The journey from Berlin was deliberately isolating. The Imperial carriage, luxuriously appointed with black velvet and the gold trim of the Habsburg eagle, moved with astonishing speed, its wheels silently gliding over the terrain thanks to powerful, continuous runic enchantments. Daemon sat alone for the first hour, the strongbox containing his ingots secured beneath his seat, the Chokuto blades resting easy on his back. He knew the solitude was temporary. He was no longer a ward of the Berlin Academy; he was an asset being transported and assessed by the German Empire.
The solitude ended abruptly when the carriage halted at a small, heavily fortified relay station in the Bohemian forest. The door opened, not to a change of horses, but to the arrival of a passenger.
Stepping inside was Hauptmann Alaric Brandt, a high-ranking Imperial officer and mage. He possessed the lean, hard competence of a man who dealt exclusively in strategic military logistics, and his primary affinity, clearly visible in the slight, perpetual tremor of the air around him, was Wind. Brandt wore the severe black and silver uniform of the Kaiser's personal guard, his expression one of cold, professional disinterest. He took the seat opposite Daemon without a word of greeting, pulling out a thick dossier marked with the Berlin Academy seal.
"Daemon. A pleasure," Brandt said, his voice flat and precise, like the sound of steel against granite. "I am here to ensure the completion of your transfer protocol. However, the Imperial Academy requires clarity regarding certain... anomalies in your file, specifically concerning the recent tournament results."
Brandt did not offer tea or small talk; he went straight to the heart of the matter. "Your victory against the Lancaster girl. The report states you used water and fire to achieve a level of concussive force that defies standard elemental fusion principles. Our chemists theorize you may have developed a volatile alchemical compound—a black powder, perhaps. What exactly did you use to generate that explosive force?"
Daemon met his gaze, his expression carefully neutral and slightly confused—the perfect commoner genius overwhelmed by officialdom. He shifted his posture, adopting the tone of a student struggling to articulate a complex abstract concept. "Hauptmann, the reaction was purely elemental. I simply utilized the electrolytic principle of high-frequency potential discharge across the aqueous medium. The energy transfer caused a rapid catabolism of the diatomic structure into its constituents, creating a localized, highly pressurized gaseous mixture which required minimal caloric input—the tennis-ball-sized Fire, as reported—for complete enthalpy release. It was less alchemy, and more... maximizing the kinetic energy output relative to the entropic input."
Brandt stared, the faintest flicker of frustration crossing his eyes. Daemon had deliberately replaced magical terminology (Aether, Mana) with scientific jargon (electrolytic principle, diatomic structure, enthalpy release)—terms utterly foreign to a world focused solely on magical affinity. To Brandt, it sounded like brilliant, but completely confusing, nonsense.
"You speak in riddles, boy. Explain the 'electrolytic principle' in the context of Fire and Water affinities," Brandt demanded, his Wind affinity causing the air around his hand to visibly compress.
Daemon merely shrugged, maintaining his air of slightly superior eccentricity. "It's a matter of valence shells, molecular stability, and sustained phase disruption. Berlin never taught me this. It's simply the logical conclusion when you apply basic physicochemical observation to elemental channeling. Any true understanding of high-level elemental manipulation requires an appreciation for the structure of reality, not just the output of Aether." He left it there, letting the complex, alien terminology hang heavy in the air.
Brandt silently flipped the page, moving to the next controversy. "The duel with Duke Steiner's son. You subjected him to sixteen successive fatal injuries, healing him only to repeat the act. This demonstrated an unparalleled, instant regenerative capacity. The instructors fear you have achieved a kind of localized immortality that violates the natural balance of life and death affinities. Explain your process."
"Ah, the Healing Affinity," Daemon replied with a small, knowing smile. "It's misunderstood, Hauptmann. Healing is not restoration; it's accelerated reconstruction. I simply apply my affinity directly to the cellular bonds—a hyper-focused, high-volume energy injection—which forces the somatic tissue to bypass the natural degenerative rate. The pain and psychological trauma are regrettable byproducts of forcing such rapid mitosis. But the process itself proves that the human body, given enough instantaneous, directed energy, is supremely resilient."
Brandt closed the dossier, the movement sharp and final. He realized the boy would only speak in a specialized, impenetrable code. He shifted to the core issue: loyalty.
"Your talents are unique, Daemon. The Empire values unique talent above all things—certainly above Berlin's outdated noble pedigree. But talent without control is dangerous. Who exactly commands your loyalty, commoner? The House that buys you, the Academy that teaches you, or yourself?"
Daemon's gaze locked onto the officer's, and his entire demeanor shifted. The mask of the eccentric, rambling scholar vanished, replaced by the cold, serious conviction of a veteran revolutionary.
"Hauptmann Brandt, my allegiances are immutable. They are directed toward humanity and all human beings, regardless of their nationality, their noble lineage, or their class standing. I seek to help restore the earth to its rightful owners, the humans, and advance our species' survival." He paused, letting the scope of his ambition sink in. "The Empire provides the resources and the stability necessary for that advancement. Therefore, while I study at the Imperial Academy, my loyalty is to the Kaiser's regime as the necessary vehicle for human ascendancy."
Brandt considered this answer—grandiose, self-serving, and ultimately acceptable to the Imperial mindset. The boy was loyal to power, not sentiment.
The officer then delivered the final terms of the transfer, his voice returning to its precise monotone. "Under the Kaiser's rule, the Imperial Academy supports rigorous self-study and unrestricted personal magical training, providing pointers only where absolutely necessary. However, the Berlin notion of optional missions is unacceptable. Students here are assets. You will carry out mandatory missions that are specifically tailored to your calculated abilities and utility. Failure to perform is failure to serve the Empire."
Daemon felt a cold thrill of excitement. Forced missions meant access to more exotic resources, more dangerous combat zones, and a faster track to unparalleled growth.
He gave a slight, respectful nod. "Hauptmann, that is perfectly acceptable to me."
With the transfer protocol complete, Brandt simply opened the carriage door, stepped out into the crisp air of the Imperial relay station, and vanished, leaving Daemon alone once more, heading into the heart of the powerful German Empire.