Chen Yè had spent the day in stillness—no training, no planning, no desperate attempts to understand the representation that had eluded him for months. Silence pressed down like a physical weight.
The evaluation should be ending. He rose, stepping into the familiar crystalline corridors. The unevolved wouldn't be attended to until the evolved finished their assessments—the system prioritized its valuable assets. Everything else came after.
He took his time, letting his feet carry him toward the pavilion. The artificial light shifted as he walked, structures catching and scattering it in patterns that no longer registered as beautiful.
When he arrived, someone was still being evaluated. Chen Yè found a spot at the edge of the observation area and watched.
⸻
Vera Lin faced a horse twenty meters away—a living creature, muscles tensed, nostrils flaring at what it didn't understand. The test was clear: if she could control this, she could control far more.
The horse's instincts screamed to flee. She didn't move much. She got it—just as he predicted. Command: she imbued words with power, forcing them into reality. Weak, newly evolved, barely trained, her effect was limited, uncertain, and short-lived.
Yet she had succeeded. The horse lay on its side, breathing slow and steady, subdued without violence, without pursuit. Vera Lin stood where she had been.
She scanned the audience, seeking someone. Her face brightened when she found him. A genuine smile broke across her features. She believed he had come to see her succeed. He hadn't—but he didn't correct her assumption. A small, controlled smile acknowledged her attention.
Then she was guided away, destined for the next stage of placement. She looked back once, still beaming, before disappearing from view.
Chen Yè lowered his hand.
⸻
The evaluations continued through the afternoon. Noah Wen pulled a divine existence into a dream world, leaving its body vulnerable. Kiran Xu voided the sound of an approaching beast until it stumbled into a trap. Maya Chen's illusions fooled trained guards into striking phantoms. Each test confirmed the same truth: abstract concepts could shape battlefield conditions in ways raw power could not.
The assessors took notes, officials conferred, and one by one, his former group members were sorted into divisions, preparing them for war.
⸻
Chen Yè turned toward the unevolved—the twenty-two failures, the ones who hadn't manifested useful abilities, whose fates were now in the hands of those who saw them as problems to solve. He joined them without ceremony and waited.
This was his last night in this place. Tomorrow, everything would change. He didn't know if the system would find use for his peculiar talents or dispose of him like a failure. He didn't know if he'd ever see Vera Lin or the others again.
He had survived worse uncertainty. He would survive this too.
⸻
Bai Zixian woke to unfamiliar silence.
The room was wrong—not dangerous, just wrong. Proportions didn't match his previous quarters, the light fell at different angles, and the air carried none of the subtle traces that marked a lived-in space.
He lay still, letting his senses adjust. Then he rose, dressed, and pressed his palm against the nearest wall.
Nothing.
No impression. No flash. No symbolic image revealing its history or purpose. The wall was blank, empty—as if it had sprung into existence moments ago.
Newly created, Bai realized. The system built this for us—abstract concept wielders—whose abilities might pierce secrets it preferred concealed.
Memory read the past. True Meaning read intention. Others could sense hidden purposes.
Clever. And deeply unsettling.
He remembered Chen Yè's words months ago:
"Your concepts seem similar. Memory and True Meaning. Both involve reading what others can't see."
Bai had nodded, uncertain.
"Don't underestimate what you can do. Either of you."
Now, standing in a room designed to blind him, Bai wondered if Chen had seen something more.
Where are you now? What happened after the evaluation?
The twenty-two unevolved had been sorted elsewhere. Chen had walked toward them without a backward glance. Bai hadn't tried to stop him.
Nothing we could do.
The guilt rang hollow. Chen had saved half their group from failure. Without him, they would still be Awakened, still walking toward whatever fate the system deemed useless.
He'll survive. If anyone can, it's him.
Dressing finished, Bai stepped into the corridor. Crystalline surfaces, sterile uniformity, identical doors. Absence of history pressed against his senses.
They've thought this through. They know exactly what we can do.
Other doors opened. Familiar faces emerged—Kiran, Noah, Vera—all wearing expressions of careful assessment.
He was certain: they were being watched. Not directly, but with divine sense and conceptual surveillance, physical observers were unnecessary.
Stay small. Stay invisible. Observe, survive, wait. The opportunity will come.
Bai nodded to teammates, exchanged brief words, and moved on, the mask of casual normalcy fitting comfortably now.
⸻
✦
In a separate chamber, five figures had gathered.
The space was austere—a meeting room suggesting equality among occupants, though fiction. A low table dominated the center, cushioned seats mostly unoccupied. Yao Xian leaned against the far wall, Gu Minghui beside her. The two Group One mentors positioned near the table. Elder Pei Leng stood at its head.
Yao's voice broke the silence:
"What is going on here?"
Blunt. Direct. Protocol ignored.
Pei Leng ignored her. Confronting Yao Xian would accomplish nothing; she was more dangerous than the insult. He let the pause stretch, then resumed.
"The evaluation has concluded. One hundred and seventy-eight of two hundred have evolved to the Resonance stage."
Even Yao's expression flickered. Mentors exchanged glances.
"Unprecedented," one said.
"Something happened with this cohort," Pei Leng continued. "I don't know what. But the results speak for themselves."
The natural awakener. Perhaps glory—or delayed doom.
He gestured toward the table. "These children represent significant investment. We cannot squander them."
Heads nodded, practical calculation over moral concern.
"You must understand why this matters. Abstract concepts are the true prize."
Physical concepts—fire, ice, space—were immediately useful but limited. Only divine existences could wield them. Mortals remained untouched.
"Abstract concepts operate differently."
He paced slowly. "Exchange imbued into an artefact guarantees fair trade—even between mortals and divine existences. Pact binds promises. Command, Dream, Memory, Illusion, True Meaning, Comfort, Erasure, Happiness, Pain, Void—every abstract concept offers applications physical ones cannot."
Eyes around the room sharpened.
"Abstract concepts shape society. Physical concepts defend it. Both are necessary. But evolving an abstract concept is ten times harder. Most die at Awakened stage. Potential wasted."
One hundred seventy-eight—a single cohort, a single drafting cycle.
"That is unprecedented. Valuable beyond easy calculation. Worth protecting."
Nods followed, even from Yao Xian, whose indifference had shifted into subtle calculation.
"Which brings us to training," the Elder concluded. "How we develop these children. How we prepare them for what lies ahead. I have suggestions."
The mentors leaned forward. Ready.
Yao remained against her wall, watching. Gu Minghui beside her, silent.
The Elder prepared to speak.
⸻