CHAPTER 2 — PART 1
Morning crept in slow, as if even the sun hesitated to disturb the fragile balance Kian had barely managed to hold together since waking in this new life.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the plain ceiling. It wasn't warm or nostalgic—but it was simple. Quiet. And for now, that made it safe.
He finally breathed in deep and steady.
This body's lungs were young. Its heart beat too fast. Its muscles recovered too quickly. Everything felt unfamiliar—but undeniably alive.
He pressed a hand lightly against his chest.
"…Still real," he murmured.
A faint flicker under his skin answered him. Not pain. Not heat. Just a whisper of that strange magic, drifting like a restless thought.
"Not now," he said quietly. "Ya can't go flarin' up in a place like this."
The magic receded with reluctant obedience, like a child told to sit properly at the table.
Kian dressed in the most forgettable clothes he could find—dark jeans, plain shirt, a soft hoodie. Nothing that would stand out. Nothing that said judge, authority, or someone worth targetin'.
When he stepped out into the hallway, a soft wave of student chatter washed over him. Laughter. Complaints. The shuffle of backpacks and early-morning nerves. Too open to be political. Too young to be dangerous.
It grounded him.
No one here knew Elias Thorne.
And for the moment, that anonymity was armor.
The Law School Building
The morning air outside bit just enough to keep him alert. Students crossed the campus in scattered knots, clutching coffees or half-finished breakfasts. The law building rose ahead—clean stone, glass panels, a touch of modern ambition without any of Cortalis's grandeur.
Inside, the atmosphere tightened into something familiar. Books. Coffee. Stress. Aspirations. A different battlefield, but one Elias knew how to navigate.
He paused near the bulletin board:
Debate sign-ups
Study groups
Internship flyers
A VR gaming society advertisement
His eyes caught the last one again.
A reminder: the second world he'd be entering tonight.
He tore himself away before he fell too deep into planning.
His first class—Intro to Judicial Reasoning—was already filling with students. Kian chose a middle seat, sinking into anonymity with practiced ease.
Professor Hartwell entered, straightening his tie.
"Good morning. Today we discuss judicial neutrality and the biases embedded within every decision-maker."
Kian straightened instinctively.
Internal bias is the root of injustice, Elias's mind supplied.
He nodded before catching himself.
Hartwell noticed.
"You there. Thorne, correct? What is your stance on intrinsic bias?"
Dozens of eyes turned.
Kian inhaled slowly.
Don't sound like a forty-something judge. Sound nineteen. Learning. Young.
"Well… bias ain't somethin' ya erase," he said carefully. "It's somethin' ya manage. Ya gotta know where ya lean before ya can steer straight."
Hartwell blinked, surprised.
"…A mature answer," he admitted. "Accurate as well. Awareness precedes discipline."
Kian bowed his head slightly. "Just somethin' I've been thinkin' on."
Careful. Don't give too much.
The lecture moved on. Students wrote furiously. Hartwell's voice filled the room.
And yet—
Kian felt it before he saw it.
A presence in the doorway.
Tall. Dark hair. Sharp posture. Eyes that cut through noise the way a blade cut cloth.
Marcus.
His breath stilled.
Not the man from his courtroom.
Not the man from his final case.
Just Judge Hale—young, brilliant, ambitious.
But Kian knew too well how dangerous he could be.
Hartwell greeted him. "Judge Hale! Thank you for visiting."
Marcus gave a polite nod. "Hope I'm not interruptin'. Thought I'd observe before my lecture."
Marcus scanned the room.
Then his gaze passed over Kian—
—and came back.
Sharper.
Focused.
A flick of irritation crossed his eyes, almost invisible, almost nothing.
Option C: the subtle Kansai edge when he sensed something out of place.
"…Tch."
A faint sound only someone fluent in dialect would catch.
A sign of agitation without cause.
Hartwell noticed. "Is everything all right?"
Marcus's voice smoothed. "Nothin'. Thought I recognized someone, is all."
Kian kept perfectly still.
Marcus's Lecture
When Hartwell invited him to take the front, Marcus moved with crisp, controlled precision. Every step said trained, every glance said calculatin'.
"As a judge," Marcus began, "ya're carryin' more than the law. Ya're carryin' the stability of the society behind it."
His Kansai edge showed only when his emotions flickered:
"You'll face pressure—from folks who want somethin', from folks who don't know what they want, and from idiots who think yellin' louder makes 'em right."
A few students chuckled nervously.
Marcus continued.
"Observation is a weapon. Understandin' people is a shield. And if ya can't read a room, ya got no right steppin' onto the bench."
Then—
His eyes landed on Kian again.
A spark of irritation.
Not directed at him—directed inward.
That face. That presence. That subtle familiarity he couldn't name.
Marcus clicked his tongue softly.
"…Annoyin'," he muttered under his breath.
Kian pretended not to hear.
After Class
Hartwell clapped his hands.
"Kian Thorne! Why not introduce yourself? Judge Hale values promising students."
Kian nearly cursed in Kansai.
Marcus looked up with renewed interest.
Kian approached slowly, keeping his breath steady.
Marcus studied him with unnerving focus.
"Thorne, huh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good answer earlier. Most folks your age don't think that straight."
Kian shrugged lightly. "Guess I just like thinkin' things through."
Marcus extended a hand.
Kian hesitated a fraction of a second too long.
But he took it.
Magic jumped like a spark.
Barely controlled.
Marcus's eyes sharpened.
"…Your hand's cold."
"Didn't sleep well," Kian replied softly.
A beat passed.
Marcus tilted his head slightly, irritation flickering again—the subtle Kansai expression of this ain't addin' up.
"Hmph."
His gaze softened back to professionalism.
"Well, if ya're serious 'bout becomin' a judge, I wanna see how ya develop."
Kian bowed slightly. "I'll do my best."
He turned before Marcus could look any deeper.
Behind him, Marcus murmured quietly:
"Somethin' off about that kid…"
Kian didn't wait to hear more.
Part 1 Ending Hook
Outside, the cold air cleared his head instantly.
Ya gotta be careful. Much more careful.
Marcus sensed something.
Not enough to suspect the truth.
Not enough to chase him.
But enough to remember him.
Kian tightened his grip on his backpack.
Tonight—the VR world waited.
A place where he could use magic freely.
Where he could make mistakes without fear.
Where he could prepare.
Tonight…
Kyle begins.
CHAPTER 2 — PART 2
Kian didn't return to his dorm right away.
He needed space—room to think, breathe, and let the pressure of Marcus's stare loosen its grip on the edges of his mind. The late afternoon cast long shadows across the courtyard, students wandering between buildings in small clusters. Friends laughing, couples sharing earbuds, diligent students buried in textbooks as they walked.
Ordinary scenes.
Scenes Elias had watched from afar his entire life, but never lived inside.
Scenes Kian now walked through quietly, painfully aware of the distance between himself and everyone else.
He drifted toward the library.
Warm air greeted him as he stepped inside. Oak shelves. Old paper. Low amber lights. Students hunched over casebooks like soldiers preparing for war. It felt… safe enough. Quiet enough.
He chose a lonely table tucked into the back corner.
The perfect place to think without being watched.
He opened a thick textbook. His eyes scanned the page. Legal theory made immediate sense to him—every concept familiar, every example predictable.
But his mind wasn't on the words.
It kept slipping back to Marcus.
The stare.
The hesitation.
The nearly spoken question.
The flicker of irritation—the sharp Kansai edge he only ever showed when something didn't sit right.
He felt somethin'.
Not enough to act on.
But enough to notice.
Kian pressed a hand against his forehead and exhaled.
"Gotta calm down," he murmured.
Footsteps broke the quiet.
He looked up.
The girl with glasses from Hartwell's lecture stood hesitantly beside his table.
"Is this seat taken?" she asked, voice soft.
Kian shook his head. "Nah, go on."
She sat carefully, arranging books with gentle precision. For a while, neither spoke. Then she glanced up with a faint smile.
"You gave a really thoughtful answer in class today," she said. "It was… older than you look."
Kian forced a soft laugh. "Guess I just think weird."
"I think it was good weird," she said. "I'm Nora."
"Kian. Nice meetin' ya."
Her smile warmed briefly before she returned to her reading. The silence that followed was comfortable—rare for him. Peaceful, even.
Until—
A pressure formed behind his eyes.
Small at first. Then growing.
Magic.
His fingertips tingled. His pulse tightened.
Not here, he warned himself. Not in a crowded space. Don't do this.
The magic pressed outward anyway—curious, restless, pushing against the walls of his mind like liquid light begging to spill.
Kian closed his eyes.
Held his breath.
Forced it down.
Slowly, the pressure ebbed. A faint warmth lingered at his temples, but nothing visible escaped.
Across the library, a student's head jerked up as though they felt a static pop.
Kian tightened his jaw and lowered his face to the textbook.
He needed the VR world.
Needed a place where magic wouldn't expose him.
He studied until dusk turned the library windows soft gold. Nora eventually packed her things.
"See you tomorrow, Kian?" she asked.
"Yeah. See ya."
She left.
He stayed a moment longer, letting the silence clear the last of the magic's stubborn hum.
Then he stepped back into the cooling campus air.
The VR Pod
By the time he returned to the dorm, the sky was a deep indigo washed with scattered clouds. He closed the door gently behind him and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
His hands moved almost automatically as he reached into his backpack and pulled out the sleek VR helmet. Black, polished, humming faintly with standby power.
This world—this second world—was opportunity.
Safety.
Training.
Freedom.
He set the helmet on the desk and flipped through the manual one last time. Sleep-mode compatible. Full neural sync supported. Sensory calibration required.
No mention of magic.
No mention of voices in the dark.
He lay back on the bed, lifted the helmet, and settled it over his head.
A soft click sealed him inside darkness.
"Initialize," he whispered.
A gentle chime echoed.
Ethereal Realms Online — Initializing Neural Sync.
Preparing cognitive pathway…
Do not move.
The world dissolved into drifting starlight.
Magic stirred again—more awake here, more present, as if VR gave it clarity.
Then—
A voice that wasn't mechanical, wasn't programmed, wasn't human:
Welcome, wandering soul.
Kian's breath hitched.
Not part of the system.
Not external.
A whisper inside the magic.
In dreams, truth bends. Shape it well… judge.
The void brightened.
The system rebooted into normality instantly after:
Welcome to Ethereal Realms Online.
Create your avatar.
The voice vanished.
Kian released a shaky breath.
It's tryin' to talk to me… and it's learnin'.
Kyle — The Chosen Form
A blank holographic model stood before him.
Age range: 7–13.
He selected eight.
Small, light, unthreatening.
Hair: near-blonde
Eyes: pale blue
Build: small, slightly athletic
Face: soft lines, gentle expression
Then the personality tags.
Calm.
Analytical.
Detached.
Elias.
He turned them off.
Instead, he chose:
Playful.
Quiet.
Curious.
Nobody would link such a child to Kian—much less to Elias Thorne.
The model finalized.
"Kyle," Kian whispered.
A fitting mask.
Avatar confirmed.
Entering beginner zone.
Light swallowed him.
Zerius
The first thing he felt was grass brushing his fingertips.
Then—
"KYYYYYLE! HEYYYY! OVER HERE!"
A small figure sprinted across the field, limbs flinging in five different directions.
Zerius.
Or whatever nickname he lived by here.
He skidded to a stop.
"I'm Zerius! Call me Zero! I start at level zero in every game—'cause it's good luck!"
Kyle blinked. "…Is that right?"
Zero leaned in, eyes squinting like he was examining an alien.
"You look weak."
Kyle stared. "Thanks?"
"That's GOOD!" Zero declared proudly. "Weak people get the BEST powers later! It's a rule of the universe."
Kyle almost laughed.
Zero grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward.
"C'mon!! Tutorial slimes, let's GOOO!"
The Tutorial Fields
The valley was bright and harmless—rolling hills, goofy slimes, giant caterpillars with cartoon eyes.
Zero struck a dramatic pose.
"Behold! The ancient training grounds—"
A slime bumped him.
He ate dirt.
Kyle snorted softly.
Zero sprang up. "Kyle! HIT IT! HIT THAT MENACE!"
Kyle stepped forward.
Magic stirred automatically, wanting to help. Wanting to act.
He pushed it down and punched normally.
The slime popped into glitter.
Zero gasped dramatically.
"That punch had DEPTH. Like a tragic backstory."
"…It was a slime."
Zero patted his shoulder. "Greatness ain't picky."
They continued until:
Tutorial Complete.
Core Skills Unlocked.
Zero pumped his fists like a deranged cheerleader.
"Yes!! Level grind time!!"
But then—
The sky flickered.
A ripple.
A single frame out of sync.
Kyle stopped.
Zero didn't notice. "Kyle? You laggin'?"
The hills bent—not broken, not glitched—responding.
Responding to him.
Magic brushed against his mind.
Kyle… did you see it?
He swallowed hard.
"Just… adjustin'," he muttered.
First Level-Up
The village bustled with NPCs closing shops and lanterns being lit. Zero bounced in place.
"Check your stats! Bet you leveled!"
Kyle opened the panel.
Name: Kyle
Level: 1
Strength 1
Agility 1
Intelligence 1
Luck 2
Plain.
Forgettable.
Perfect.
Then—
For an instant:
??? — 0.1 → 0.2
A hidden stat.
Magic affinity.
Kyle closed the menu quickly.
Zero leaned over. "Nice luck! Mine's zero. My whole life is zero. It's the theme."
Kyle laughed quietly before he could stop himself.
A Hint of Recognition
A group of older players passed by.
One stopped.
Stared.
"…That kid looks familiar."
Kyle's pulse stuttered.
Zero bristled. "Back off! He's new! No bullyin'!"
The player shook his head. "Relax. Probably just déjà vu."
He walked off.
Kyle swallowed.
If anyone from Cortalis ever joined this game…
He had to stay hidden.
Nightfall
The virtual sky dimmed into deep twilight. Lanterns cast warm circles of light along the cobblestone.
Zero yawned loudly. "I gotta log. My mom checks if I'm asleep. I'm never asleep."
A friend request popped up.
Kyle accepted.
Zero saluted dramatically. "Tomorrow we GRIND! Byeeee!"
He vanished in a burst of light.
Kyle stood alone under the stars.
He lifted his hand.
The magic inside him stirred—almost grateful. Almost relieved.
A faint blue spark formed at his fingertips.
Soft. Weak. Controlled.
It fizzled out gently.
Perfect for practice.
He whispered, "Log out."
Return to Reality
The visor lifted. Real air filled his lungs again—cooler, heavier.
Midnight.
Kian set the helmet down carefully and stared at his reflection in the dark window.
Kian Thorne.
Young.
Alive.
Uncertain.
With Elias's fire buried behind his eyes.
Tomorrow, the real trial began.
Facing Marcus.
Entering the judge-in-training arena.
Walking back into a world that once killed him.
He touched the mirror lightly.
"…I can handle this."
He turned off the light.
The night swallowed the room.
And the magic inside him waited—quiet, listening, learning.