The stars dimmed.
Not vanished—dimmed, as if a veil had been drawn across the viewing screen. A hush fell over the cadet hall, heavy enough that Liam could hear his own breathing again. The low hum beneath the floor deepened, resonating through his boots and up his spine.
Light gathered at the center of the room.
At first, Liam thought it was another hologram. But the glow wasn't projected—it *coalesced*, folding in on itself like mist learning how to stand.
A figure emerged.
Tall. Androgynous. Neither young nor old. Their form was robed in layers of pale silver and deep indigo that shifted like liquid starlight, edges blurring as if they did not fully belong to this plane. Where a face should have been, there was one—serene and sharp—but it seemed different depending on where Liam focused, as though his mind kept trying and failing to settle on a single truth.
When the figure spoke, the sound was gentle.
And impossibly deep.
"Welcome, Cadets," the figure said. "I am Dean Aurelion Vael."
A pause.
"Guide. Arbiter. And keeper of what you were… and what you may yet become."
Something in Liam's chest tightened. This presence felt nothing like the disembodied voice from before. This was *aware*. Watching. Seeing not just faces, but depths.
Aurelion lifted one hand, and the insignia on every cadet's uniform glowed faintly.
"You have questions," the Dean said calmly. "Fear. Curiosity. Resistance."
A few cadets shifted uncomfortably.
"You deserve answers."
With a subtle gesture, six symbols appeared in the air behind the Dean, rotating slowly. Each burned with a different hue.
White.
Green.
Blue.
Violet.
Gold.
And finally—Black, threaded with faint starlight.
"These," Aurelion said, "are the Six Talent Levels recognized by the Naval Fleet Academy."
The white symbol pulsed first.
"**Level One — Dormant.** Potential exists, but is faint. These cadets serve best through discipline, structure, and growth over time."
Green followed.
"**Level Two — Awakened.** Talent has stirred. Instinct sharpens. These cadets exceed baseline humanity."
Blue glimmered brighter.
"**Level Three — Adept.** Power responds to will. Learning accelerates. These cadets become specialists."
Violet hummed, sending a low vibration through the room.
"**Level Four — Ascendant.** Rare. Capable of shaping influence—tactical, physical, or metaphysical—beyond themselves."
Gold blazed like a small sun.
"**Level Five — Sovereign.** Legends in the making. Their presence alters the battlefield."
Then the final symbol turned.
Black, speckled with stars, bending the light around it.
"**Level Six — Paradox.**"
The word echoed.
"These talents should not exist," Aurelion said softly. "They defy prediction. History bends around them. When they arise… the universe takes notice."
Liam felt cold.
The symbols dissolved.
"The Academy exists," the Dean continued, "to shape you into more than weapons. You will learn command, restraint, unity, and sacrifice. Our standards are absolute."
The floor beneath them shifted, lines of light forming precise geometric patterns.
"You will obey the chain of command. You will protect civilians above all else. You will not abuse your gifts. Failure to uphold these standards results in removal—or erasure."
That word landed like a blade.
"You are here," Aurelion said, "because the great threat is not hypothetical."
The viewing screen ignited again.
This time, it showed ruin.
Worlds cracked open. Fleets torn apart by shadows that twisted like living void. Beings of impossible scale moving through space as though it were water, their forms half-idea, half-nightmare.
"These entities," the Dean said, voice tightening for the first time, "exist outside linear time. They consume civilizations not for conquest—but correction."
The image froze on a burning star.
"They believe reality itself is flawed."
Silence followed.
"They will come," Aurelion said. "As they always have. Slowly. Inevitably."
The images vanished.
"Now," the Dean said, turning back to the cadets, "we determine what you are."
The air thickened.
One by one, cadets were called forward. Aurelion placed a hand near their chest, never quite touching. Light flared. Data scrolled in the air.
"Combat Class."
"Support Class."
"Command Class."
Most received one designation.
A handful—eliciting murmurs—received two.
"Dual-Talent confirmed."
Then Liam heard his name.
"Liam Keko."
His legs moved before his mind caught up.
He stood before the Dean, heart hammering.
Aurelion's gaze lingered.
"Curious," the Dean murmured.
Light surged.
Blue for Combat—sharp and immediate.
Green and gold for Support—adaptive, resilient.
Violet for Command—calm, commanding, *anchoring*.
The room went utterly silent.
The symbols did not fade.
They intensified.
Then something else appeared.
Black. Star-threaded.
The Paradox symbol flickered into being, unstable, *watching back*.
Aurelion's hand stilled.
For the first time, the Dean's serene expression cracked—just slightly.
"…All three," Aurelion said quietly.
The symbols finally dimmed.
"Triple-Class Talent," the Dean announced, voice carefully controlled. "And… something more."
Eyes turned toward Liam. Whispers rippled like static.
Aurelion met Liam's gaze.
"You will be observed closely," the Dean said. "Not as a weapon."
A pause.
"But as a variable."
Liam swallowed.
As he stepped back into formation, one truth burned brighter than the stars beyond the hull:
Whatever the Academy was preparing for—
—it had been waiting for someone like him.