The grandeur of the Hall of Stars—the vaulted ceilings, the solemn stone, the public spectacle—existed only in its upper tiers. Beneath it lay its beating heart: a labyrinth of sterile steel, humming servers, and cold light.
Aurora moved through a stark, metallic passageway, the clack of her boots the only sound. The transition from ancient stone to hyper-modern alloy was always a shock to the system. Here, there was no pretense of majesty, only function. She arrived at a monolithic door bearing a stark sign: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY – SIMULATION COMMAND.
She pressed the identification badge hanging against her chest to a scanner. A soft chime, a hiss of hydraulics, and the door slid open.
The room beyond was a theater of controlled chaos. A semicircle of holographic monitors glowed, displaying complex readouts and waiting static. Dozens of technicians—members of the Curiosity's Inquisitors Guild, identifiable by their distinctive lab coats over casual wear—worked at interfaces, their faces bathed in the cool light of data streams.
The other Number Ones were already present, each occupying their own psychological territory.
Titanium, a benevolent giant in a room of fragile tech, was carefully distributing cups of coffee and protein bars to the staff, his low, rumbling voice offering words of encouragement. A gentle patriarch tending his flock.
Beastial claimed the farthest shadowy corner, arms crossed, his back practically a wall. His brooding scowl was a clear, physical barrier. Do not approach.
And Myst… was, as usual, unseen. But a keen observer would notice anomalies. Small, lazy tendrils of opalescent mist coiled like sleeping cats near the floor vents. A faint shimmer in the air by an empty console. They were everywhere and nowhere.
Aurora had barely taken three steps into the room when a woman detached herself from a central hologram and strode over, a whirlwind of cheerful efficiency.
She was of average height, with a cloud of short, white curly hair and sharp, intelligent eyes behind stylish glasses. She wore a practical skirt and blouse, over which a lab coat hung like a cape of office. Its pockets bristled with styluses and tools. Her ID badge declared: BLANCHE – STRATEGIC OVERLORD. GUILD MASTER: CURIOSITY'S INQUISITORS.
"Aurora! A sight for sore eyes in this dungeon of data!" Blanche beamed, thrusting out a hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm, energetic.
Aurora accepted the handshake, her own grip cool and steady. "Blanche. The operation appears efficient, as always." Her expression, as ever, gave nothing away.
"Naturally! We strive for optimal results at all costs," Blanche declared, puffing out her chest. She struck a playful pose—a wink, a tongue poked out—that was at odds with her title. "You can always trust the Curiosity's Inquisitors to handle your most delicate technical, analytical, and intellectual dilemmas!"
As if on cue, her guild members around the room raised fists in unison, their chorus well-practiced: "We, the Inquisition of Curiosity, live for efficiency and optimization!"
Titanium let out a warm, booming laugh and clapped, a proud uncle at a recital. "Marvelous spirit! Well done!"
From his corner, Beastial let out a derisive snort loud enough to cut through the chant. "Do you have to do that every single time? It's insufferable."
Titanium turned, wagging a finger the size of a sausage. "Now, now, Beastial. Allow others their esprit de corps. It fosters morale."
"Piss off, old man," Beastial growled, not even looking at him. "No one asked for your commentary."
"The same could be said for your grievances, dear fellow," Titanium replied, his tone still gentle but edged with unmovable steel.
The air grew heavy. Before the bickering could escalate, the ambient mist near the floor surged.
It happened in a breath. A silvery fog erupted, flooding the room, enveloping Titanium, Beastial, and every guild member in between. They froze, their movements ceasing, eyes glazing over into blank, dazed stares. The mist swirled around them, an eerie, silent spectacle.
Only Blanche and Aurora, standing at the command dais, were left untouched.
From a patch of deep shadow near the main server bank, Myst materialized. Their form was androgynous, encased in a tailored suit that seemed to drink the light, a sleek gas mask obscuring their face. Though no eyes were visible, the weight of their glare was a palpable force directed at the frozen figures.
A muffled, digitally-filtered voice issued from the mask, vibrating with quiet fury. "Quiet. You are disturbing the operational frequency. Savages."
The tension in the room crystalized, sharp and dangerous.
Aurora sighed, a faint plume of frost escaping her lips. She did not raise her voice.
"Enough."
She brought her hands together in a single, crisp clap.
The sound was followed by an arctic wave, a visible blast of cold air that ripped through the room. It tore the mist apart, scattering it into nothingness, and snapped everyone back to awareness.
The guild members stumbled, clutching their heads with muted groans. Beastial blinked, rage and confusion warring on his face. He zeroed in on Myst, his body coiling. "You little—"
"Beastial." Aurora's voice was a glacier. She didn't look at him; she surveyed the entire room. "I will not tolerate juvenile conduct. This is a place of consequence, not a playground for egos." Her icy gaze swept over Myst and Titanium. "That edict applies universally."
Beastial's jaw worked, but he slammed back against the wall, his fury now a silent, smoldering inferno. Myst gave a slight, dismissive tilt of their head and dissolved back into the shadows, the last wisps of mist retreating with them.
Titanium, chastened, offered a sheepish shrug and settled heavily into a reinforced chair, which creaked in protest.
Blanche cleared her throat, the sound loud in the sudden quiet. She smoothed her lab coat, her professional cheer firmly back in place. "Right! Now that we're all… recalibrated, let's commence with the destiny-making, shall we?"
Her fingers danced across her holographic interface. The large central screens flickered to life, displaying a complex schematic of the Hall, with fifty chambers highlighted.
"These are our live simulation pods. State-of-the-art, courtesy of our collaborative partners in the Revolutionary Paradise Guild," Blanche explained, pride evident. "Neural synchronization, full sensory immersion, real-time biometric and psionic feedback. We'll see their fears, their instincts, their very souls react to the Gate simulation. And from that, we will pluck the truth of their potential."
The screens showed empty readouts: CANDIDATE: PENDING. MANIFESTATION: PENDING. CLASSIFICATION: PENDING.
Aurora gave a single, slow nod. "Proceed."
Blanche's grin turned triumphant. She spun on her heel and tapped a final, glowing key.
---
In the cavernous auditorium, the solemn mood left by the memorial had been replaced by a buzzing, nervous energy. Cho fidgeted, feeling the weight of the coming minutes. The stranger with the golden-retriever energy was buzzing beside him, speculating about what the simulation might feel like.
Suddenly, a bright chime echoed through the space, followed by a voice that was nothing like Aurora's monotone.
"Helloooo, candidates! And welcome to the most pivotal moment of your lives!" The voice was bright, energetic, and slightly mischievous.
The auditorium erupted in confused excitement.
"I am your charming overseer for today, Blanche! Strategic Overlord of the Curiosity's Inquisitors Guild! My team and I will be orchestrating your journey from the other side of the screen!"
A wave of recognition rippled through the crowd. Whispers exploded.
"The Blanche? Rank 20 overall?"
"She's a Prism! A top-tier support!"
"I've read her papers on tactical meta-analysis! She's a genius!"
Cho felt a complicated twist in his gut. Blanche was living proof a Prism could be powerful, respected, strategic… and yet, she was backstage. Running the system, not fighting on the front lines. The exception that proved the rule.
"Alright, settle down, my little variables!" Blanche's voice chirped. "We have a colossal amount of data to collect today, so efficiency is key! Observe the master schedule!"
The main screen switched to a immaculately detailed timetable. "With roughly one hundred thousand of you, we've broken you into fifty groups of two thousand. Each group gets exactly twelve minutes in the simulation. We begin at 10:00 AM and will conclude by 20:00 tonight. It's a marathon, not a sprint!"
A collective murmur ran through the students. Twelve minutes to decide their entire future.
"The first group will be called by your candidate ID number now. Listen carefully! Follow the instructions of the proctors you see! They'll guide you to your simulation pods."
Cho's heart hammered against his ribs. He clutched the lanyard holding his own ID tag: CH-7743.
"And remember," Blanche's voice softened, taking on a rare, genuine warmth. "Not every spark becomes a star. Not everyone will manifest an ability today. And that is perfectly, fundamentally okay. Your value is not inscribed by a classification or a rank. It is inherent. Now—let's begin!"
The screen changed, and a rapid scroll of numbers began.
As the first codes were called and students began to shuffle out, Cho looked down at his own trembling hands. He thought of Blanche's words. They were meant to be kind, but to him, they sounded like a pre-emptive condolence.
Inherent value. He knew all about that. It hadn't saved anyone.
He needed more. He needed a power. He needed to be a star, not just a spark.
A proctor's voice boomed over the local speakers in their section. "Candidates CH-7700 through CH-7999, please rise and form a line at Exit Gamma."
His block was up. It was time.
He stood, his legs feeling like stone. The golden-retriever guy from before clapped him on the shoulder with a nervous grin. "This is it! Good luck, man!"
Cho could only nod, his throat too tight for words. As he filed into the line, moving toward the stark, metallic passages that led away from the auditorium's public grandeur, he felt it.
The eyes of the past on his back.
The cold gaze of the system ahead.
And deep within, a single, desperate spark, screaming to ignite.