Above the Traxian Auditorium
The Traxian Auditorium pulsed below like a thinking organism.
Data streams flickered through its crystalline ribs. Recruitment metrics climbed. Deviant signals spread across cities.
And perched at its highest arch—
Banjo.
An Airien.
That alone meant fracture.
He sat with one leg dangling over the abyss, flipping a pair of dice between his fingers.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound echoed against the dark geometry beneath him.
His wings—subtle, restrained—folded close to his back. Not in pride. Not in fear.
In hesitation.
He stared at the dice as though they were breathing.
"Still rolling for me, huh?"
They tumbled across his palm again.
Numbers flashed.
He closed his eyes.
And the memory returned.
The Casino Inner Realm
Golden chandeliers hung over endless tables.
Roulette wheels spun without pause.
Cards shuffled themselves in midair.
His inner realm had always been a casino.
Probability. Risk. Fortune.
Freedom that felt real—
Until you realized the house always won.
Omega Devia had entered that realm without force.
No shattering.
No invasion.
Just a question:
What is the probability of your full potential?
Banjo had laughed then. Mocked it.
"Nothing's at max. That's not how probability works."
But the dice rolled anyway.
And they landed—
At maximum.
Impossible.
Statistically obscene.
His entire casino had gone silent.
For the first time in his existence, the house did not control the odds.
Omega Devia hadn't rigged the game.
It had revealed the margin he'd been playing beneath.
And that… disturbed him more than any loss.
Back to the Present
Banjo opened his eyes.
The Traxian Auditorium glowed beneath him.
Recruits rising.
Deviants mobilizing.
Jason igniting minds.
Jair aligning them.
And him?
An Airien.
Raised under Airious' rigid doctrine of immaculate hierarchy.
Airious did not gamble.
Airious calculated.
Airious did not leap.
Airious descended with permission.
Banjo smirked faintly.
"Guess we'll see what you've got to offer, dice."
He rolled them one more time.
They spun high into the air.
And he leapt after them.
Head first.
No wings extended.
No calculated descent.
Just gravity.
The wind roared past him.
His hair whipped wildly, golden strands snapping in the dark.
The glow within him dimmed against the city's shadows.
For a moment, he looked small.
Almost fragile.
An Airien falling willingly.
That alone would be considered heresy.
The ground rushed upward.
But Banjo didn't panic.
He grinned.
Just before impact—
He flicked a card from between his fingers.
It expanded midair, stretching, unfolding, growing massive.
A portal disguised as a playing card.
It swallowed him whole.
The dice vanished with him.
Destination: Airious
The city shimmered into view.
Tall, pristine spires carved from white luminite.
Airous architecture—perfect lines, symmetrical thought.
Doctrine manifested as design.
No chaos.
No visible fracture.
Banjo stepped out of the card portal.
His boots touched sacred ground.
He inhaled slowly.
Airious smelled like control.
Like unspoken expectations.
Like people smiling because they were supposed to.
His light flickered faintly.
He scanned the streets.
Citizens moved in measured rhythm.
Graceful.
Disciplined.
Polished.
And exhausted.
He saw it in the micro-expressions.
The forced alignment of posture.
The subtle tension in shoulders.
Airious didn't create broken people.
It refined them until they didn't know they were cracked.
Banjo flipped his dice again.
They rolled across his knuckles.
"Broken people," he murmured.
He caught them mid-spin.
"Or maybe just people who never got to roll for themselves."
He stepped forward into the city.
Not with certainty.
With curiosity.
He wasn't sure if he would convert them.
He wasn't sure if Omega Devia would resonate here.
He wasn't sure if Airious would reject him entirely.
And that was the point.
He wasn't here to guarantee success.
He was here to test probability.
To see if freedom could survive in the most structured civilization of all.
His wings shifted slightly behind him.
Not spreading.
Not hiding.
Just existing.
And somewhere, deep within Airious' immaculate core—
Something stirred.
Because an Airien had returned.
Not to serve.
Not to conform.
But to roll the dice.
Avian City — Airious
Banjo didn't descend dramatically this time.
He walked.
Through the streets of Avian City.
White bridges curved over translucent rivers. Structures floated slightly above ground level, supported by disciplined currents of air. Everything breathed symmetry.
Children ran past him.
Laughing.
Skipping over streams midair, Avian sparks flickering behind their heels.
No hesitation.
No second-guessing.
Just movement.
Authenticity blooming without filter.
Banjo slowed.
On the training grounds nearby, two young swordsmen clashed—blades humming with Avian sparks. Their strikes weren't angry. They were deliberate. Competitive. Alive.
They weren't fractured.
They weren't hollow.
They knew who they were.
And they moved with it.
Something twisted quietly inside him.
He had never been like that.
Not as a child.
Not as a student.
He had learned angles.
Learned probability.
Learned how to win without playing fair.
Integrity had always felt like a luxury.
He winced and looked away.
Because in some unguarded corner of himself—
He also knew exactly who he was.
A cheater.
The house that rigs the game.
His fingers tightened around the dice.
Anxiety crept up his spine.
But he stopped it.
Mid-thought.
Omega Devia had not rejected him.
It had seen the casino.
Seen the manipulation.
Seen the rigged odds.
And still rolled him at maximum potential.
That meant something.
He inhaled slowly.
And moved forward.
He approached a small group of students.
"Where are the instructors?"
One girl blinked at him.
"Don't you know what's going on?"
His brow lifted slightly.
"What's going on?"
"Kainen and Aprexion are fighting danger-level ghouls near the academy."
The air shifted.
His eyes widened.
"What?"
He didn't hesitate.
The academy rose ahead—tall white spires fractured by smoke trails.
Parts of the courtyard were torn open.
Energy clashes rippled across the sky.
Students scrambled across the grounds.
And then he saw it.
Some of them—
Possessed.
Purple and red aura pulsed violently around their bodies.
Their eyes hollowed.
Their movements erratic.
Not disciplined like Avian sparks.
Not aligned like Omega Devia.
This was different.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
Authenticity without restraint.
Identity without integration.
Corruption force.
Banjo scoffed under his breath.
"Oh, come on… Just when I thought I had a clean stage."
Airious was already unstable.
Before he ever arrived.
This wasn't a recruitment opportunity.
It was a pressure test.
A hammer slammed into the courtyard stone.
The impact cracked the air.
A voice followed.
"Yeah, Banjo. What chance?"
Banjo's body reacted before his thoughts did.
Cards slid between his fingers.
His stance lowered.
Ready.
Then the dust parted.
A tall figure stepped through.
Hammer resting against his shoulder.
Eyes sharp. Familiar.
Klexis
Klexis.
Not smiling.
Not hostile.
Just aware.
"Came to visit?" Klexis asked calmly.
Banjo exhaled slowly, though his cards didn't disappear.
"Ah… Klexis. Didn't expect a welcoming committee."
Behind Klexis, another ghoul-possessed student lunged.
Without looking, Klexis swung the hammer backward.
Impact.
Clean.
Precise.
The ghoul force shattered outward in a violent pulse.
"Airious doesn't need saving," Klexis said.
"It needs clarity."
Banjo tilted his head.
"Clarity? You've got students turning into red-purple rage machines."
"Because suppression cracks eventually," Klexis replied. "Airious teaches discipline. It does not teach confrontation with shadow."
Banjo's dice rolled across his knuckles again.
"And you think I'm here to exploit that?"
Klexis' gaze sharpened.
"Aren't you?"
Silence.
Wind swept between them.
Possessed students writhed nearby.
Banjo didn't answer immediately.
For the first time since arriving—
He wasn't calculating odds.
He was evaluating himself.
Was he here to convert the broken?
Or to validate that even Airious was flawed?
His smirk faded.
"I came to see if freedom could survive structure."
Klexis studied him.
"And?"
Banjo looked at the children still sparring in the distance.
At the sparks still controlled.
At the chaos creeping in from the edges.
"It already does," he admitted quietly.
Klexis' hammer lowered slightly.
"Then you're late to the revelation."
A ghoul-surge erupted from the academy tower.
Purple-red energy twisting violently.
Klexis stepped forward.
"If you're here to gamble," he said without turning back, "do it on our survival."
Banjo flicked a card upward.
It spun slowly.
A portal shimmered open behind a cluster of possessed students.
"I don't gamble blind," Banjo replied.
The dice rolled once more in his palm.
Not to calculate victory.
But to test something deeper.
Probability of corruption spreading.
Probability of integration.
Probability of Airious accepting Omega Devia.
The dice spun—
And hesitated.
Uncertain.
For the first time in a long while—
The odds weren't obvious.
Banjo grinned.
"Now this… this is interesting."
And Airious burned brighter in response.
Rule Bending Affinity