Chapter 3 The Awakening Ceremony
A new dawn gilded the academy spires. The air was crisp, carrying the sound of choir bells from the Chapel Tower and the murmur of hundreds of students gathering in the stone-paved Grand Hall. Lyon adjusted the collar of his new formal uniform—a dark-gray tunic with silver trim, a light cloak, and boots that seemed to remember his every step. He was no longer the ragged trespasser; he was an aspirant, marked by the faint, persistent hum of the Origin Seal beneath his sternum.
The Grand Hall was a spectacle of tradition and power. At its center hung the Aether Conduit, a colossal crystal sphere that pulsed with captive lightning, thrumming with raw mana. This was the heart of the ceremony: a touch, a connection, a public revelation of one's innate potential.
Lyon moved through the crowd, a current of whispers flowing around him. He felt the weight of glances—awe, fear, sharp curiosity. On a raised dais, standing with other elite students, was Aria Valeheart. Her golden hair was bound in a severe braid, one hand resting on the pommel of the blade at her hip. Her gaze swept over the hall, cool and assessing, and deliberately skipped over him. Her indifference was a challenge he quietly accepted.
When his name echoed through the hall, he stepped forward.
The marble was cool beneath his boots. He placed his palm flat against the smooth, humming surface of the Aether Conduit.
He expected a jolt, a surge, a confirmation.
He did not expect the Conduit to scream.
A soundless shriek of fracturing reality tore through the hall as a web of cracks exploded across the crystal's surface. Then, light—not the pure white or elemental hues of other awakenings, but an impossible, violent torrent of black threaded with gold and violet. It painted the vaulted ceiling in a nebula of chaotic color, a brief, terrifying star birth contained within stone walls. The shockwave threw back hair and cloaks, and students stumbled, some crying out, others falling to their knees.
The Conduit shattered.
But the fragments did not fall. They hung in the air, glittering motes of captive lightning, before dissolving into harmless sparks of fading mana.
In the ringing silence that followed, Headmaster Orren's voice was a pillar of calm. "An unidentified signature. An Ancient Origin has manifested." His eyes, ancient and knowing, found Lyon's. "Lyon Kael. You will report for evaluation. Immediately."
The evaluation room was a quiet, sterile space smelling of antiseptic herbs and ozone. A scholar with intricate, four-fingered instruments probed the air around Lyon, his brow furrowed in concentration. Lyon remained silent, listening to the only voice that mattered.
[SYSTEM: Origin Ascension Protocol — Active]
[STATUS: Aether Dominion — Creation & Destruction — Confirmed]
[NOTE: Unique. Non-cataloged. Proceed with caution.]
The system interface glowed, a private spectacle only he could see.
[Skill Slot Available: 1]
[Prerequisite: Achieve Core Balance]
[Reward: Access to Skill Creation Menu]
"Core balance," Lyon muttered, rubbing his temple. The phrase echoed in his mind, a key to a lock he hadn't yet found. "Noted."
Later, seeking solitude, he found a bench in a secluded mana-garden. He held out his palm, concentrating. It wasn't a flame or a spark that appeared, but a tiny, localized distortion—a ripple of nothingness that swallowed a drifting mote of pollen and a moment later, spat it back out, utterly unchanged. It was a fraction of a fraction of his power, yet the system's feedback was immediate and gratifying.
[Adaptive Comprehension: Active. Analyzing spatial-mana interaction.]
A shadow fell over him. Professor Mirelle Dorne stood there, not in the flowing robes of a sage, but in a practical scholar's coat reinforced with leather at the shoulders and forearms. She looked like someone who could dissect a theorem in the morning and a monster in the afternoon.
"You have a talent for the dramatic, Kael," she said, her voice dry but not unkind. "What you awakened today… the archives have a name for it. 'Dominion.' Most who are born with such a mark don't learn to control it. They become pyres." She pulled a slate from her satchel, tapping a rune that glowed briefly. "You will attend my advanced seminar on Aetheric Ethics and Control. Starting now."
Lyon met her gaze and gave a slight, respectful nod. "I'll be there, Professor."
She held his eyes for a moment longer, her expression turning grave. "Understand this, Lyon. Power like yours does not go unnoticed. It draws eyes—some that wish to guide you, and others that wish to consume you. Be very, very careful who you trust."
He watched her walk away, her words settling in his gut like stones. The academy, with its rivalries and lessons, was just the surface. Beneath it churned a far deeper, more dangerous game.
That night, in the quiet of his room, the system pulsed with a new, stark message.
[New Quest: Establish Your Foothold]
Objective: Achieve Core Balance (0%)
Time Limit: 7 days
Reward: Unlock Skill Creation
Failure: System Forced Shutdown & Mana Burnout
Lyon smiled, a sharp, eager expression in the dim light. The world had teeth, and it was not shy about biting back.
He liked that.