The training yard buzzed with activity, the hum of Stellar Core energy crackling through the air. Students moved with precision, shaping light, gravity, and shadow around them. Orion stood at the edge, hands clenched, eyes scanning, calculating.
Darius Korr was there, as always, towering over the other students with his golden aura swirling confidently around his fists. His presence alone demanded attention, and his eyes found Orion almost immediately.
"Look who's still hanging around," Darius sneered, his voice carrying across the yard. "The coreless freak thinks he belongs here."
Orion's fists tightened. Every insult, every sneer, every whisper from earlier this week replayed in his mind. But he stayed calm. Observe. Survive. Plan. Kael's instincts guided him, analyzing Darius's movements, posture, and the faint flickers of his Stellar Core energy.
Darius stepped closer, and a ripple of energy shot out from his hands, making the ground beneath them shiver. "I wonder… what can you even do? Oh, wait—nothing, right? You can't even ignite a spark of power."
Some students laughed, others glanced nervously at Orion. Their assumption: a coreless student was powerless and pathetic.
But Kael had learned something in the last few days: instincts, backflashes, and observation could compensate for raw power. He had moved, reacted, and survived—sometimes without even realizing it.
Darius's fist shot forward in a test—a mere tap of his energy—but Orion dodged instinctively. Not fast enough to make it look graceful, but fast enough that the attack grazed air instead of his body. Gasps echoed from the nearby students.
"What—how?!" Darius's voice cracked slightly, a flicker of surprise in his golden eyes.
Orion's heart raced. That instinctive movement—something Kael's mind would have predicted—was his first small victory. He knew it was only temporary, only a taste of what might come, but it was enough to plant a seed of doubt in the bully's mind.
"You're lucky I'm testing you," Darius growled, stepping back and swirling his energy defensively. "Don't think this changes anything. You'll always be nothing."
Orion didn't answer. Instead, he observed: the way Darius's feet shifted slightly, the tension in his shoulders, the minor irregularity in his aura. All data for later. "I may be weak now… but I learn faster than anyone else here."
The training session ended soon after, and the students dispersed, leaving Orion and Darius alone for a moment.
"You… you're not entirely useless," Darius admitted grudgingly, his golden aura dimming slightly as if in recognition. "But don't get cocky. One lucky move doesn't change the world."
Orion let the words sink in, a small smirk forming on his lips. "Lucky? Not luck. Observation. Instinct. Planning."
Later, Orion returned to the pond near the orphanage, the twin moons reflecting in the water. His body ached, not from physical exertion, but from mental strain. Every instinctive dodge, every reaction, every observation had drained him in ways the others wouldn't understand.
And yet, a small spark lingered—a flicker in his chest, almost imperceptible, a reminder that he was more than his coreless label.
Lyra appeared silently beside him, her presence calm and reassuring. "You did well today," she said softly. "You… moved faster than anyone expected."
Orion looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell anyone, or Darius will never forgive me."
Lyra smiled faintly, her gaze thoughtful. "Don't worry. Some things are better left unnoticed. But… I want to see where you go from here."
Orion's lips curved into a subtle, determined smile. "This world underestimates me. They all do. But I will awaken… and when I do, no one will ever see me as weak again."
The twin moons shimmered above, casting silver light across the pond. The first step had been taken. The slow, careful climb from nothing to power had begun.
And Orion—(Kael Adren) reborn—would not stumble again.