As Azaryel stepped out from beneath the altar, the world greeted him with silence.
Hundreds of eyes turned his way, some wide with reverence, others shadowed by envy, and a few blinking in disbelief. Yet, the only faces he truly saw were those of his family.
Drayelion stood tall, shoulders squared like a mountain bracing the heavens, his crimson gaze burning with fierce pride. Beside him, Elarinya's eyes shimmered with love and quiet joy, pride softening every line of her face. Aokiran and Xentharya stood close, their smiles wide and bright, each silently sending him encouragement with the unspoken language only family shares.
Then a single voice broke the stillness.
It was the Grand Chair, Aelthira Tenkai.
Her tone was calm, but it carried a weight that allowed no questions.
"None shall disturb the child," she said. "The annals are clear, this is a path he must walk alone. We must treat him as we would any other child."
She paused, letting the weight of her words sink into the hearts of all.
"To favour him, no matter how tempting, would not only burden him but would steal fortune from us all. The Will of the World blesses each child with the path they are meant to walk. To our clan, all children are equal."
A hush spread across the courtyard. Realization dawned on the elders, as they recognized how quickly they had begun to raise Azaryel above the others. Shame flickered across proud faces, and one by one, they bowed their heads. Then, humbling themselves, they stepped forward not only to Azaryel, but to each child who had undergone the ceremony, offering their apologies sincerely and without hesitation.
This, too, was the strength of the Tenkai Orrion Clan, that even its highest elders, once aware of missteps, did not hesitate to correct them. Unity, not ego, was the cornerstone of their power.
When order returned, Aelthira lifted her hand once more.
"As is tradition, the children shall now proceed to the Grand Library to select their first technique."
Excitement rippled through the gathered crowd like wind through flame.
"But," she continued, her voice sharpening with significance, "this group is unique. For the first time in centuries, a Golden Child has risen among them. Therefore, all five children of this batch will be given a choice of two options"
Gasps rippled through the assembly.
"The first option," she explained, "is to choose one technique that can evolve up to Legendary rank from any floor, along with a movement technique capable of reaching Mystic rank from the fourth floor. The second option is to claim two skills, each reaching as high as Mythic grade within the Legendary rank, limited to the fourth floor."
A hush of awe fell.
For in this world, Techniques and Skills were not the same. Both shaped growth, but each followed its own ladder.
The ranks of Techniques ascended as follows:
Common → Lesser Noble → Higher Noble → Royal → Mystic (Early / Mid / Peak) → Legendary (Early / Mid / Peak) → Divine (Early / Mid / Peak) → Celestial (Early / Mid / Peak) → Primordial.
Every technique begins at Common rank with potential to growth to next level. Through training and mastery, one can climb through the ranks, step by step. At the peak it can reach Primordial, rank.
Skills followed another path:
Common → Lesser Noble → Higher Noble → Royal → Mystic (Outer / Inner / Grand) → Legendary (Heroic / Mythic / Eternal) → Divine (False / Demi / True) → Celestial (Starborne / Cosmic / Primordial).
Unlike techniques, skills did not evolve step by step. A skill came fixed at its grade, unless rare circumstances allowed its growth.
Then a warrior elder raised his voice. "Grand Chair… even from the seventh floor?"
Aelthira smiled. "Even from the seventh floor."
A collective breath was drawn.
The seven floors of the Grand Library were sacred. The first floor housed the most basic arts, modest yet stable. The second floor ranked higher, though lesser than the third. So it went, each floor ascending in rarity and power until reaching the Seventh Floor, where the most ancient and powerful arts were housed.
That floor could be opened only once a year and only by the Grand Elder herself, whose authority extended so far. Even she could open it no more than once annually, unless the Will of the World itself summoned an individual directly into it.
Aelthira gave a subtle nod to Elder Mevaz, who lifted his voice in the closing hymns solemn, steady, beautiful. The Tower Keeper rang the ceremonial bell once.
The ceremony was complete.
As the crowd dispersed, Aelthira turned to Drayelion.
"I will visit your home later today," she said softly.
She gave Elarinya a final nod before walking away, her robes flowing like whispers behind her.
Drayelion watched her go, then laid a gentle hand on Azaryel's back.
"Let's go home," he murmured.
Together, their family walked beneath the open skies each step heavy with joy, quiet pride, and the weight of the future they now carried as one.