Lyle didn't sleep.
Not out of fear.
Out of calculation.
Every second spent resting was a second someone else might try to define him. And right now, everyone was trying to.
The Veiled Path watched him from below.
The Whisper Consortium offered him shadows.
The Academy labeled him a fluke.
But none of them understood him.
> And that's how I win.
---
By morning, the summons came.
Not a letter.
Not a whisper.
But a full academy-wide announcement.
> "All first- and second-tier cadets will report to the Grand Spire Courtyard at noon. Trial parameters to be announced."
The tone was unusual.
No preamble. No explanation.
Lyle's gut twisted—not with anxiety, but with recognition.
This wasn't a drill.
This was pressure.
The kind you use to crack fakes and forge threats.
---
He arrived early.
The courtyard was massive, layered in spiraling runes that fed into the central obelisk—an ancient thing, black stone shot through with veins of mana.
Students filled the outer edges. Instructors stood along the raised walkways.
And at the center stood a woman in imperial blue robes, flanked by guards not of the academy.
> External oversight, Lyle noted. This isn't internal politics anymore. They brought outsiders.
The woman raised her voice.
"Effective immediately, select cadets will undergo inter-division trials. This will determine placement for future field teams—and recommendations for military enlistment. Performance will be observed by multiple factions."
A pause.
Then:
"Cadet Greenbottle. Front and center."
Murmurs exploded across the courtyard.
> "Who?"
"Why him?"
"He's the one who—"
Lyle walked out with perfect calm.
No twitch.
No smile.
His heartbeat even.
The woman studied him as though searching for something that shouldn't be there.
Then she nodded.
"You will lead the first simulation."
> Lead?
That wasn't part of the game.
Lyle adjusted.
Adapted.
"As you wish," he said.
---
The simulation wasn't held on the Academy grounds.
It was underground.
A place they called Mirror Spire—a hollow dome of reactive magic designed to mimic real-world environments and emotional feedback loops.
He stood with three other cadets in the waiting bay—none of whom he'd trained with directly.
A swordmaster from Flame Division.
A quiet rune-sealer from Iron Strand.
And a girl from North Wall with sharp eyes and a sharper mouth.
"You're Greenbottle?" she said.
Lyle gave her a dull nod. "That's what the chart says."
"You don't look like a leader."
"I'm not," he said. "Just the one going in first."
The door opened.
---
Inside, the illusion triggered instantly.
Ruins.
Heat.
Whispers.
Something about this simulation wasn't standard. Lyle's Codex began fluttering immediately with fragmented alerts.
> [Warning: Unknown spiritual resonance detected.]
[Sim field corrupted. External pressure present.]
And beneath that—
A different voice.
Not the Codex.
Not the Veiled Path.
But the ring.
> "They want you to show your power. Do not."
> "They want you to fail. Do not."
He pressed his palm to the stone at the center of the ruins.
And it glowed red.
The entire structure pulsed.
His teammates screamed as phantom vines erupted around the edge of the arena—an unexpected twist.
But Lyle stood perfectly still.
He traced a glyph across the air, slow and theatrical.
Then flicked it toward the ground.
Nothing happened.
To everyone else—it looked like he failed.
To Lyle?
The phantom vines stopped growing… just before reaching him.
And the simulation reset.
---
In the upper viewing deck, the observers were silent.
Then one leaned forward.
"Greenbottle neutralized the emotional feedback loop without countercasting."
"Impossible," another muttered.
"He doesn't even have a soul-type affinity."
The blue-robed woman frowned.
"No… he has something else."
And far below them, Lyle simply smiled and returned to the waiting chamber.