———
The silence in the examination chamber was broken not by words, but by a dull thud. The strain of unraveling the simulation's core, coupled with his body's inherent frailty, had finally overwhelmed Kael. He collapsed to the cold stone floor, unconscious, as chaos erupted around him.
While the other aspirants were hurriedly ushered out, and a flustered Archmage tried to explain the "temporary malfunction," a different kind of panic was unfolding in a secluded workshop deep within the faculty spire.
Professor Torian, a man whose wild white hair and ink-stained robes spoke of endless nights of research, was on his knees. Before him sat the Aethereal Projector, the heart of the simulation. It was a masterpiece of arcane engineering, a complex orb of interwoven silver and mithril, humming with latent power. Or, it was supposed to be humming.
Now, it was silent. Cold.
"Impossible," he muttered, his fingers tracing the flawless, smooth surface. "The core formation... it's gone. Not damaged, not overloaded... erased. It's as if the fundamental formula to modify mana was never inscribed here at all!" This wasn't a breakdown; it was an ontological paradox. His pride and joy hadn't broken. It had been conceptually nullified.
———
Kael awoke to the sterile scent of healing herbs and the soft glow of enchanted crystals. He was in the academy's infirmary, not his spartan room. The last thing he remembered was the satisfying *snap* of the simulation's keystone failing, and then... nothing.
His blurry vision cleared to reveal a face hovering uncomfortably close to his. It was an older man with intense, curious eyes that burned with an intellectual fire, framed by a mane of untamable white hair.
"You're awake. Good," the man said, his voice a low rumble. He didn't ask how Kael felt. "What is your name?"
"Kael," he croaked. "Kael Valerius."
"Valerius..." the professor mused, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "The Duke's... never mind that. Kael. What did you do?"
Kael blinked, his mind still foggy. "The test... I saw a flaw. A point of failure in the... the structure. I pushed on it."
"Pushed on it," the professor repeated, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. "You 'pushed' on a flaw in a class-5 multi-layered illusion matrix and caused a total systemic collapse without channeling a single wisp of mana. Do you have any idea what that means?" He leaned in closer. "That isn't magic. That's... something else. I am Professor Torian. And you, boy, are a walking anomaly."
Before Kael could process this, the professor stood. "Rest. We will speak again." He left as abruptly as he arrived, leaving Kael with more questions than answers.
———
In the grand council chamber, the air was thick with tension. Archmage Ignatius presided over the long table, surrounded by the most senior professors of Asteria.
"The results are clear," declared Professor Grimstone, his face a granite mask of tradition. "Finnian Ellorian displayed control and power far beyond his peers. He belongs in the Prime Cohort. As for the rest, we adhere to the old way: the bottom fifty percent are eliminated. It is efficient and separates the wheat from the chaff."
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.
"And what of the Valerius boy?" Ignatius asked, his tone neutral.
Grimstone's lip curled. "A trivial matter. He scored zero. He is the very definition of the bottom. He is expelled. His... condition makes him a liability we cannot afford."
"A moment, Grimstone."
All eyes turned to Professor Torian, who had been silently observing from the shadows.
"I disagree," Torian said, his voice calm but firm. "The purpose of the test was to evaluate potential, was it not? To see how they handle a magically hostile environment."
"Precisely," Grimstone snapped. "And he failed. Miserably."
"Did he?" Torian countered, a sharp smile playing on his lips. "While Ellorian was brilliantly playing the game, Kael Valerius was studying the game board. And he found it wanting. He didn't fight the monsters; he dismantled the very reality that contained them. What you call a score of zero, I call a theoretical understanding so profound it transcends the need for conventional metrics. I have never seen a first-year, nor any mage for that matter, deconstruct a spell at its foundational level. That boy didn't fail your test, Grimstone. He outgrew it."
The chamber erupted into arguments. "Theory is useless without power!" one cried. "He's a cripple!" shouted another.
"Enough!" Archmage Ignatius's voice cut through the noise. He steepled his fingers, his gaze moving from Torian's determined face to Grimstone's furious one. "The rules are the rules. Finnian Ellorian is placed in the Prime Cohort. The bottom fifty percent will be eliminated... with one exception."
He looked directly at Torian. "Kael Valerius will not be a regular student. He will become your personal apprentice, Professor Torian. His progress, or lack thereof, will be your direct responsibility. His status will be reviewed at the semester's end. This matter is closed."
The decision was met with grudging acceptance. One by one, the professors filed out, until only Grimstone and Ignatius remained.
Grimstone approached the Archmage, his expression dark. "This is a mistake, Ignatius," he hissed. "You're handing garbage to a man who has become garbage himself. Torian and that defective boy—they're a waste of resources. Torian hasn't produced anything of value in a decade. He's a relic."
Archmage Ignatius shifted his piercing gaze to Grimstone. His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
"Tell me, Kaleb," he said, using Grimstone's first name to underscore his point. **"Have you forgotten what happened in Torian's workshop twenty years ago?"**
The effect was instantaneous. The anger and arrogance drained from Grimstone's face, replaced by a stark, pallid recognition. It was the look of a man remembering a long-buried, terrifying cataclysm. His jaw tightened, but he could not form a word.
Ignatius gave a slow, knowing nod. "Torian may have withdrawn. His work may seem like nonsense to you now. But he saw *something* in that Valerius boy. And after today, I am not foolish enough to doubt the judgment of the man they once called the 'Reality Reshaper'."
He stood, his robes sweeping around him as he moved to leave. "Let him have the boy, Kaleb. It is better we keep this particular anomaly within our walls, lest it wander outside and repeat history."
He left the chamber, closing the door behind him, leaving Professor Grimstone standing alone, rigid and pale, his mind violently thrown two decades into the past, to an incident so shattering it had turned the greatest genius of their generation into the mocked recluse he was today.