The room was sealed.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Twelve layers of anti-eavesdropping formations. Reality anchors. Divine silence arrays. A space-lock so tight even lesser gods would need an appointment to listen in.
Inside sat the Water Star Academy Head Board.
Councillors.
Military liaisons.
Representatives from global cultivation sects.
The Student Council — all six Heavenly Stars present.
And at the head of the table…
The Headmistress.
Calm.
Tea in hand.
Eyes ancient.
The Magic Science Department was there too.
And they already looked like they wanted to die.
The headmistress tapped the table.
A holographic file opened midair.
FILE NAME:
White, Lane
Status: Classified / Undefined / Problematic
She began reading.
"Mana readings," she said calmly. "Result: ????."
A councillor frowned. "Equipment malfunction?"
"No," one scientist muttered weakly. "We replaced the equipment. Seven times."
She continued.
"Spiritual energy detection: Non-existent."
"That's impossible," someone snapped. "Even civilians have trace spiritual flow."
The headmistress nodded. "Yes. That was our conclusion as well."
She swiped.
Images appeared.
Security footage.
The combat class.
Rei's sword stopping mid-air.
Reality refusing to comply.
Then the slash.
The room went dead silent as the replay showed:
— the arena splitting
— the academy field erased
— a distant mountain cleanly cut in half
— ocean water parting like a wound
— atmospheric layers severed
The video ended.
The headmistress calmly read the transcript.
Witness statement:
"The student, Lane White, stated she used only 0.000000000001% of her power."
The table exploded into noise.
"WHAT?!"
"That's not a measurement, that's a joke!"
"0.000000000001% of WHAT?!"
A councillor slammed his fist down. "SHE CUT THE OCEAN. THAT'S NOT A STUDENT, THAT'S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE."
The headmistress raised a finger.
Silence returned instantly.
She looked at the Magic Science Department.
"You," she said gently. "You examined her as a child."
All eyes turned.
The scientists were sweating bullets.
Literal bullets of sweat.
One swallowed. "W-We did, Headmistress."
"And?" she asked.
The man laughed nervously. "We… don't know."
The room stiffened.
"…Explain," a student council member demanded.
A woman from the department spoke next, voice shaking. "When she was an infant, she already displayed awareness. Cognition beyond any recorded genius. Her birth nearly destroyed the hospital."
Murmurs spread.
"We attempted to scan her mana," another scientist said. "The machines didn't fail. They… gave up. As if the concept didn't apply."
"And her spiritual energy?" asked Haoran Liu quietly.
The scientists looked at him.
Then at the floor.
"…It's not absent," one whispered. "It's just… irrelevant."
The word hung in the air like poison.
"Irrelevant?" a councillor echoed.
"Yes," the scientist said. "Our systems rely on internal frameworks. Mana. Qi. Realms. Laws. Her existence does not register as part of any framework."
The headmistress finally closed the file.
"So," she said calmly, "she is neither mortal nor immortal. Neither god nor transcendent. Neither inside nor outside the known ladder of existence."
Someone whispered, "Then what is she?"
The headmistress took a sip of tea.
"A problem," one councillor said sharply. "A threat!"
"No," she replied. "A blind spot."
Haoran Liu spoke for the first time since the video.
"…During the slash," he said slowly, "I felt something."
Everyone turned to him.
"It wasn't power," he continued. "It was denial. As if the world itself was told 'no' and obeyed."
The room chilled.
A council elder whispered, "That's not cultivation."
Another muttered, "That's not magic."
The headmistress nodded once.
"Correct."
She looked around the room, her gaze sharp now.
"She is unclassifiable. Unmeasurable. And therefore—dangerous only to those who insist on understanding her."
A councillor stood. "We must restrain her. Seal her. Contain—"
The headmistress's tea cup cracked.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
The councillor froze.
"If you attempt to seal her," she said softly, "you will fail. If you attempt to contain her, you will escalate her awareness. If you attempt to provoke her…"
She smiled.
"…You will not exist to regret it."
Silence.
"So what do we do?" someone asked.
The headmistress closed her eyes.
"We do what we should have done from the beginning."
She opened them.
"We let her live."
The room erupted again.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!"
"She nearly destroyed the academy!"
"She IS a calamity!"
"No," the headmistress corrected. "She is a child. One who chooses restraint."
She glanced at the final note in the file.
Psychological Profile:
Displays empathy, avoidance of conflict, strong familial bonds, fear of harming others.
"She holds back," the headmistress said. "Not because she must. But because she wants to."
She looked at the student council.
"Which means," she finished, "as long as she remains human… the world survives."
Haoran Liu leaned back, eyes narrowed.
"…And if she stops being human?"
The headmistress's smile faded.
"Then," she said quietly,
"there will be no meeting to discuss it."
Far away—
Lane White sneezed.
And half the room flinched.