The academy did not wake gently.
Before dawn, the great bells embedded into the cliff face rang once—low, resonant, and heavy enough to vibrate through bone. The sound rolled across the courtyards, through stone corridors, and into every sleeping chamber like a command rather than an alarm.
Narkun was already awake.
He lay still on his narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as the echo faded. He hadn't slept much. The academy hummed constantly—energy channels running beneath the floors, wards stitched into the walls, distant beasts breathing in bonded chambers.
This place never truly rested.
He sat up slowly, bare feet touching cold stone.
The moment he stood, something subtle shifted.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just… aware.
The academy felt him.
Narkun exhaled through his nose and reached for his uniform. Plain gray. No markings. No rank. No belonging.
He dressed quietly, slid the king card into the inner pocket of his tunic, and stepped into the corridor.
Students were already moving—older kids, teens, a few younger ones like him. Some walked in confident groups. Others alone. All of them carried purpose sharpened by expectation.
Narkun walked alone.
Whispers followed.
"That's him."
"Eight years old."
"Restricted Ascension."
"Ursid killer."
He ignored them.
He had learned that silence unsettled people more than anger ever could.The testing grounds lay at the heart of the academy: a massive open arena carved directly into the mountain. Tiered stone seating rose in concentric rings. At the center stretched a wide training floor divided into marked zones—each etched with glowing symbols that pulsed faintly with restrained power.
Instructors lined the upper ring.
Observers stood behind reinforced barriers.
Students gathered by class grouping.
Instructor Vale waited near the central platform, arms behind her back, eyes scanning the crowd like a blade measuring weak points.
When she saw Narkun, her gaze lingered for a fraction longer than on the others.
"Early Integration candidates forward," she called.
Five students stepped out.
Four looked nervous.
One looked angry.
The fifth—Narkun—felt nothing.
They lined up.
Vale walked before them slowly.
"Today," she said, "you will be tested in three areas."
She raised one finger.
"Control."
A second.
"Capacity."
A third.
"Response."
Her gaze hardened.
"This is not about how strong you are. It is about how much damage you cause while being strong."
Some students nodded.
Others smirked.
Vale gestured to the first testing circle.
"Control assessment. Begin."The control test was deceptively simple.
Students stood within a containment ring etched with suppression glyphs. They were instructed to channel energy—ki, chakra-equivalent flow, internal force—into a measured output crystal without cracking it.
Too little power meant stagnation.
Too much meant failure.
The crystal glowed based on stability.
One by one, students stepped forward.
A girl with wind alignment channeled carefully, the crystal glowing pale green.
"Pass," an instructor called.
A boy with a bonded flame lizard overreached. The crystal fractured.
"Fail."
Whispers followed each attempt.
Narkun watched silently.
Then it was his turn.
"Subject Narkun Ka," Vale said evenly. "Step forward."
The murmurs intensified.
Narkun entered the circle.
The moment his foot crossed the boundary—
The glyphs flickered.
Several instructors stiffened.
Vale's eyes narrowed. "Stabilize the ring."
Runes flared brighter.
"Begin," Vale ordered.
Narkun raised his hand toward the crystal.
He hesitated.
"How much?" he asked.
Vale paused. "Minimal. Enough to light it."
Narkun nodded.
He reached inward.
Not deep.
Just enough.
The crystal flared white-hot instantly.
Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
The suppression glyphs screamed.
"CUT IT!" an instructor shouted.
Narkun pulled back immediately.
The crystal shattered anyway.
Fragments clattered across the stone.
Silence fell.
Narkun stared at his hand. "I stopped."
Vale looked at the ruined crystal, then at him.
"I know," she said quietly.
The scribes hesitated.
"…Partial," Vale decided after a moment. "Failure by overflow, not loss of control."
The elders watching from above exchanged uneasy glances.The second test was capacity.
Students were directed to a reinforced measurement platform—an ancient device designed to withstand extreme outputs. The platform measured raw power flow, scaling exponentially.
Most students peaked early.
Some surprised instructors.
None broke the scale.
Then Narkun stepped on.
"Warning," an instructor said. "This device does not compensate for—"
"I know," Narkun said softly.
Vale raised a hand. "Proceed."
The platform hummed.
Numbers began to rise.
Steady.
Then faster.
The air thickened.
The runes glowed brighter.
The needle climbed past standard limits.
"Impossible," someone whispered.
The scale continued upward.
Cracks formed along the platform's edge.
"Instructor Vale—" a technician began.
"Hold," Vale said sharply.
The needle slammed against the maximum marker—
And kept going.
The device shrieked.
Runes overloaded.
The platform shattered.
Narkun stepped off instinctively as stone exploded outward.
Dust filled the arena.
When it cleared—
The platform was gone.
Narkun stood unharmed at the center of a scorched imprint.
Absolute silence.
Vale exhaled slowly.
"…Capacity unmeasurable," she said.
Someone dropped a stylus.The third test was response.
Combat simulation.
Controlled beast projection.
The moment this was announced, tension spiked.
A spectral gate opened at the far end of the arena, energy swirling.
A simulated beast emerged—large, aggressive, designed to provoke instinctual reaction.
Students were tested individually.
Most fought cautiously.
Some froze.
Some impressed.
Then Narkun was called.
The projection formed instantly.
A Frost-aligned predator, scaled down but vicious.
The moment it appeared—
It recoiled.
The projection snarled, glitching violently.
Its form destabilized.
Narkun felt it.
Recognition.
Fear.
The beast lunged anyway.
Narkun didn't strike.
He stepped aside.
The beast missed—barely—and crashed into the barrier, dissolving into light.
The arena froze.
"…What did you do?" Vale asked quietly.
"I didn't fight it," Narkun said. "It didn't want to fight me."
The instructors exchanged looks.
An elder observer whispered, "Beasts do not fear children."
Vale's jaw tightened.
"They do him," she replied.The test concluded.
Results were posted.
Students gathered.
Whispers exploded.
Narkun stood alone at the edge of the arena.
Instructor Vale approached.
"You were not supposed to pass," she said flatly.
Narkun looked up. "Did I?"
Vale studied him.
"…You survived," she said. "That may be worse."
She lowered her voice.
"You are not a student yet. You are an anomaly under observation."
She leaned closer.
"And anomalies do not last long in structured systems."
Narkun nodded.
"I know."
Vale straightened.
"Training begins tomorrow," she said. "Do not disappoint me."
As she walked away, Narkun clenched his fists.
Deep inside him—
The Ursid stirred.
And something older stirred with it.
The academy had tried to measure him.
It had tried to define him.
It had failed.
And now—
It would try to control him