Kael jogged through the sector at a steady, unhurried pace.
Not running from anything. Not chasing anything either.
The route cut through layered walkways and reinforced platforms, passing beneath steel overhangs and between stacked residential blocks. This part of Denab wasn't built for elegance. It was built to endure. The sector had expanded inward first, then upward, reinforced year after year as population pressure demanded more space. The original streets still existed somewhere below—buried beneath newer construction. Old office blocks had been stripped and repurposed into housing. Commercial centers functioned as supply depots now. Anything deemed unstable had been sealed or dismantled without ceremony.
Kael moved through it all like he belonged.
He took the stairs where they existed. Used ramps when available. When a gap appeared, he crossed it cleanly and efficiently. No wasted motion. No flair. Just momentum earned one step at a time.
By the time the academy gate came into view, his breathing had barely changed.
The gate dominated the sector's centerline—tall, reinforced, and unmistakably permanent. It separated Denab Academy from everything else, not just physically, but symbolically. Beyond it was structure, allocation, and order. Inside it, lives were categorized and futures quietly redirected.
Kael slowed to a stop.
He looked at the gate longer than necessary.
A week.
That was how long he'd been here.
Every child in the world was sent to an academy the year they turned sixteen. No exceptions. In some regions, families prepared for it like a festival. In others, children were escorted in under armed supervision. Willingly or forcefully—it didn't matter. When spark energy reached the minimum threshold for manifestation, the Directorate collected its due.
Denab was just one sector among many.
Kael turned away from the gate and headed back inside.
His room was small.
That was the first thing anyone noticed—but it was also the last thing Kael cared about. The bed was narrow. The desk was bolted to the wall. Storage space was minimal. Still, it was clean. Private. Secure.
Better than anything he'd had before.
He took a shower, standing under running water longer than necessary. Not out of indulgence—out of quiet disbelief. Clean water had never been something he could take for granted. Here, it was just… there.
When he was done, he pulled on the brown training outfit assigned to every first-year entrant. No insignia. No personalization. Just fabric, regulation fit, and function.
Today was the entrance ceremony.
The academy had finished gathering every sixteen-year-old in the sector. Some rooms were filled with nervous chatter. Others with tense silence. Kael stepped into the corridor and joined the flow of students moving in the same direction.
As he walked, memories surfaced uninvited.
A week ago, he had been the first to arrive.
The gates had still been open, guards idling, talking among themselves. For a moment, they hadn't even realized what day it was. Kael had stood there—thin, worn clothes, shoes near the end of their lifespan—waiting patiently until one of them noticed.
Surprise had flickered across their faces.
He hadn't said much then. He hadn't needed to. Determination was quieter than people expected.
The corridor widened as it approached the central hall. The ceiling rose. The noise level climbed. Hundreds of students converged from branching hallways, all dressed the same, all trying not to look like they were measuring each other.
The hall itself was vast.
Tiered seating wrapped around a circular platform set into the center of the hall. Above it hung a cluster of suspended devices—unlabeled, inert, arranged with deliberate symmetry.
Kael took the first seat he found.
He didn't spend the time wondering what kind of spark he would manifest.
He didn't picture rare alignments or special outcomes.
Hope had taught him to keep its distance.
An official stepped forward once the hall settled.
He spoke of structure. Of responsibility to the sector. Of how sparks were not gifts, but functions—tools meant to be used. He explained that in most cases, manifestation did not occur naturally at sixteen. Not without assistance. That what would happen today was induced.
When the speech ended, the man paused.
"Now," he said, voice carrying easily, "on to the main highlight of the day."
The devices above the platform stirred.
A low vibration spread through the hall, felt more in the bones than the air.
Names were called.
Students stepped onto the platform one at a time.
When they did, the suspended array lowered, aligning itself around them. Light flared—not violently, but insistently. The pressure followed. Something reaching inward and pulling outward at the same time.
Sparks were forced to the surface.
Some manifestations drew whispers. Others passed with nods and quiet notation. Most were met with professional indifference.
Eventually—
"Kael Ourus."
He rose.
The walk to the platform was short. The space felt longer.
As he stepped into position, the array shifted. The pressure hit immediately—cool, invasive, wrapping around what's supposed to be his core.
Something inside him resisted.
Then yielded.
The world narrowed.
For a brief instant, Kael felt… thicker. As if his body had gained weight without mass. His heartbeat slowed instead of racing.
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had come, leaving the platform calm for a heartbeat.
Then something stood there.
A girl.
At least, that was the closest description Kael's mind could settle on.
She was tall, built lean rather than delicate, with long white hair tied back loosely at the nape of her neck. Her ears—slightly pointed, unmistakably non-human—marked her as a demihuman at a glance. Everything about her posture suggested balance, as though she were more comfortable standing still than most people were in motion.
She wore no armor. No weapon. No ornament that marked her as dangerous.
Just a presence—quiet, steady, and oddly solid.
Kael stared.
Before he could form another thought, a voice echoed across the hall—flat, procedural.
"Grade C. Utility-aligned."
A few murmurs followed. Nothing loud. Nothing impressed.
Kael exhaled slowly.
"…Figures."
A short laugh slipped out, dry but genuine.
"Should've seen that coming."
The girl didn't react. Didn't speak. Didn't move.
She simply stood there, eyes forward, as if waiting for instructions she already understood.
As Kael continued to look at her, something flickered at the edge of his vision.
Text.
Faint. Translucent.
It didn't overwrite reality or block his sight. It sat alongside it—subtle, quiet, undeniably there.
Spark Name: Oguri Cap
Spark Title: Withering Crown
Spark Origin: Spirit of the Endless Path
Kael blinked once.
Then again.
The text remained.
"…Huh."
No explanation followed. No tutorial. No voice. Just information—presented cleanly, impersonally.
He looked back at the girl.
Oguri Cap.
The name settled without resistance.
Like he'd always known it.