When Fraud Becomes Innovation

The "Annual Innovation Exhibition" officially commenced.

The main hall buzzed with activity, yet it was a movement precise and organized, like the gears of a massive Swiss watch. Students stood behind their podiums, attendees strolled quietly, and the judging committee moved with dignity from one wing to another.

The committee consisted of five people: three university professors (stern-faced, holding digital tablets), and a representative from the Caelum Institutes. But everyone’s eyes were fixed on the special guest of honor for this year: a man with ash-grey hair, simply groomed, his face calm with faint wrinkles around his brown eyes.

It was the scientist, Hiroshi Kagami.

He walked with the committee, wearing a white lab coat over a practical, elegant suit, distributing warm smiles and pragmatic criticism.

"This design is promising, but it requires alternative energy sources," he commented in front of a project by a student from Lunognosta, which was a complex biological water purification system.

"Who would buy a filter that needs to be fed algae every day? The consumer wants 'install and forget'," came a voice from behind. It was Don Altair.

The committee noted the remarks, and the student's face paled.

But Hiroshi handed him a card. "If you are interested in developing your project, join the Atlas Project."

The student took the paper, thanking Hiroshi profusely.

They arrived at the wing designated for the students of Auroralis Academy.

It was... chaos.

A student displaying a "power generator" emitting thick black smoke. Another trying to convince the judges that the "pile of scrap" in front of him was conceptual art about energy consumption.

"This is a waste of time," one of the professors muttered wearily.

"Not entirely," Don interjected, pointing to the next group. "Look over there."

The three students (who had made the deal with Don) stood in formation, wearing clean uniforms. In front of them, the "Metabolic Generator" hummed silently and efficiently, its screen displaying stable green numbers.

"Explanation, please," Hiroshi requested.

One of the students stepped forward and began reciting the speech he had memorized by heart (and which Don had written): "We present a solution to the problem of Esper energy depletion. This generator recycles wasted body heat..."

The judges nodded in approval.

"Finally, something applicable," said the professor. "Clean design. Sound logic. Excellent."

They recorded high scores, but Hiroshi stepped closer.

"However, most Espers rely on mental power, not physical. Although the project serves those with a consumptive ability type, the design and function seem specialized rather than general. Do any of you possess a consumptive ability?"

The students exchanged glances.

Don looked at the students surreptitiously, but they were prepared for this. One of them took a quick breath. "I have a brother with this type of ability, so I designed it based on this method. But with support, we can make it more inclusive."

"A valid reason. It seems your brother would be proud of you," Hiroshi said, looking at the student and handing him a card.

"Come when you are ready."

Then, they reached Kai.

Kai was sitting on his table, dangling his legs. In front of him was a large machine housing a box with a rotary handle, currently empty.

"Project name?" the judge asked curiously.

"Inertia-to-Energy Conversion," Kai answered with utter seriousness.

"Excuse me?"

"It’s a machine that converts weather generated by inertia into kinetic energy to produce electrical energy," Kai explained, waving his hand dismissively. "It represents the future of education."

The judge stared at him in silence for seconds.

"Demonstrate," the judge said, fixing his eyes on the device.

"You asked for it," Kai smiled, grabbing the handle.

Don’s eyes narrowed for a moment, assessing the situation. "Wait, you..."

But Kai was already spinning the handle vigorously.

At first, the sound was like the wings of a large insect—a low hum. Then the speed increased. The hum became a roar. The handle turned into a blurry disc.

Inside the box, winds began to moan.

The judge watched with wide eyes, his hand pressing against the edge of the table. He could feel the faint vibrations transferring from the box to the table.

Then he heard it.

Zap.

A small electrical sound from the adjacent display device.

Kai didn’t stop. His arm was a blur now. Inside the box, the sound became like the whistle of a giant kettle, then turned into a wail.

Zap. Zap. Zzzzap.

The lights of the nearby display screens began to dance. One screen went black suddenly.

"Enough!" the judge shouted.

Kai stopped abruptly.

The silence was deafening.

Thin blue smoke rose from the vents of three neighboring devices. The smell of ozone filled the air.

But the screen of Kai's machine was lit with green numbers:

[5.2 kWh - Generated in 34 seconds]

Kai took a deep breath, then stood up. There was no sweat on his forehead. His hands weren't trembling.

He looked at the judge, who was pale as a sheet.

"Seems it needs some improvements in insulation," Kai said calmly, brushing imaginary dust off his forearm.

The judge looked at the burnt devices, then at the record number on the screen, then at Kai standing there without a scratch.

In the charged silence of the hall, shy applause began to rise.

Kai put his legs back on the table, smiling at his teacher, Don, then glancing at the table where the three students were.

Don looked in that direction; smoke was rising from their table because the device was ruined.

(This kid... he knows... If I say his device is a lie and he used only his ability, it’s a weak argument against the argument that those three I invented are stronger. Even if I say it was my son's idea (I'm not married)... it won't work. This is just a student exhibition.)

Don looked at Kai, who stood up carrying the box without caring for his own safety.

"I’ll be available when collecting my prize. Now I have to think of a new rule," Kai started walking away, laughing cheerfully as he looked at the disabled devices.

After the destruction of some devices, there was no point in evaluating most of Auroralis and some neighboring academies. It also reduced the number of participants.

The judging committee moved directly to the furthest ones in the row, while they looked at the students trying to fix their machines quickly to no avail. There was a red-haired student banging on his table. "That bastard beat me to it." Next to him was a machine clearly made of scrap but designed to look innovative. But smoke was coming out of it while the boy wearing goggles sighed, pushing it away.

Don looked at them with boredom, following the judging committee.

They stopped at a boy who was one of the few wearing casual clothes: a dark red hoodie and loose black sweatpants. But what made him different was that he was playing a game, ignoring the students asking about his invention.

In front of him was a device in the middle of the table containing a radar.

"Can you explain?" Hiroshi asked.

"Range-specialized jamming device," the boy answered, pausing his game and straightening his back. "I will turn it on."

"Wait, we—" the judge rushed, but the boy had already activated the device. A high-frequency electromagnetic hum started, while an indigo glow surrounded the device.

Nearby tables and some distant ones... their devices began emitting sounds like an old radio, then...

Boom!!

Sounds of explosions followed.

"Seems the electromagnetic shock was stronger than just jamming. Should have put it on number one," the boy answered, turning off the device. When he did, a small electrical crackle was heard.

Hiroshi and all the judges looked at Don.

Don shrugged.

Hiroshi sighed, looking at the device.

"So you say it emits electromagnetic waves?"

"Yes, it does," the boy answered, taking out a paper and handing it to Hiroshi. "This is the summary. If I explained, the sun would set."

Don looked on, smiling as he glanced around. "I don't think you need to worry about that." Even the devices that survived the first destruction didn't survive the second time. There were even students from the two universities looking sharply towards the sector, while some students quickly moved their devices far away.

"At this rate, only devices that don't rely on energy sources will remain," one judge said, rubbing his forehead.

Hiroshi looked while taking out a paper but stopped when he looked closely at the device; he could see the trace of the indigo glow remaining.

He put the paper back, sighing. (Impossible... right?) He thought, looking around. "Let's continue, but this time directly with the other branches."

"But there..." a judge asked, pointing to the rest of the academy students, but he stopped when he looked into their burning eyes as they put machines on tables, while some didn't even hide the sparks flying from their hands.

"Did you say something?" Don asked.

"No," the judge answered, starting to walk to the universities' sector, hoping it wasn't damaged.

The judges left behind a cloud of smoke and the smell of burning plastic covering the academies' sector.

"Let's head to the Leontolycus sector," said one of the professors, checking his digital tablet. "We've already passed the Lunognosta students."

Hiroshi Kagami paused, his gaze drifting toward a distant, quieter section of the hall. "Wait... isn't the Noctiralis Academy located near this sector?"

The professor hesitated, exchanging a brief, uneasy look with the other committee members. "Currently... the female branch is undergoing a rather intensive inspection... of sorts. As for the male branch, it’s located further toward the university outskirts, so we’ve bypassed it for now."

Hiroshi narrowed his eyes, looking in the direction of the Noctiralis wing. "inspection? Do they also have drugs or even weapons? No use, even this year it repeats”

At the same time 

While smoke billowed from the shattered devices in most of the academy sectors, one particular corner of the hall was shrouded in a different kind of silence. It wasn’t the "Order" of the Leontolycus wing, but rather the "Calm Before the Storm."

Unlike most academies that were strictly single-gender, this institution was unique—it boasted two separate branches, male and female, operating under a single banner, much like the universities.

In the female branch of that academy...

A tall girl stood with her hands completely buried in the sleeves of her dark navy blazer—a blue so deep it mirrored the ocean on a moonless night. Her thick black hair shimmered with a faint green luster under the exhibition lights, and her entirely black eyes watched the surrounding chaos with an eerie stillness.

Beside her, another girl wearing the same uniform—the navy blazer with a gray collar and the "Smiling Serrated Mouth" emblem on the arm—stood clutching her bag nervously.

The black-eyed girl looked at the supervisor evaluating inventions, then shifted her gaze to the Student Council President, Liora Aurelius, who was ordering guards to confiscate boxes from other students under the pretext of "safety violations."

"I told you... our model is smaller than the competition here," the black-eyed girl said in a calm, direct voice, nodding toward a miniature model labeled "Crab-Prider," with the word "Small" hastily added in black pen. It was clearly a shrunken version of the behemoth sitting on the table.

Her teammate laughed anxiously, wiping cold sweat from her brow. "Mira... be quiet for a moment. The President has been glaring at us ever since that argument at the landing pad. It looks like the girls' branch won't even participate this time if the confiscations continue."

The teammate sighed, remembering how the Headmistress had authorized Mira Kaldor to use a heavy transport aircraft, and how it ended in a "technical insult" when the landing was rejected.

"If the model were full-scale," Mira muttered, looking at her pink sneakers—a defiant splash of color in a sea of formality—"it would have been more possible to participate on the Other Side."

The other girl heard Mira’s mutter. She stopped looking around and pressed her hand to her head, refusing to think about how their academy was now under investigation because of that moment. In her mind, the roar of the aircraft engines that had shaken the skies of "University Island" minutes ago returned.

The winds had howled over the Western Pad, and students below shielded their eyes from the rising dust. In the sky, a gargantuan cargo plane hovered heavily, and suspended from its massive steel hooks was a colossal metallic frame: "Crab-Prider."

The giant claw swung slowly, looking like a mechanical nightmare ready to pounce on the university.

"How is it going to get in?!" the girl had screamed at Mira, struggling to keep her hair from whipping her face.

Mira replied coldly, staring at the plane. "It just happens to fall on the roof?"

"That... might work... but wouldn't it have been better to use a miniature model?"

Before Mira could answer, a sharp siren blared from the control tower. Small security drones surrounded the cargo plane, and atop the high observation deck stood Liora Aurelius. Her white blazer was pristine, and her purple spiral eyes gleamed with lethal coldness as she held a radio.

"Landing of this entity is rejected," Liora’s voice came over the speakers, calm but carrying unbreakable authority. "This is an innovation fair, not a military deployment zone."

Mira didn't flinch. She tilted her head toward the deck, seemingly addressing the sky itself. "There are no rules defining the size of an invention. The train wouldn't support its weight, so we used the air."

"There are no rules for size, but there are rules for 'Landing Permits'... and you are landing on my ground," Liora replied, narrowing her eyes. "Return with a small model, or leave with this device of yours. There is no place for it in my territory. Go back to your academy, Nocturnalis."

Mira tilted her head in curiosity, staring at Liora. She whispered to herself in a voice unheard through the engine noise: "(Is she?... It’s not supposed to be unknown... I’ll check.)" Then she raised her hand, pointing at the helicopter. "Its true scale gives more value in reality. A model won't help on the Other Side... you said a permit is needed? Give me a permit."

"Denied. Final decision," Liora cut her off and turned to leave the deck.

(Back to the Present)

The girl opened her eyes, her hand dropping from her face. She was still standing in the booth, looking at Mira, who was staring at the miniature version of "Crab-Prider" with disappointment. To the teammate, this model looked like a toy compared to the original, but there had been no choice.

"The small model won't help on the Other Side," the girl repeated Mira's words in a low voice, noticing the judging committee approaching, led by Hiroshi Kagami and Liora Aurelius. "Forgive me, Headmistress, but you were wrong."

She sighed, muttering, "Good thing I listened to the seniors and brought this model in my bag." She noticed Mira’s eyes fixed on the Student Council President. "Is something wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?"

"I thought Lonognosta followed the same principle as Leontolycus," Mira said, adjusting her long sleeve. "But it isn't like that."

"What?" Confusion washed over the girl, but Mira waved her hand dismissively.

"Never mind. It's not important. It seems I won't participate this year... I refuse to let a hunting machine that will soon catch the greatest creatures be humiliated this way

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall..

In the Leontolycus University sector, the situation was different.

Students here didn't scream, didn't run. They stood like statues beside their shiny inventions or sat on chairs. But the tension was palpable. The electromagnetic wave launched by the "Boy in the Red Hoodie" had reached here too. Some screens were flickering, and some robots had their movement disabled.

But in Booth 45, everything was calm.

Timios.  Stellatus stood with a straight back, hands behind him, and a confident (and well-rehearsed) smile on his face.

In front of him lay the "Hydro-Dynamic Frost Emitter" (the modified skull gun).

The gun was unaffected by the wave. It contained no fragile electronic circuits to burn out. It relied on air pressure and mechanical hand movement.

(The sole survivor...) Timios.  thought with satisfaction, seeing the judges' gazes turn toward his clean table amidst the chaos. (Abir is crazy, but he doesn't rely on cheap batteries.)

Hiroshi Kagami stopped in front of the table. His brown eyes scanned the sleek silver device.

"Streamlined design... and resistant to electromagnetic shocks," Hiroshi noted quietly. "Rare in a generation that relies entirely on smart chips."

"True technology must work in all conditions, sir," Timios.  replied in a steady voice, quoting a line he read in a marketing book. "Over-reliance on electronics is... a weakness."

Don Altair nodded from the back, having regained some of his good mood seeing a student who "seemed" to know what he was doing (or at least knew how to sell himself).

"Device name?" Don asked.

"The Frost Emitter," Timios.  said, reaching out to grab the weapon.

He felt the coldness of the metal. He heard the very faint mechanical "breathing" sound (the intake system) working regularly. The weapon was ready.

Without the red crystal, the weight was slightly lighter.

"Do you permit a practical demonstration?" Timios.  asked with the confidence of an "honest deceiver."

"Go ahead," Hiroshi gestured toward a metal test target placed at the end of the aisle.

Timios raised the weapon and aimed precisely.

(Just air pressure and instant cooling... no surprises,) he reassured himself. (I removed the "chaotic" part. Now it's just an obedient machine.)

He placed his finger on the trigger while moving his hand. The machine breathed with an audible mechanical depth this time—Hooooooo—as if sucking all the air out of the room. And in that moment of total stillness, Timios He pressed the trigger.