The sun hung lazily in the sky, spilling a warm, golden light across the quiet streets and the sprawling garden of Zayn's school. For most students, the day was winding down, the hum of chatter fading as lessons came to a close. But for Zayn, the world felt too small, too ordinary, too suffocating. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he stepped out of the classroom, shoulders relaxed but a spark of impatience lighting his green eyes. "Finally… these classes were boring," he murmured to himself, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The walls of the school, orderly and plain, seemed to shrink around him, unable to contain the energy that bubbled inside.
As he strolled through the garden, his gaze caught something that made his heart tighten: two figures looming over a boy, much smaller, wearing oversized glasses that reflected the sun in dizzying patterns. His uniform was ill-fitting, his posture hunched, his gaze empty—crushed under the weight of torment. Zayn's eyes narrowed instinctively. The scene was familiar, almost a daily ritual: the bullies, towering and cruel, basking in their arrogance, oblivious to anything beyond the laughter of their own cruelty.
The blood in Zayn's veins thrummed like a drum. His hand instinctively brushed the metallic surface of Boréalis, the massive, glowing watch fused to his wrist. Its surface shimmered faintly, as if alive, reacting to the adrenaline rushing through his body. "Hey… you think this is funny?" Zayn called out, voice sharp, carrying both challenge and amusement. His grin widened.
The bullies turned, sneers twisting their faces. They were stronger than Zayn expected—much stronger. Blessed seals shimmered faintly on their arms, faint threads of power that amplified every movement, every punch, every step. Before he could prepare, a forceful kick sent him sprawling across the grass. He rolled, landed harshly on his shoulder, and the sting of pain sliced through him. His breath hitched. Even with Boréalis attached, he felt the limitations of his body—the fragility of flesh and bone in a world where others wielded power like a weapon.
The boy with glasses tried to retreat, but the bullies' shadow stretched over him. His hands shook; his glasses reflected Zayn's green eyes like tiny mirrors of hope. And in that fleeting glance, Zayn felt a surge of resolve. He had to do something.
His hand clenched around Boréalis. The metal pulsed, sending waves of warmth up his arm. He could hear it… faintly, almost like a heartbeat syncing with his own. Desperation and excitement intertwined, and before he could second-guess, he activated the watch.
A green aura exploded, filling the garden with a shimmering light. From Boréalis, nails of concentrated blessed energy shot forth, striking the bullies with an almost sentient precision. The force lifted them from the ground, suspending them awkwardly in the air, clothes stretched, limbs pinned like marionettes. Their arrogant laughter was replaced by gasps of shock and panic.
The boy with glasses coughed, trembling, but for the first time in days, he could breathe without fear. Zayn, battered, bruised, and panting from the fight, felt the thrill of victory pulse through him. A faint smile played on his lips. The taste of power, raw and intoxicating, made the lingering pain almost sweet.
By the time the commotion ended, Zayn had helped the victim down, brushed off the dirt and grass from his own clothes, and walked home, his mind still racing. He greeted Aaron Kill at the door with a tired, mischievous smile. "Hey," he said, shrugging, "all fine." Aaron's eyes narrowed slightly, already sensing that "all fine" probably concealed more chaos than Zayn admitted.
Zayn retreated to his room, closing the door behind him, letting the hum of the city fade. The night pressed softly against the window panes. After a quick, unremarkable dinner, he crawled onto his bed, hoping to rest. His body ached, but his mind buzzed with energy, replaying the fight, the fear, and the thrill.
Then, without warning, Boréalis flared. A blinding green light filled the room, stretching across the walls and ceiling, vibrating with an intensity that made Zayn sit upright, heart hammering. Holograms blossomed around him, suspended like stars in a void, data streams and intricate patterns spinning and weaving in impossible geometry.
A voice resonated, calm yet omnipotent:
"Hello, Zayn. I am Aurora. Welcome to the true nature of Boréalis."
Zayn jerked backward, clutching the sheets, eyes wide with disbelief. "Wh… what?!" he stammered, voice barely audible over the pulsing light.
Aurora's holograms swirled, outlining Boréalis in infinite detail: its origins, its capabilities, the Primals it could contain, and the rules governing their use. Each word felt like a hammer striking his consciousness, reshaping his understanding of the world he thought he knew. Power, unimaginable in scale, radiated from the watch. The thought that he, an impulsive, reckless boy, could wield such force sent shivers down his spine.
He sat in silence, absorbing the enormity of it all, until finally his curiosity outweighed his fear. "So… this… all of this… it's real?" he whispered. Aurora responded, calmly, "It is very real. But with power comes rules, and with rules comes responsibility. You must learn, Zayn, or risk everything."
The next morning, he ran to Aaron Kill, excitement and fear warring in his chest. "Aaron! Look! Look at this!" he exclaimed, lifting his wrist to show Boréalis. The green glow pulsed faintly, a living reminder of the previous night.
Aaron Kill's face drained of color. His eyes widened as he examined the artifact. "This… this isn't just a watch. This… this is… Zayn, you—" He stopped, uncertain, grappling with disbelief and the dangerous reality of what the boy held.
"I don't care what you think," Zayn interrupted, breathless, "I'm going to become a Paladin with this. I will master it."
Aaron shook his head violently. "No… no, no, no! It's far too dangerous. Too much for someone like you. Fragile, reckless, inexperienced—you don't understand!"
Zayn's jaw tightened. "I understand more than you think. I've felt what it can do. I've touched power no one else even dreams of. And I'm not letting it sit here, unused. I'll train. I'll survive. I'll—"
Aaron's eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "You don't realize what you're saying. One mistake, and not only your life, but countless others, could be destroyed. Do you even grasp that?"
Zayn met his gaze, defiance blazing. "I do. And I don't care. I will learn. I will control it. I'll be ready when the Academy opens. I won't let anyone, not even fate itself, stop me."
A tense silence fell. Aaron exhaled, torn between fear and recognition of Zayn's determination. Finally, he nodded slowly. "The Academy opens in a few months. Prepare yourself. And don't do anything foolish before then. You'll need more than courage—you'll need wisdom. And even then… it won't be enough."
Zayn laughed, a sound full of relief, excitement, and raw energy. "I'm ready," he whispered, almost to himself. "I've waited for this… my whole life."
That night, as he returned to his room, Boréalis glowing faintly on his wrist, Zayn lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The green light pulsed softly, a heartbeat in rhythm with his own. He thought of the Primals, of Aurora, of the battles yet to come, and for the first time, he felt it—the exhilarating, terrifying weight of destiny pressing down on his shoulders.
And in that quiet, under the soft hum of power and possibility, Zayn knew one immutable truth: his life would never be ordinary again. Every choice, every heartbeat, every step would echo across the war-torn world of Celestia. He was a boy on the edge of legend, and the had only just begun.