Lux was smiling long before the training hall came into view.
He tried to temper it—he really did. He reminded himself of posture, of composure, of the way Geltry had already begun correcting how he carried himself through the estate halls. A noble did not walk grinning like a fool, she had said. A noble did not announce excitement before it was warranted.
But his steps were light despite himself, and the grin refused to leave.
By the time he reached the broad stone doors of the training hall, the morning chill had already worked its way into his fingers, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were still tangled in memory—of movement, of speed, of that perfect alignment that had snapped into place without warning the day before.
Lux stopped just before entering, straightened his back, and consciously smoothed his expression.
Then he stepped inside.
The hall was quiet, as it usually was at this hour. Pale light filtered down through the high windows, illuminating dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The stone floor still bore faint scuff marks from previous sessions—evidence of repetition, effort, and time.
Caelis stood near the center of the hall, reviewing a tablet with his usual calm focus.
Lux approached and bowed properly.
"Good morning, Instructor Caelis," he said.
Caelis looked up.
His gaze swept over Lux once—posture, stance, breathing—and then lingered on his face a fraction longer than usual.
"…Good morning," Caelis replied. "You seem to be in unusually high spirits."
Lux hesitated, then nodded once.
"Yes, sir," he said. "If you have the time, I'd like to show you something."
That earned him a raised eyebrow.
"Oh?" Caelis said, setting the slate aside. "Go ahead."
He gestured toward the open floor.
Lux stepped forward and positioned himself where he normally trained. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself in routine. Excitement was there—buzzing under his skin—but he didn't let it lead.
This wasn't yesterday. Yesterday had been instinct. Today had to be deliberate. He closed his eyes.
Breath in.
Hold.
Breath out.
The hall receded.
Lux turned his awareness inward—not searching, not forcing, simply acknowledging what was already there. The presence at his core answered immediately. Not as heat. Not as pressure.
As warmth.
A steady, radiant flow centered behind his sternum, calm and responsive. It didn't surge. It waited.
Lux remembered the sensation from the garden—not the emotion that had triggered it, but the structure of it. The way his body had aligned without resistance. The way everything had agreed.
He guided the Hlyr outward.
Slowly.
Threads of warmth extended from his core, spreading through his shoulders and arms, then down his spine and legs. It felt like a network being completed, connections forming where there had once been hesitation.
Maintaining it required focus. Any lapse in breath caused the flow to thin, to threaten collapse. Lux tightened his control, jaw setting as he held the pattern steady.
A minute passed.
Then another breath.
His body felt lighter. Stronger. Balanced.
Lux opened his eyes.
Caelis was watching him closely now, attention fully fixed.
Lux allowed himself a small smile—contained, but unmistakable.
"Watch this," he said.
He bent his knees and jumped.
The force carried him upward cleanly. The floor dropped away beneath him as air rushed past, his body lifting far higher than any normal leap. There was no panic this time—only awareness.
He adjusted instinctively midair and landed in a controlled crouch. Stone cracked faintly beneath his boots.
Lux straightened, heart racing.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he turned to Caelis.
"Sir," Lux said, excitement slipping into his voice despite his effort, "what do you think?"
Caelis was silent.
He approached slowly, eyes scanning Lux with practiced scrutiny.
"You maintained circulation throughout the motion," Caelis said. "Your breathing held. There was no external discharge."
He paused.
"That was controlled channeling. If I were a certified professional give you full marks."
Lux exhaled, shoulders loosening.
"I see," he said quietly.
Caelis nodded once.
"Understand this," he continued. "What you did today is arguably a historic moment. After only 3 weeks of basic training you've managed to accomplish what some, albeit less fortunate, couldn't accomplish in their entire lives."
Lux nodded immediately. "I understand, sir."
Caelis studied him for another moment, then straightened.
"Lux ," he said evenly, "as of today, you are recognized as a Spark."
Lux remained standing where he had landed, breath still steady, the faint warmth of circulating Hlyr lingering in his limbs. The word echoed in his mind, unfamiliar but heavy.
Spark.
He let a few seconds pass—enough to collect himself, enough to remember where he was—before speaking.
"Instructor," Lux said, bowing his head slightly, "what does that mean?"
Caelis did not look surprised by the question. If anything, he seemed to have expected it. He gestured for Lux to walk with him toward the side of the hall, where the stone floor gave way to long benches worn smooth by years of use.
"A Spark," Caelis said as he moved, "is the first recognized stage of a Pathfinder."
Lux followed, attentive.
"Pathfinders," Caelis continued, "are not completely defined by whether they can move Hlyr nor by the innate capacity which they possess. While those may be important, what truly defines a pathfinder is advancement. In reality even the strongest of pathfinders out there only need the basics they learned. They take those basics and advance them to the pinnacle of which it can be. That is what also separates each rank of pathfinder."
They stopped near the benches. Caelis leaned back against the stone railing, arms folding loosely across his chest.
"The classifications exist to measure that progression," he said. "From weakest to strongest, the ranks are as follows."
He raised a finger.
"Spark. The point at which one can circulate Hlyr internally with intent and stability, then eventually as though its second nature."
A second finger.
"Ember. When circulation can be sustained under strain—combat, prolonged exertion, or injury. This is when a pathfinder will truly know whether they will be worth anything."
Third.
"Blaze. At that stage, Hlyr is no longer just reinforcement. It becomes expression. Techniques. Manifestations. Power over nature itself."
Lux listened closely, committing each word to memory.
"Radiant," Caelis went on. "Where presence alone begins to matter. Their Hlyr is felt by others, whether they intend it or not. At this stage your Hlyr begins to influence your surroundings."
"Luminous," he said, voice lowering slightly. "Few reach it. Fewer still remain… unchanged. At this point the line between man and Godhood begins to fade. Some even call this stage the beginning of Apotheosis."
Then:
"Trailblazer. At this others will begin to refer to you as a demigod."
He paused before the last.
Lix gulped
"And finally—Avant Garde. The absolute peak. The pinnacle of not just pathfinders but mankind itself. The minuscule few who have achieved this status are revered as Gods among men. The very laws of nature bend to their will."
Silence settled between them.
Lux absorbed it slowly.
"…So," he said after a moment, choosing his words carefully, "you said I'm recognized as a Spark. Does that mean—"
"If you were to take the certification examinations today," Caelis interrupted calmly, "you would meet the minimum requirements to pass at that level."
Lux blinked.
"But I'm not—" He stopped himself, corrected his posture. "I mean, I haven't even entered the academy yet."
"That is irrelevant," Caelis replied. "Certification measures capability, not affiliation. You are not a licensed Pathfinder, but your body and control meet the criteria."
Lux frowned slightly.
"Then why," he asked, "haven't I been taught this on the first day? The ranks, I mean. It seems… fundamental. I think that's the right word?"
Caelis studied him for a long moment before answering.
"Because knowledge shapes expectation," he said. "And expectation can be dangerous."
Lux waited.
"I have seen many people with talent," Caelis continued. "Very few with more initial promise than you in different aspects. They learn of the greatness they can achieve. They imagine themselves climbing them quickly. They picture power before they understand responsibility—or endurance."
He shook his head faintly.
"Some break their bodies. Others lose motivation when progress slows. A few discover they never truly wanted the path at all.In reality despite your talent I never truly believed that you would make it."
Caelis met Lux's eyes.
"I wanted to see whether you would endure training without the promise of truly gaining progress. Whether you would persist when improvement felt invisible. Some may call it stupidity to pursue something with no gain but I call it determination."
Lux considered that.
Caelis straightened.
"That phase is over now," he said.
Lux's pulse quickened.
"You will be taught proper Pathfinder theory. Circulation refinement. Load tolerance. Combat application—eventually. Your schedule will intensify."
He allowed himself a thin smile.
"You should prepare yourself," Caelis added. "Because what you have experienced so far was restraint."
Lux inhaled slowly.
"…How much more difficult will it be?" he asked.
Caelis's expression did not soften.
"Enough that you will question your resolve," he said. "Enough that progress will feel slower than before. Enough that you will fail often."
Then, evenly:
"Welcome to the beginning."
Lux bowed deeply.
"I won't waste it," he said.
Caelis nodded once.
"Good," he replied. "Because from tomorrow onward—training increases tenfold."
He turned back toward the center of the hall.
"Prepare yourself," Caelis said over his shoulder. "You're going to learn what hell feels like."