A huge projection board burst into existence before both the Azrens seated at the high table and the sea of recruits below. Its brilliance was an arresting blue, futuristic in its design, radiating the sort of sci-fi grandeur that seemed far too advanced for the moment.

The board stretched wide in a precise rectangular frame, its thick glowing edges humming faintly as though alive.

Slowly, one by one, heads began to materialize upon its surface, each image accompanied by a name inscribed beneath. The names rolled forward in perfect alphabetical order, until inevitably, the stream reached the "S" section. There, clear as daylight, appeared Simma's head with his name etched below in luminous script.

On the board, he looked slightly younger, almost softer, a faint cuteness in his features, though who, in that hall, had time to check such details? His attention sharpened. Not long after his own entry appeared, another followed:

Swanoff Sarah. Her name was there, blazing bright, and yet she was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. Perhaps she stood farther back, beyond his line of sight.

Naya's cool, commanding voice sliced through the murmur.

"This," she said, her tone deliberate, "is the Board of Echelon Seal. The very record tied to the chips given to you when you conquered your arena battles."

Above the glowing heads, thick gothic lettering sprawled across the board's surface, reading in ominous words: The Echelon Sealed.

Naya moved across the floor, her silver hair glinting in the neon light. Her steps were smooth and deliberate, her presence pulling every pair of eyes, as she circled the projection.

"Now," she continued, her voice calm but edged with steel, "what comes next is something that will determine your stay here. If you fail to understand this, it means you do not pay attention. And an Azren... " her eyes swept across the recruits, sharp as blades "... a true Azren should always pay attention."

A hush fell. Terror flickered across most of the recruits' faces, the weight of her words sinking into their bones. Simma, however, knew her well. He was used to her sharp edges, her tone that always seemed to dance between threat and truth.

"Now, recruits... spread out."

The crowd obeyed instantly, forming a wide arc. Dozens of eyes from the seated Azrens were still locked on them.

"This next step," Naya said, "is mind cultivation. I won't dictate how you should sit or kneel, meditation is personal. You will choose the posture that speaks to you." Her tone was steady, almost lecturing.

She raised a hand toward the board. "Your ES... your Echelon Seal is, as you know, a mechanical chip. But do not mistake it as mere." She let the words hang, glaring until her phrasing carried the weight she demanded.

"What I mean is this: to turn that chip into a core sigil, you must merge with it. You must partner with it... become one... leaving not even a shadow of secrecy between you. Only then will you discover your rank, your core trait, and all that follows. Only then can you begin to absorb Core Mannas and Kernels."

Her hand gestured toward the projection board, its surface shimmering with the names of those already recognized. "Once your ES transforms into a core sigil, it will appear here. Only then can you take your rightful seat at the table of your rank."

The hall stirred with a ripple of nervous murmurs, quickly silenced as Naya's sharp gaze returned.

"All you need," she said slowly, "is to look inward... into your soul, into your ES. Ignite the power within you and your beast. That is the only path to turning your chip into you. Begin your cultivation."

At her command, the recruits moved. Some sat cross-legged, others knelt, a few even reclined, each seeking a posture of comfort.

Simma settled himself with ease. Crossing his legs, he pressed his palms together and placed them on his lap. His eyes squeezed shut as he focused. He listened to the cadence of his heartbeat, to the quiet rhythm of his breath. Slowly, the voice came.

It was his ES.

-------------

[Simma]

[Appraisal chip processing]

[Appraisal processed and acquired]

[Simma, this is your appraisal]

================

[name: Simma]

[age: 18]

[within beast: Dragon]

[bloodline aspect: Azren Line]

[rank: Fluxborn]

[core trait: Ascendant]

=================

'No way.'

'No bloody way.'

His breath caught. Ascendant? While still only a Fluxborn? His head shook in disbelief, yet when he peered again within his mind's eye, the truth remained etched there, immovable.

Core Trait: Ascendant.

It meant his potential trait ranked higher than many of the Alphas and even some Omegas seated in this very hall. The hierarchy of traits rushed through his thoughts: Sealed, Initiated, Revered, Ascendant, Radiant, Divined, Transcendent.

By right, they would now call him Ascendant Simma. Unthinkable. His trait was even higher than Delilah's, hers was only Revered.

The shock staggered him, but a smile still tugged at his lips. I'm Ascendant, he thought, the words sweet in his mind. Unbelievable.

He refocused on the ES.

============

[Qi aspect: thermal Qi absorption| |ashen volt essence]

[Weapon: Sword]

[Maltheron: Shadewalker]

=============

His brows shot up. Shadewalker; that was Mr. Paw, Ms. Shady's cub! That meant Maltheron was like a second beast to him. He nodded, absorbing the revelation.

=============

[Soul Core Aspect: Blue {Reveal}]

[Kernel Essences: 24/50]

==============

He already understood the meaning. Every Fluxborn carried a soul core aspect of blue, with purple kernels circling and orbiting around it. When one's kernel count reached fifty, the soul core shifted, evolving into the Purple Aspect. That transition marked the Xenon rank.

But as he was about to go to the last thing in his ES it happened.

A thick coil of blue lightning wrapped his body. His eyes were still closed, yet he felt the energy burn wild and unrelenting, circling him like a storm. The energy spun violently, tightening, until suddenly it surged forward. With a deafening blast, it struck his chest, tearing through him, flooding his being, and pouring into him.

The impact was so raw that the next thing he felt for the moment was nothing.

And then... he was falling.

He snapped his eyes open. The Great Hall was gone. The Citadel vanished. He was somewhere else entirely.. somewhere darker than the end of the world, yet vast as eternity.

Though his eyes were open, it felt as though they remained closed; blackness pressed in from every angle. Yet he could feel himself drifting, weightless, sinking deeper into the void.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck, caught in a strange pressure clamping down on his chest and skull, the same sensation he had once felt underwater. Then it dawned on him, he was submerged in a sea of darkness, fully immersed in a void-ocean. Yet he could breathe. Perfectly.

And then, the sea stirred.

From the depths below, something enormous began to rise. Its presence alone sent a shiver so deep it clawed up his spine, coating his skin in gooseflesh. The figure ascended, vast, until its head levelled with Simma's.

A halo of crimson and blue light shimmered around its frame, painting the dark sea with its glow. Its arms were outstretched, palms facing each other, cradling a brilliant orb suspended between them. Its legs were crossed, and a serpentine golden dragon coiled around its massive frame like an eternal guardian.

Its hair was black and curled, crowned with a thorny circlet. One eye glowed crimson, the other a piercing blue. From the left corner of its mouth, a long fang protruded, bestial and sharp, while the other side remained human. Its left hand bore claws, while its right remained eerily human.

Simma stared, wide-eyed. It was like looking into a mirror; Only now magnified, larger, grander, and more terrible. Perhaps he was staring directly at his soul.

The realization hit him. The figure was him.

"The Sea of Soul," he whispered. The meaning of S.O.S unveiled at last.

His gaze turned downward, and like a man unravelling mysteries, he deciphered the meaning of it all.

The orb glowing between the figure's hands, it pulsed a brilliant blue, orbiting with shards of purple crystal.

'My soul core aspect', he muttered. The kernels circling were his twenty-four kernels.

The dragon that wound around the figure? His within beast. Obvious now.

And the thorny crown, paired with the half-human, half-demonic visage? That was the curse... his burden, etched into his very essence until the day of his redemption.

At its crossed legs lay a sword. It pulsed with a blue energy at the blade side, and the scaly hilt looked very much alive... unmistakable, that was his weapon, his chosen steel.

He wondered briefly if the others were seeing this too. Or was he alone, drifting in this strange ocean that let him breathe without air?

Before he could linger....

A voice rank in his head, and unlike when he saw those runes as though it was shadows behind his mind, He was now seeing it as though it was before his eyes, as if it was like an eye-glass lenses placed before his eyes. The voice seemed to be coming from every part of his head.

===========

[True name: Zelihuth O'Connor]

[Exhibit: ES is made CS| | By, Simma... an incarnate of the cursed|]

===========

....

"Hey.. Wake up"

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