Theon stood before Ren's office door, the weight of the last twelve hours pressing against his ribs. He had slept longer than he'd intended—too long, maybe—but his body hummed with an unfamiliar clarity, every sense sharpened.
He exhaled, slow and deliberate, then pushed the door open.
Inside, Ren was seated behind his massive, dark wood desk, a veritable command center. A constellation of flickering screens and holographic projections pulsed around him, each filled with dense streams of data, strategic schematics, and shifting planetary maps. As Theon entered, Ren flicked them all off with a casual wave of his hand, the room instantly dimming to a warm, inviting glow. He offered a warm, almost paternal smile, a familiar curl tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Ah," Ren said, his smile curling like a man who'd been waiting too long for a punchline. "You're finally awake." He leaned back, his gaze searching. "How do you feel?"
"Better than ever, sir." Theon replied truthfully, still marveling at how fully restored he felt.
Ren gestured for Theon to take a seat. "Let's start."
"Lu, as you've now felt, is the core energy of existence. It manifests in various forms—Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and countless others. But in its purest and most versatile form, we call it Neutral Lu. Those who harness Lu are known as cultivators. With enough mastery, cultivators wield immense power, bending reality through their control of Lu."
Though all of this was information Theon already knew from the databases on Serenera, it was still important for him to listen; it told him both how much the Veritas Syndicate knew or more likely were fine with revealing, and it enforced his current cover story.
As Ren finished, he stood, motioning for Theon to follow him. "Now," Ren said with a slight, knowing smirk, beginning to walk towards the door, "it's time to see where your talents truly lie."
As they walked towards the testing center, Ren continued his explanation. "There are a total of six primary talents for cultivators: meridians, soul, bloodlines, physique, pupils, and innate nodes. Meridians, soul, physique, and pupil talents are mostly random, though they can be influenced by one of the predetermined talents, bloodlines." He paused, pushing open a heavy, soundproof door that led to a long corridor. "The other non-random talent is the innate node. The Innate Node, however, is unique—a crystallization of one's entire being, manifesting sometime during the second plane, they can range from simple basic strength boosts to an entire technique."
They made their way to the testing center, a high-tech facility filled with glowing instruments and rows of monitoring devices, all humming with quiet energy. Inside, a team of scientists waited, acknowledging Ren with a respectful nod before turning their attention to Theon. Eyes curious, instruments ready, they began the assessment.
A team of scientists stood at attention as Ren and Theon entered. Their gazes flicked briefly to Ren—respectful nods, murmured acknowledgments—before locking onto Theon with undisguised curiosity. Instruments whirred to life around them, sensors aligning like predators catching a scent.
"Commander Takeda."
The voice was rasp-thin, yet it cut through the mechanical murmurs. Theon's eyes snapped toward its source—an old man with a pronounced hunchback, his spine bent like a question mark beneath his lab coat. Tightly combed gray hair framed a face carved with deep lines, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
Kirk.
The name clicked instantly. Fourth in Veritas's internal rankings. A man whose mind was a blade, honed by decades of ruthless analysis. He had no patience for fools, no tolerance for hesitation—only results.
Ren barely spared him a glance. "Kirk. Let's begin."
Kirk's lips twitched—not quite a smile, more the baring of teeth. "As you wish." His gnarled fingers danced across a holographic interface, and the machines answered with a chorus of rising tones. "Let's see what you're made of, boy."
Theon was guided to a central platform, bathed in soft, diagnostic light. He endured a battery of scans, each designed to evaluate different aspects of his body, mind, and soul. The scientists worked with a focused precision, their hands gliding over holographic panels, capturing data and cross-referencing results with astonishing speed. As the tests progressed, their expressions, initially neutral, began to shift—from professional detachment to mild astonishment, then to something akin to quiet awe.
"Commander Takeda," Kirk finally reported, his voice betraying a hint of his surprise. "Theon's meridian talents are classified as [Seer] rank, they're known as the [Luminaflux Circuits]. Additionally he seems to have a faint bloodline ranked at [Forgotten] with a weak fire Lu affinity. His soul is classified as [Witness]. Additionally, there are no apparent signs of a specialized physique or notable pupil talent, at least none that we can currently identify."
Ren nodded, a flicker of something unreadable, perhaps satisfaction, in his eyes. "Explain the rankings to him," he instructed Kirk, his voice even.
Kirk cleared his throat, swiping a hand through the holographic display. The chart shimmered, rearranging itself into a complex web of rankings.
"Talent rankings are divided into tiers," he began. "At the bottom, you have [Forgotten]—ordinary people with no notable influence. Above them are [Witnesses], individuals strong enough to matter within their own small domains. Then come [Seers], whose actions ripple through the universe, though not strongly enough to shift its course."
He zoomed in on the next tier, where names flickered like distant stars. "[Participants] are next—beings who shape entire galaxies or ride the tides of time itself, bending the flow of existence. And at the very top…" The display flared, highlighting a radiant cluster. "The [Chosen]. The top one thousand in each category. Their influence is undeniable, their weight felt across the cosmos."
Kirk leaned back, letting the data speak for itself before continuing. "Rankings aren't static. They're calculated based on impact—both the wielder's effect on the universe and the talent's role in their power. But be warned," he added with a smirk, "the system isn't perfect. Some talents are overrated because a genius pushed them beyond their limits. Others remain hidden, their potential wasted on those who never rose to greatness."
Theon processed the information quietly. It seemed as if he had quite a wide range of talents. He hadn't expected to be classified as [Seer]—near the top but not quite elite by the galaxy's standards. However, in a lower-level world like his, even a [Seer] talent was rare and formidable.
Ren motioned as Kirk handed Theon a piece of paper with his talents laid out in front of him to read into later.
Ren's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "We need to ensure this information stays classified. No one outside of this room should know about Theon's full capabilities. Replace the official records with another employee's test results, and destroy any physical data. Is that clear?"
The scientists nodded, their expressions grim but resolute. They understood the gravity of the situation. Theon's talents, while not earth-shattering in galactic terms, were still significant, especially in a world like theirs. Secrets of this magnitude could bring unwanted attention or worse.
Theon nodded.
Now he was certain his decision to not tell them all he knew and experienced was the right choice.
Ren turned to Theon and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's head back to my office. There's something I need to give you."
As soon as they entered Ren's office, the mood shifted slightly. Ren gestured to the bookshelf that lined the far wall. "Turn around," he instructed.
Theon complied. Behind him, he heard a soft clicking sound, a series of almost imperceptible taps, followed by a low, hydraulic hum.
"Alright, you can look again." Ren's voice dripped with a triumphant grin.
Theon turned back, as Ren's changed office came into view. The entire bookshelf, silent and smooth, had slid inward, revealing a shadowed, descending passage that vanished into darkness.
"Cool, no ?" Ren's grin widened, clearly pleased with himself as Theon looked down into the stairway.
"....."
Theon blinked once. Then twice.
"....really….?"
Ren's grin faltered. "Oh, come on... it's classic! Who doesn't dream of having a secret passage behind a bookshelf?"
"...."
"....it's cheesy…."
Ren visibly deflated clutched his chest as if wounded. "Kids these days. They just don't understand the importance of having a secret passageway behind a sliding bookshelf. It's peak sophistication." With an exaggerated sigh, he waved Theon down the passage, still looking profoundly betrayed.