The dawn bled through the dormitory's single barred window in thin, colourless streaks, illuminating dust motes suspended in the air like drifting mana particles.
Kael stirred when muffled voices reached him. He opened his eyes to see James and Dean moving about in a frenzy—straightening uniforms, snapping open satchels, half-dressed and hurried. For a moment, he couldn't place where he was, then Dean's anxious voice cut through the haze.
"Good—you're awake! Hurry up, Kael, the orientation starts in less than an hour!"
Orientation. Another mandatory structure to navigate.
He pushed himself upright. Never in recent memory had he slept this deeply—nor this peacefully. The change was Lilian's work; her optimization had mended more than his wounds. His body had needed rest to synchronize with its new state, and for the first time in years, it had taken it without asking permission.
A pulse of contained energy rippled under his skin. That overload he'd refused to purge—the pure, unspent energy still caged inside his soul. A tremor ran through his hand, causing the thin sheet to vibrate on the bed, a physical reminder of the sheer, hostile density of the raw mana contained within. He wanted to use it. To shape it. But without knowing how advancement worked in this world, he was trapped in ignorance.
[Compendium Alert: External mana density accelerating overload sequence. Containment strain rising.]
If nothing worked, he could always discard it. But what a waste that would be.
[Compendium Alert: 5 Days, 22 Hours, 11 Minutes until overload.]
Kael internally dismissed the alert. The cold logic of the Compendium merely confirmed his urgent problem: he needed to find a way to use this energy properly. Maybe he would find something in his classes before this contained power killed him.
He sat up, watching as James adjusted his collar and Dean smoothed his sleeves. Both boys looked ready to sprint for the door. Dean turned toward him, his anxiety sharpening his voice into a fretful command.
"Hurry up, Kael!"
Kael blinked at the sudden change. The shy, nervous boy from last night now looked almost commanding. He noted it wasn't true command; it was panic. The quiet boy's terror of breaking a rule had overridden his natural timidity.
James gave Kael a calculating glance, as if deciding whether to mock or ignore him. In the end, he said nothing—just returned to perfecting the angle of his cuffs.
Kael opened his cupboard and drew out the crisp, black uniform folded within. "The Academy provided new clothes," he noted. Efficient.
He was about to find the washroom when Dean suddenly rushed toward him, holding out a faintly glowing stone the size of a plum.
"Here—use this."
Kael froze. "What is it?"
Dean pressed it into his hand, but before Kael could examine it, Dean snatched it back, closed his eyes, and whispered a focus chant.
A cool rush of water and light swept across Kael's skin, dissolving grime, scent, and lingering residue from the healing procedure. It was… immaculate. Not even a bath could have left him this clean.
[Compendium Alert: Multiple mana signatures detected on host body. Insufficient data for analysis.]
Kael stared at his refreshed skin, bemused. "What just happened?"
Dean smiled faintly. "It's a cleansing stone. We didn't have time for a full bath, and I thought you wouldn't want to show up smelling like—you know." His shyness returned as quickly as it had vanished. The confident urgency was gone again.
James scoffed. "You wasted a cleansing stone on him? That was stupid."
Dean's cheeks went pink. "He needed it."
Kael looked between them, frowning. "Why would that be wasteful?"
James rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with superiority. "Because it takes twenty-four hours of ambient mana to recharge one. They're expensive. Some of us can't afford to throw them around like candy. This pauper just doesn't know any better."
Kael ignored the jab but stored the data away. Twenty-four hours per charge. Rare. Dean used one anyway. Why?
Kael couldn't decide—was Dean truly this kind, or just playing at it?
"Thank you, Dean," Kael said, allowing a flash of genuine, though calculated, appreciation. "But you should have saved it for yourself."
Dean shrugged, looking at the floor. "You needed it more. Besides… I like the feel of water on my body."
Kael allowed himself a small nod. "I owe you one," he replied simply, ensuring the words registered. Dean's empathy is a resource. To preserve control, I must become what he trusts most—a friend he believes he can save.
"Still, I appreciate it. Do you know where I can buy one?"
James gave a bitter laugh. "You can't. His family monopolizes the trade. Even I don't have one."
Dean hesitated. "It's true. My father gifted me this one. Otherwise, I would have given you mine."
"Then I'll never take yours," Kael replied simply.
He dressed quickly, fastening his uniform with mechanical precision. The black fabric clung to his body's new form—stronger, leaner, balanced. His robe was plain, without insignias or crests like the others. He noticed the embroidered marks on James's and Dean's uniforms and realized they must be house emblems.
No matter. The lack of symbol suited him.
All three boys left the dormitory and joined the growing current of students streaming down the corridor.
The Initiate Wing was alive.
Hundreds of students moved in ordered chaos, voices layered beneath the low hum of the Academy's mana lines, which Kael now viewed with predatory focus. Faint runes glowed overhead, marking pathways toward the Orientation Hall. The air was crisp, fresh, and electric.
[Compendium Alert: Mana density higher than normal.]
Kael felt the Compendium mapping the hallways and he knew he'd never have to remember these pathways.
Dean walked beside him, adjusting his collar. "We're supposed to check in fifteen minutes before the bell," he murmured.
Kael nodded. "Then let's go."
They walked in silence. James separated from them and moved to another group of students and Kael could hear his forced laughter echo somewhere ahead, too loud, too eager. Dean's presence was quieter, anxious. Kael tuned it all out, filtering everything through the Compendium's analytical lens.
When they entered the amphitheater, Kael stopped—not in awe, but in analysis.
The chamber was vast, carved directly into the Academy's northern spire. Hundreds of first-year initiates filled the seats, their whispers blending into a soft, electric hum. At the centre stood a raised obsidian pillar crowned with a crystal orb—so clear it seemed invisible.
A man no older than twenty-five stood beside it, handsome and poised, with several instructors behind him. Among them, Kael's gaze found Kellen and Lyon.
When his eyes found Lyon on the stage, Kael's chest tightened—phantom heat ghosting across his cheek where the slap had landed. The fury that followed was cleaner, sharper. He bottled it, weaponized it.
Behind the stage, engraved across a towering plaque of shimmering gold script, were the words:
"All Power is Measured. All Knowledge Consumed."
The phrase thudded through Kael's chest like a pulse. The Devourer stirred, echoing the word with dark satisfaction. Consumed. Yes.
Dean's whisper drew his attention back. "That orb determines how many mana gates someone has."
Kael frowned, not at the concept of gates, which the Compendium had already categorized, but at the method of measurement and the purpose of the orb. "How do they measure them? I thought everyone had the same mana gate capacity."
Dean looked at him, startled. Then, when Kael didn't smile, realization crept into his expression. "You're serious about not knowing."
"Yes."
Dean hesitated. His words came quick, almost rehearsed. "Mana gates determine how much energy you can store—and how fast you can draw it into your core. They're… everything. Didn't they teach you that?"
Kael shook his head slowly.
Dean's voice softened, a mix of curiosity and pity. "The lowest anyone's ever had was one gate. The record high is nine—the number the King possesses."
He continued, pointing to the orb: "It reads what's open—and what isn't. The number decides everything here. Rank. Privilege. How far you'll ever climb. They'll even force one open for you so you can start classes. You can't control mana without a gate, and nobles—well—they tried for years to cheat that rule."
Kael could hear the sarcasm in Dean's voice.
Dean leaned in and whispered to Kael. "I heard the King keeps a private orb—his descendants use it to open their gates easily. Otherwise, it takes a person nearly a month to open one gate."
So not only was the orb useful for mana gate detection but also to help open the gates by channelling mana from the mana well.
Kael froze. The orb measured dormant gates. This was not a test; it was a public display of his internal framework. He scanned the host's fragmented memories for this fundamental knowledge, but found nothing. The Compendium hummed softly, tracing faint leyline connections between the orb and the mana well beneath the spire. The reading wouldn't just measure him—it would broadcast him.
Kael's internal analysis flared.
[Internal Analysis: Host Mana Gate Matrix: 13/13. Status: Sealed. Anomaly Detected: Configuration exceeds recorded human maximum by 44.4%.]
Panic seized Kael. He had assumed his 13 gates were normal, merely dormant. He was not just unique; he was an aberration that was about to be forcibly integrated into a system designed for nine.
Is this another secret I have to safeguard? The information felt wrong, incomplete. But was it the lack of knowledge in humans or the reality that he was special?
Kael's gaze snapped to the stage, locking onto Kellen and Lyon.
Kellen, the calculated planner who had sanctioned his existence, might attempt to discreetly remove him from the Academy, seeing him as an uncontrollable variable. That was a measurable risk.
But Lyon was the wild card. Kael vividly recalled the sting of the slap, the casual violence of the man who demanded absolute subservience. If Kael's true power—his abnormality—was revealed here, Lyon wouldn't just be concerned; he would be furious. He would see Kael's hidden strength as a direct, unacceptable defiance of his mastery.
This test was not just for academic ranking; it was a matter of life or death, right now, in public. The moment that orb registered thirteen gates, his fabricated identity would shatter. Lyon would react. If the orb forces one gate open, it has to push mana through me. A door swings both ways—can I stop the mana from leaving its core?
I have to disrupt the measurement.
Kael's reverie was interrupted when the young man on the stage moved forward and started talking. His voice was not loud but reached everyone in the room as if some mana spell or artifact was helping him. As he spoke, faint golden runes flared across his robes, pulsing in time with his words—the orb at his side shimmering with sympathetic resonance.
"Welcome everyone, I am Archmage Rodrick and welcome to the academy. This academy is here to forge you into the finest mages that can help this kingdom survive."
He is already an Archmage, Kael thought, but he is so young.
"Make no mistakes children, we are at war. A war we are losing and only holding on desperately. The kingdom spends vast resources on the young generation so that when you get strong you are able to help us in this tide of war.
"So, in order to achieve this, we have figured out that protected mages make weak mages, and weak mages die on the front. This will be a disservice to you if we protect you throughout your education and then you die on the front because you have never faced danger in your life.
"In order to negate this, every student must complete a solo assessment in a basic tier dungeon and fight for yourself. This seems harsh but we are not here to coddle you. We will provide you with basic support, but that support is not infinite and we value ingenuity much more than we do cowardice."
Rodrick flicked a finger; the orb blackened a dummy's nine gates to zero in a blink. "That is what ingenuity buys you."
"To those who don't know, dungeons are natural rifts where the world's mana density is much higher. This is an opportunity as well as a test, as a successful skirmish can help you open your gates faster than usual.
"To the nobles, you cannot take any help regarding this assignment from your family. All artifacts and equipment not made by your own hand will not be permitted in the dungeon skirmish."
The nobles took it normally, as it was expected of them. So, they already knew what was going to happen. Was their confidence in their abilities or something else?
"So, crafters, scholars, and people with niche aspects, you don't get any dispensation either. Because power is what matters in the end.
"This orb will determine your mana gates and will open one gate in your body so that you can start your classes like proper initiates.
"The orbs will determine your ranking and privileges you get from the academy during your stay, so be hopeful. Those with one to three gates are placed in C-Category, people with four to six gates are placed in B, and the lucky few that have seven to nine gates are placed in A-Category. You will find out about the benefits after you get your rankings."
A solo dungeon skirmish, Kael thought, the plan crystallizing in his mind. Isolation. A contained environment. It would have been a perfect place to bleed off this overload, but he didn't have that long.
"Now Magus Serina, will you please start the testing."
An old woman who looked more an administrator than a teacher moved forward and then started giving orders as it was the most natural thing she was doing.
Students moved in a single queue and the first to get tested was a noble girl. She went up and the test revealed she had five mana gates, and she seemed happy to hear that.
The queue moved quickly, driven by the sharp efficiency of Magus Serina.
The noble girl with five gates, satisfied with her B-Category placement, quickly yielded the stage.
James was the next student Kael watched closely. He approached the obsidian pillar with a confident swagger and placed his hand on the crystal orb. The orb pulsed with a strong green light, and Rodrick's voice—amplified by the Academy's formation—boomed the result.
"James, House Manfield. Gates: Four (B-Category)."
A lattice of turquoise glyphs flared above the orb, painting the amphitheatre walls with every student's live data.
James's face split into an ecstatic grin. Four gates were above the midpoint, securing him a spot in the privileged B-Category.
The testing continued, results ranging mostly from one to five gates. Then came Dean.
Dean approached the pillar with visible apprehension, his whole-body trembling. He carefully placed his hand on the crystal. The green light flared, intensifying until it was a brilliant sapphire blue.
"Dean, House Harcott. Gates: Seven (A-Category)."
A collective hush fell over the amphitheater. Seven gates. The audience realized Dean, the nervous boy who fumbled for words, was an A-Category talent. Dean himself looked stunned, but a deep, genuine pride replaced the panic on his face.
The excitement didn't stop there. Two more students followed with seven gates, including a fierce-looking girl and a tall boy. The crowd buzzed with fresh energy—it was a talented class. Then, the next boy, a very handsome student from a noble house Vale, placed his hand on the orb, and the sapphire light turned to a blinding gold.
"Cyras, House Vale. Gates: Eight (A-Category)."
Eight. One gate shy of the King's record. The auditorium erupted in whispers, all eyes fixed on the shocked boy.
Kael remembered that name. he heard it from Lyon's mouth but that all he knew. He looked at the boy but then Magus Serina stepped forward once again and, clearing her throat, called out his name.
"Kael Voss."