The light above Nax had changed.
What once shimmered like a cold reflection of eternity now pulsed softly, like the steady heartbeat of a living cosmos. The divine phenomenon from the merging of realms had faded, leaving behind a sky threaded with rivers of luminous script — words written in the air, remnants of creation's resonance.
Lucien Dreamveil stood at the edge of the academy's upper terrace, robes flowing gently as the cosmic wind rolled through. The Aetherionum stretched below — a city-sized academy suspended upon rings of floating marble and translucent glass. Towers bent space, staircases looped through folded dimensions, and everywhere, students hurried with scrolls, tablets, and gleaming focus crystals.
His return had not been announced. It didn't need to be. Every soul in the academy could feel the shift — that calm pressure in the air, the quiet weight that made even the formless spirits kneel instinctively.
"Back again," Lucien murmured under his breath, watching the clouds bend away from him. "I see they've kept busy."
Down below, banners fluttered. The Trial of Masters was about to begin — the event where the newly ranked students would finally choose their mentors. It was the first such trial since Lucien had become the Honorary Elder of Aetherionum.
He hadn't forgotten the names — Hoshigama, the quiet girl whose awakening had momentarily rattled even the metaphysical threads themselves; Hayato, confident and brash, already calling himself a warrior of the inner class; Risk, the mysterious one who spoke little but watched everything; Shunji, always smiling, never revealing the storm that brewed beneath; Akemi, radiant and sharp-minded, the one who treated spells like puzzles; and Kojiro, the sword prodigy whose calm blade spoke louder than words.
They stood now before the Hall of Convergence — an enormous open arena surrounded by thirty-two hovering seats where the Author Candidates and higher instructors sat, observing.
Kaelith sat cross-legged on one of those floating seats, pale silver hair brushing his shoulder as he smirked lazily. "So, it begins again. The next generation of thought and chaos."
Beside him, Kaelix leaned back with a sigh. His long coat fluttered, the runic chains at his wrist glowing faintly. "You talk like you weren't one of them a century ago."
"I wasn't this dumb," Kaelith replied, glancing down as Hayato tried to summon a projection and ended up summoning a floating teacup instead.
Kaeltharion, ever composed, simply rested his chin on his hand. "They're young. Power without maturity is like a star before ignition — unstable, but full of promise."
The rest of the candidates murmured in agreement. Each one was a being who could rewrite existence in subtle ways, yet they watched with something like nostalgia.
And far behind them, leaning against a pillar, Lucien observed in silence. His aura was completely suppressed, so to most, he was merely an observer — a tall, pale figure with calm eyes that hid galaxies.
The selection began.
The students stood on shimmering platforms arranged in concentric circles. Their ranks glowed beneath their feet: Class C, Class B, Class A, and the rare Class S — those whose aptitude or potential had surpassed measurable limits.
Hoshigama's circle blazed white. She was the only one standing in the inner ring, bearing the mark of an S-Class.
The crowd murmured in awe — and fear.
Ever since her awakening, whispers had spread that she carried a shard of the metaphysical plane itself in her soul.
Kaelith leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "She's changed. The control in her energy flow… she's refining it consciously now."
Kaelix folded his arms. "She learned from the awakening. That's rare. Most who touch metaphysical essence lose themselves."
Kaeltharion's gaze shifted slightly toward the far terrace, where Lucien stood. "Perhaps she learned by example."
Lucien's lips curved faintly. He didn't answer, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed a thought — quiet pride, perhaps. Or curiosity.
The trial of choice began.
Each student had to step forward, announce their calling, and name the master they wished to follow. The chosen could either accept or reject the request.
Hayato went first, slamming his hand against his chest. "I want Kaelith to teach me! You're loud, arrogant, and reckless—like me!"
Kaelith snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "Pass. I don't teach idiots who think recklessness equals strength."
The crowd erupted in laughter, and Hayato stomped away muttering. Kaelith's grin widened. "He'll come back stronger. Maybe."
Then came Akemi. Her voice was soft but clear. "I choose Kaelix. You analyze, not react. I wish to learn logic in combat."
Kaelix raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Hm. You observe well. Fine. I'll take you — but you'll regret it by the end of the month."
One by one, choices were made. Shunji chose Kaeltharion for his discipline. Risk, surprisingly, chose none — stating he would walk the road alone until the right shadow found him.
And then came Hoshigama.
The air shifted as she stepped forward.
Her white hair shimmered faintly with particles of metaphysical light, eyes glowing with the same quiet brilliance Lucien once saw in himself when he first broke through the veil.
"I…" she began, voice steady, "seek a master who understands what I've seen. Not power — understanding. I wish to grasp why I exist."
No one spoke. Even Kaelith was silent.
And then she turned — not to any of the Author Candidates, but toward the quiet figure at the far edge of the terrace.
Lucien.
The silence deepened.
Kaelith muttered under his breath, "…of course she did."
Kaelix sighed. "She doesn't choose power. She chooses mirrors."
Kaeltharion only smiled faintly. "Appropriate."
Lucien exhaled slowly, the faintest wisp of mist escaping his breath. His gaze met hers.
That same light — curiosity, will, loneliness — reflected back at him through her eyes.
He raised a hand, just slightly. "Very well," he said simply.
The entire hall seemed to release the breath it had been holding.
Lucien's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed through the dimensional rings, calm and absolute.
"I accept her as my student. Not to shape her — but to see what she'll become."
That night, long after the ceremony ended and the stars above Nax swirled like ripples in eternity, Lucien stood once again on the terrace. The students below were laughing, celebrating, unaware of how delicate their destinies truly were.
Kaelith appeared beside him, smirking. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"
Lucien smiled faintly. "What do you mean?"
"Choosing someone like her. You see too much of your old self in these children."
"Maybe," Lucien said, his eyes drifting toward the distance, beyond the shimmering towers of the academy. "Or maybe I just see the next story beginning."
Kaelith's gaze followed his. "You're thinking about the veil again, aren't you?"
Lucien's expression turned distant — thoughtful.
Beyond the metaphysical horizon, something still stirred. Elyndor had fallen silent since their last meeting.
And yet, Lucien could feel it — the faint hum of narratives shifting, as if reality itself were waiting for the next verse.
He let the thought go and turned back toward the academy.
"Let them have peace for now," he said quietly. "The next era will come soon enough."
The stars shimmered softly above the Aetherionum, reflecting across Lucien's calm eyes — the eyes of one who had seen everything, and yet, still found reasons to stay.