Magic : Unbroken

Leon stood on the altar, his small frame dwarfed beneath the ceremonial glow of the structure. But the light offered no comfort—his heart was sinking fast.

Did I really… fail?

The faint buzzing from earlier still echoed in his mind. It shouldn't have activated at all if he had truly awakened nothing. Yet, after the sound faded, no element appeared. No burst of magic. No spark of power.

Only silence.

Confusion swirled in his thoughts. Was it a mistake? Was the altar broken? Or was this simply his fate?

He stared down at the platform beneath his feet, eyes vacant. Disappointment coiled in his chest—an old, bitter companion he thought he'd left behind.

Nearby, the instructor wore a puzzled look, glancing between the boy and the still-glowing altar. He took a step forward, mouth parting to speak—then suddenly froze. His gaze turned glassy as a voice echoed in his mind.

> "Let that little guy enter the academy. He has talent—no need for the second test. Just enroll him."

It was the voice of Dean Harland Evermere.

The instructor blinked and snapped back to awareness. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. The confusion melted, replaced by understanding—and pride.

'So the dean noticed it. That means this boy… he's special.'

Three gifted children in a single cycle. That alone was enough for the instructor to brag for the rest of his career.

Leon was just stepping down from the altar, his shoulders slumped, when the instructor strode forward and clapped a firm, cheerful hand on his shoulder.

"Good! Good! Boy, you're in!" he said with a laugh. "The dean himself gave the order."

Leon froze mid-step, blinking in disbelief.

"W-What?"

But the instructor was already waving over a nearby student.

"Dwane! Take this kid to the admissions block."

Before Leon could fully process what was happening, he was being guided away. His dazed expression slowly gave way to a hesitant, hopeful smile.

He wasn't sure how or why… but he was in.

He was going to the academy.

Behind him, the crowd murmured like rising smoke.

"What did he awaken? Why was he taken in just like that?"

"Not even the dual-elemental kid got special treatment!"

"Must be some connection. A noble family?"

"Don't be stupid—no noble can override the academy's protocol. That's illegal!"

Speculations bloomed like wildfire, but Leon heard none of it. For the first time in a long while, a flicker of warmth stirred inside him.

He walked toward the admissions block with light steps, unaware that the real stir had only just begun.

Back in the ceremonial chamber, the atmosphere had shifted. The Awakening Ceremony was over, yet a tension lingered—uncertainty rooted in one boy's strange results.

Vice Commander Aerydn broke the silence first, his brow knit.

"Dean Harland… what exactly is so special about that boy?" he asked, voice calm but tinged with curiosity. "Even I couldn't sense what he awakened."

Dean Harland Evermere, sitting beside the projection crystal, didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he calmly set down his cup of tea and rose to his feet. With practiced elegance, he walked over to the wide window, gazing out over the academy grounds. His eyes shimmered with thought.

"Hahaha…" he chuckled softly. "The boy did awaken something. But even I'm not entirely sure what."

A stunned silence followed.

Even Alaric , usually reserved, raised a brow.

"You enrolled a child without knowing his magic?"

From the side, Duke Caelan—a figure of cold authority—folded his arms, expression unreadable. He had remained silent throughout, but now his sharp gaze narrowed.

Has the old man finally lost it?

Yet Harland appeared utterly unbothered by the scrutiny.

"When the ceremony began," he said slowly, his tone turning reflective, "I sensed something… peculiar. The mana responded to him quickly—unnaturally fast. But then, it shifted."

"Shifted?" Aerydn echoed.

"Yes. It began flowing into his eyes. All of it. At first, I thought he might explode from the concentration—but then, nothing. It was as though something… blocked the final release."

He tapped the side of his temple. "Some kind of restriction."

"You mean… an ocular ability?" asked Alaric Thorne, the merchant leader present, adjusting his gloves.

"Possibly," Harland replied. "Or something rarer. I suspect it's locked behind a trigger—an emotional moment, danger, perhaps even trauma."

Aerydn crossed his arms. "Hmph. I've seen my share of ocular powers. Some are incredible… others just flashy junk."

"True," Alaric added. "Some let you read mana flows or detect lies. Others? Just glorified magnifiers."

"But you don't think it's something common," Aerydn noted, studying Harland's thoughtful expression.

"No," Harland said with certainty. "The altar didn't reject him. It hesitated. And that only happens when a power doesn't fall within the usual categories."

Alaric leaned forward. "Could it be bloodline magic?"

Duke Caelan finally spoke, his voice cool and even. "He doesn't match any noble bloodline in the Empire. Not by name. Not by appearance."

Harland nodded. "Then it could be ancestral… or a mutation."

The silence returned, heavier this time. Each man present silently processed the implications.

Eventually, Aerydn exhaled and cracked his neck.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. If he's hiding some monstrous ability, it won't stay hidden long. Foundation classes weed out the weak fast."

"Let's just hope he doesn't turn into another unstable prodigy," Alaric muttered. "We've had enough of those."

Dean Harland didn't reply right away. Instead, he watched the drifting clouds, voice soft when he finally spoke.

"We all bloom differently," he said. "Some under sunlight. Others only at night. Let's see… what kind of flower this boy becomes."

Just then, a secretary knocked and entered the room with a slight bow.

"Dean Harland, the initial admissions are complete. Would you like to review the roster now?"

Dean Harland waved a hand gently.

"Later. For now, place Leon in a general dormitory. No special treatment—but keep a discreet eye on him."

"Yes, Dean."

Once the aide left, the room quieted again. Harland remained by the window, unmoving, his mind still dwelling on the boy whose eyes had nearly absorbed the altar's magic.

In the distance, Leon walked with quiet steps—oblivious to the many eyes now watching.