The silence after chaos was always the worst.
Aren sat alone in the Head Instructor's chamber, wrists shackled in celestial iron. The cuffs pulsed faintly with runes of restraint, layered with blessings from five minor stars. Not even war criminals wore these unless they were caught mid-ascension. And yet here he was—sixteen years old, lean, quiet, and completely still as golden threads of divine law slithered beneath his skin.
He should have been afraid. But fear required uncertainty.
And Aren Valen had already died.
He kept his eyes on the floor, feigning a kind of docile confusion. Let them think he was panicked. Let them underestimate him again.
Inside, though, the parasite system pulsed like a second heartbeat.
System Notification:
Subduing restraints detected.
Compatibility with celestial binding: 0.6%.
Infiltration pathway found.
Warning: premature override may cause permanent nerve trauma.
Aren ignored the prompt. He had no intention of breaking out. Not yet. That would draw too much attention. Too soon. He needed a cover story. He needed time. And most of all—he needed to control the hunger.
There was a knock—three deliberate raps—before the door creaked open. Two figures entered.
The first was Instructor Merros, tall and tense, robes tight against his broad shoulders. His celestial brand glowed faintly above his brow: a radiant stag wreathed in burning mist. His expression was carved in steel.
The second was a woman Aren hadn't seen in years.
Lady Hessa Dareth.
His former aunt by marriage. One of the highest-ranking officials on the academy council. Noble-blooded. Stern-eyed. And like always, she walked with the cold grace of a high priestess about to pass judgment.
She regarded Aren like he was a broken sword—once potentially useful, now dangerous and flawed.
"So," she said at last, folding her arms. "The starless orphan boy performs forbidden sorcery during a ranking exam. Tell me, Aren. Should we call it madness or heresy?"
Aren lifted his gaze slowly. Locked eyes with her.
The last time he'd seen that face, she was standing over him as he bled out in the Dying Wastes, whispering a single prayer—not for his soul, but to erase his name from the family registry.
"You were always afraid of things you didn't understand," he said.
Her lip twitched. "And you never knew your place."
He smiled. The bindings bit deeper.
Host emotion detected: Cold Resolve.
Passive skill unlocked: Starbreaker Focus [Lv. 1]
He blinked. Then breathed out slowly. Even his emotions were being quantified now. Tracked. Measured.
It was unnerving.
But… also addictive.
Merros broke the tension. "Lady Dareth, with respect, there was no evidence of divine invocation. The sigil he summoned… wasn't celestial."
"No," she said flatly. "It wasn't."
She circled Aren slowly, as though studying a specimen. "And that's the problem."
He watched her, quiet, even as old memories surfaced.
Flash—her voice, scolding him for speaking out of turn at family dinners.
Flash—her hand striking him when he refused to call Lyon "brother."
Flash—her standing with the nobles during his trial, not even raising an objection as the verdict fell.
Back then, he'd begged her for help. Pleaded.
Now, he just watched.
"Whatever you tapped into," she continued, "it broke three warding circles and drained an entire summoning grid. That's not an error. That's a weapon."
"I didn't ask for it," Aren said, truthfully.
Lady Dareth leaned in, her voice cold. "Neither did the world."
The parasite stirred again. Not with hunger this time—but interest. It wanted her.
And for a brief, terrifying moment… so did he.
He blinked hard and turned away, forcing the sensation down.
"Enough," Instructor Merros said finally. "He's still a student. Until we know what we're dealing with."
"Don't play noble, Merros. You saw the recording." She turned, eyes narrowed. "That power doesn't come from any sanctioned source. If it's not starbound, it's heretical."
"She's not wrong," the parasite whispered. "You are heresy. Glorious."
New System Directive: Discover Source of Internal Resistance
Fragment unlocked: Hunger Veil – suppress divine detection for 60 seconds
The door opened again.
A new figure stepped inside.
She was young—maybe Aren's age—with pale green eyes and a gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Her uniform was customized, sleeves rolled, and her boots muddy, as if she'd walked straight out of training.
"Apologies for the intrusion," she said, nodding to Merros. "I was ordered to retrieve the student for private observation."
Lady Dareth frowned. "Under whose authority?"
The girl smiled faintly and handed over a sigil-sealed scroll.
As Merros broke the seal and read, Aren studied the newcomer.
She had the aura of someone used to command. Not noble-born—but forged. And yet, there was something strange about her presence. Her fate-thread shimmered faintly behind her—an aura only Aren could now see since his rebirth.
It wasn't just strong. It was… fractured.
Unstable.
Merros stepped back. "This is from Headmistress Serayne."
Dareth's expression soured. "Serayne is playing games again."
The girl said nothing. She simply walked up to Aren and tapped the cuffs.
They clicked open.
The celestial energy hissed as it broke contact. Aren tensed—but didn't move. He looked at her with calm surprise.
"You're not afraid of me?" he asked.
She tilted her head.
"You're dangerous," she replied. "But I like dangerous things. They're honest."
Then she walked out without waiting.
Aren stood slowly, rubbing his wrists.
Merros nodded once. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't," Aren said, stepping through the doorway.
And meant it.
The private training sector was deeper underground—warded, hidden. Once used for experimental summoning rituals during the old star wars, now repurposed as an elite testing facility.
The girl walked ahead, speaking little.
Finally, after descending a staircase etched with glowing constellations, she stopped and turned.
"My name's Kaelith," she said. "Third-year. Special assessment track. I've been watching your file since orientation."
Aren frowned. "Why?"
"Because I've never seen someone trigger a null-star resonance before."
She stepped closer.
"You do understand what you did, right? You created a vacuum in the celestial web. You didn't just summon power. You tore something out of the weave. That's not supposed to be possible."
Aren shrugged. "And yet, here I am."
Kaelith studied him. "Most people would be screaming or curled up in a corner by now."
Aren gave a dry chuckle. "I did all that. Last time I died."
Silence.
Kaelith's expression didn't change. But her posture shifted.
"You're not joking."
"No."
Her gaze grew sharp. "You're saying this isn't your first life?"
"I was killed ten years from now. Betrayed. Used. Then I woke up in my sixteen-year-old body."
She studied him again. "That's impossible."
"Yeah," he said. "Tell that to the system that's whispering in my head."
Another silence.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed once—short and sharp.
"Perfect," she said. "Because if you're telling the truth… we're going to need you."
Aren blinked. "We?"
Kaelith turned, activating the inner training arena. Light shifted. Walls unfolded, revealing a chamber filled with relics, training automatons, and etched battlefields.
She looked back over her shoulder.
"Because something's coming. The constellations are going dark, one by one. And the Academy? They're lying about it."
Aren felt his pulse quicken. The parasite system purred.
Threat confirmed: False Starfall
New Quest Line Unlocked – "The Hollowing Heavens"
Primary Objective: Discover why constellations are vanishing.
Kaelith stepped into the circle and raised her hands. Her constellation flared behind her—a shimmering wheel of fractured light and shadow.
She grinned. "Now… show me how a god-slayer fights."