Sebastian spoke in an indifferent tone, as if the words left his mouth without thought.
"Celsim Varn—he possesses one of the primordial Singularities. You may not know this, Arsene, but for every category of Singularity, there exists a primordial one. The origin. What some call the 'primordial essence.'
It is the root from which most other Singularities have branched. According to history, there are six primordial Singularities. The appearance of just one is enough to trigger a full-scale catastrophe—wars have erupted for less.
Fortunately, no one knows this. Not even Celsim himself. Only a chosen few are aware. Naturally, I don't need to explain why I'm sharing this with you—we trust you, Arsene."
Meredith said nothing. His eyes were locked onto Celsim.
The latter, standing within the Sky Arena, suddenly felt a gaze upon him. He turned his head left and right, as if searching for someone. Deep down, he sensed a pair of eyes watching him.
"What a disappointment. What a tragedy,"
Sebastian continued. "A primordial Singularity like that is always Found at Grade 4. You have to advance the Grades with grit and struggle and sacrifice.
Celsim, as far as I know, is only at Grade 2. He's been granted numerous resources by the Academy—private training sessions, treatment surpassing even some of the top instructors."
Under the watchful eyes of the two, Arsene smiled. They had no idea what he was about to say. Singularities of the Information type were already feared—but someone born with a Grade 0 Singularity? That was an anomaly.
Arsene spoke with a calm, curious tone,
"A disappointment? Then what's the tragedy?"
Meredith exchanged glances with Sebastian. Both of them smiled.
"You truly live up to your name, Arsene," Meredith said, his admiration for him growing with every passing second, every calculated word drawing his attention further.
He answered truthfully,
"Because it is a tragedy. Someone like him is destined to suffer. That's how it has always been. Those born with primordial Singularities—none of them lived happy lives. Their paths were cursed. They could never truly bond with those around them."
It is said that even if one doesn't understand their primordial Singularity—never trains, never activates it—they will still live a life of torment. Some unseen force will always push them toward their downfall.
If someone learns they possess a primordial Singularity, their ambition will soar. They'll seek to rule the world. Achieve immortality. Sit among the gods themselves.
But fate will always send someone to break them. That is fate's design—a hidden power, with motives unknown. It follows no law, submits to no control.
Can anyone truly escape such a fate?"
Meredith's words rang with clarity—pure, unwavering.
Fate drives those with primordial Singularities to train. To suffer. It leads them down cruel paths—blocked, painful, merciless. Paths that force them to try, to struggle, to bleed.
Fate provides. It sends people to support them. Opportunities to guide them. Tools to empower them. Dreams to chase.
Only to crush them in the end. To watch those dreams shatter. To watch loved ones die while they stand, helpless, with empty eyes.
"You might ask—why? Because it is punishment. A divine punishment. To possess a primordial Singularity is to exist outside fate's design. A force beyond the control of the one holding the strings.
Something that challenges fate itself. And so, fate schemes. It deceives. It reshapes the world around that person, forging their reality into a prison of suffering, forcing them to drink from the same poisoned cup."
"Fate declares itself sovereign—above metaphysics. Fate alone rules. Fate alone prevails."
Meredith added this final note, offering Arsene a glimpse into the nature of that fate. The deeper truth. The question that truly mattered: Why?
Arsene didn't flinch. He merely scoffed,
"That fate sounds childish. A bit ridiculous, even. But if such a force exists—one that dares to challenge fate itself—and if the existence of these primordial Singularities is even possible, then fate isn't as perfect and omnipotent as it thinks it is."
" Perfictionism is still a flaw."
"Of course, unless this whole thing is just a show."
The two men said nothing in return—only reflected silently on Arsene's words.
The Sky Walkers had arrived at the arena. A glowing teleportation sigil shimmered above the Sky Arena, and five figures emerged from it.
Only one thing remained: the signal to begin.
The first match was about to start—Sky Walkers vs. Black Nightmare.
The stands were ablaze with energy, voices roaring in support of their chosen side. The Sky Walkers discussed the recent changes—especially the replacement of Jolovier with Celsim. They didn't know the full story behind it, but it worked to their advantage.
A thunderous yet clear voice silenced the arena, pulling every gaze toward the Sky Arena.
"On the right side—we have the Sky Walkers! Led by the Sky Singularity himself, Mekeil Vienna!"
Mekeil had long silver-white hair—straight yet slightly wavy. His appearance resembled Sebastian's—androgynous, yet striking. He wore a knight's uniform, lips curled in a smirk of arrogance.
"And with him, Luciel Mantis—the Free Bird!"
Luciel wore the same knight's uniform as Mekeil. All members of the Sky Walkers shared a unified design. Only their faces and expressions distinguished them.
The color scheme shifted elegantly from silver to platinum, with only minimal variation.
"Let's not forget Carreras—the Prince of Paradise, and the beautiful Smeraldi, known as the Raining Cloud. And finally, Feng Lei—the Raging Wind!"
"This is the strongest team so far in Regis Academy. These individuals move with flawless synchronization. Their leader, Mekeil, ranks number one in the entire Academy's power scale."
"Of course, that's due to his one-of-a-kind Singularity—Above Heaven, a magical-type Singularity that needs no introduction."
The announcer paused after introducing the Sky Walkers—though truth be told, they needed no introduction. Perhaps Arsene was the only one in the entire arena unfamiliar with them.
The crowd erupted with cheers. The Sky Walkers shone brightly under the spotlight, united under the banner of Magic-type Singularities.
They were the strongest in the Academy—by far. But they weren't invincible. They were still human. And humans make mistakes.
And those mistakes often come when least expected.
Once again, the announcer silenced the crowd.
"And on the other side—we have not one nightmare, but many."
"Standing tall, we have Geneva, known as the Field Scarecrow. Beside him, Alaska—the Puppet Princess!"
She looked like a doll from another world—tiny, fragile, almost stitched together piece by piece.
"And let's not forget Gregory—the White Smile."
A strange man. Very short brown hair, and teeth fused into a single solid line—his jaws unable to separate.
"Then there's Zeref—the Gentle Death."
He looked more like a Sky Walker than a member of the Black Nightmare—both in presence and style.
"And finally—Celsim, the reigning illusion, taking the place of Jolovier, the giant beast.
Celsim—the new dark horse—who skipped straight from Year Two to Year Four, becoming one of the youngest students to ever reach this stage."
The Black Nightmare, and all those aligned with it, were part of the Illusion-type Singularities.
That meant Celsim's primordial Singularity was one of illusion—but then… why did he carry a sword?
"Are you ready for this legendary showdown? The Black Nightmare vs. The Sky Walkers!"
Roars echoed across the arena.
The entire audience was waiting for the signal that would ignite the battle between two of the Academy's greatest factions—factions supported not only within the academy, but by external forces from across the world: alliances, empires, and powerful organizations, especially the One Throne Alliance.
The conflict between the Six Singularity Factions had lasted for ages. To belong to one was to despise the others. Every victory wasn't just celebrated by the team—it was cheered by people across the globe.
The current match was being broadcast across the entire One Throne Alliance, even though both the Academy and the Alliance wanted to keep it as secret as possible, to protect the future secrecy of their military strength.
But this conflict was older than both institutions. It was cultural. Historical. Its letters written in blood, passed down through generations.
You might end wars between empires. You might even unite the world.
But you'll never erase the hostility between the Singularity Factions.
You'll never make peace between them.
Within the Academy, open fighting and scheming between factions was forbidden. The same rule applied across the One Throne Alliance. Yet history was full of instructors who had killed brilliant students…
Simply because they belonged to a different faction. A different type of Singularity.
Even if the student was innocent.
Even if they didn't know what faction they belonged to.
The moment you're a Singular, you've sealed your own fate.
If you're of the Information type, you're automatically the enemy of the other five.
And so it has been—since ancient times.
A final voice echoed, stealing the breath from every spectator's lungs.
The one who gave the signal—
Illusion vs. Magic.
"Let the match begin!"