The pier stretched into the sea like a broken promise, its salt-crusted planks sagging under the weight of time and tide. Varric stood at its farthest edge, alone, his charcoal coat snapping in the wind like a warning. In his hand, a comm-slate—sleek, translucent, its surface alive with encrypted light—cast a faint glow across his weathered face. A message flickered on the screen, time-stamped from 2days ago: Can't make it today, Dad. Tomorrow morning work? —Kairo.
Varric's thumb lingered over the words, his jaw tightening. The hesitation in Kairo's tone, even through text, cut deeper than he'd admit. A boy should not pause before meeting his father. He swiped the message away, the slate dissolving into a shimmer of light, and slipped it into his coat. The sea churned below, gray and restless, as if it sensed the storm brewing between them.
He'd waited years for this moment. Planned for it. Gambled everything—his name, his family, his soul. And yet, standing here, the truth clawed at him, sharp and unyielding. Tell him, a voice whispered, the one that remembered Kairo's small hands tugging at his sleeve a decade ago. Tell him who you are. What he is. What all of this is about. But another voice, colder, older, drowned it out: He's not ready. Not for the Engine. Not for my truth. Not for any of it. He's just not ready. Not yet. Varric exhaled, the sound lost in the wind. The pier creaked. The waves hissed. And he waited.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him. Varric didn't turn. He knew the rhythm of Kairo's walk—tentative, then stubborn, like a boy forcing himself to be brave.
They met beneath the hollow belly of the old tramline bridge—the one that hadn't carried trains since the Etheron Surge blacked out half the grid. Twisted steel loomed overhead like broken ribs, rust bleeding down the concrete pillars. A slow rain tapped the puddles scattered across cracked asphalt. Kairo kept to the shadows at first, half-hoping he wouldn't see anyone there. But the figure stood dead center under the bridge, arms folded, coat collar turned up against the wind. Backlit by the fading daylight behind the city skyline. It was him. Even from a distance, the man felt like a boundary line—one you didn't cross unless you were ready to change something forever. Kairo stepped into the light. The sound of his boots echoed under the concrete canopy. "You chose a hell of a place to meet," he muttered. Varric didn't look surprised. Just… tired. "Thought you'd like somewhere honest. No lights. No masks". Kairo snorted. "That's funny. Coming from you.", with an unbothered face, Varric ignoring that and said "You're early, thought you weren't coming" voice low, cutting through the fog like a blade. "I almost didn't," Kairo muttered. "Figured I'd just be talking to another shadow". He got closer, arms tense at his sides. Every part of him buzzed, like his Etheron could feel the tension before he could name it. "Been a long time, son." Varric said. Calm. Controlled "Whose fault is that?" Silence hung between them. Just the low hum of city power far off, and the faint hiss of rain. Varric nodded once. "Fair". "I never wanted to be a shadow to you," Varric said. "Oh is that what it is? How about you cut the crap and tell me why the hell am i here." Kairo replied, already feeling guilty for saying that. Another silence. Then; "You're growing into it," Varric said. "Into what?", "The storm inside you". Kairo scoffed. "So thats what youre trying to do? Some poetic father-son bonding over cursed DNA?", "No," Varric said. "It's me telling you the truth. You're not ready for what's coming, Kairo. But you're not powerless anymore". Kairo looked away, jaw tight. The bridge groaned above them as the wind picked up. "You don't get to come back now and talk like this," he said. "You left". "I know". "You left when she needed you. When I needed—" He cut himself off, the words threatening to shake loose more than he wanted. Varric finally took a step closer. "You think I left for fun! You think i didn't want to stay?" he said, voice low. "You think I haven't watched every second of your life from the corners of this city, wishing I could walk into the light without dragging death behind me?" Kairo stared at him. "YOU DID NOT HAVE TO TO LEAVE US". "I had no choice son. Believe it or not, but this isn't why i summoned you here". Another pause. Then Varric added, turning to face him. "The man who came to you last night," he said. "Ren. He wasn't a C.E.L.E.N agent". Kairo froze, his pulse spiking. "What?" His voice was sharp, almost a demand. "You're saying he was a fake?", Varric's eyes didn't waver. "I sent him. To measure you. To confirm what I've known since the day you were born." He stepped closer, his presence heavy, unyielding. "You're not just another Etherborn, Kairo. You're a key. A fracture in the order of things." Kairo's breath caught. The word—key—echoed in his mind, sharp and cold, like the voice from his dream. "A key to what?" he asked. Then Varric reached into his coat and pulled out a small, obsidian-like shard. Its surface pulsed with red glyphs like veins under skin—alive, alien, unwelcoming. He offered it. Kairo stared. Didn't take it. "What the hell is that?" His voice was sharp now, his posture bristling. "It's yours, you'll need it" Varric said quietly. "No," Kairo said. "No more of this cryptic crap. I'm done pretending any of this makes sense." He stepped forward, voice rising. "You can't just drop back into my life after vanishing for such a long time and hand me some cursed artifact like it's an apology." Varric didn't flinch. Kairo pointed a trembling finger. "Tell me what the hell this is. Stop talking in riddles. I don't know anything. Not about you. Not about what you're hiding from all of us. Not about why the guy who came to my apartment wasn't even with C.E.L.E.N. Not about these damn dreams that keep getting louder—". He caught himself, breath heaving. "You're spiraling," Varric said softly. "I'm unraveling," Kairo shot back. "Because you keep treating me like a pawn in some game I didn't agree to play." Varric's hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out, but he didn't. Inside, his thoughts roared: Tell him. But he couldn't. Not yet. "A key to a door most cannot see," he said instead, his voice low, resonant, like a prophet speaking to a dying world. "A door that holds the weight of worlds. You feel it, don't you? The dreams. The pull. The voice". Kairo's eyes widened, fear and anger flashing across his face. "How do you know about that?" His hands clenched into fists, a faint shimmer of black-blue Etheron flickering around them "What are you doing to me?". "Nothing," Varric said, his tone steady but heavy, like stone. "The universe doesn't care about your pain, Kairo. It cares about what you carry. And you carry a weight most would break under." Kairo laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "You're doing it again. Talking like a prophet, not a father". "I am your father," Varric said, voice quiet but fierce. "But I'm also the only person who'll ever tell you what the rest of them are too afraid to say". Kairo's grip tightened on the shard. "And what the fuck might that just be?", "That you're not just another Etherborn. You're not just a boy who got lucky surviving his first flare. You're a fracture, Kairo. A flaw in the design." Kairo froze. The word hit him again like a ripple from his own dream. "Fracture," he echoed. "You've said that before". Varric nodded. "You've heard it, haven't you? In your sleep. When the world goes quiet." Kairo's stomach turned cold. He had. The whisper. The voice in the deep. It called him key. Anomoly.
His hand trembled. His Etheron flickered in waves across his shoulders. "I don't know what's real anymore," Kairo said, voice cracking. "All this time I thought I was just… broken. Crazy. But it's you. You've been steering my whole life from the dark and leaving me to drown in it". Varric didn't deny it."I was there," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "In ways you cannot fathom. I walked through fire to keep you from burning. I broke my own heart to forge yours". Kairo's eyes glistened, but his voice turned raw, biting through the fog. "You call that love? You chose secrets. You chose to be a ghost. You left Mom to pick up the pieces, left Selena to raise me while you—what? Played hero in the shadows?" Varric's internal voice screamed again; Tell him you're no hero. Tell him they call you villain, traitor, the man who'd unmake the world to save it. But he swallowed the truth, his face a mask of resolve. "Men build cages out of love, Kairo," he said, his words slow, deliberate, like a philosopher carving truth into stone. "I broke mine to set you free. To save a world, you must sometimes break it. To save a son, you must sometimes lose him". Kairo's Etheron surged, uncontrolled, black-blue tendrils cracking the pier's planks with a sharp snap. The air hummed with raw power, and Varric's eyes widened—not with fear, but recognition. The anomaly. It's waking. Kairo staggered back, clutching his hands, horrified. "What's happening to me?" he whispered. Varric stepped forward, his voice a low thunder. "You're becoming what you were meant to be. The universe is a machine, Kairo, and you are its flaw. Its perfection". "The universe will reveal everything to you when you're ready, Keep what i gave you hidden. You will need it. And trust no one—not even C.E.L.E.N". Kairo stared at the stone, its weight heavier than it should have been. "Why?" he asked, voice breaking. "Why can't you just fucking tell me? Why can't you be a father for once?" Varric's hand lingered on Kairo's, a touch too firm, too fleeting. "Because I am not the father you wanted," he said, his voice a quiet, shattering thing. "I am the one you needed—carving a path through shadows so you could walk in light". He stepped back, the fog swallowing the edges of his coat. Kairo's voice was a choked scream. "Don't walk away! Not again!" But Varric turned, his silhouette fading into the mist. "Find me when you're whole," he said, the words barely audible over the crashing waves. "When you've faced the fire and not burned". "Good luck with the Trials son, you'll do great". Kairo stood alone, the stone burning cold in his hand, tears streaking his face. The pier was silent now, save for the sea's endless roar. He wanted to hurl the stone into the waves, to scream until his lungs gave out. But he didn't. He slipped the token into his pocket, its weight a promise—or a curse.
That night, Kairo barely slept. The stone sat on his nightstand, its faint red pulse casting shadows across his room. The dream came again, sharper, crueler. The "Engine" loomed beneath the sea, its rings of alien stone spinning like a cosmic clock. The voice was louder now, mathematical, relentless: Key… awakened. Thread… converging. He woke gasping, his hands trembling with black-blue sparks. The stone's light flickered, as if it had heard. He didn't tell Selena. Didn't tell Aveline. He couldn't. Not when Varric's words still burned in his chest: "You carry a weight most would break under." He dressed in silence, the dawn light gray and unforgiving. The Trials were today. His chance to prove himself—to Varric, to C.E.L.E.N., to the boy who'd spent years chasing a father's shadow.
The Trial Grounds stretched out like the skeleton of a forgotten god—massive, mechanical, and mercilessly alive. Hundreds of spectators filled the surrounding glass towers, their cheers muffled through containment domes that shimmered like heat haze. Massive drones buzzed overhead, broadcasting the event across the globe. The arena itself was a rotating composite of terrains: shattered concrete jungles, sand-choked ruins, steel forests, and deep artificial ravines with flickering ether-rails. Everything was designed to test not just strength, but adaptability, reflex, and control. The Trials were never the same twice. From a nearby holoscreen, a news anchor's voice played over the footage, the camera panning across the chaos with theatrical precision. "Coming to you live from Dome Aegir, where this year's Etherborn Awakening Trials promise to be the most intense in over a decade," the reporter said, her voice smooth and urgent. "Over six hundred candidates from across the world have gathered for what many call the most unforgiving rite of passage on the planet. Only the top thirty percent will walk away with provisional licenses. And the rest? Well… better luck next year." The screen shifted to aerial shots of the testing zones. One showed a field of rotating platforms suspended over simulated lava flows. Another displayed a vertical gauntlet of collapsing walls and shifting gravity zones. Young contenders, already wearing standard-issue bodysuits marked with district insignias, stretched, meditated, or powered up, releasing pulses of Etheron that glittered in the light. "While C.E.L.E.N. officials remain tight-lipped about evaluation metrics, sharper. many arrive with promise, and only a few arrive with reputation. Among this year's top contenders: Tarek kael, the stone-willed prodigy from the Nordcliffe stronghold—ranked first in two consecutive provincial circuits. Sanaa Reveth, kinetic savant and child of renowned tactician Layne Reveth, whose public displays of mass resonance stunned even regional examiners".
Then, the camera panned slightly, overlaying the confident, poised image of a dark-haired girl locking gauntlets onto her forearms— "And returning for her second year with a vengeance—Mira Eldren, dubbed 'The Crimson Arc' by her peers after her arcfield displays disrupted last season's final phase before she was disqualified for unlicensed tech use." The anchor's smile thinned as the final name flickered on the screen. "And then—Kairo Virel. The son of retired Sovereign Tier (S-rank) Etherborn operative Varric Virel. Though previously unknown to the circuit, early footage and recent… anomalies have already sparked speculation around the boy's latent potential. Whatever the truth, all eyes will be watching." The footage ended as the screen blurred into a commercial.
Kairo stared at the blank screen in front of him, cereal turning soft in the bowl untouched. Behind him, the scent of sizzling butter and eggs filled the air, grounding him in something simple, something real. His mother, Aveline moved around the kitchen with calm efficiency, barefoot in her old lab coat thrown over pajamas. Her hair was tied up messily, strands falling as she plated breakfast with quiet care.
"You'll need real food today," she said without looking up. "None of that pre-packaged, half-air junk". Kairo blinked and turned from the screen. "You're up early". "I haven't slept," she replied, setting a warm plate in front of him. Eggs, toast, a sliced fruit capsule—his favorite combo. "But I figured you hadn't either". He offered a weak smile. "You figured right."
She sat beside him, resting her hand over his. Kairo tensed, remembering the pier, the fog, Varric's voice like a storm breaking inside his skull. But Aveline squeezed his hand gently. "I don't know what happened yesterday. And you don't have to tell me. Just know this—whatever secrets your father's dragging out of the dark, they don't define you. You do". He looked at her, unsure how to answer. Then she leaned in and pulled him into a tight, warm hug, one hand cradling the back of his head like she had when he was a boy. "I am so proud of you, Kairo. No matter what comes next—whether you pass or fail, fight or fall—you've already done something most couldn't. You've chosen to face the unknown". Kairo's throat tightened. The knot in his chest—the weight of last night, the shard in his pocket, the storm in his blood—it all loosened, if only a little. "I'll be watching," she said softly, pulling back with a smile that tried to hide the glimmer in her eyes. "Just don't blow up the arena, alright?" A breath escaped him. It might've been a laugh. He nodded, a small, firm one. For the first time since the nightmare began, he felt steady. Not because he wasn't afraid—but because he remembered who he was. Who raised him. Who believed in him before he ever did. He grabbed his jacket. Checked his pocket. The obsidian shard was still there, warm and pulsing—but no longer consuming. She handed him his field pack and stood by the door. "Go show them who you are". Selena pulled the keys off the wall. "Let's go."
The drive to the Dome of Ascension felt like entering a legend Kairo had only heard whispered in the back alleys of his youth.
The structure loomed above the city like a colossal crown, a circular monument of steel and glass that shimmered with integrated light-veins pulsing soft blue—a heartbeat of power threaded into its very frame. It was shaped like a stadium, but nothing about it resembled a place for games. The outer ring of the dome was segmented into tessellated, shield-like plates, each etched with the crest of C.E.L.E.N., glowing faintly against the morning fog. Thin spires rose from its edges like antennae, feeding off the Etheron currents in the atmosphere, their tips flickering with static energy. Kairo walked toward it in a slow, steady pace, his boots brushing the edge of the marble-paved promenade that led up to the gates. Around him, hundreds of other candidates moved—some in groups, chattering nervously, others dead silent with focus. Many wore tactical suits customized for mobility or light armor regulation-grade. Kairo, by contrast, was in plain black with only the standard trial-issue ID clipped to his chest. He liked it that way—understated, unnoticed. But inside, his pulse was hammering. As he neared the main archway, he found himself sandwiched between two lines of candidates funneling toward the security scanners. Mounted turrets tracked movement overhead, subtle but ever-present, and the personnel guarding the gate wore black and silver armor with the C.E.L.E.N. insignia glowing faintly over their hearts. He stepped forward when prompted. A tall security agent scanned his ID. "Kairo Virel," the guard read. He gave Kairo a sharp once-over, then nodded. "Verified. Welcome to the Trials". The doors slid open behind the guard with a hiss, revealing the interior of the Dome. And Kairo stepped through. Inside, it was a different world. A towering entrance hall stretched out before him, lined with columns that glowed faintly with kinetic runes. Thin energy banners floated midair, rotating symbols and trial rankings, while an enormous projection above them displayed the current list of test groups, times, and a massive countdown clock ticking down the seconds. He barely had time to process it all before the hum of conversation dimmed and a commanding voice echoed from across the atrium "Candidates, this way!" The voice belonged to a man standing near a large open doorway—a tall, sharp-featured figure in a slate-gray high-collared cloak, his red hair swept back in streaks like a burning gale. Kairo recognized him immediately. Zairen Kael. A Ascendant-Tier Etherborn and one of the most famous names in the licensed registries. Known for stormbreaking during the Westgate Collapse and shutting down the rogue Nexus Rift in Osaka. A legend. Zairen's presence was magnetic, the kind that made people go quiet just by entering the room. As Kairo approached with the others, Zairen turned smoothly and walked them through the hall, down a corridor lined with crystalline panels that shimmered with live feeds from training arenas. The tension in the air was thick enough to taste. They emerged into a wide chamber that felt like a cross between a lecture hall and a strategy room. Dozens of curved rows of tiered seating descended toward a raised central platform. Above that, a massive holoscreen curved across the wall, dormant for now but ready to come alive at a gesture. The walls were deep charcoal, inset with pulsing lines of light that gave the whole space a heartbeat-like rhythm. Candidates trickled into seats, murmuring to each other, adjusting gear, clutching datapads. Kairo took a place near the middle row, and to his surprise, just as he lowered himself into the seat, he felt a familiar presence settle beside him. "Long time, huh?" said a calm voice. He turned—Mira. The girl from the training field—the one who dodged his blast with inhuman grace and left him standing there like an idiot when she cryptically whispered, "You'll see". Now she sat next to him with a sly smile tugging at her lips. Her short silver-blonde hair was tied back, her suit marked with subtle indigo lining, and her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "You knew this was coming," he said, keeping his voice low. She shrugged. "I told you there was a big day coming. Guess this counts". "You could've mentioned the whole world would be watching". "Where's the fun in that?" Before he could say more, the lights dimmed, and the holoscreen flared to life. A sleek, animated intro began to play, showing the history of Etherborn awakenings—the first incident during the Surge, the creation of C.E.L.E.N., and the modern licensing process. Dynamic visuals danced across the screen: candidates training, past Trial winners unleashing their powers in containment arenas, the chaotic beauty of Etheron in motion. Then. Zairen Kael took the stage. "Welcome, candidates," he began, his voice deep and steady, echoing off the stone and steel around them. "Today, you stand at the threshold of power—and consequence". He paced slowly across the platform, arms behind his back. "The Awakening Trials exist not only to gauge your abilities—but your stability, your control, your intent. You are not being judged only on strength. You are being watched for judgment. For awareness. For the spark that tells us you're more than a weapon." Behind him, the screen began showing segmented trial areas—combat zones, puzzle arenas, Etheron flow chambers, even a massive simulated urban environment. "There are one hundred and twenty of you," Zairen said, his tone sharp. "By the end of the day, there will be fewer. And of those, fewer still will earn preliminary licenses. Most of you won't even qualify for conditional ones. But some of you—some of you may prove exceptional." Few moments later, the lights dimmed, and the screen behind him transformed into a swirling lattice of light and color—lines of Etheron currents, real-time energy maps, shifting crystalline diagrams. He stood with one hand clasped behind his back, his silhouette outlined in pale gold from the rising visuals. He let some silence build before he spoke again. "This is not a game." His voice echoed through the chamber. Calm. Unshakable. "This is not some rite of passage, not a proving ground for schoolchildren, and certainly not a place for ambition without understanding. If you think you're here to show off your power, you're already walking the edge of failure." The holoscreen responded to his words. It pulsed, dimmed, then stabilized into a clean, circular diagram split into multiple sectors. "This is the structure of your new world," Zairen said. "Some of you know pieces of it. Most of you know nothing. That ends now." The screen zoomed in. "You are candidates for Etherborn classification. This means your body, through trauma or latent inheritance, possesses the capacity to house and channel Etheron—the field of proto-reality that surrounds all life and matter. Etheron is not magic. It is not spiritual. It is a chaotic language of physics and potential, encoded in living vessels and translated through will. We are not gifted by the cosmos. We are fractured by it—and forced to evolve. And what's our job—your job? Is to keep the world safe. From the sea creatures Abyssborn, other monsters, rogue humans and any danger that faces our civilization, our people, our home, our planet." A pause. The diagram shifted. "Each Etherborn is classified into a Rank—an order of power, control, and resonance. Rank is not linear strength. Rank is ceiling. It defines how much your body and mind can handle before collapse. Every ranked Etherborn has limits. Most of you haven't touched yours yet." The diagram expanded into six tiers, arranged in a pyramid. From bottom to top: Tier-1 through Tier-4, then two more levels above that: Tier-5 and Tier-6. At the peak, alone, was Tier-7.
Tier-1: Initiate Tier - E-Rank
Tier-2: Bound Tier - D-rank
Tier-3: Pulse Tier - C-Rank
Tier-4: Crest Toer - B-Rank
Tier-5: Ascendant Tier - A-Rank
Tier-6: Sovereign Tier - S-Rank
Tier-7: Ecliptier Tier - SS-rank
"Most citizens, even if awakened, hover below initiate-Tier. These are your commoners, your laborers, your unlicensed drifters. They wield little, control even less. Bound-Tier to Ascendant-Tier form the backbone of licensed Etherborns—combatants, regulators, scouts, even low-ranking officials. Sovereign-Tier and above are rare. Unbelievable warriors. Feared. Respected." The upper tiers pulsed now. Sovereign and Ecliptier Tiers "Sovereign-tier are anomalies. Their bodies are more Etheron than human. They don't just bend reality. They negotiate with it. You'll likely never meet one. If you do, consider yourself the luckiest for meeting humanity's mightiest heroes."
A flicker of white light struck the top tier.
"And then… Ecliptier-Tier. There are currently only nine confirmed living. They are not symbols. They are not just heroes. They are Everything to our civilization—unleashed only in global crises. If you dream of reaching this level, abandon your delusion now. Only those who are broken in a very specific way reach that apex". Zairen's voice turned flint-hard. "I should know". The room was silent. He turned slightly, gesturing again. The diagram shifted once more, this time showing color-coded arcs branching from each tier. "Ranking is only the foundation. The second axis of classification is Type". New icons appeared. 7 of them. Each one glowing in different hues—scarlet flame, electric blue, ghostly gray, golden light, and more. "Type defines how your Etheron manifests. It reflects instinct. Inherited memory. Trauma. Some of you have already felt its stirrings." He pointed toward the red flame icon. "Type: Elemental. Their Etheron energy manifests as control over one element, such as fire, water, earth, wind, ice.. we have yet to see an elemental type who can wield more than one element. They excel in balancing raw offense and defense but are volatile". He moved on.
"Type: Summoner. They project psychic contrusts resembling monsters/knights. These are personal Etheron entities/soldiers for their summonor, not real Abyssborn".
"Type: Assassin. Specializes in speed, close-range stealth combat, enhanced reflexes, short-distant teleportation and blade mastery using Etheron. Their minds process faster than their bodies. Combat-wise, they're almost impossible to track unless you can slow time—or bend it"
One by one, the Types cycled through: Tank/Guardian that uses Etheron to enhance body durability, deflect damage and act as a shield for others. Longshot a stategic marksmen that manipulates Etheron into projectile constructs—bows, cannons, sniper blast etc. Healers/Support for closing wounds, slowing bleeding, reversing minor trauma, barrier creation and boosting allies abilities by refining Etheron energy. Controller that distrups or manipulate field around enemies, gravity, weight, spatial distortion & more..All of these require specialized testing. Don't try to guess your Type based on one trick. Your Awakening will define it today. You don't choose. The truth reveals itself through your Threshold". He paused. "And some of you—maybe one in a hundred thousand—might not awaken to a Type at all. Behind him, the screen now displayed animated footage of Etherborn moving through test chambers, failing or succeeding. The tone of the room darkened "Let's talk about the Trials themselves now". Zairen's voice rang with magnetic clarity, holding the attention of every soul in the chamber. The massive screen behind him flickered with brilliant diagrams—pulsing orbs, fractal veins of light, shifting silhouettes of Veilspawn and Etherborn locked in impossible battles. "To understand your journey, you must first understand what you are," he said, pacing slowly across the platform. "Etherborn are not chosen by chance. You are heroes—individuals born with the rare capacity to host Etheron: that which is not particle, not wave, but will". The screen shifted to display a glowing orb surrounded by seven rings, each more radiant than the last. Zairen gestured toward it. "Before the combat Trials begin, you'll each enter a private chamber—what we call the Resonance Hall. In the center, you'll find the Aether Core, a pulsating orb tuned to the spectrum of Etheron itself. It is not alive, but it listens. You will step into a calibrated zone, touch the Core… and wait. If you're attuned, your Etheron will rise in response. You won't force it. You'll feel it. That's when the Core responds". The screen animated the process—silhouettes of candidates stepping forward, pressing trembling hands to a radiant sphere. One orb turned gold, another sapphire blue, another a deep crimson. "The Aether Core is the beginning of this journey, it's what unlocks your sealed power. What you have now, as we all know. Is merely a fraction of what you can do. The orb will activates the core and unleash your full potential". "Each color the orb will show during the process corresponds to your Type—your affinity, your natural expression of Etheron. It's not a restriction. It's a foundation. From there, we measure your Rank, based on the resonance amplitude, depth response, and waveform stability". You will be assigned a Provisional Rank & type based on the reading," Zairen said. "That rank isn't your ceiling—but make no mistake, very few ever rise more than a Tier or two beyond their awakening. It takes years, sometimes decades". He finally paused, letting the silence settle like dust. Then his eyes swept across the room, landing briefly on Kairo's. "The world out there doesn't wait for you to figure yourself out. That's what today is for. Step into the chamber. Face the orb. Meet yourself". Then he smiled, a flicker of something human in his otherwise perfect composure. The visual changed again: a sprawling multi-zone arena, each area labeled—COMBAT SECTOR, FLOW CHAMBER, REACTION VAULT, STABILITY GRID, TACTICAL SIMULATOR. "After the Resonance Hall, You'll be evaluated across multiple modules. you will enter physical and mental tests. You'll go through different ways of combat. And subjected to stress tests—sound, gravity, thermal, pain endurance. There will be puzzle grids, reality loops, deception fields, and team simulations". He let that settle. "You will be watched by automated systems and living examiners. You will not know which is which. Fail the emotional sync test, and you're flagged as unstable. Fail the flow compression loop, and you risk internal rupture. Cheat, and you're banned for life. There are no appeals. No second chances. This is the reality of Etherborn law". And then, as the final note, the holoscreen dimmed back into the C.E.L.E.N. insignia, still and heavy with meaning. "But if you pass…" He looked at them now. Truly looked. Eyes like glass knives, scanning every seated candidate. "If you endure, if you adapt, if you survive—then today marks the death of who you were, and the birth of who you were always meant to become, a Hero". A single moment of silence followed. Then he said: "Orientation is complete. Your group numbers will appear on your datapads now. Welcome to the start of your becoming..Dismissed."
The moment Zairen stepped down from the platform, the air in the room shifted. That electric current of nerves and excitement was no longer contained by curiosity—it surged toward inevitability. An agent in a matte-black C.E.L.E.N. uniform stepped through a side door and raised a hand. "All candidates, follow me. Preparation begins now." Chairs scraped back. The hall filled with the low shuffle of movement and murmured chatter. Kairo rose with the others, glancing sideways as Mira matched his pace. "No backing out now," she said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Kairo breathed deep through his nose. "I wasn't planning on it". The corridor beyond the presentation room led through a sleek passage lit by low amber strips in the floor. The walls were dark and steel-lined, humming faintly with energy. They passed through a scanner gate, then entered a large changing room split by partitions and filled with rows of locker-like compartments. Inside, each candidate found a sealed container marked with their name. Kairo tapped his panel, and it hissed open—revealing the uniform: a lightweight, form-fitting suit composed of hybridized fiber plates and mesh designed to sync with their Etheron signatures. A sleek black with faint circuit-like threading, and the CE (Candidate Etherborn) marking glowing at the shoulder. He suited up in silence, his mind slowly closing off the noise around him. Conversations blurred. Even Mira's voice—somewhere behind the partition—faded beneath the rhythm of his thoughts.
What if the orb doesn't react at all?
What if I'm too weak?
What if I'm something… I don't understand?
When the group reassembled, they were led again—this time to a wide, circular waiting chamber. Tall seats were arranged along the outer wall, facing a single massive viewing window that looked into the Resonance Hall beyond. And at its center—the orb. It hovered three feet above the ground, pulsing with a slow, patient light. Dozens of technonodes and scanners floated nearby in anti-grav fields, rotating slowly around the sphere. The room felt sacred and scientific all at once. Names were called. One by one, the candidates were taken in. One by one, they emerged…changed.
First went a tall, sharp-eyed boy named Orren Zayal. The orb flared bright blue as he made contact. "Type: controller. Tier: Bound (D-Rank)". A quiet ripple spread through the room. Next, a girl from the southern districts—lean and wiry. Her orb pulsed Light orange, then flickered into a cyclone-like burst. "Type: Elemental. Tier: Pulse (C-Rank)." Applause followed. Nervous, uncertain claps. Then… Tarek Veylan. Already a popular kid thanks to the news channels everytime they talk about the Trials. room grew silent the moment he rose. Even without speaking, his presence burned—intense and absolute. He stepped into the chamber with a predator's grace. When his hand touched the orb, it erupted in blinding gold, cracking the outer edge with plasma-like veins. "Type: Assassin. Tier: Crest (B-Rank)". Kairo tensed. The room burst into whispers. Crest Tier. Already. They barely registered the next few candidates. Mira leaned forward next to him, watching the colors with sharp curiosity. Then… his name. "Kairo Virel". His body moved on its own. The door opened. Light from the orb bathed the corridor ahead. He stepped forward, heart pounding, hands cold, mind ablaze. The door slid shut behind him with a final click.