The great banners of Vorn fluttered above the Academy of Potential, each one bearing the sigil of a noble House—flames, wings, swords, suns. All symbols of legacy and power.
Kaien Valtor sat beneath them in silence, spine straight despite the limp in his left leg and the scarred tissue winding up his neck like an unwanted tattoo.
He was the last student on the platform.
All others had been tested. Even the other Gutterborn—scraps from the lower sector—had shown some flicker of mana. A spark. A chance.
But Kaien?
He had nothing.
The examiner, a robed Highborn with gleaming rings on every finger, didn't hide his disgust.
"Place your palm on the Orb of Resonance," he said, voice tight with boredom. "And try not to waste more time."
Kaien didn't respond. He slowly rolled his wheelchair forward and rested his hand on the crystalline sphere.
It remained dull. Not even a flicker of light.
Silence rippled across the courtyard. Then came the murmurs.
"He's really empty…"
"It didn't even hum. Like a corpse."
"Being Gutterborn is one thing, but this..."
The orb pulsed briefly—not with magic, but with a mechanical chime from the system mounted beside it.
{Subject: Kaien Valtor}
{Mana Affinity: None}
{Classification: Talentless}
"Talentless?" The word hung in his throat as sweat rolled down his brow. His hand slipped from the orb.
"Perhaps he should try again," came a calm voice from one of the elevated seats. The dean of the Academy. Her voice was gentle, almost kind—the only figure in the school who hadn't openly looked down on him. The Academy of Potential was the sole institution in Vorn that claimed to treat Gutterborn and Highborn equally.
Until the final test.
Where merit, or lack thereof, drew a line brighter than flame.
The examiner nodded curtly, offering a second attempt.
Kaien hesitated, staring at his palm before placing it once more on the orb, lips moving in silent prayer.
The hall erupted.
Highborns laughed. Their voices sharp and cruel. Even the other Gutterborns joined in, desperate to prove they weren't like him—that they had mana, had worth.
"Oh, don't give up. Maybe the orb is broken. Surely, there must be some measure of mana somewhere in there," the dean said, her voice now laced with sarcasm.
Kaien looked up, confused. No one had ever shown such faith in him. Her words had felt real. For a moment.
The laughter died down. Students turned, puzzled by her tone.
Kaien was about to place his hand again when a shrill cackle burst from the seats above.
"You're so pathetic it's funny!" the dean cried out, no longer able to mask her amusement.
The examiner—Donald—joined in. So did the professors. All once composed and stoic, now sneering and howling.
Kaien had been called trash for as long as he could remember. But this... this was different.
His head lowered.
"Imagine being a cripple," someone muttered.
"He's truly just trash, isn't he?" another voice chimed in.
Kaien lifted his head, his eyes trembling.
"Mr. Donald," he called faintly, locking eyes with the examiner. "Why am I being laughed at?"
The man blinked, caught off guard.
"Is it because I'm crippled? Or Gutterborn?" Kaien asked, genuinely searching for clarity. For logic. For a reason.
He had laughed at his own misery before. Perhaps there was humor here too.
"You really don't know?" Donald stepped closer, voice dripping with mockery.
Kaien shook his head.
"Well, it's because you're not just crippled or Gutterborn." Donald leaned in, smiling wide. "You're trash. Crippled, Gutterborn, talentless trash."
Kaien's eyes widened. The words carved into him like ice.
He reached for the orb again, desperation mounting. "Please. One more try."
Donald caught his hand midair.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I have to try again. Just one more time—please!"
"Nonsense. The Orb of Resonance is delicate. I won't risk you tainting it."
Kaien's eyes flicked to a Highborn girl who had been allowed multiple attempts.
"You let her try five times. All I'm asking for is one more."
Donald's grip tightened, bruising.
"I said no, cripple."
Kaien's hand trembled in the examiner's vice. The laughter returned, rising like a cruel tide. But something inside him—long buried—shifted.
Not a bone.
Not a tendon.
Something deeper.
A silence. A dam. A part of him that had accepted the world as it was.
It cracked.
"Let go," Kaien said.
Donald leaned in, sneering. "What? You planning to—"
Crunch.
A howl tore through the courtyard as Donald reeled back, blood gushing from his hand. His ring finger—gone.
And Kaien was chewing.
He spat the finger onto the examiner's polished shoes.
Silence. Absolute and perfect.
The dean froze.
The Highborns froze.
Even the orb seemed to pulse once—like it had felt something for the first time.
Kaien's lips were stained crimson. His eyes weren't vacant anymore.
He wiped his mouth.
"You wouldn't let go."
Donald clutched his mutilated hand, shrieking. "You saw it! He tried to kill me! That's murder! Attempted assassination!"
The word ricocheted through the courtyard.
Murder.
Gasps erupted. A girl fainted. One Highborn puked on his robes.
Kaien didn't move.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't run.
He knew what was coming.
"He bit me!" Donald shrieked, holding his bloody hand aloft. "He's a danger to everyone here!"
The dean stood. Her voice cut sharp across the chaos. "This is a High Crime. Assaulting a Highborn examiner is no different from striking at the Crown."
"He needs to be tried!" a lone voice shouted.
Another answered louder. "Why waste a trial on trash?"
The professors nodded in quiet agreement.
Just like that—
It was done.
No trial.
No defense.
No voice.
A squad of armored enforcers stormed the platform. Kaien didn't fight. They tore him from his wheelchair, shackled him like a beast, and dragged him across cold marble.
"Sentence him to the pit," the dean said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Organic fuel for Engine Six."
Gasps echoed louder than before.
Even for a Gutterborn… this was brutal.
The pit wasn't a prison. It was a furnace. One of the Seven Great Engines that powered the floating sectors of Vorn. Now and then, it was fed with living bodies. Criminals. Or the expendable.
Kaien said nothing.
He couldn't walk. He didn't struggle.
But as they dragged his limp form down the academy steps toward the deep steel shaft of the pit elevator, he turned his head.
One last glance at the platform.
The banner of Vorn fluttered high above them, majestic and cruel.
Blood still lined Kaien's teeth.
And he smiled.
Not a madman's grin.
Not defiance.
Not fear.
Something… calm.
Like a man who had finally woken up.
Like a whisper before the fire.