A ripple cut through the principal's office like a blade through silk.
For a moment, the air froze—then folded.
A figure flickered into existence, the distortion snapping shut behind her with a sound like cracking crystal.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Red hair tied loosely behind her shoulders.
Eyes like twin embers burning with suppressed power.
An aura so sharp it felt like the air itself bowed.
Cecil.
Vice Principal of the academy.
Field Marshal of the Great Legion.
One of the strongest women in the empire, when she was actually present.
Ptomelus barely lifted his eyes from the stack of documents on his desk.
"Cecil," he greeted calmly.
She smiled faintly. "Ptomelus."
She stepped closer, hands crossed behind her back.
"I have news."
That made him look up fully at last, removing his monocle with a quiet sigh.
"From the Dead Zone, I presume?" he said. "You've been away too long to not return with something concerning."
Cecil's expression tightened.
"The Hifgenes are moving."
Ptomelus froze.
The shadows under his eyes deepened, and his fingers curled slightly around the monocle he held.
"…Are you certain?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Cecil replied, her tone grim. "We lost an entire legion to one of their Dreadnoughts."
A long silence followed.
"That," Ptomelus said slowly, "is concerning."
"It is."
He leaned back in his chair.
"So I assume the frontline is already requesting fresh academy combatants?"
Cecil shook her head. "Not yet. They didn't send such a request. But once things heat up, they will definitely come knocking. You know how it goes."
"Aye," he muttered. "It always escalates."
She nodded. "Precisely."
Ptomelus closed the folder in front of him. "Anything else?"
"That is all—for now."
Cecil turned to leave—
—then paused.
"Oh, right." Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. "I heard a rumor… that you brought in quite an interesting young prince."
Ptomelus's lips curved into a smile.
"Ah. That one. Yes."
"And?" she asked. "What's so interesting about him?"
"You will like him when you meet him."
Cecil raised a brow. "Why?"
He leaned back, folding his hands across his lap.
"Well… he is good-looking, brilliant, remarkably composed. Strong. Very strong. Honestly, a perfect poster boy for your agency, should you attempt to recruit him."
A faint spark lit in Cecil's gaze.
But Ptomelus added, almost lazily:
"But I would not recommend trying to force him into anything."
Cecil blinked. "Why not?"
Ptomelus took a moment, then answered plainly:
"You may find yourself overpowered."
Cecil stared. "Excuse me?"
"He destroyed the Trial Chamber."
Her eyes widened. "W–What!? You mean he passed?"
"No."
Ptomelus's voice remained calm, but the air around him grew heavier.
"He destroyed it."
Cecil's jaw dropped. "But—how!? Even a Transcendant couldn't—wait… are you saying…?"
"He is a Transcendant," Ptomelus confirmed, "at his age."
Cecil staggered back a step. Her voice came out strangled.
"That's already absurd. That alone is enough to shake the capital. But you said that isn't why the chamber collapsed?"
"No."
Ptomelus tapped a finger on his desk, slowly.
"It collapsed not from his strength… but from his potential."
Cecil felt the breath leave her lungs.
"Explain," she whispered.
Ptomelus lifted his gaze.
"His potential is… infinite."
Silence.
Then:
"Impossible," Cecil breathed. "Even the great Empress herself had limits—monstrous, but still limits—"
"Not him," Ptomelus said.
He slid a crystal across the desk.
It pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
"The chamber tried to calculate his ceiling. And it failed. The feedback loop shattered the entire structure."
Cecil swallowed hard.
"Infinite potential means… his growth isn't bound by our world's natural laws. The only way to measure him would be…"
"In the Immortal Realm," Ptomelus finished.
Cecil's knees nearly buckled.
A long, heavy silence followed.
Finally, she whispered:
"…You really brought a monster into the academy."
Ptomelus smiled—tired, but deeply intrigued.
"No. I brought in a variable. "His eyes darkened.
"And possibly… the only one who may tip the scales if the Hifgenes begin their advance."
Cecil exhaled slowly, the weight of his words settling like iron on her shoulders.
"Then I will meet him," she said. Her voice trembled slightly with anticipation. "And soon."
Ptomelus nodded.
"He'll be hard to handle."
"Good," Cecil replied, smirking. "I'm tired of handling easy things."
She flickered , and vanished.
Leaving Ptomelus alone with the echo of the word still ringing in his mind:
Infinite.
....
The world snapped back into clarity around Cecil the moment she reappeared atop one of the academy's high spires.
Wind whipped through her red hair, carrying the faint scent of mana-rich morning air.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Her mind was spinning too fast for her body to bother.
Infinite potential.
The phrase was still echoing like a thunderclap in her skull.
That old fool… he wouldn't exaggerate about something like this.
She stared out across the vast floating campus—the countless towers, the drifting bridges, the training fields glowing with morning light.
A transcendant at first year.
That alone was enough to cause political earthquakes.
But infinite potential?
That wasn't just unheard of.
It was… blasphemous.
Not even the Imperial Empress was infinite.
Not even the Divine Archives list such a thing. Every living being has a ceiling. A limit. A domain they cannot grow beyond.
But this boy—This prince—
He had shattered a divine-calibrated trial chamber.
And the collapse wasn't from power.
It was from the chamber being unable to compute him.
Cecil swallowed hard, a rare feeling creeping into her chest:
Unease.
What kind of existence did Ptomelus bring here?
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath her cloak—a reflex more than a threat. As if grounding herself.
If the Hifgenes were truly mobilizing…
If dreadnoughts had already begun burning through the Dead Zone…
Then the empire needed power.
Desperately.
She closed her eyes.
Is it fate? Or coincidence? That a being like him appears now of all times?
Something in her chest stirred.
Ambition.
Fear.
Intrigue.
All tangled into one sharp emotion she knew all too well.
If his potential is truly infinite…
Then whoever claims him—Whoever earns his loyalty—Would possess a weapon that could turn the tide of entire wars.
Cecil's heartbeat quickened.
Not from attraction.
Not from awe.
From strategic instinct.
If he joins my command, even as a student auxiliary… we could crush the Hifgenes before they advance a single mile.
But then Ptomelus's warning echoed back to her:
"Don't try to force him."
Her eyes narrowed.
She trusted her strength.
She trusted her command.
She trusted her instincts.
Yet…
If Ptomelus—a man who had retired only because he was too strong to be allowed on the frontlines—said she'd be overpowered…
That was no small warning.
Cecil clicked her tongue softly.
Fine. No force. I'll see what kind of person he is first.
She straightened her coat, rebalancing her mana.
Her expression shifted:
Something analytical. Cool. Calculating.
Infinite potential means infinite paths. I need to know which one he's walking.
She stepped to the edge of the spire, wind curling beneath her boots.
Her eyes flickered with anticipation.
Let's see what kind of monster the seventh prince truly is.
With a soft, sharp sound—like a blade sliding into its sheath—she vanished again.