"Your heartbeat is steady. That's good. Your mind, however, is fragmented. Still adapting. Unfocused."
Kael blinked his eyes open.
The training room was dim. Only a few ceiling panels flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the floor. Sweat clung to his skin. His breath steamed faintly in the chill air.
And the voice—that new, impossible voice—still echoed through his skull like a memory that wasn't his.
"Sit cross-legged. Close your eyes. Breathe through the diaphragm, not the chest."
Kael obeyed, not because he trusted the voice yet, but because it was all he had. He was changing faster than anyone around him could understand, and Aegis—this strange ancestral AI—was the only one who seemed to know what the hell was happening to him.
He sat.
Breathed.
And waited.
"Now… let me show you what you are."
The darkness behind his eyes flickered.
Suddenly Kael felt himself falling—not physically, but inward. Like his mind had peeled back the layers of skin and blood and memory to reach something deeper.
He gasped.
Inside his mindscape, he stood barefoot on a reflective black surface, surrounded by infinite space. Stars swirled above. Silhouettes—faint humanoid figures—surrounded him at a distance, each glowing faintly. Some towered like giants. Others pulsed like stars about to go supernova.
And in the center stood a mirror.
But what it reflected wasn't just his face.
It was his potential.
He stepped forward, trembling.
"This is your Threshold. The space between what you are and what you could become."
"Your ability is not a weapon. It is a ladder. Every rung you climb unlocks new features—neurological, physiological, metaphysical. It was designed to be wielded by warriors who fought not for kingdoms, but for legacies."
Kael stared at the mirror.
His reflection stared back—older, sharper, cloaked in something like fire and shadow.
Not him.Not yet.But possible.
"I want to reach that," Kael whispered.
"Then listen closely."
"To control your evolution, you must train three cores—Instinct, Structure, and Flow.""Instinct controls your combat reflexes. Structure controls your physical limits. Flow governs the harmony between body and ability. Balance them, and you will no longer evolve randomly."
Kael clenched his fists.
"No more accidents. I control it now."
"Yes. But control is only the first step."
"Ascendancy requires awareness. You must train in isolation, in motion, and in combat. I will guide you."
"But be warned: evolution has a cost. Every step forward will change more than your strength. It will test your identity, your will, and eventually… your humanity."
Kael stared at his reflection.
"If that's the price, I'll pay it."
When he opened his eyes, he was still kneeling in the training room, sweat now dripping down his temple. His hands trembled—not with fear, but with energy.
Aegis didn't speak again, but Kael could feel him. Not like a ghost. More like a second presence behind his thoughts. A silent mentor watching from within.
Kael stood.
His muscles responded instantly.
His balance was sharper. His perception felt wider.
He'd unlocked something.
The first real control.
And he wanted more.
Over the next two days, Kael trained harder than he ever had before.
He didn't just spar. He studied his own movement, watching how his feet landed, how his body shifted with every blow. Aegis gave him real-time feedback through subvocal cues, helping him adjust posture, breathing, and rhythm.
The others noticed.
Even the instructors noticed.
But Kael didn't explain.
Not yet.
He just pushed forward.
During a rare break between drills, Kael sat in the mess hall with his usual squad—Lira, Dane, Renna, and now Rylen too.
They were halfway through a tray of post-combat rations when Dane leaned forward, whispering, "Alright, what's going on with you?"
Kael raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"You're different," Lira added. "More… focused. You haven't cracked a single dry joke all day. And during weapons testing, you dodged a plasma bolt with your eyes closed."
Rylen grinned. "I saw that. The instructor looked like he wanted to re-test the whole batch."
Renna didn't say anything, but her eyes were watching Kael a little too closely.
He considered lying.
Then shrugged.
"I've been training. Harder than before."
"Harder?" Dane said. "Dude, you were already doing solo laps in 3x gravity fields. What's next? Sprinting on walls?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Maybe."
Lira leaned closer. "You're not telling us everything."
"I'm not ready to," Kael replied. "Not yet."
That answer seemed to satisfy no one, but no one pushed.
They understood.
At Regis, secrets weren't a luxury.
They were survival.
That night, Kael stood alone in the northern watchtower. The wind was sharp at this height, carrying a scent of ozone and synthetic rain from the upper-atmosphere filters.
He stared across the valley toward the Elite Wing, where students from the legacy families trained.
The towers there were cleaner, taller. Some even had custom airfields and weapon labs.
He was no longer jealous.
He was calculating.
He was close.
But not close enough.
"Soon, you'll see the difference between what you can become… and what already rules this world," Aegis said softly in his mind.
Kael frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You've heard of the Seven Great Houses."
Kael nodded.
Everyone at Regis had.
Seven bloodlines that had dominated the Ability Wars. Each had survived the Collapse. Each had preserved power, status, and mastery through engineered bloodlines, combat schools, and generational weaponry.
"Soon, you'll meet one. A true scion. Not just power incarnate, but generations of refined mastery stacked atop each other like a throne."
Kael watched the distant towers glitter in the dark.
"I'm not afraid."
"You should be. Not of them… but of what you'll have to become to stand beside them."
The next morning, Kael's team was summoned to an advanced group assessment simulation.
But this time, they weren't the stars.
They were the audience.
The announcement played:
"Elite Exhibition Combat. Featuring Cadet Silas Caellum, Class Zero Prime."
Kael tensed.
The name sent ripples through the courtyard.
Silas Caellum.
A direct heir of House Caellum—the Skyblood family, rumored to wield gravitic and temporal manipulation abilities. One of the most feared young elites in the system.
As they were escorted to the Arena Omega stands, Kael noticed even the upper-year cadets falling silent.
A moment later, Silas stepped onto the platform.
He didn't wear standard armor.
He wore a custom black suit laced with silver, shaped perfectly to his tall, regal frame. His silver-blue hair fluttered in the synthetic wind. His eyes—icy and distant—surveyed the audience like royalty addressing commoners.
A single drone opponent rose from the pit.
Then ten.
Then fifty.
Each programmed with high-end combat protocols.
Silas raised one hand.
The air bent.
Time didn't stop—but it dragged.
The drones moved in sluggish bursts as if swimming through syrup. The audience gasped.
Silas moved through them like poetry. Every step calculated. Every gesture devastating. He crushed, disabled, and dismantled the fifty drones in under a minute.
Without breaking a sweat.
The silence afterward was heavier than any applause.
Kael stood frozen.
That… was mastery.
It wasn't brute force. It wasn't improvisation.
It was refined legacy.
He wasn't just strong.
He was born to be strong.
And Kael… wasn't.
"Do you see it now?" Aegis whispered."This is the gap. You must close it. Not just with growth. With command. With intention. With legacy of your own."
Kael stared at Silas Caellum as he walked off the stage without a glance at the crowd.
For the first time in weeks, Kael felt something stir beneath the hunger, beneath the evolution, beneath the AI's guidance.
Not fear.
Not envy.
But resolve.
"I don't care if he was born on a throne," Kael murmured to himself.
"I'll build one from the ground up."