Lucien had grown accustomed to Nax. Each day, he would walk across its floating landscapes, the islands of metaphysical energy drifting lazily beneath his boots, and sit in quiet meditation. The planet, alive and subtly sentient, seemed to respond to his moods. The energy streams would coil closer when he was thoughtful, swirl violently when he contemplated battles, and hum softly when he allowed himself a rare smile.
Even as the Sole Exception, Nax was teaching him patience. The Metaphysical Plane was not something to be dominated by force alone; it required understanding, subtlety, and attention to its unique laws. Day by day, Lucien would allow himself to dive into its currents, probing, testing, feeling the flow of potentiality and actualization, letting the pulse of existence itself teach him.
He realized that his awareness had deepened even further. The branches of the World Tree that had stretched into the Metaphysical Plane were no longer just extensions—they had merged, subtly, with the very essence of the plane. Null, now fully awakened, perched beside him on a floating cliff, its nine heads coiling and uncurling as if studying the river of energy that spread across the horizon.
"You're far too patient," Lucien murmured to the colossal serpent. One head hissed softly, almost in amusement. "I should be worried you're learning more about me than I am about you."
Null's massive body rippled with energy. "Perhaps… or perhaps the learning never ends. You are not bound to time here, yet… even you must measure your understanding in… units of existence."
Lucien chuckled. He had long since evolved past the concept of ordinary time. Weeks, months, years—they existed, but differently. He could perceive the entire lifespan of a star cluster in a glance if he wished, or slow it to a crawl to study the tiniest subatomic fluctuation of a nascent reality. Yet here, on Nax, he allowed himself a slower pace.
It was during one of these days of introspection that Lucien first noticed a ripple in the Metaphysical Plane—not subtle this time, but a deliberate disturbance, almost ceremonial in tone. Across the horizon, a tower of impossible design spiraled upward, bending space and light around it. It wasn't one structure—it was a nexus, forming simultaneously in multiple layers of the plane, impossible geometry stacked upon impossible geometry.
Kaelith, who had remained beside him since their last excursion, raised an eyebrow. "Hm… that wasn't here yesterday."
Lucien tilted his head, feeling the currents of power. "Not just power… intent. Someone is building, and it is deliberate. Let's see."
As they approached, the structure solidified into a colossal academy, hovering above a pool of liquid energy that reflected the vast expanse of Nax itself. A banner of shifting symbols spelled out its name: The Academy of Aetherionum.
It wasn't just a school—it was a locus of potential, designed by the Author Candidates themselves, beings who had transcended the normal metaphysical boundaries and now wished to cultivate knowledge, combat ability, and metaphysical understanding in others. Students, both fledgling and seasoned, were already visible, suspended in the air, practicing techniques that bent reality itself. One was shaping a tiny universe, another seemed to be bending causality within a controlled bubble, and yet another floated while his form split into three simultaneous versions of himself, each acting independently yet coherently.
Lucien's interest piqued. "An academy… and not one for mere mortals. These… Author Candidates must intend for this to grow into something significant."
Kaelith smirked. "You think they'll accept the Sole Exception as a teacher?"
Lucien's smile was slow, deliberate. "They may invite me. But I doubt they would restrict my freedom. Let's find out."
Within moments, a ripple of energy approached him, shaped into a humanoid form—tall, imposing, blue hair with a streak of red at the front, a perfectly tailored suit that somehow seemed flexible enough to fight in. This was Kaelitharion, the most expressive and theatrical of the Author Candidates, and one who had a fondness for challenging Lucien in their previous encounters.
"Lucien Dreamveil," Kaelitharion's voice boomed across the metaphysical winds, "I come bearing an invitation. The Academy of Aetherionum wishes to grant you… the title of Honorary Elder."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Honorary Elder… and what does that entail, exactly?"
Kaelitharion's smirk deepened. "Freedom. Authority. Recognition. You are free to walk as you wish, unbound by curriculum, schedules, or obligation. Yet, should you choose to participate in the Round Table, your voice will carry the same authority as the Master of the Academy. You will be… an equal in knowledge, influence, and respect."
Lucien chuckled, amused by the formality. "And the catch?"
"No catch," Kaelitharion said, flourishing his arms dramatically. "You are the Sole Exception, after all. You may not be bound by rules… but the academy will follow your guidance, should you choose to lead."
Lucien's grin was faint but unmistakable. "Very well… I accept."
The Round Table itself was an impossibly large circular construct, hovering over the central nexus of the Academy. The table wasn't physical—it was metaphysical, an intersection of layered realities, and its surface reflected the consciousness of those seated.
Lucien was guided to a place of honor at the table, beside Kaelitharion and other Author Candidates. Each candidate radiated power subtly, not for intimidation, but as a marker of presence, of authority. Their gazes held curiosity, challenge, and even amusement at the arrival of the Sole Exception.
"Ladies, gentlemen… entities of incomparable experience," Lucien said, leaning back slightly, "I am told I am to be your Honorary Elder. I will not hinder you. I will not constrain you. I will… observe, participate, and perhaps… challenge your limits when it is entertaining."
A ripple of laughter flowed through the Round Table, metaphysical energy buzzing with amusement. Kaelitharion leaned toward Lucien. "You have a peculiar way of accepting honors, Sole Exception."
"I have peculiar ways for everything," Lucien replied with a smirk.
For the next cycles of the metaphysical day, Lucien spent his time observing the academy in operation. Students tested abilities that bent time, warped causality, and reshaped dimensional threads. Others crafted realms within microcosmic metaphysical bubbles. Lucien's own observations were subtle yet profound—he could see which students had potential to rival even Author Candidates, and which would crumble under metaphysical strain.
Kaelitharion watched him with amusement. "You're smiling, aren't you? Not many mortals could even exist here, and yet… you're actually enjoying this."
Lucien's eyes gleamed faintly. "Not enjoying… anticipating. Every student here represents a thread of potential. Nax thrives on potential… and so does the Metaphysical Plane. To watch it unfold… is… fascinating."
As the final ceremony of the Round Table concluded, Kaelitharion rose and, with ceremonial flair, placed a metaphysical sash across Lucien's shoulders. Symbols of authority, intelligence, and potential shimmered across the sash.
"Henceforth," Kaelitharion proclaimed, "Lucien Dreamveil, the Sole Exception, shall be recognized as Honorary Elder of the Academy of Aetherionum, equal in authority to the Master, free in all ways, and bound only by your own discretion."
Lucien adjusted the sash, his grin faint but confident. "Honorary… yes. Elder… amusing. But all that really matters is… freedom. I do not need your authority, yet I accept it as… an interesting note in the annals of existence."
Kaelitharion laughed. "You always put things in such… cold terms, but it works for you."
"Of course," Lucien said, standing and surveying the academy. "Even here, among beings older than many realities, I remain… the Sole Exception."
From that day onward, Lucien balanced his time on Nax between meditation, exploration, and attending gatherings of the Round Table. The academy flourished, students learning from Author Candidates, from subtle manipulations of the metaphysical, and from Lucien's indirect guidance.
Occasionally, he would stroll through the floating isles, Null coiled beside him, the Metaphysical Plane whispering softly to him as he refined his understanding of partial control, weaving new threads, shaping life, and bending potential.
Kaelith remained his companion for exploration, teasing him, challenging him, and occasionally lamenting that he would never match the full scope of Lucien's abilities—even here, on Nax, in the Metaphysical Plane, among the most powerful entities imaginable.
Lucien simply smiled.