Captain Aelyss returned without announcement.
No horns. No gathering. No formal reception at the gates.
Midarion was arranging documents inside her office when the door opened with its usual measured precision. He did not need to look up to recognize the shift in air.
Viktor's presence filled a room with movement, with warmth and unpredictable angles.Aelyss's presence compressed it.
She stepped inside, cloak folded over one arm, boots immaculate despite the dust of travel. Her silver-blue hair was tied back as always, not a strand out of place. Her eyes moved once across the room, assessing, recording.
"Report."
Her voice had not changed.
Midarion bowed slightly. "All internal functions stable. No disciplinary incidents. Resource allocation remained within projected margins. Captain."
She removed her gloves. "And the western perimeter disturbance?"
He hesitated only long enough to remain honest. "Contained."
Aelyss studied him then—not warmly, not coldly. Simply measuring.
"I read the summary," she said. "Concise."
That was all.
No inquiry about his condition. No remark about his absence from regular drills. No acknowledgment of the risk.
She moved past him and began reviewing the stacked reports. He resumed his place beside the desk without being instructed.
Outside the office, word had already spread.
She is back.
The Sanctuary felt different within the hour.
Conversations lowered. Laughter thinned. Recruits who had grown used to Viktor's relaxed authority straightened their shoulders without realizing it. Even the wind seemed to travel more carefully through the corridors.
Midarion felt it too.
With Viktor, the air had room to breathe.
With Aelyss, it had structure.
Neither was wrong.
But they were not the same.
That afternoon, she summoned the new recruits to the main hall.
They gathered quickly, boots aligning on polished stone. Reikika stood near the front, arms crossed but posture respectful. Lior leaned slightly toward Midarion as they waited.
Aelyss stepped onto the platform without flourish.
Her gaze swept across them.
"You have completed your first external rotation."
No praise. No critique.
"You believe that makes you soldiers."
Silence.
"It does not."
The words landed cleanly.
"In Astraelis—and in every kingdom beyond it—power is not assumed. It is measured from 8 to 1."
A sharp voice cut through the hall."So we're numbers now?"
The words landed harder than intended.A few recruits shifted uncomfortably.
The speaker did not lower his chin. "We train, we bleed, and in the end we're reduced to a digit?"
She regarded him without offense.
"No," she said evenly. "You are not reduced."
A pause.
"You are revealed."
The hall grew still.
"The number does not define your worth. It defines the damage you can cause."
"In the coming days, each of you will learn your Rank."
The word hung.
Some recruits straightened with anticipation. Others exchanged quick glances.
"Your Rank," she continued, "may determine whether you are selected into a division immediately. Or whether you remain in training."
A pause.
"You will attend instruction tomorrow morning. It will clarify what that means."
She turned to leave, then added, "Prepare yourselves."
Not for battle.
For truth.
The next morning began with drills under a sky still pale from dawn.
Midarion completed his assigned attendant tasks before joining the formation. Aelyss's schedule was exact; she required nothing repeated. Her commands were minimal and sufficient.
When drills concluded, the recruits were directed to the old lecture hall—an amphitheater carved into the inner stone of the Sanctuary.
The place felt ancient.
Symbols lined the curved walls, faded by centuries of hands and breath. Torches burned low but steady, casting light over etched dragon forms spiraling toward the ceiling.
A senior instructor stood at the center platform.
Professor Iveran.
Thin, silver-haired, robes simple but immaculate. His voice, when he began, was steady and unhurried.
"You have been told you will learn your Rank."
He looked at them as if weighing how much to reveal.
"What you are about to hear predates this Sanctuary. It predates the Five Kingdoms in their current form. It predates even some of the barriers that protect you."
He turned slightly, gesturing to the dragon carvings.
"The Universal Threat Classification System."
The words were not dramatic. They were heavy.
"It is recognized by all Five Kingdoms. It is applied equally to humans, beasts, and spirits."
A recruit raised a hand hesitantly. "Even… civilians?"
Iveran nodded. "Every being capable of connecting to Kosmo may be measured."
A ripple moved through the room.
"The system was codified after the War of the Severed Sky," he continued. "When the kingdoms realized that strength without scale is chaos."
He traced a finger along one of the dragon engravings.
"You will notice the terminology is draconic."
Reikika spoke this time. "Why dragons?"
"Because," Iveran replied calmly, "dragons were once regarded as the purest embodiment of power. They were not merely beasts. They were living thresholds."
He let that settle.
"The structure is inverted from what your instincts may assume."
He drew a simple circle in chalk on the stone board behind him and marked a number inside it.
"Level Eight."
He wrote beneath it:
Rankless — Level 8
"No threat," he said. "Inoffensive. Civilians. Villagers. Those who cannot meaningfully connect to Kosmo."
Another circle below.
Vermis — Level 7
"A minor threat. Dangerous to individuals or Rankless populations. Most of you entered this Sanctuary at this level."
A faint tightening passed through several recruits.
He continued downward.
Wyrm — Level 6
"Low threat. Capable of endangering small groups. City guards, trained militias."
He did not rush.
Wyvern — Level 5
"Moderate threat. Dangerous to villages. Generally Elite soldiers."
A recruit in the back muttered, "So that's what we aim for."
Iveran's eyes shifted to him.
"Ambition without patience is self-sabotage."
Silence returned.
Tiamat — Level 4
"Severe threat. Capable of overwhelming organized corps. Commanders often operate within this range."
Midarion's thoughts flickered briefly to Viktor.
Measured. Observing.
Hydra — Level 3
"High threat. Capable of destroying an entire city. Captains."
Aelyss's name did not need to be spoken.
The room grew stiller.
Drakon — Level 2
"Major threat. Capable of endangering multiple cities. This is the minimum threshold required to become Imperion."
The word Imperion carried weight of its own.
Finally, he wrote the last.
Apocrypha — Level 1
The chalk paused before finishing the line.
"Cataclysmic. Threat to an entire kingdom. Ancient calamities."
No one spoke.
The structure stood complete.
Then Iveran turned back to them.
"The lower the Level number," he said clearly, "the stronger the being."
Several recruits blinked.
He repeated it.
"Level Eight is weakest. Level One approaches catastrophe."
A long exhale escaped someone.
"Progression is not linear," Iveran continued. "Each ascent grows exponentially more difficult."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"To rise from Vermis to Wyrm may take months of disciplined training."
He met their eyes one by one.
"To rise from Drakon to Apocrypha may take decades."
He let the number hang.
"Forty years is not uncommon."
The weight of time entered the room.
One recruit whispered, "Forty…"
A recruit near the front let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Forty years? That's a lifetime."
"Correct," Iveran replied. "Which is why most never reach it."
"Power," he said evenly, "is not generosity. It is accumulation."
Midarion felt something quiet settle in his chest.
He remembered Viktor's threads, invisible across the battlefield.
What level would that be?
He did not ask.
Reikika glanced sideways at him. Lior stared straight ahead, jaw tight.
A few recruits shifted with nervous energy. Others sat straighter, arrogance flickering in their eyes as if daring the scale to underestimate them.
Iveran stepped away from the board.
"This system does not assign destiny," he said. "It defines threat."
The distinction was deliberate.
"You may be Level Seven today and Level Five in a year. Or you may remain unchanged for a decade."
A pause.
"The system does not care about your feelings."
A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth.
"Nor does it reward potential."
Silence pressed heavier.
Then his tone shifted—slightly.
"In recent years, one of the Five Kingdoms has developed an artefact."
He did not name the kingdom.
"It measures Kosmo resonance with objective precision."
The word objective seemed to unsettle them more than anything else.
"It analyzes the density, circulation, and structural integrity of your internal flow."
Reikika leaned forward.
"It assigns a Threat Level."
The air thickened.
Two recruits exchanged glances—calculating now, not friendly.
For the first time, the hall did not feel like a class.
It felt like a sorting.
A recruit near the center raised his hand. "How accurate is it?"
"Within acceptable margins," Iveran replied. "It has been adopted by all Five Kingdoms."
Aelyss stood at the back of the hall, silent, arms folded.
Iveran looked at them one final time.
"You will be tested."
A small stir began immediately.
"Today."
The stir stopped.
Midarion felt Lior's elbow brush his.
"Today?" Lior muttered under his breath.
Reikika's fingers tightened around the edge of her seat.
No one laughed.
No one protested.
The room felt smaller.
Midarion lowered his gaze briefly.
Where do I stand?
He thought of the failed incantation. The net of strings. The dizziness after.
He thought of Viktor calling him young wolf.
He thought of Aelyss's unreadable eyes.
Level Eight.
Level Seven.
Level Six.
The numbers felt colder now.
Iveran stepped back.
"You will be called individually."
The chalk dust still hovered faintly in the air.
Outside the lecture hall, bells began to ring once—low and deliberate.
Not a warning.
A summons.
No one moved.
The weight of unseen measurement settled over them all.
And for the first time since entering the Sanctuary, Midarion felt something unfamiliar pressing against his calm.
Not fear.
Expectation.
The silence in the hall deepened, as if the very walls were waiting to decide what each of them truly was.