A shockwave blasted outward, sending robes flapping and scrolls skittering across the polished floor. Several professors shielded their eyes, stumbling.
The glow receded—
And the chamber door slid open.
A soft breeze drifted out.
Sora stepped forward calmly, uniform only slightly ruffled, his hair lifting gently from residual mana.
Gregory stared.
"S-Sora… Your Highness—are you—?"
Sora brushed a bit of dust off his sleeve.
"I'm fine."
Behind him, the chamber continued to collapse into golden particles, dissolving like sand blown by wind.
The principal appeared at the upper balcony, his face etched with shock that couldn't be masked quickly enough.
His voice echoed down.
"…Professor Gregory."
Gregory straightened immediately. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"Recommendation: Write nothing."
"…Nothing, sir?"
"Nothing," the principal repeated, eyes fixed on Sora."Not a single word of what you witnessed goes into the academy records."
Professors exchanged stunned looks.
Gregor swallowed."O-Of course."
The principal leaned over the railing, his gaze sharp, heavy with unspoken meaning.
His attention settled on Sora.
"Prince Sora," he said softly, "it seems the exam… was not built with you in mind."
Sora looked up at him, expression unreadable.
"I suspected as much."
The principal's mouth twitched, not quite a smile, not quite fear.
"Come," he said. "We have much to discuss."
...
The walk to the principal's office was silent.
Gregory followed several steps behind Sora, still pale, still clutching the clipboard he'd forgotten he was holding.
Professors parted as they approached the upper floors, whispering beneath their breaths.
"Did you feel that mana surge…?"
"No student could produce that—"
"That wasn't Transcendence. It felt… deeper."
"Not natural… not at all natural…"
Sora ignored them all.
His steps were quiet against the ancient marble, each footfall echoing in the sprawling arches of the upper corridor.
A pair of enchanted doors etched with constellations slid open without anyone touching them.
The principal's office was vast.
Bookshelves towered up the walls like cliffs. Floating lanterns drifted between them. A great window overlooked the floating gardens below, clouds drifting lazily past.
The principal stood at the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. His long robes shimmered faintly with active enchantments.
His expression was calm, too calm. The kind of calm worn by someone desperately hiding what he truly felt.
"Leave us," he said.
Gregory bowed and fled almost immediately.
The doors shut.
Silence filled the space.
Finally, the principal turned.
"Prince Sora," he said, voice steady but quiet, "you have caused a disturbance."
Sora raised a brow. "It was your test."
"Yes," the principal replied, "and I must thank you for breaking it with such… clarity."
Sora didn't respond.
The principal waved a hand.
With a soft hum, crystal panels floated into the air around them, each one showing a different angle of the chamber during Sora's trial. The footage flickered strangely, static, distortion, energy fluctuations.
"Look here." The principal pointed at one of the panels.
It showed the moment Sora stepped forward, the starfield bending around him, reality folding in like paper.
"Do you see this phenomenon?" the principal asked quietly.
Sora nodded once. "Space distortion. The chamber's stability collapsed."
"Incorrect." The principal's eyes sharpened. "Space did not collapse. It realigned. Around you."
Sora paused for the first time.
The principal's voice grew lower, more serious.
"This test is designed with dimensional rigidity. Even a peak Transcendent cannot warp its fabric. It simulates danger. It simulates projection. But it cannot be altered."He paused."Not unless something of higher authority enters."
"Authority?" Sora repeated.
The principal nodded.
"Yes. Authority. Something beyond realm. Beyond energy. Beyond cultivation."
He flicked his fingers.
The panel zoomed in. On Sora's aura. On the golden-black corona swirling behind him.
"Do you know what this resembles?" the principal asked.
Sora tilted his head. "A manifestation of intent."
"Partially. But intent alone cannot create polarity. Light and void simultaneously… that is a paradox. A contradiction. It should not coexist."He locked eyes with Sora."And yet, in you, it does."
Sora remained silent.
The principal took a breath.
"Your Highness… what manifested behind you is known as Primordial Duality."
A faint vibration rippled through the air, as if the world didn't like that phrase spoken aloud.
Sora frowned slightly. "Explain."
The principal stepped closer.
"It is theorized," he began carefully, "that long before the creation of modern cultivation paths, before mana existed in its current form, before the Ancients shaped the world… existence was formed by two forces."
He raised two fingers.
"Genesis." A spark of golden light ignited above one finger.
"Oblivion."A black flame rose above the other.
"Creation and Uncreation. Being and Unbeing. The primal forces that wrote the rules everything else obeys."
The golden spark and black flame twisted around one another, never touching, never merging, yet orbiting in perfect tension.
"These forces are not cultivatable. They are not attainable. They cannot be learned, extracted, or inherited. They are concepts. Laws. Frameworks of the cosmos."
The flames vanished.
"And yet," the principal said quietly, "in you, we saw both."
Sora's brows lowered. "…Both."
"Yes."The principal's gaze was sharp now, filled with something close to alarm."You are aligned with neither. And simultaneously, with both."
He exhaled slowly.
"This is why the chamber failed. Not because you overpowered it."He shook his head."But because the dimension recognized you as something above its laws. It was never meant to measure you. It was meant to obey."
Sora's eyes narrowed faintly. "So you're saying I have… an affinity?"
The principal laughed, dry, humourless.
"No, Your Highness."
His expression sobered deeply.
"I am saying you have no affinity. No path. No limitation. No boundary."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You possess the beginnings of a state that predates all cultivation. Something that should not be achievable by mortal means."
He looked directly into Sora's eyes.
"Prince Sora… the thing that manifested behind you, is a seed."
Sora blinked once.
"A seed of what?"
The principal swallowed.
"Of sovereignty."
"…Sovereignty?" Sora repeated.
"Yes."The principal's next words were barely above a whisper.
"A Sovereign Soul. One born not to follow the world's laws, but to rewrite them."
He let the weight of that hang in the air.
"If you mature this, if it continues to evolve, then even the princes your father raised for centuries… even the oldest of them…"
The principal's voice shook without his permission.
"…they are not your competition. They are your footnotes."
"They never were." Sora shrugged.
Silence.
The room felt suddenly too small.
Finally, Sora spoke, voice calm, curious, dangerous:
"So what do you expect me to do with this information? Nothing changes as far as I'm concerned."
The principal stared at him for a long moment.
Then—
His eyes softened. A strange mix of fear and awe.
"I expect you," he said quietly, "to decide the fate of this academy… and eventually… the fate of this empire."