The sky was still painted in the pale gold of early morning when Aston arrived at the registrar hall.

Chamber D was on the far side of the structure, nestled in a side wing that rarely saw student traffic. Most registrars handled routine matters—scheduling, dorm assignments, course rebalancing. But this hall… this was different.

The hallway that led to it had no windows. The walls were trimmed with a darker marble, the kind that glowed faintly with imbued essence. Two lanterns burned a steady, silver light—not flame, not charm, but pure regulated spirit.

Aston walked with steady steps. Not slow. Not fast. Just deliberate.

Nova flickered quietly in his eye.

[Essence wards detected. Null interference zone. External communication suppressed.]

He'd expected that.

The registrar at the far end wore dark navy robes marked with the symbol of the Imperial Crest—a silver spiral overlapping a seven-pointed star. She glanced at Aston and motioned silently for him to proceed.

"You'll be conducted inside. Keep your ID visible," she said curtly.

He nodded, handing over the small spirit-tag token clipped to his collar.

The door to Chamber D opened—not with a magical flair, but a heavy mechanical hiss.

Inside, the room was circular, and the first thing Aston noticed was the silence.

The air was weighted.

The walls bore no ornamentation. Only runes—etched in even spacing, forming a perfect containment ring. A single crystal pedestal stood in the center, atop it a fresh awakening crystal—sleek, pristine, and faintly glowing from within.

He stepped inside, and only then noticed the figures already waiting.

One sat at a side desk, scribbling steadily. A record scribe.

Another stood at the far corner—likely an enforcer in case of uncontrolled essence release.

And finally, the imperial observer.

He turned his head.

And froze.

The man who stood near the pedestal wore a cloak of subdued charcoal-grey. Nothing ostentatious. But it was the insignia pinned to his shoulder that made Aston's stomach tighten.

The Imperial Assessment Bureau. High rank.

And the face beneath the hood?

Darius.

Aston masked his reaction instantly, but his mind raced.

Why was Darius here?

Why not send a lesser observer?

Why come himself?

The older man gave no indication of recognition. His eyes—cold silver—regarded Aston with a clinical neutrality. Detached, impersonal. As if Aston were just another record on a list.

The registrar cleared her throat.

"Student Aston Rhyner. You've been summoned for reawakening verification at the behest of the Empire. All standard conditions apply. This is not a regrading, but a verification. If a discrepancy is found between your initial record and the new reading, your core classification may be amended."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Aston nodded. "Understood."

"You may step forward."

The crystal was different from the one he remembered. This one pulsed with a deeper color—nearly white at the center. Newer. More precise. Designed for layered readings.

Nova flashed a notice across his vision:

[Crystal calibrated to Imperial tier. Multi-spectrum resonance detection active.]

Aston's lips pressed into a thin line.

This wasn't just for show. This was a diagnostic weapon disguised as protocol.

He stepped forward.

Behind him, he could feel Darius watching. Not reading his essence—just watching his posture, his gait, the breath between words.

The registrar gestured.

"Place your hand on the crystal when ready. Maintain contact until the pulse fades. Do not channel your spirit essence. Let your core speak for itself."

Aston drew in a breath.

Gray, beneath his sleeve, remained utterly still. Mirage was absent—kept far from the chamber on purpose. The only thing between Aston and the crystal was his own truth.

His hand hovered over the surface.

He could feel it already. The pull. The hum of recognition. The part of him that never fully registered during the first awakening. The part he'd hidden ever since.

And now… it would be seen.

He placed his hand down.

The moment Aston's palm touched the crystal, the chamber dimmed—just slightly.

Light siphoned inward, toward the center of the crystal as if drawn by gravity. At first, it pulsed once—soft, almost hesitant.

Then the glow deepened.

From a faint inner white to a swirling bloom of colorless light—clear but shifting. The outer surface of the crystal refracted this, projecting brief spirals of iridescent light across the walls. The runes on the floor responded, activating in sequence with low, muffled hums.

The scribe's pen halted.

The enforcer subtly adjusted his stance.

Aston felt the resonance crawl up his arm like a current—not painful, but probing. The kind of touch that sought not the outside, but the intention beneath.

Nova flashed once again:

[Pulse harmonizing with central core. False red filter bypassed.]

He remembered the first time—the crystal at the awakening hall back in Shale City. How it had flickered, glitched, and eventually shattered. The shard that couldn't reflect his potential.

This one wouldn't shatter.

It would see.

But only what he wanted it to see.

Aston exhaled slowly, not through nerves, but with precision. He didn't suppress his core. He didn't flare it, either. He let it rise just enough—a controlled ripple of essence. Not 'clear,' but not gold either.

A healthy, believable red.

A red born of effort. Of a Crimson Genesis Elixir. Of narrative.

Let them believe it.

The crystal's hum stabilized.

A final pulse echoed through the room—soft, resonant.

Then it faded.

The registrar looked down at her spirit board, where the output glimmered in neat notation.

[Core Signature: Stable – Red Tier] [Resonance Behavior: Controlled] [Fluctuation Margin: Acceptable for post-enhancement potential]

She gave a single nod. "Results consistent with updated record."

The scribe resumed writing.

The enforcer stepped back by half a pace, no longer on edge.

Only one person had yet to speak.

Darius stepped forward, stopping just short of the pedestal. His voice was calm, official, but there was the faintest undertone—too subtle for the others to hear.

"Your essence behaves differently than expected," he said quietly, almost conversationally. "Some might say that's… uncommon."

Aston didn't flinch.

He replied with equal calm. "A lot can change after the first year of proper training. Even more with the right motivation."

There was a pause—just long enough to register.

Then Darius turned to the registrar. "I've seen what I needed."

He walked past Aston without another word.

But as he passed, Aston did not notice the brief flicker of Darius's gaze—not suspicion.

Satisfaction.

It was confirmation.

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