The caravan rumbled through the final stretch of road, city walls rising like mountains before them. Even from a distance, the capital consumed the horizon.
Arion's gaze sharpened. The city was just as he remembered—though younger, fresher, untouched by the wars and plagues that would one day reduce it to ash.
White stone walls, etched with faint warding runes, stretched for miles. Towers speared the sky, banners snapping in the wind. Beyond them, spires of glass and marble glimmered under the sun, each one a monument to wealth, power, or divine arrogance.
And above all, the colossal central citadel—the Crownspire.
So it begins, Arion thought. The nest of gods and liars.
Fenris padded beside him, drawing nervous glances from the other travelers. Though weakened, the wolf still radiated a primal aura. His fur shimmered faintly with fractal traces, and his silver eyes missed nothing.
"Boy," one of the guards muttered, riding closer. His tone was less hostile now, but wary. "That beast of yours… it won't go wild, will it?"
Arion's lips curved faintly. "Not unless I tell him to."
The man shivered, muttering under his breath.
The commander, however, kept his silence. His eyes hadn't left Arion since the ambush. He had seen too much.
They passed through the city gates with the crush of merchants, peasants, and adventurers. Inside, the capital unfolded like a world within a world.
Arion's senses drank it in.
Streets paved with polished stone. Vendors hawking enchanted trinkets and spirit-forged blades. Children chasing fractal-lit kites, their laughter piercing the din. Priests in flowing robes blessing crowds with sparks of light, while mercenaries swaggered with weapons that glowed faintly from bonded cores.
And above it all—the Academy's banners fluttered proudly: a spiral fractal sigil, symbol of mastery over both knowledge and power.
Arion's chest tightened. He had bled, killed, and died under that sigil before. He had been a pawn in its games, its betrayals. This time, he would not bend.
[Directive Reminder:
Survive the Academy → Conquer the Academy.]
The Nexus's whisper slid into his mind, cold as ever.
The caravan split soon after. Merchants and peasants went their ways, while the escorts reported to their guild outpost. Arion was left standing on the bustling square, Fenris at his side, the city pressing down on him like a storm.
He should have felt small. But instead, he felt the weight of a thousand lifetimes stirring in his bones.
He knew where to go.
The Academy's preliminary gathering would be held tomorrow, at the Grand Plaza. But tonight, the capital belonged to him.
Arion explored with calculated care. Every corner of the city was both familiar and foreign. In this time, factions still simmered quietly, their daggers hidden. Nobles laughed in silk-draped gardens, unaware of the blood that would one day drown their lineages. Beast tamers strutted with fledgling companions, not yet realizing how fragile their bonds truly were.
He saw a street duelist carving glowing trails with his sword, fractal energy woven into each strike. He saw a mage conjuring firebirds to entertain children. He saw alchemists trading cores, dissected from slain beasts, their hands stained red with ambition.
The world was alive, unbroken. Not yet touched by the endless wars to come.
And Arion walked through it like a ghost of the future.
Night fell.
Arion found lodging in a modest inn, quiet enough to think. Fenris curled by his side, already healing faster than any normal beast thanks to the bond.
He sat at the wooden desk, candlelight flickering. And there, the Nexus stirred again.
[Status Interface unlocked.]
A faint glyph bloomed in his vision, translucent, clean—eerily similar to the interfaces he had once scorned in countless lives.
Name: Arion Valestar
Age: 12
Soul Authority: 39% (Stabilized)
Bond: Lesser Fractal Wolf – Fenris
Fractals Known: None (Codex dormant)
Directives: Conquer the Academy. Survive Divergences.
His jaw tightened. It was simple. Too simple.
Which meant the Nexus was hiding more.
As if hearing his suspicion, a new line flickered.
[Hidden Directive: ???]
[Access denied until conditions met.]
Arion's lips curled. "So, you're still playing your game."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The city outside roared with laughter and steel, but in this room, it was just him and the whispering predator inside his soul.
Tomorrow, the Academy's gates would open. He would stand among the brightest talents of the kingdoms—geniuses, heirs, monsters in human skin. Many of them would one day kill him in other lives.
But not this time.
This time, he would break the cycle.
At dawn, the bells of the Crownspire tolled, summoning all chosen youths to the Grand Plaza.
Arion rose, Fenris at his side. He stepped into the morning light, his shadow long across the cobblestones.
The world thought him a boy.
The Academy thought him a pawn.
The Nexus thought him its piece.
But he was none of those things.
He was Arion Valestar.
And his war had only just begun.
—————
Morning came with the toll of bells.
The Crownspire's voice carried across the city, summoning every chosen youth to the Grand Plaza.
Arion joined the tide. Boys and girls from every corner of the kingdom streamed through the streets—farmers' sons with wooden amulets, noble heirs clad in silks, beast-bonded prodigies leading creatures with scales, feathers, or fangs.
Some marched with confidence, their families trailing behind like banners of pride. Others walked in silence, eyes wide with awe.
Arion walked alone.
Fenris padded beside him, his presence enough to earn stares. Whispers followed.
"Look at that wolf—"
"It's glowing—"
"That boy… he doesn't look like a noble."
Arion ignored them. He had no family to flaunt, no crest to wave. Lyra was safe in the village. Their parents—still alive, still fragile—knew nothing of the wars to come. And he would not drag them into this.
This was his burden. His alone.
The Grand Plaza unfolded ahead—an ocean of marble and banners. Towering statues of long-dead heroes loomed, their eyes fixed on the Academy gates. A raised dais stood at the center, where instructors in dark robes waited, their eyes sharp, their presence heavier than steel.
And beyond, the gates themselves: carved from silverstone, etched with spiraling fractals that pulsed faintly as if alive.
The gates of the Academy.
The place where destinies would be forged—and broken.
As the crowd swelled, Arion kept to the edge, his gaze scanning.
There—they were all here.
He recognized faces he had once bled beside… and later, died by.
——A boy with obsidian hair, eyes sharp as blades. A swordsman who would one day betray his comrades for power.
——A girl with pale eyes like frost, her aura cold and regal. She would rise as a mage-general, then fall into madness.
——A beast tamer with twin serpents coiled around his arms, arrogant and cruel. Arion remembered his laughter as villages burned.
One by one, the future's shadows gathered. And Arion stood among them, unseen, unknown.
[Directive Reminder: Conquer the Academy.]
The Nexus's whisper was almost amused.
The crowd hushed as an elder stepped forward. His hair was white, his eyes like burning glass. His voice carried across the plaza.
"Children of the realm. Today, you stand before the gates of knowledge and power. The Academy does not care for your birth, nor your blood. Only your worth. Only your strength."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some nobles sneered. Commoners clenched their fists.
The elder raised his hand. The gates behind him pulsed with light, fractals twisting into new shapes.
"The first test begins now."
The ground beneath Arion's feet thrummed. Light surged from the gates, spilling across the plaza, weaving into threads of power that reached for every youth present.
Fenris growled, hackles rising.
[Scanning candidates…]
[Fractal Resonance assessment initiated.]
The Nexus's voice bled into his mind, overlapping with the Academy's power. For a heartbeat, Arion felt his soul stripped bare, weighed, measured.
Gasps rang across the plaza as fractal sigils appeared above each youth—floating glyphs denoting their resonance, their potential.
Above nobles, brilliant crests of gold and silver shimmered. Above others, dull flickers of bronze or ash.
And above Arion—
Silence.
Nothing.
Whispers broke instantly.
"He doesn't have a mark."
"Is he… unchosen?"
"But that wolf—how?"
Arion's lips curved faintly. Of course. The Nexus veiled him. Just like before.
But then, something shifted.
The void above him rippled—dark, endless, a whirl of shadows and light. For a heartbeat, the fractal itself bent, trying and failing to contain his soul.
And the instructors froze.
Their eyes widened, their composure cracking.
"What… what is that?"
Arion tilted his chin, meeting their gaze with calm defiance.
[Hidden Directive condition met.]
[New Directive revealed: Break the Spiral.]
The Nexus purred, its voice cutting through the chaos.
The crowd saw only emptiness above him. But Arion knew better.
The spiral had already begun to crack.