A month had passed.
To Hal, it felt like a lifetime.
Time had grown still, and the days blurred together like raindrops on a fogged window. Each morning, he rose before the sun, meditating under the pale glow of dawn. He trained until his muscles ached and his breath came ragged. He recited affirmations in his mind, whispering them into the silence as though that would make them real.
"I'm getting stronger. I'm improving. I'll find it again."
But deep down, he knew he wasn't.
His Authority—his connection to his mind realm—had vanished, like smoke in the wind. No matter how deeply he meditated, how fiercely he focused, the place once so vividly etched in his psyche now eluded him completely. The peaceful lake. The soft blue skies. The aura of belonging—it was gone.
He was hollow.
The silence became a scream.
Friends came and went during the days. Astrid, with her brash laughter and boundless energy, often dragged him outside for sparring. Haiden stopped by with food or news from the rest of the class. But when they left, Hal remained, sitting cross-legged in his dorm or pacing like a ghost. The void inside him grew louder.
And now, just a week before the major exam, panic began to set in.
He tried everything.
More meditation, longer workouts, even delving into obscure texts that spoke of "spiritual echoing" and "mind bridge catalysts." Nothing worked. The harder he tried, the further his mind realm seemed to drift, until it felt like he was chasing a dream that had never been real to begin with.
On the last night before the exam, Hal sat in the courtyard beneath a sky choked with stars. He barely noticed the cold.
His fingers were curled into the grass. His breathing came slow. He'd thought maybe if he sat under the open sky—if he opened his soul—something might respond.
It didn't.
For the first time since he entered the academy, he felt the sting of hopelessness press against his chest like a knife.
The day of the exam came with unusual stillness.
There were no warm-up drills, no lectures. Just a silent room filled with students too tense to talk. When the professor arrived, he barely looked up from his clipboard as he took roll.
Then he snapped his fingers.
The entire class vanished from the room.
They reappeared in a massive field surrounded by hovering cliffs and giant screens projecting names and statistics. Hundreds of students stood in similar formations nearby, drawn from every corner of the grade.
Hal blinked at the overwhelming sight.
The grass rustled beneath his boots. A breeze swept across the arena. At the far end, professors floated mid-air like deities, watching silently, their presence both casual and terrifying.
"Oh, yeah," their professor added, casually floating a few feet above the students. "This will be a grade-wide assessment. You'll demonstrate your combat readiness in duels. Opponents will be selected randomly."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Hal's heart sank.
His thoughts flicked to the comfort of his dorm, the taste of decent food, the laughter of his friends. Had he taken it all for granted?
Yeah... maybe I got soft, he thought grimly.
With another casual gesture from the professors, dozens of floating dueling platforms formed, spiraling outward into the sky. Students around him stared in awe or dread as names flashed above the arenas.
Some students stepped forward with confidence, blades already drawn or Authority crackling in their hands. Others hesitated, looking small under the weight of the challenge.
Hal stood back, arms crossed, hoping he wouldn't be called too soon.
They're ready, he thought. They've trained hard. Found their power. Their Concepts. Their meaning.
And me? I'm just... here.
"Astrid vs. Kael."
Hal looked up sharply.
Astrid was already grinning as she climbed the platform, stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles. She looked completely unbothered, even cheerful, as if this were a playground instead of a battlefield.
Her opponent, a tall Eclipse-class student with stormy eyes, regarded her coolly.
"Fight!" came the professor's voice.
Kael moved first, fast and graceful. He ducked under Astrid's first swing and swept her legs out from beneath her. She fell hard, dust rising around her.
Then, he raised his fist for a finishing blow.
But the platform exploded.
Chunks of marble soared skyward. Dust became a shroud. And in the midst of the chaos, Astrid's body slammed downward with such force that the platform cracked. The shockwave sent her opponent flying upward in panic.
Before Kael could recover, he leapt from one floating chunk of debris to another, attempting to regain control.
Then the sky darkened above him.
The entire central platform—shattered but held together by raw force—descended like a hammer.
BOOM.
Kael crashed through two more platforms and landed unconscious in a crater.
Hal's mouth hung open.
Astrid stood tall, arms crossed, breathing heavily but with a wide grin on her face.
"Did ya see that?!" she yelled, leaping off the remains of the platform and bounding toward Hal.
"Bet you didn't think I'd throw the whole damn stage!"
"You... threw it?" Hal blinked.
"Damn right I did." She looked around. "Hey, where's Haiden?"
"Dunno. He's hard to spot. Probably cloaked—"
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
Hal's body moved before his mind did. His fist shot backward.
"OW!" came a familiar voice.
Haiden stumbled back, clutching his nose. "Seriously?!"
Hal winced. "Reflex. Maybe next time... announce yourself?"
Haiden healed the wound with a flick of his fingers. "At least you didn't use your Authority. I was just looking for you two."
Astrid pounced on him, laughing. "Did ya see it?! The whole fight?!"
"Yeah, I saw it, you gorilla. Get off me," Haiden mumbled, clearly flustered.
Before Astrid could retort, a professor's voice echoed across the field.
"Haiden vs. Vynn."
Another Eclipse student.
Haiden gave a two-fingered salute and vanished.
When he reappeared, it was already mid-air above the dueling platform.
The duel began instantly.
Vynn charged with a roar, his Authority blazing crimson. Haiden dodged with ghostlike ease, his figure flickering as multiple illusions danced across the field, each striking from impossible angles.
Then came the counter: Vynn shattered the platform with a ground-pound, debris scattering everywhere.
But Haiden was gone.
From above, he descended silently—like judgment.
A single, precise stomp to the crown of Vynn's head ended the fight.
Haiden reappeared beside them as if nothing happened, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket.
"Well," he said casually, "looks like only one of us hasn't gone yet."
Hal laughed weakly. "Yeah... lucky me."
But the mood changed.
Another name flashed across the skies.
"Ray Erebus vs. Aer."
Silence fell like a blade.
A student against a professor?
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Ray Erebus?" a student whispered. "Isn't he… just a first-year?"
"No way he's fighting Aer. That guy's a Concept professor."
The professor in question—Aer—stepped forward with a smirk tugging at his lips. His long coat fluttered despite the lack of wind, and his golden eyes scanned the gathering like he was watching something amusing unfold.
"I suppose you're confused," he said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear. "Let me clarify: Ray is not a regular student."
He pointed a lazy hand at the young man walking toward the platform.
"He's an Ascendant. Yes. Nineteen years old. Already broken the veil."
Whispers turned to gasps. Even the professors in the sky exchanged glances.
Hal stared.
Ray looked... normal. Dark hair, calm eyes, lean frame. His presence wasn't overwhelming like Aer's—but that was the unsettling part. He was too quiet. Too still. Like the eye of a storm.
"He consumed a Fruit of Authority," Aer went on, "and used the surge to push himself further than any student in academy history. This duel was his request—for learning."
The word echoed with strange weight.
The platform lit up. Both combatants stepped onto it.
Aer raised his hand lazily. "Begin."
He vanished.
Then reappeared behind Ray with a golden blur of strikes—dozens in a blink, fists and feet and spears of molten gold conjured from thin air.
Ray didn't move.
The air shimmered, bending like heat off a flame. And suddenly, Aer's strikes missed. Space itself seemed to tilt around Ray's still body.
Aer clicked his tongue and launched upward. He formed a radiant ring above him, raining down spears like divine judgment.
Ray finally moved—one step. Just one.
He raised a hand. A thin blade of condensed air formed, transparent and humming with focused pressure. He slashed upward once.
The spears unraveled mid-air.
Then he leapt.
They met in the sky, gold clashing with pressure, each strike faster than the last. The battlefield warped. The platform below cracked from the aftershocks alone.
Gold wrapped around Ray's leg—chains meant to bind, but he sliced them apart with a wave. Aer's entire body became wreathed in burning golden energy as he fired a volley of spikes.
Ray vanished.
Then reappeared behind Aer.
But the professor was ready. He spun and slammed his fist into Ray's chest, a direct hit. The force sent Ray hurtling downward.
He crashed.
Dust and debris flew.
Aer floated down, blood trickling from his ears, eyes, and nose. He landed softly beside the crater, swaying.
"Back to your duels," he said, wiping his mouth.
Ray lay unconscious, or at least pretending to be. The professor stepped away, victorious, but only barely.
Hal couldn't stop staring.
That's the level of an Ascendant? He's only a few years older than me...
The names kept coming. Dueling platforms formed and vanished. Cheers and gasps rose with each clash of power and revelation of hidden strength.
Then came the call.
"Hal vs. Cali."
Everything around him fell quiet.
Hal swallowed, his throat dry. His legs moved on instinct as he climbed the platform. His opponent was already waiting—small, slender, gleaming with barely-contained electricity. Her golden eyes shimmered like polished coins, and her silver hair crackled with static.
She looked like she belonged on a stage, not a battlefield. But there was nothing delicate in her smirk.
"So," she said, examining him like a bug under glass. "This is the best your class could offer? Cute."
Hal said nothing, jaw clenched.
She tilted her head. "Come on, say something. What's the slum boy got left? No Authority? No power? Nothing?"
He met her eyes.
"Ready to lose, gutter rat?" she added, smiling wide.
He exhaled. "Was about to ask you the same."
"Begin!" the professor called.
He never saw her move.
The first blow struck his ribs—an explosion of pain. He doubled over.
The second came to his jaw. Stars burst behind his eyes.
Then his knees. His back. His side again.
Five strikes in less than a second.
He collapsed, barely aware of the ground beneath him.
Cali stood over him, looking disappointed. "Really? That's it?"
Laughter rose around them. Students. Observers. Even a few professors didn't hide their amusement.
"Go back to the slums," she whispered.
Hal's ears rang. His body refused to move. He felt every bruise, every heartbeat like a drum of failure.
There's no shame in this, right? he thought numbly. No gangs are hunting me. No hunger. No danger. I could just… lose.
But then something deep inside him growled.
A voice—familiar and foreign—rose through the static.
You're a survivor.
You've bled. Starved. Cried in alleyways. You didn't quit then.
Why now?
Hal gritted his teeth.
"If only..." he whispered, vision blurry, "...I had speed."
The world... shifted.
Everything slowed.
Cali's smirk froze. Her hair floated in the air like syrup in water. The crackle of electricity became a low hum.
And Hal stood.
His hair darkened to pitch black. A faint white glow wrapped around him like mist. His eyes turned glacial blue, burning with clarity.
He moved.
Cali blinked—
—and flew across the platform, struck by what looked like... a flick.
She skidded to a stop, groaning.
Hal stood casually, hands in his pockets, as though nothing had happened. He tilted his head and offered a lazy grin.
"Let's have some fun."
Cali roared and rushed again.
She missed.
He reappeared behind her, flicking her forehead. She spun, he vanished again—slapped the back of her head. She turned, he tugged her hair. Every movement was playful, mocking, surgical in precision.
The crowd gasped.
Hal didn't fight like a brawler or a soldier.
He danced.
Then, with one final move, he stomped her into the platform. The stone cracked beneath her, splintering in a spiderweb pattern.
The professor raised a hand. "Match over. Hal wins."
Silence, then uproar. Cheers. Questions. Awe.
Hal's glow faded slowly. He stepped off the platform, dazed, still breathing hard.
Astrid tackled him in a hug. "WHAT the hell was THAT?! You had LIGHTS coming off your body!"
Haiden looked stunned. "Your hair… your eyes..."
Hal blinked. "I don't know. I'm just... tired."
His legs gave out, and they caught him.
That night, Hal sat cross-legged in the dark, sweat clinging to his skin.
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, he entered his mind realm.
But it wasn't the lake.
It was a castle now. Massive and ancient. Lightning cracked overhead, and storm clouds churned above jagged towers. Wind howled through broken windows, and rain poured down in sheets—but the castle stood untouched, proud and defiant.
Inside the castle's main hall, a figure sat on a throne.
He looked like Hal—only more vivid. More alive. Hair icy blue, eyes glowing pale blue, body wrapped in light.
He was eating chips.
"Yo," the figure said casually. "Call me Haste."
Hal stared at the figure on the throne, heart pounding.
The resemblance was unmistakable—it was like staring into a warped mirror, one polished with confidence, clarity, and light.
"You… what are you?"
The figure leaned back lazily, popping a chip into his mouth with an audible crunch. "I'm a fragment of you," he said, grinning. "When you needed speed—I showed up."
His eyes sparked with the light of frozen lightning.
"You're welcome, by the way."
Hal blinked, struggling to process. "A fragment… of me?"
"Mm-hmm." The figure flicked the chip bag like a wand. "Call me Haste. I'm your Concept fragment. The part of you that gets sh*t done fast."
Hal took a slow step forward, frowning. "Then why are you… detached from me? Why separate?"
Haste pointed a chip at him like it was obvious. "Because you suck at speed."
Hal's scowl deepened.
"Don't get me wrong," Haste added, lounging across the throne's armrest. "Physically? You're solid. Strong, agile, sharp as hell. You're built like someone who should own the concept of speed. But mentally? You don't get it. You haven't even scratched the surface of what speed is."
Hal's expression twisted—half insulted, half confused.
"You move like molasses," Haste said, snorting. "So, unconsciously, you split. Your dominant mind—you—stayed in control. But I popped into being: a version of you that only knows speed. And because I'm focused—no distractions, no extra baggage? I'm stronger than you in the concept."
He tossed the empty chip bag over his shoulder. "Honestly? I did you a favor. If you'd tried to use Speed with how little you understand it, you'd have collapsed. We barely know anything. But the good part about me is—I only know speed. You, on the other hand, have all kinds of stupid sh*t in your head. That's why I outpace you in this."
Hal clenched his fists. "So if that's how it works… does that mean my mind could contain other concepts? Strength. Durability. More?"
Haste paused mid-spin and gave him a long, steady look. "Yup. Your mind could spawn more fragments—one for each concept you resonate with."
Then his voice dropped.
"But every time you do that, you divide. More pieces means more power—but also more instability. One mistake, one misuse, and—"
He mimed a tiny explosion near his head. "Boom. You go nuts. Or maybe worse."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice cold and certain. "You'll feel invincible. But don't get it twisted—I'm not a power-up. I'm not a skill tree unlock. I'm you. A piece of your will, carved and honed into something separate."
Hal looked down, breathing slow and shallow.
"...So what now?"
Haste stood.
They were identical in form, but not in presence. Hal was tired, uncertain, stretched thin. Haste stood like he belonged in motion—his aura thrumming with tension, like a blade mid-swing.
"Don't overthink it," Haste said, this time with softness. "Just get stronger. The more you grow, the more I grow. And if you start understanding what speed really is—beyond just moving fast—I'll evolve with you."
He flopped back into the throne and summoned a glowing screen midair.
"Until then, I'll be here. Watching reruns. Eating chips. Judging you."
He gave a lazy wave.
"Oh—and don't die. You wouldn't want my death on your conscience."
The throne room faded. The storm clouds dimmed. The mind realm pulled away like mist retreating from morning sun.
Hal's eyes opened.
Darkness. Stillness.
Rain tapped gently against the dorm window.
But inside, something new had awakened. Not raw power. Not even clarity.
It was a rhythm.
A beat.
A direction.
His path wasn't clear yet—but it existed now.
And he would follow it, one step at a time.
He just had to get stronger.