The questions did not stop.
In fact—
The moment the Twelve Priests concluded that Kel's awakening path was Space itself, the questions only multiplied.
The garden that had once been a solemn ritual ground now resembled a gathering of scholars who had discovered a new law of reality.
Everyone wanted answers.
Everyone wanted explanations.
Everyone wanted proof.
Unfortunately—
Nobody possessed any.
Not even the Twelve Priests.
The night sky stretched endlessly above.
Stars shimmered quietly.
The ritual formation had mostly faded.
Only faint traces of celestial light remained upon the frost-covered grass.
The cold northern wind brushed across cloaks and robes.
Yet nobody seemed to notice.
All eyes remained fixed upon one person.
Kel Rosenfeld.
The young heir stood calmly in the center of the garden.
As though he wasn't the reason everyone's understanding of awakenings had collapsed.
Nearby—
The Priestess of Knowledge stared at him.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Finally—
Curiosity defeated restraint.
"Young Master Kel."
Her voice broke the ongoing discussions.
Everyone turned toward her.
She hesitated briefly.
Then asked:
"If possible..."
"...could you show us what the power of Space does?"
The garden became silent.
Several priests immediately frowned.
The Priest of Dawn spoke.
"Lady Mirielle."
A warning.
The priestess coughed lightly.
Realizing her mistake.
After all—
Kel had just undergone an unprecedented awakening.
Demanding demonstrations immediately wasn't exactly polite.
The Priestess lowered her head slightly.
"My apologies."
"That was inappropriate."
Several others nodded.
Yet despite their words—
Everyone secretly wanted the answer.
Every single person.
Even Duke Aktaris.
Even Helena.
Even Aria.
Especially Aria.
Kel remained quiet.
Thinking.
Inside his mind—
Sairen spoke.
"Please tell me you have absolutely no idea what you're doing."
Kel considered the question.
"I have a vague idea."
The Guardian immediately sounded horrified.
"That somehow worries me more."
Kel ignored her.
Then slowly closed his eyes.
The entire garden watched.
Silence returned.
Not even the wind seemed willing to interrupt.
Several attendants unconsciously held their breath.
The Twelve Priests focused their senses.
Watching.
Waiting.
Kel simply thought.
Nothing more.
No chant.
No spell.
No prayer.
Just thought.
His thoughts drifted naturally toward something familiar.
Something he had spent years mastering.
Something deeply connected to him.
The sword.
His swordsmanship.
The countless battles.
The countless hours of training.
The countless moments where blade and will became one.
Then—
Something happened.
A ripple spread through the air.
Tiny.
Subtle.
Almost invisible.
The space beside Kel distorted slightly.
Then light emerged.
Silver.
Beautiful.
Ancient.
A miniature constellation appeared.
Floating.
A celestial sword.
The symbol shimmered softly beneath the stars.
It rotated around Kel once.
Then twice.
Then quietly entered orbit around him.
The garden froze.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody blinked.
Because every single person recognized it.
It was a constellation.
Not a full constellation.
Not one visible in the heavens.
A miniature manifestation.
Yet unquestionably real.
The Priestess of Stars almost dropped her staff.
The Priest of Judgment looked ready to question reality itself.
The younger attendants appeared moments away from fainting.
Aria stared blankly.
Duke Aktaris slowly crossed his arms.
A dangerous sign.
Whenever the Duke crossed his arms—
It meant he was processing something ridiculous.
This definitely qualified.
Several moments passed.
Then finally—
The Priest of Dawn managed to speak.
"Young Master..."
His voice sounded unusually careful.
"...how did you do that?"
Everyone immediately nodded.
Yes.
Excellent question.
Kel opened his eyes.
The miniature sword constellation continued orbiting him lazily.
Like a moon circling a planet.
Kel looked at it.
Then answered honestly.
"I thought about my swordsmanship."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The answer sounded absurdly simple.
Too simple.
The Priest of Knowledge adjusted her glasses.
Surely there was more.
There had to be more.
Right?
The priestess stepped forward.
Excitement gradually replacing caution.
"Then..."
She pointed at the floating constellation.
"If you think about something else?"
Her eyes shone.
"Can you do it again?"
The entire garden immediately became alert.
Even the older priests stopped pretending they weren't interested.
Because they absolutely were.
Kel thought briefly.
Then nodded.
Again—
He closed his eyes.
This time—
His thoughts shifted.
Away from swordsmanship.
Toward strategy.
Toward planning.
Toward calculations.
Toward battlefields.
Toward command.
Toward countless decisions.
The moment the thought formed—
Space rippled again.
A second constellation appeared.
A celestial symbol representing strategy.
An ancient formation composed of countless intersecting stars.
The miniature constellation floated beside the sword.
Orbiting quietly.
The garden collectively stopped breathing.
Then Kel thought again.
Magic.
Mana.
The mysteries of the arcane.
The pursuit of understanding.
Another ripple spread.
A third miniature constellation emerged.
This one radiated arcane brilliance.
A constellation of magic.
The moment it appeared—
The garden exploded.
Not physically.
Mentally.
The Twelve Priests looked as though their souls had temporarily left their bodies.
One attendant sat down directly on the grass.
Another grabbed a nearby tree for support.
Several younger nobles appeared completely broken.
Aria stared.
Then stared some more.
Then gave up trying to understand.
It was easier.
Much easier.
The Priest of Knowledge looked ready to cry.
Years.
Decades.
An entire lifetime spent studying constellation theory.
Destroyed.
Absolutely destroyed.
The elderly scholar slowly pointed toward the three floating constellations.
Her finger trembled.
"Those are..."
A pause.
"Actual constellations."
Nobody disagreed.
Because they could feel them.
Their presence.
Their authority.
Their symbolism.
They were real.
Very real.
The Priestess of Fate finally spoke.
"No."
Everyone looked toward her.
Her expression had become unusually serious.
"They are responding to him."
Silence followed.
Because that distinction mattered.
A lot.
Constellations weren't being summoned like magic constructs.
They were answering.
Answering his thoughts.
Answering his understanding.
Answering his will.
The Priest of Dawn slowly sat down.
An action so shocking that several attendants gasped.
Because nobody had ever seen him sit during a ceremony.
The old priest rubbed his face.
Then looked toward the heavens.
Then toward Kel.
Then toward the heavens again.
A long sigh escaped him.
"This is impossible."
The Priest of War immediately replied.
"It happened."
The Priest glared.
"You know what I mean."
"Unfortunately."
The warrior priest nodded.
"I do."
Because everyone understood the true problem.
They could accept Kel calling eighty-eight constellations.
Difficult.
But possible.
They could accept him rejecting them.
Strange.
But possible.
They could even accept Space itself answering his awakening.
Absurd.
Yet possible.
But this?
This was different.
Kel wasn't connected to constellations.
He wasn't chosen by constellations.
He wasn't borrowing power from constellations.
The horrifying truth slowly became clear.
He was manifesting them.
Calling upon them.
Using them.
As naturally as breathing.
The Priestess of Stars whispered softly:
"He treats constellations like tools."
Nobody answered.
Because nobody wanted to admit she was right.
The floating symbols continued orbiting Kel.
A sword.
A strategy formation.
A magic constellation.
Three celestial manifestations.
All answering his will.
All existing because he desired them.
Inside his mind—
Even Sairen sounded unsettled.
"Kel."
"Hm?"
"I think you accidentally became something terrifying."
Kel looked at the three constellations.
Then quietly answered.
"I only thought about things I know."
The Guardian became silent.
Several moments later—
She finally replied.
"That explanation somehow makes everything worse."
And for once—
Kel found himself unable to disagree.
Because judging from the expressions of the Twelve Priests...
They seemed to feel exactly the same way.