Chapter 6 The Spark of Potential
The morning after the parapet watch, the air in the Division of Special Talents was thick with a new kind of tension. It was no longer just about potential; it was about placement. The first official Combat Potential Evaluation was today, and the results would dictate everything from resources to rivalries.
Lyon took his seat, the faint, ever-present hum of the Origin Seal a comfort beneath his sternum. The speculative glances from his classmates—Kaela's excited curiosity, Evelynn's analytical chill, Lucas's competitive glare—were just background noise. His real focus was internal, on the System's quiet promise of a new skill slot once he achieved balance.
Professor Mirelle Dorne entered, her presence silencing the room as effectively as a spell.
"Today, you will be evaluated on control, power, and adaptability," she announced, her gaze sweeping over them like a physical weight. "You will face a projection opponent tailored to your affinity. This is not a duel to victory. It is a demonstration of mastery. Spectacle is meaningless. Efficiency is everything."
The class was led to the central arena, a colossal basin of enchanted stone ringed by observation decks already filling with students from other divisions. The air crackled with unleashed mana as the first matches began. A water-wielder conjured a typhoon, a lightning-affinity student became a blur of speed. Each display drew cheers, but Professor Mirelle's expression remained unimpressed.
Then her voice cut through the din. "Lyon Kael."
A hush fell, followed by a wave of intense whispering. He was the one who shattered the Aether Conduit. The Origin-Bearer.
Lyon stepped onto the arena floor. The world narrowed to the space before him. A magic circle flared, and a humanoid projection of condensed Aether formed, its form shifting, mirroring the unstable, dual-natured energy it was designed to test.
"Begin."
The projection didn't charge; it unfolded. One moment it was still, the next, a blade of pure force was arcing toward Lyon's head. He didn't dodge. He raised a hand, and a small, perfect disk of void—an Aegis Echo—materialized. The force blade struck it and shattered into harmless motes of light, absorbed without a sound.
The crowd murmured. There was no flash, no roar. Just… negation.
The projection adapted, launching a volley of elemental orbs—fire, ice, lightning. Lyon didn't block them individually. He visualized a field of dead space, a Null Seed, and the orbs fizzled out of existence a meter from his body, their mana unraveling before they could strike.
He was not fighting. He was editing reality, deleting threats line by line.
Finally, the projection gathered its entire mass, condensing into a spear of annihilating light and hurling itself at him.
This time, Lyon moved. He didn't retreat. He stepped into the charge, his palm meeting the spear's tip. A Void Bolt,
not thrown, but delivered point-blank. A pinpoint of absolute blackness met the lance of pure creation.
There was no explosion. There was a pop, a sound of suction, as both projectile and the projection's upper body were cleanly erased from existence. The remaining legs of Aether dissolved into mist.
The silence was absolute.
Professor Mirelle was the first to speak, her voice carrying a note of grim satisfaction. "Evaluation complete. Combat Potential: S-Rank."
The arena erupted.
S-Rank. A classification for monsters and legends.
As Lyon walked back, his expression unchanged, he felt the weight of their stares solidify. He was no longer just an anomaly; he was a benchmark.
Lyra, the fiery swordswoman from the earlier drills, fell into step beside him, her grin fierce and genuine. "You were using a scalpel where everyone else uses a warhammer," she said, her eyes alight with challenge. "Don't you dare blunt it before I get a chance to test my steel against it."
He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his gold-flecked eyes. "I'll keep it sharp."
She nodded, satisfied, and melted back into the crowd.
Professor Mirelle intercepted him before he could leave. "My office. Now."
In the sound-proofed silence of her study, she faced him. "What you demonstrated wasn't skill, Lyon. It was grammar. You weren't casting spells; you were rewriting local physical laws. The Council will see that not as a gift, but as a variable they cannot control." She leaned forward, her intensity palpable. "You must achieve Core Balance. Before they decide to control you by other means."
Lyon met her gaze. "I'm working on it."
As he left her office, the System pulsed in his vision.
[Core Balance: 12%]
[Alert: External Scan Detected. Source: Unknown. Classification: Cosmic.]
He stopped in the middle of the bustling corridor, his blood running cold. He looked up, through the crystal archways, past the protective dome, into the clear blue sky.
Something had just looked back. Not from the academy, not from this world. Something from the void between stars had taken notice of the spark he'd just created.
The game had changed. The academy's politics were a petty skirmish. The real players were now watching.