The nights had grown cooler in Nova Prime City, the kind of chill that slipped through torn jackets and reminded Lian he was still alive.
He had not stopped.
Every day, he stole food, found new corners to sleep in, practiced until his hands bled and his lungs burned. Every night, he returned to the academy walls—not to beg, not to climb in desperation, but to watch. To learn. To steal with his eyes what they would never give him willingly.
He knew the patrol patterns now. Knew which section of the wall had a blind spot in the scanner drones. Knew the outer training yard where late classes sometimes sparred under floodlights.
One evening, the air crisp and the twin moons rising pale, he scaled the wall again.
Dropped silent into the familiar gardens.
The yard was lit tonight.
Floodlights harsh white.
Fifteen students gathered in a loose circle.
No instructors—just senior recruits, second and third year by their confident stances and glowing auras.
Humans, Veyari, a Brutari boy built like a cargo hauler, two Threnn twins moving restless, a silver-skinned Elyssan girl with perfect posture.
They sparred in pairs.
Qi flashed.
Palm strikes sent shockwaves that cracked the stone ground.
Energy blades clashed with sparks.
One Veyari student spun four arms, creating a whirlwind shield that deflected a Brutari fist big enough to crush rock.
Lian crouched in the bushes at the edge, void eyes drinking it in.
Same as always.
Quiet.
Hidden.
But tonight felt different.
The spark inside him burned hotter.
His body—forged through endless shadow practice—was ready to test.
He watched one full round.
Memorized new flows.
Then, without thinking too hard, he stood.
Walked out of the shadows.
Into the light.
Footsteps soft on grass.
The sparring slowed.
Stopped.
All eyes turned.
Fifteen pairs—some human, some alien, some glowing—fixed on the scarred boy in ragged stolen clothes.
They knew him.
Everyone did by now.
The Scarred Ghost.
The zero-talent street rat who haunted the gates for months.
Whispers had spread like dust storms.
Laughter first.
Then curiosity.
Then something close to respect, though they would never admit it.
The Brutari boy—named Gorak, broad as a door and red-skinned—grinned wide, tusks showing.
"Look who came out of hiding."
A human boy with neat hair and a clean uniform—Kai, second-year, Circuit Awakening Late stage—laughed.
"The Ghost finally shows his face."
The Elyssan girl, Lirael, tilted her perfect head. Silver hair caught the light.
"Still no Qi flow, I assume?"
Others chuckled.
A Threnn twin flicked an ear. "He's been watching us forever. Probably thinks he's ready."
More laughs.
The circle opened.
They formed a loose ring around Lian.
Not threatening.
Yet.
Just amused.
Kai stepped forward, hands loose at sides. Faint blue aura flickered around his fists—Circuit Awakening Peak.
"Come on, Ghost. You watch every night. Want to play?"
Gorak cracked knuckles big as rocks. "Let him spar. Teach him why talent matters."
Lirael smiled cold. "He'll run after one hit."
Lian stood in the center.
Void eyes looked at each face.
No fear.
No anger.
Just calm.
He nodded once.
Slow.
Agreement.
The circle erupted in surprised laughs.
"Seriously?"
"He said yes!"
Kai grinned wider. "Me first. No Qi from me either—just body. Fair for the zero-talent."
He lied, of course.
Everyone knew he would use Qi the moment it got hard.
The others backed up.
Gave space.
A rough circle twenty feet across.
Kai bounced on toes.
Circuit Awakening Peak—internal Qi bursts, speed and strength far beyond normal.
Lian stood still.
Hands open.
No stance flashy.
Just ready.
Kai rushed.
Fast.
Fist straight—blue glow faint but there.
Aimed for chest.
Lian moved.
Side step—perfect weight shift stolen from a Threnn form.
Kai's punch missed by inches.
Air whooshed.
Kai spun—elbow follow-up.
Lian ducked low—flow from a Veyari spin.
Rose inside Kai's guard.
Palm strike to solar plexus—exact motion he'd seen a human instructor teach.
No Qi.
Just body.
Perfect timing.
Perfect power.
Kai flew back five feet.
Landed hard on back.
Air knocked out.
Eyes wide.
The circle went silent.
Kai coughed, rolled up slow.
Face red.
"You…"
He charged again.
Faster.
Qi flared brighter.
Series of punches—left, right, knee.
Lian flowed.
Blocked with forearms—Foundation skin took the hits without bruise.
Slid footwork—stolen patterns mixed his own.
Dodged.
Weaved.
Countered.
Short hook to ribs.
Elbow to jaw.
Knee to thigh.
Each strike precise.
No waste.
Kai staggered.
Tried a Qi palm blast point-blank.
Blue wave erupted.
Lian twisted—body aligned like a Dravok charge deflection.
Wave grazed shoulder—burned cloth, singed skin.
But Lian was already moving.
Sweep low.
Kai fell.
Lian's fist stopped an inch from throat.
Fight over.
Three seconds.
Maybe four.
Kai lay staring up.
Breath ragged.
The circle stared.
No laughs now.
Gorak stepped forward slow.
"My turn."
Big Brutari.
Core Condensation Early—real external Qi.
Gorak grinned, but eyes serious.
Charged like a bull.
Fist big as Lian's head—red Qi coating.
Lian didn't run.
Met it.
Slid inside—close, where big fists lose power.
Elbow block.
Counter to armpit nerve.
Gorak grunted.
Swung other fist.
Lian ducked under—spun behind.
Kick to back of knee.
Gorak stumbled.
Lian jumped—knee to spine.
Gorak crashed face-first.
Tried to rise.
Lian's foot on neck—gentle pressure.
Stopped.
Five seconds.
Gorak tapped ground.
Yield.
Silence thicker.
Lirael stepped in next.
Elyssan grace.
Core Condensation Middle.
Silver Qi shimmered.
She moved like water.
Energy blades formed—thin, sharp.
Slashed fast.
Lian dodged.
Rolled.
Weaved.
No weapon.
Just body.
Blades cut air where he'd been.
He closed distance.
Grabbed wrist mid-slash—twist stolen from watching Veyari disarm drills.
Blade flickered out.
Palm to chest.
Lirael flew ten feet.
Landed elegant, but eyes wide.
Seven seconds.
One by one, they came.
Threnn twins—fast claws.
Lian faster—dodged, countered, tripped both in a tangle.
Veyari four-arm whirlwind.
Lian inside the storm—struck joints, broke rhythm.
Human girl with fire Qi.
Lian smothered flames with close grapples—took burns, gave worse.
None lasted ten seconds.
All higher realms.
All with Qi.
None could touch him.
He didn't gloat.
Didn't smile.
Just fought.
Efficient.
Cold.
Perfect.
When the last fell—a Dravok boy who hit ground like earthquake—the yard was quiet.
Students breathed hard.
Bruises forming.
Egos cracked.
Lian stood in center.
Scars lit by floodlights.
Breath steady.
Not even sweating hard.
Kai spoke first, voice hoarse.
"Who… are you?"
Lian looked at him.
Then at all of them.
Void eyes calm.
He turned.
Walked toward the shadows.
No words.
Gorak called after. "Wait! What's your name?"
Lian paused at the bush line.
Looked back.
Voice low.
Quiet.
First time he spoke to them.
"Lian Yu."
Then gone.
Into darkness.
The students stood stunned.
Lirael touched bruised ribs.
"He has no Qi… but beat us all."
Kai stared at the spot Lian vanished.
"The Scarred Ghost… is real."
Whispers started.
Not mockery now.
Wonder.
Fear.
Respect.
Word would spread fast.
Inside the academy.
To instructors.
To higher years.
The zero-talent boy who humiliated fifteen talented students.
In seconds.
The legend grew.
Lian walked the city streets.
New small burns on arms.
Didn't hurt.
The spark inside flared brighter.
Humans are weak.
Power is the only truth.
I am getting closer.
He disappeared into night.
But the academy would remember.
And soon, they would come looking.