice flat. "Nothing worth getting excited over."
Cartethyia chuckled softly, then patted my head twice. "You did amazing, I know you did."
"The teachers told to give this to you," I said, pulling the sealed envelope from my pocket and handing it to her.
She took it with both hands, looking at it as if it contained sothing precious. Her fingers trembled just a little as she broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the paper once, then twice. Slowly, they widened.
Then ca the smile.
Soft. Full. Proud.
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "I’m so proud of you, sweetheart," she whispered.
I blinked once. "Why?"
"Here," she said, turning the paper toward .
100 out of 100.
A perfect score.
"It’s just a perfect score," I said, quietly.
She pouted, gently nudging my forehead with her finger. "It’s more than that, Kaiser!"
Before I could respond, she scooped up into her arms effortlessly and spun once before holding close, pressing against her chest.
"I love you so much, Kaiser! I know you worked hard."
I didn’t respond. I simply rested my head against her shoulder as she held .
It was nothing but the basics of math.
Simple logic, basic recursive patterns, foundational theory applied through careful approximation.
A total of forty students passed the first written exam.
I suppose I was among them.
They must have scored perfectly too.
So why was I allowed to visit her this ti?
She didn’t request it.
She didn’t beg the staff for a permit like she usually does.
They let co on their own.
What I didn’t know then was this:
Each question on the test was written by ten professional mathematicians.
Ten experts per question.
They designed the problems and solved them—together.
And their answers... were wrong.
All of them.
The sheet I gave her had notes at the bottom.
Handwritten by instructors. Confird by mages.
"Subject 44’s solutions exceed the excellence standard. Insights are beyond expected paraters. His answers surpass the teachers..."
I didn’t know.
I just solved what was in front of .
She knew.
That’s why she smiled so proudly.
That’s why she praised .
"I’m so proud of you, Kai!" she said again, her voice trembling a little as she hugged tighter.
I let her.
Even if I didn’t need it.
Even if I didn’t understand it.
Because tomorrow—Another day to survive begins.
an imperfect human being against geniuses who were born perfect.
In this decaying world.
MARTON LIORA - First-Person Perspective
2012 - Present Ti
When I got the reports from a few of the boys, I didn’t think much of it. Kids lock themselves in their rooms after losing gas all the ti.
But then they told who he lost to.
Kaiser.
Honestly? That was... surprising. I’d never even seen the boy pass an exam with more than a 40%. Veyren must have underestimated him. I probably would have, too.
Still, it was nuts of Veyren to accept a challenge from him in the first place. He’s always been competitive, but losing to soone with such a poor academic record? That must’ve hurt.
Because he didn’t know Kaiser always holds himself back.
I walked up to his door and knocked.
"Veyren, dear, please open up."
Silence.
"Veyren?"
No reply.
I sighed, raising my hand and weaving a small spell—thin strands of wind to lift the latch while a subtle push of air nudged the door open from within.
The mont the door creaked, I wished I hadn’t looked inside.
The room was dim—only a faint, flickering glowstone in the corner. And there, hunched in the far end, was Veyren. His back against the wall, knees to his chest... and walls—no, every surface—covered in scribbles.
Not drawings. Not notes.
Equations. Thousands of them.
"...Veyren, dear—what is wrong?!"
His head twitched up, eyes shadowed. His voice was cracked, stumbling over itself.
"I... I m-m-must... figure it out."
"Figure what out?"
"How... he... won."
I took a slow step forward, and that’s when I noticed the desk. Four notebooks, completely filled, torn apart into loose pages scattered across the floor. His handwriting layered on top of itself in so places—feverish, desperate.
His friends had told he’d been trying to figure out how Kaiser beat him at astral chess. I didn’t think it would... be this.
He must’ve stayed up the entire night.
"It’s... impossible..." Veyren muttered, crawling across the floor toward the far wall.
And then I saw it—the largest equation sprawled across the plaster in jagged charcoal lines:
Σ{P(n,x) * (Qy - μ)^2} ∫[0,∞] e^(-λt) (R(t) Δc) dt = lim(k→∞) Σ [M(k) * χ(k-3)] / φ(n)
I couldn’t make sense of it. Even a trained mathematician would have needed weeks—months—to try.
Veyren’s hand trembled as he pointed to it.
"Calculated... every... piece transition... random chance variables... my own moves inserted into his probability map... he calculated forty-eight moves in advance. Since the start of the ga."
I froze. Forty-eight. From move one.
Veyren swallowed hard, voice shaking.
"And... he played them... in a pattern. T8... i17... every move spelled a ssage."
He turned his gaze to the floor, whispering:
"This is your last warning. Make Elfie cry again... and I’ll put you in your place. You’re nothing but inferior trash."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Veyren’s eyes went wild, and he started muttering—spelling out each part:
"T... twenty. H... eight. I... nine... S... nineteen..."
His voice cracked further, until he collapsed forward, slamming his palms against the floor.
"I’m... nothing... compared to him. He played like a fool. And he... he didn’t even make the best moves... so I could figure it out!"
And then the genius boy—the pride of the orphanage, the magical prodigy—buried his face into his arms and wept.
I just stood there, staring, unable to move.
Because now... it made sense.
It made perfect sense.
I pulled Veyren closer, careful not to hurt him as his body shook with silent sobs.
He didn’t need this. No one did.
But Kaiser... Kaiser didn’t want to destroy him outright.
That twisted mind of his had left the pattern on purpose. A taunt. A ntal blade to cut deeper than any magic or muscle could.
He knew Veyren would obsess over it, try to decipher every move, every hidden letter.
He wanted him to break himself—mind and body—chasing shadows and second-guessing every thought.
And Veyren fell right into it.
Because he doesn’t understand that Kaiser’s real strength is hidden.
Even I know the boy’s academic scores are fake. Miss Clara ntioned yesterday how Kaiser could lift weights twenty or thirty kilos heavier than most adults. Quietly, secretly, he trains himself—both body and mind.
There’s no way Veyren could beat him now. Not until he’s willing to lose everything to reach that level.
And I don’t think he’s ready.
I’m afraid for Elfie. Not because of her—she’s strong, gifted beyond belief—but because of what Kaiser is capable of.
He doesn’t have rcy.
Veyren made Elfie cry, yes, but then Kaiser used that pain to fuel his ga against Veyren. Manipulated him like a puppet, driving him to the edge of collapse—ntally shattered and physically drained, with dark circles under his eyes and a hollow look I’ve never seen before.
I don’t know how anyone can stand as his equal.
And I fear what happens to anyone who dares to hurt Elfina.
I held Veyren tighter as his sobs quieted to shaky breaths.
There was no comfort in it. Just a quiet dread settling deep inside .
The future wasn’t going to be kind.
Kaiser’s Perspective:
I got up pretty late today. It’s strange, really—no familiar tap-tap of Elfie’s footsteps, no soft voice coaxing awake like usual. It felt empty. Too quiet. So I went looking for her.
Her room was empty. That wasn’t right. I checked the dining room, the playroom—nothing. Then I stepped into the library and stopped cold. There she was, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. Books scattered around her like fallen leaves in a storm.
I dropped to my knees and scooped her up. Her body was warm but her breathing shallow.
"Elfie, wake up," I said, urgency lining my voice. "Wake up!"
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. When she saw , her cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly wriggled free from my arms, stepping back like she’d just realized she’d invaded my personal space.
That was new. Elfie, shy? Usually, she’s the one clutching my hand like a lifeline, not pulling away.
"What’s wrong?" I asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"I... you were too close," she mumbled, looking anywhere but at .
Her blue eyes, usually so bold and piercing, now flickered with sothing softer—sothing uncertain. Her pink hair was ssier than usual, strands sticking to her damp forehead. And then my gaze caught the cursed magic book lying open nearby.
"Elfie, what were you doing last night?" I asked, folding my arms.
She hesitated, fingers fidgeting. "I was... trying to make a new spell."
Her voice wavered, a stutter breaking through like a crack in glass. This wasn’t the confident girl who’d dared to steal my eyes or claim as hers with that fierce possessiveness.
No, this was soone else entirely—lost, fragile, almost overwheld.
"What kind of spell?" I pressed.
Her breath caught. "Self-revival. If I charge my celestial cores and mana into one singular entity, I might... be able to revive myself."
I bit my lip, intrigued despite myself. Self-revival? A forbidden art, whispered about but never mastered. Impossible by every known law of magic. And yet, here she was, trying.
I glanced at her hands, where the usual humming power of mana was faint, almost absent. "Elfie," I said softly, "show . Use wind magic—with celestial link—to pick up those books."
She nodded, willing herself to act, and summoned the spell. But it was slow, clumsy, lacking the sharp precision I knew she possessed. It was as if the core of her power was dimd—fractured.
Had she lost her gift? Or worse, a piece of herself? That fierce obsession, that burning drive that had been her fuel—was it gone now? Sohow, I didn’t think so.
"Hey," I said gently, stepping closer but careful not to invade her space, "It’s okay. Why were you trying to create self-revival in the first place?"
She looked up, shy and uncertain. "I—I just wanted to protect you. I thought if I could make the impossible possible, I could stay with you."
I smiled, soft but knowing. "I know you did your best, Elfie. And you don’t have to prove that to ."
She bit her lip, then, slowly, she stepped closer and reached out—this ti letting take her hand.
"It... still hurts. But I feel safe now," she whispered.
"Yeah, safer," I agreed, squeezing her hand gently. "We’ll figure this out together."
The whole day unfolded like a strange dream.
Elfie wasn’t herself. At first, I thought maybe it was just exhaustion. But no, it was more. The sharp edge of her possessiveness, that fierce grip she always had on —it was gone.
She let talk to other girls, even joked with them, smiled like a normal kid. Not once did she try to pull away or glare like she wanted to scorch the ground beneath anyone who looked at .
It was... surprising. I didn’t know what to make of it.
Even when we practiced spells, I noticed sothing else. Her magic was weaker. She fumbled over the incantations, her control missing the fluid grace she usually had. The way she once bent elental and celestial forces to her will was muted, like a fire reduced to embers. She tried to create sothing new—a spell to reinforce her magic—but it failed again and again. I didn’t say anything, though. So things don’t need words.
By afternoon, she was quieter, more thoughtful, but kinder, gentler. It was strange to see her like that, but also... peaceful.
Then ca the call.
"Kaiser, Elfie, Marton Liora wants to see you both," a caretaker said.
I glanced over at Elfie, who looked up, cheeks faintly pink, eyes nervous but determined.
"Well, shall we?" I said, smirking a little.
She nodded, shy but with a flicker of resolve.
We walked together toward Marton’s office.
"So," I started, voice low and teasing, "feel any less obsessive today?"
Elfie blushed, covering her face briefly. "No! I’m not obsessed. I’m just... being nice."
"Uh-huh," I grinned. "Nice. Right."
She gave a playful glare. "You’re an! But you’re my best friend, so I forgive you."
I laughed softly. "See? That’s progress."
We arrived at Marton’s office and stepped inside.
"Have a seat," she said.
Elfie sat down next to , looking up with those wide, bright eyes.
I glanced at her, the quiet shift in her aura still lingering in the back of my mind.
"Ready for whatever cos next?" I asked.
Elfie nodded, a soft smile curling her lips.
I sat quietly as Marton Liora’s calm voice filled the room, her words unfolding like a carefully woven tapestry.
"You two have been invited to join the Asura Empire’s Solerenne Academy of Sorcery," she said.
My mind imdiately shifted gears. The Asura Empire — a realm known for discipline, power, and ruthless ambition. The Solerenne Academy wasn’t just any school. It was the academy for gifted children like us, handpicked every three years from across the empire and beyond.
She explained further, "The academy has three stages of progression. First year, you enter as a Mage stage student — the foundation, learning to control and expand your magic. Second year, Beyonder stage — where your gifts begin to truly manifest, where the extraordinary starts to take shape. And finally, the third year is Sorcerer stage — where the prodigies stand out, where power and control reach their peak."
Her voice softened as she looked at Elfie and , "You will start as Mages. The details will beco clearer once you’re there."
Elfie’s voice broke the silence, timid but curious, "Why were we chosen?"
Liora smiled faintly, "Elfie, you are gifted beyond what the Asura Academy expects. Your talents surpass even the highest benchmarks they set. They want people like you."
"Why?" Elfie pressed. "Why do they want that?"
"That, we don’t know," Liora admitted. "They say it’s to prepare for a great calamity."
Great calamity. The phrase sent a ripple through my thoughts, a cascade of possibilities spinning out in precise vectors.
Calamity. What could that an? War? Political upheaval? The Asura Emperor isn’t known for reckless conflict, nor does the empire usually strike first. Their borders are secure, their armies formidable.
Could it be the demons, elves, or dwarfs? Those factions have tangled with Asura before, but open war would be catastrophic for all sides — and the empire’s self-defense asures are sufficient to deter most threats.
Maybe it’s the archons or the dragonics — those ancient, powerful beings capable of devastation. But what reason would they have to disrupt the fragile peace? Is the threat external, or is it sothing internal, sothing brewing beneath the surface we don’t yet see?
The ambiguity gnawed at . Defense against an unknown enemy — but who? What? When? All questions spinning without answers yet.
I glanced at Elfie. Her usually confident expression was replaced by unease.
"Why was Kaiser chosen?" she asked quietly.
Wait, what? I wasn’t just a bystander in this? I turned to Marton, incredulous.
She sighed softly, "We don’t know. Kaiser himself can’t use magic, you know that. Even I told them. Yet, they still insisted you must attend."
Elfie’s lips curled into a small smile, relief mixing with affection. "That’s good... I won’t be lonely there without you."
I sat back, caught between surprise and curiosity. Why ? What did they see that I didn’t? What role was I ant to play in this ’great calamity’ they hinted at?
Questions lingered like shadows in my mind.
We left Marton Liora’s office with that strange lingering tension still between us, but Elfie didn’t say anything. Neither did I.
The night air outside was cooler than I expected—thin, almost fragile. The lanterns along the path lit our way in patches, but she kept glancing at the sky like she was trying to ignore the ground entirely.
We wandered toward the old playing yard, the one no one used at night. She slowed down every ti a cluster of stars peeked through the tree gaps, and I realized she wasn’t just killing ti. She actually liked this.
Elfie—of all people—could spend hours just staring up there.
"You know," I said, "most people your age are still obsessed with playing and making friends. But here you are, looking at the stars imagining a future.."
She giggled. "They’re... magical. Don’t you feel it when you look at them? Like they’re calling you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "No. All I feel is the cold wind and my slowly freezing ears."
She pouted. "You’re so boring."
The path opened into the old courtyard. No lamps here—just the night, wide and heavy. Elfie tilted her head back, eyes bright even in the dark.
"I don’t know why... but I just love the stars, Kai. They’re so far away, yet they still shine for us."
Her voice softened, almost afraid of being too loud. "My dream was always to beco the light of the sky."
I looked up with her. It was quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves. I didn’t answer right away—mostly because my head was already running calculations.
Going wherever she wanted ant ti I didn’t have, risks I didn’t want. I didn’t have mana, wasn’t a prodigy, wasn’t special. Just a fast learner with no talents.
She turned to . "I want to be able to reach them."
Her eyes didn’t blink. She ant it.
She was my friend... maybe my only friend. No—best friend.
I knew her dream wasn’t about glory. She’d told before: she wanted to use her magic to help the weak and poor, to make sure kids didn’t suffer like she had. She wanted the kind of power that could change the rules entirely. Stronger than most royalty. Strong enough to never bow.
Without a noble background, it was nearly impossible. But she was stubborn enough to try.
Then she asked it.
"Will you be by my side there? Please?"
Her voice was so small, like she was afraid I’d laugh at her.
I looked at her, then at the endless black sky.
And I smiled.
I raised my hand, pulled out my pinky, and said, "I, Kaiser Everhart, promise you, Elfie. No matter the cost, I’ll make you the Celestial Empress—the light of our world."
I held her gaze. "No matter the sacrifice, I’ll make you win."
Her cheeks flushed pink even in the starlight. She hooked her pinky with mine, the tiniest laugh escaping her. "Then I promise too! I’ll always be by your side and help you, Kai."
We didn’t need more words. The stars were enough.
That’s how we stayed—two kids making an impossible promise under the silent witnesses above.
At the end. I am going to win. For her.
And then—The sky shattered.
The stars bled into nothing.
I felt the world collapsing around , my lungs crushed, my bones pulled apart.
And I woke up.
User Comments
0 comments from readers