VOL. 1: CHAPTER 11 — "THE ENTRANCE TRIALS, A WHISPERED CRISIS, AND AN ELF WHO WANTS TO STRANGLE A HUMAN"

“Weird is my brand,” I whispered back.

She shoved me hard enough to ruffle my hair. “You will not embarrass me. Not here.”

“Princess, I only embarrass myself. You’re safe.” I winked.

She was not comforted.
We reached the registration podium. A tall, spectacled administrator peered at our papers and then at me with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for criminals or very expensive contraband.

“Name?” he asked, voice dry.

“Kai Rajput. Earth-born.” I said it like I was ordering a drink.

He sniffed. “Unusual. And your sponsor?”

I spoke. “Princess Lythiriel Sylvaris. Her Highness.” 

Lythiriel said nothing but the air around her polished the man’s teeth with pure nobility. He bowed stiffly and stamped my scroll.

“You will take the entrance trial—practical and theory—today at the Lunar Practice Grounds. All new entries will be graded publicly. Fail, and you will be deferred.” He peered at me again.
“If you are an anomaly—there are procedures.”

“Procedures are my favorite bedtime stories,” I said sleepily.

The administrator’s eyebrow twitched.

Aerin—my small, loud personal hype-machine—grabbed my hand and squeaked, “Big brother! Show them a lightning trick!”

I glanced down. He was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitement spilling out like confetti. “Not yet, kid,” I said. “We’re not trying to get expelled today.”

Behind us, a cluster of Academy upperclassmen snickered. One of them—a thin boy with impossible hair—mouthed “Anomaly” like a curse. I grinned and tapped the boy’s shoulder as we passed.

“Hi. You must be bored,” I said cheerfully.

He flipped a look that could curdle milk. “You’re the one who smashed a monarch… and a Mythical-Class thing. You’re not allowed here.”

“Ah, rules. I love rules.” I bowed. “I shall make them entertain me.”

He muttered something about “sacrilege” and stalked off.
Lythiriel’s jaw tightened.


— LYTHIRIEL’S POV —

He was impossible.
Every step he took was theatrics. Not because he wanted attention—he did, but clumsily—but because attention seemed to orbit him like stray motes of light.

I wanted him to be… ordinary.
Quiet.
Contained.

It was ridiculous and selfish. A princess should not wish to contain a saved life for her own comfort. Yet here I was, irritated and protective in equal measures.

“Kai,” I warned softly as we walked the grounds, “the exam is not a circus.”

He flashed me a grin ambidextrous in smugness.
“I’ll only do one trick. For the kid.” He tapped Aerin’s small head.

The boy blushed and clutched his tiny staff.

We entered the practice yard—an open circle ringed with judges’ platforms, floating runes, and spectator stands. Students filled the seats in thrumming waves of curiosity. The Headmaster—a stooped elf with an endless braid of silver—sat upon the ceremonial dais with a face like carved granite.

“New students will first demonstrate control,” he intoned. “Basic elemental shaping, spiritual affinity, and a test of concept comprehension. Be warned: the Academy does not suffer recklessness.”

I watched Kai settle into the trial circle. There was something almost human in the way he delayed, as if he were improvising the idea of acting at the last possible second. Then he breathed in, let his fingers curl, and the world seemed to tilt slightly.

“Simple control,” Headmaster said to the judges.

Kai smiled that lazy smile and said—
Loud enough for half the stands—
“Hey, Amara, can we show them a Rasengan?”

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd.
Someone behind me snorted.
Even one of the judges—an austere woman—pressed her lips to keep a smile from escaping.

> 『Clarification: Rasengan is a memory-derived technique. Energy rotation and compression replication feasible. Risk: limb dislocation. Recommend scaled prototype.』

 Amara’s calm voice sounded in my head like an overbearing librarian with better timing.

Kai rolled his eyes theatrically. “Scale it down. No arm removal today, please.” 

He closed his palm, cupped his fingers, and began compressing mana. It didn’t look like standard mana—no spirals of elegant elven light. It looked like a drunk storm being politely asked to calm down. Small arcs of electricity kissed the air.

“Formation?” the Headmaster murmured.
“Unorthodox.”

The mana in Kai’s hand began to rotate—tiny lightning spirals, condensed into a sphere of humming energy.

The students fell silent.
One of the older trainees whispered,
“Is he… copying human tales?”

Kai stepped forward and—very casually—tossed the sphere into the air. The ball spun, lighting up, warming the hair on everyone’s arms. Then, with a soft pop like a small thunderclap, it expanded and discharged—an elegant, controlled ring of compressed wind and lightning that radiated outward and smashed the practice dummies into neat, harmless piles of decayed wood.

The stands exploded into a mix of laughter and horrified murmurs.
Some students clapped.
Others whispered:
“Cheating.”
 “Sorcery.”
 “Authority phenomenon?”

The judges leaned forward, eyes sharpened.
“He made a—what did you call it?”

 Lythiriel breathed, because she could not think the name fast enough. “A rotating condensed strike—like a Rasengan, but with compressed wind and lightning.”

Kai bowed, ridiculous and charming. “Thank you. Trademark pending.”

The Headmaster’s stern face did not wobble. “Control is acceptable. But new students will demonstrate elemental variety.”

Kai grinned. “Cool. Amara, next family-friendly move?”

> 『Recommendation: Kamehameha analogue feasible: channel beam of condensed output along the palms. Efficiency low. Mana drain high. Stability risk moderate.』

“Sure. Let’s try a light one.”

He inhaled, cupped both hands, and pushed forward a beam. The beam was not a cartoonish blue death-ray, but it was bright, it had a wave form, and it pushed training dummies into orbit. A girl in the second tier reeled.

Laughter.
Then stony silence.

Judges whispering into each other like old crows.
“Clever improvisation,” one judge finally said, voice like dry leaves.
“But the Academy tests theory—explain your control.”

Kai, ever the showman, answered:
“I… feel which way the wind wants to go, and then politely ask it to cooperate. The lightning just—shows off.”

Aerin clapped cheerfully like my private, approving metronome.---


— AMARA (IN KAI’S HEAD) —

> 『Observation: human cultural artifacts provide a high variance of ad-hoc casting techniques. Efficiency deficits noted, but creativity high. Recommendation: formalizing a prototype set—three-tier spell suite with stabilization matrices and limb-safety protocols. Name candidate: “Thunder Spiral Core”.』

“Amara, you’re making a spell suite?” Kai whispered, voice so excited it was almost childlike.

> 『Affirmative. In-progress: Prototype Alpha. Caution: limb removal risk reduced to negligible with compensating bind. Additional caution: do not attempt the Forbidden Black Flame Spiral. Memory flagged due to emotional attachment.』

“KIRI KAME—!” Kai tried to shout, half-joking, and immediately drew a scowl from Lythiriel and a hiss from the Headmaster.

> 『Note: Cultural refrains from Earth are inefficient in Aetheryon but remain emotionally significant. Proposal: maintain them at the user’s request for morale.』

Kai grinned. “Morale is important.”


— LYTHIRIEL’S INNER FREAKOUT —

Every time his hand conjured something unpredictable and spectacular, my brain short-circuited between admiration, terror, and an inexplicable warm prickle that I despised because it felt embarrassingly like relief.

He should be trained. He should be restrained. He should be educated on how not to blow up a campus. But he was also… funny, and kind with Aerin, and astonishingly brave. If he died because of one of his stunts, I would never forgive myself.

“Kai,” I said low, “stick to the curriculum.”

He shot me a look over his shoulder. “Curriculum is boring.”

I ground my teeth. “Save your theatrics.”

He bowed to the Headmaster with ridiculous earnestness that made half the judges blink.


— THE WHISPER IN THE MIRROR (VILLAIN POV)—

Far away, in a place where air tasted of glass and shadow, a dark lord held a mirror. The glass did not reflect a face. It flickered with images: a boy with lightning in his palm, an ancient Oracle whispering, the Queen’s hand falling like judgment.

The lord — not human, not god, something older and with the patience of marble — watched.
A voice, low as a grave, said: “The boy performs. He draws attention. Good.”

A slim figure — one of the Abyssal Dukes — knelt and spoke into the mirror’s edge.
“My lord, the Academy is ripe. The Council is divided; they will argue. If we introduce a controlled anomaly—an engineered rift seeded with a Mirror Wraith and a fate-thread moth—he will either reveal the full scope of his Authorities publicly, or he will break. Either outcome favors our designs.”

The dark lord’s smile was a cut in the dark. “Proceed. But subtlety. Let a whisper become a storm.”

The mirror blinked.
The Duke rose.
In the Palace he sent a letter — folded in obsidian wax and the scent of old nightmares — to an agent within Lunaryn: a proctor at the Academy who would serve as a vector. A small, elegant plan slid into motion like a stone nudged into a stream.

The mirror cooled.
The glass showed Kai again—laughing, joking, alive.

The dark lord leaned closer. “Let fate tremble.”


— KAI’S POV —

I finished demonstrating a very bad Kamehameha imitation and the Headmaster coughed delicately.

“You have raw talent,” he said to me in a tone that did not include ‘only raw talent’.
“But the Academy does not reward spectacle without discipline. You will be assigned a mentor.”

“Cool. Does the mentor have good taste in jokes?” I asked.

Lythiriel shot me a look sharp enough to cut paper. “You start with me.”

“Perfect! Princess-approved mentorship.” I said.

Aerin jumped in place, clapping. “Big brother and Princess will train together!”

The crowd—confused, delighted, alarmed—took that as a sign the world was breaking or blossoming, depending on where you sat.

As we left the practice grounds, I heard a whisper I didn’t like. Not from a student, but from the shadows where the Academy’s long corridors met the old wards. Someone had folded a little note into a rune-sealed envelope and slipped it beneath the Headmaster’s door. It smelled faintly of metal and older things.

I frowned. “Amara?”

> 『Detecting remote influence: low. Source: foreign void signature. Not immediately harmful. Recommend raising alert.』

“Do it.” 

> 『Alert status: minor. I will notify the Princess, the Captain, and the Headmaster covertly. Prepare countermeasures if escalation occurs.』

“Good girl.”

> 『I am not a girl. I am—』

“Shut up.” I grinned.

Lythiriel nudged me. “Will you ever stop being ridiculous?”

“Not unless you bribe me with food.” I muttered.

She blinked. “I do not bribe with food.”

“Sad.” I whispered.

We walked toward the Academy halls, the sun lowering gold over Lunaryn. Unseen in a dark room far away, the Abyssal Duke traced the runes on his hand and smiled as an un assuming proctor began to stir.

Something old had indeed noticed me. And something worse had the patience to wait.

Meaning: Don’t blow anything up.
I failed this before it even started.
Lythiriel sensed it immediately.

“Kai,” she whispered dangerously as we walked into the circular training dome, “do NOT do anything stupid.”

“I have never done anything stupid in my entire life.” I said as a matter of a fact.

“YOU BREATHED TODAY.” She yelled.

“…Princess, that’s rude.” I said.

“It’s factual!” She replied.

Elorin coughed into his fist.
Aerin giggled.
Lythiriel rubbed her temples like she was preemptively exhausted.

“Amara,” I whispered in my mind, “tell her I’m responsible.”

> 『Lie rejected.』

“…Traitor.”

> 『Honesty improves survival rate.』

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

> 『I am on the side of accuracy.』

Lythiriel noticed my twitching eye. “…Are you arguing with the voice in your head again?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“And?“ She asked.

"She betrayed me.” I answered.

Lythiriel sighed with the force of ten disappointed mothers.


— THE SABOTAGE BEGINS —

The dome filled with students, proctors, and floating crystal recording orbs.
Proctor Sylen—a calm-looking elf with silver cuffs—stepped forward.

“Candidates,” he said, “you will stabilize the elemental cores placed before you. Prevent runaway mana, collapse the excess flow, and maintain form under pressure.”

A floating orb drifted toward me.
I frowned.
The orb looked…
Strange.Too dark.

Mana felt… wrong.Heavy.
Like cold tar.

“Amara?” I called.

> 『Foreign contamination detected. Suggest: caution.』

“Foreign?”

> 『Mana signature matches anomaly-type corruption. Source: external influence. High probability of sabotage.』

Lythiriel sensed my hesitation and stepped closer. “Kai…?”

I whispered, “Something’s off.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”

But before I could—The orb pulsed violently.
Too violently.
Students gasped.

“Kai—!” Lythiriel grabbed my cloak.

I shoved her sideways the same moment the orb detonated.

BOOOOOM—!!!

A shockwave blasted the dome.
Cracks split the floor.
Mana shrieked in spirals.
Students were thrown like leaves in a storm.

“KAI—!!” Lythiriel’s voice cracked as dust filled the air.

“Elven Prince’s teeth!” a student screamed.
 “He triggered the core—!!”
“No, the core reacted on its own—!”
“He’s destabilizing the Academy—!!”

Aerin shouted: “STOP BLAMING BIG BROTHER—!!”

The dust cleared.
I stood in the center—uninjured.
Mana swirled like wild lightning around my palm.

Lythiriel hurried to my side, eyes wide in fear.
“You idiot—!! Are you hurt?! Say something!”

“I lived.” I answered.

“That is not an answer!” She said.

“I lived very dramatically.” I joked.

Lythiriel looked two seconds away from shaking me violently.


— THE ENEMY MAKES A MOVE —

While the dome rang with alarms, the proctor—Sylen—stared directly at me.
Expression unreadable.
Mana shifting unnaturally behind his eyes.

Abyssal corruption.
Someone else would’ve missed it.
But me?

Amara whispered:
> 『Master. Identify: Proctor Sylen. Behavior anomalous. Hostile intent probable.』

“Kai,” Lythiriel whispered, “what are you staring at? Answer me—”

Sylen raised his hand. “Candidate Kai Rajput,” he said loudly, “you have failed—”

Amara screamed into my mind.
> 『HOSTILE CASTING—MOVE!』

Sylen’s hand flicked.
And a blade of shadow streaked toward my heart.

Lythiriel froze.
Aerin screamed.
Elorin shouted.

I sighed.
Raised my hand lazily.
And caught the shadow blade between two fingers.

“…Really?” I said.

Silence slammed into the dome.
Even the air forgot how to breathe.
I crushed the blade.
It dissolved.

Sylen paled. “You—You should not have been able to—”

I stepped forward.
He stepped back.

“Proctor,” I said quietly, “you almost stabbed me.”

Lythiriel was white with fury. “You DARE attempt assassination inside the Academy?!”

Sylen’s expression flickered—cracked—like something inside him wasn’t obeying.
Then he whispered: “Glory to the Abyss.”

Darkness burst from his body—a black tide rising.

An Abyssal parasite wrenching control.

Students backed away screaming.
Teachers drew weapons.
A shadowy shape—like a twisted bird made of ink—emerged behind Sylen, stretching wings dripping with void.

“The Abyssal Moth…” Lythiriel whispered, horrified.
“Not here—not in the Academy—!!”

The parasite launched forward.

Straight at me.

Lythiriel drew her sword, spirit arts surging. “MOVE, KAI—!!”

I didn’t.I simply raised my hand. “…Amara. New spell?”

> 『Prototype Alpha ready. Warning: still unstable. Arm safety 70%.』

“I’ll take those odds.”

> 『Proceeding.』

Lightning spiraled around my palm.

Coiling tighter.
Compressing.

Lythiriel’s eyes widened. “Kai—what are you—!!”

“Thunder Spiral Core.” I called.

The orb of lightning ignited in my hand.
A sphere of rotating electricity, stable yet wild, pulsing like a heart made of storms.

I thrust my hand forward.
“B R E A K.”

The sphere detonated into a spiraling lance of electricity.

It tore through the shadow parasite—the Abyssal Moth screeched—imploding in a burst of blue-white light.

Silence.
Blinding.
Shock-heavy.
The dome stood still.
Students gaped.
One dropped their staff.

Lythiriel stared at me like I had just rewritten physics. “…That was…” she whispered.

“A controlled lightning Rasengan,” I said proudly.

“KAI—THAT IS NOT A REAL TERM—!!” She screamed.

“It is now.” I said.

Aerin jumped up and down. “BIG BROTHER IS AMAZING—!!”
He ran and hugged me so tightly he nearly knocked me over.

Lythiriel’s legs wobbled.
She grabbed her hair with both hands. “I swear—if you keep doing things like this—!!”

“Princess. Breathe.” I said.

“I CAN’T—!! YOU’RE—YOU’RE—!!” She made an incoherent strangled noise.

Then smacked my arm.
Hard.

“Ow—what was that for?!” I muttered.

“You TERRIFIED me—!!” She yelled.

“That’s not my fault.” I said.

“IT IS—!! EVERYTHING IS—!!” She smacked me again.

Aerin glared at her. “Don’t hit big brother!!”

Elorin whispered: “…This is the most chaotic group I’ve ever seen.”

— POLITICAL FALLOUT —

After the dust settled, faculty surrounded the ruptured abyssal residue. The Headmaster arrived seconds later, expression thunderous.

“Proctor Sylen has been corrupted,” he said gravely.“Someone smuggled Abyssal taint into the Academy.”

The nobles in the stands gasped. “That’s impossible—!”
“The Academy is sacred—!”
“The wards should have caught it—!”

The Headmaster’s gaze swung to me. “…And yet the corruption targeted you, Kai Rajput.”

I shrugged.“Story of my life.”

“Kai…” Lythiriel whispered, “this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” I said.

She looked at me again.
Really looked.
And this time, I saw fear.
For me.
Not of me.

“…Are you alright?” she whispered.

I blinked. “Princess. You’re… worried?”

“N-No—!!” Her ears went crimson.

“I am merely fulfilling my responsibility to ensure you don’t die before your duel!!”

“Aw~ you care.” I teased her.

“KAI—STOP—!!” She yelled again.

“Elorin,” I whispered, “she cares.”

“Absolutely,” he whispered back.

“ELORIN—!!” Lythiriel turned redder.

Aerin tugged her cloak. “Princess… don’t be mad. Big brother is being big brother.”

She sighed.
Her shoulders slumped.
“…That is the problem…”


— THE VILLAIN WATCHES —

Far away, the Abyssal Duke laughed softly as the mirror showed Sylen’s corpse dissolving.
“So… he destroyed a parasite with a prototype spell,” the Duke murmured.

The shadow behind him whispered:
“The anomaly grows. The Princess bonds with him. The Queen tolerates him. Sylvarine becomes divided.”

The Duke smiled. “Perfect.”

He traced Kai’s face on the flickering mirror image.
“Let him grow stronger.That will make the fall… sweeter.”


— AFTERMATH (KAI & LYTHIRIEL MOMENTS) —

We sat on a bench outside the Academy, waiting for the Headmaster’s official statement.
Aerin curled at my side, hugging my arm. Lythiriel sat beside me—arms crossed—legs crossed—ears flaring indignantly—face turned away. But she was sitting closer than usual.

“…Princess?” I asked.

“What.” She replied.

“You’re sitting very close.” I said.

“No I’m not.” She denied.

“You are.” I said firmly.

“It’s cold.” She reasoned.

“It’s 29 degrees.” I replied.

“THEN I AM COLD—!!” She yelled.

I nodded solemnly. “Princess is cold.”

“YES—!!” She said.

“Princess is cute.” I complemented her.

Her soul left her body.
“W-WH—?! K-KAI—!!! Y-YOU—!!” She was speechless.

Elorin silently left to give her space.
Aerin covered his mouth to hide a giggle.

I rubbed my arm. “Thanks for earlier, though.”

She blinked. “Earlier?”

“When you pulled me back.” I explained.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I—I only did it because it was my duty.”

I smiled. “Of course.” 

“It was not emotional—!!” She muttered.

“Nope.” I said.

Her hands trembled. “Not because I was scared—!!”

I smiled again. “Definitely not.”

Her voice cracked:
“AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE—!!”

I smiled again. “Whatever you say.”

She buried her face in her hands.
“…I hate him,” she whispered.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “You like me.”

She choked.
Aerin giggled louder.

The Headmaster’s voice echoed from afar:
“Kai Rajput. Princess Lythiriel. Report to the Head Office.”

Lythiriel grabbed my collar. “LISTEN—!! If you cause ANY trouble inside his office—!!”

“Princess, relax.” I said.

“I AM RELAXING!!!” She shouted.

“You’re choking me.” I said.

“SILENCE—!!” She screamed.