The air inside the Council Hall of Opes was thick, saturated with an ancient and heavy energy that seemed to press down on the shoulders of anyone who dared cross its threshold. The walls, carved from white marble veined with azure, reflected the light of magical torches that burned without ever consuming themselves, casting long, solemn shadows on the perfectly polished floor. At the center of the hall, on a raised semicircular podium, sat the seven Sages the oldest and most influential minds of the kingdom, draped in heavy sapphire colored silk robes.
Hayjin, walking alongside Zhilian and feeling the thundering footsteps of Rhaegalur behind him, felt every single gaze of the Sages slide over him like a cold probe. His mind, accustomed to breaking reality down into data, couldn't help but notice the electrostatic tension in the air: the Council was testing his mana, trying to understand who or what this boy in tattered clothes but with an overly sharp gaze truly was.
Zhilian took three steps forward, her back straight and her chin high, embodying the dignity of her lineage. She bowed with a grace that Hayjin found almost alien compared to the girl who, just a few hours earlier, was running through the bushes of Exilia.
"Honorable Sages, Guardians of the Wisdom of Opes," Zhilian began, her voice ringing clear beneath the high dome. "I am here to officially present Hayjin to you. He is not merely a guest of the sacred forest, but the one I have chosen as my Support for the upcoming Mages' Association exam."
The Sages exchanged imperceptible glances. The one in the center, a man with a beard so long it touched his knees and eyes that looked like two wells of millennial wisdom, cleared his throat.
"Welcome, Princess Zhilian," he said with a formal tone that didn't hide a hint of severity. Then his eyes shifted to the imposing figure towering behind the youths. "And welcome to you, Rhaegalur, mighty Dragon God. It is rare for the Dragon God to leave his sylvan abode to honor these walls. What drives a living legend to escort a young princess and an... unknown lad this far?"
Rhaegalur crossed his arms, his physical presence alone occupying half the hall. "I am not here to play politics, Sage Arkon. I am here as a witness. The boy you see before you possesses a potential that eludes your classifications. The Princess has seen in him what many masters would ignore: the ability to think where others merely strike."
Arkon leaned forward, fixing his gaze on Hayjin. "We have heard the rumors, Rhaegalur. We know this boy dwells under your protection. But we must cut to the chase: the Association exam is not a game for children, nor an exercise in theory. It is a mission that strips bare both soul and body. Princess, with all due respect for your protector's lineage, this boy appears... inadequate to us. He is too young, his mana reserve is barely perceptible, and above all, we do not know who he truly is."
"He is the Son of the Dragon God!" Zhilian shot back, her voice rising an octave in indignation.
"Forgive me, Princess, but despite that, to us, this is merely a title, not a biography," interrupted a Sage with a stern face, sitting to Arkon's left. "He does not appear in the birth registries, he has attended no preparatory school in Opes, he has no record of missions. Despite Rhaegalur's word, to us, he is an unknown. Entrusting the safety of the future Queen to an unknown is a risk the Council cannot afford to take."
Hayjin felt the need to intervene. His academic instinct the one that drove him to defend a thesis before a hostile committee took over his prudence. He took a step forward, ignoring the Sages' gasp at such a non-protocol gesture.
"If I may, Honorable Sages," Hayjin said, his voice steady and devoid of reverential fear. "You speak of risk. But what is risk if not the inability to predict the variables of a system? You want a Support who is a constant a royal guard, strong, trained, predictable. But the Association exam, as the Princess explained to me, is a dynamic system of high uncertainty. In an unpredictable environment, a constant is useless. You need a variable capable of adapting."
The Sages were stunned. No child, and few adults, had ever addressed them speaking of "dynamic systems" and "variables."
"My strength does not lie in the mana reserve you can perceive," Hayjin continued, looking up at Arkon. "But in the ability to manipulate that reserve through laws you do not consider. I am not here to protect the Princess with brute force, but to ensure she never finds herself in a situation where brute force is the only, desperate option. My youth is an advantage: I have not yet been corrupted by your magical dogmas that limit the vision of reality."
Arkon arched an eyebrow, impressed but still reluctant. "Bold words. But the Council's mistrust is not erased by eloquence. We do not know you, boy. We do not know if your heart is loyal to Opes or if you are a weapon sent to weaken the throne."
As the debate inside the hall grew tighter, outside the heavy oak and gold doors, a small figure was huddled against the cold wood.
Wren, with her ears pressed close and eyes shining with an almost feverish intensity, listened to every single word. A thin, almost imperceptible smile curled her lips every time she heard Hayjin's voice defend himself with such audacity.
"Yes... keep going, Hayjin," the girl thought, clutching the mana pendant around her neck. "Stand your ground. Show them that you are different, that you are special."
In her heart, Wren was already weaving a vision of the future that differed radically from her sister's. She didn't see Hayjin as Zhilian's Support. For her, this mission was merely a necessary step for Hayjin to obtain official recognition from the kingdom.
"Let them talk, Zhilian," Wren whispered to herself, her eyes lost in the void of the corridor. "Enjoy your exam. But once Hayjin has his license, he won't be your shadow anymore. I will become stronger than you, stronger than everyone. And then Hayjin won't be the Queen's knight... he will be my personal knight. My protector. The one who will help me rewrite the laws of this world, far away from the Sages and your claims to the throne."
Wren's happiness was a thick, almost possessive emotion. She saw in Hayjin not an ally for the nation, but an anchor for herself the only person who seemed to understand the weight of wanting to exceed one's limits. Every criticism from the Sages only confirmed in her eyes how precious Hayjin was because he was "extraordinary."
Inside the hall, silence reigned once more. Arkon looked at Rhaegalur, then Zhilian, and finally stared long and hard at Hayjin.
"The Council will convene in private to deliberate," the elder Sage finally announced. "However, we cannot ignore the recommendation of the Son of the Dragon God. Boy, your tongue is as sharp as your mind is said to be. But remember: if we allow you to accompany the Princess and you should fail, or if your conduct puts the lineage of Opes in danger, there will be no forest deep enough for Rhaegalur to hide you from the wrath of the Kingdom."
Hayjin bowed his head slightly. "I seek no hiding places, Sage Arkon. I seek only results. And results, unlike opinions, are indisputable."
As the three left the hall, Zhilian sighed in relief, clapping Hayjin on the shoulder. Rhaegalur said nothing, but his gaze toward the boy was filled with a new awareness: the game had truly begun, and the pieces were moving on a chessboard much larger than Hayjin could yet imagine.
Wren, seeing them come out, quickly slipped into the shadow of a column, her heart beating fast with excitement. Her silent plan was taking shape, one wingbeat at a time.
The Council Chamber doors closed behind them with a dull thud, a sound that seemed to signal a temporary truce, though one charged with electricity. The tension that had hung before the Sages had not vanished; it had simply shifted into the palace's marble corridors, where the scent of incense mingled with the pungent smell of ozone that Rhaegalur always carried with him.
Zhilian exchanged a knowing look with the giant. She knew that Hayjin's words, brilliant as they were, had shaken the Sages' pride. In a kingdom built on tradition, intelligence that questions dogma is often mistaken for rebellion.
"Hayjin," Zhilian began, placing a hand on his shoulder, her tone unusually calm yet firm. "Rhaegalur and I need to go back in there. Not officially not before the full Council. But there are influences that need to be smoothed over. Rhaegalur carries a weight that the Sages cannot ignore in private, and this time I must speak as a Princess, not just an exam candidate. We have to make them understand that you aren't a risk."
Rhaegalur nodded, his massive frame nearly touching the frescoed ceiling. "Stay here, Hayjin. Don't wander too far. Politics is a swamp that isn't crossed with physics, but with patience. Wait for us until we've settled this matter."
Hayjin sighed, crossing his arms. "Fine. Go ahead though seeing how those old geezers were looking at me, I don't think you have much hope. But alright. I'll stay here and try to figure out how to help Zhilian in case everything actually works out. If you can't find me, it's because I've gone outside to train."
"I just told him not to wander off..." a disappointed Rhaegalur muttered, rubbing his face with his hands.
"Don't worry, Dragon God, the castle is the safest place in the entire kingdom. The Magic Knights are here to protect him; there's no danger at all, hahaha," Zhilian said, smiling and strangely lighthearted.
"Very well, let's go, Princess."
The two turned and re-entered the side corridor leading to the Sages' private chambers. Hayjin remained alone in the vast hall, surrounded by statues of forgotten heroes and stained-glass windows that filtered the afternoon light into long beams of golden dust.
Hayjin sat on a smooth stone bench, leaning his back against the cold wall. Despite his apparent calm, his mind was a particle accelerator. He began to mentally simulate every possible scenario for the mission. If the goal is recovery, a low-frequency force field will be needed. If it's extermination, I must optimize the recharge time of the Venturi Bullet.
But the most persistent thought wasn't about himself. What if Zhilian gets hurt? A princess's body isn't forged in basalt like Rhaegalur's. It was organic matter, vulnerable to traumatic shocks and magical infections. Hayjin began to scribble with an invisible finger in the dust on the floor, tracing diagrams for a possible total-protection compressed air barrier. His dedication to the mission was no longer just a matter of academic ambition; it had become a responsibility toward the only person who had bet on him when he was just a "dimensional accident."
"Hayjin!"
A small, crystalline voice interrupted his flow of calculations. Hayjin looked up and saw Wren. The little girl was standing a few meters away, a radiant smile seemingly lighting up the entire corridor. Despite her grueling training, she appeared clean and composed, her black hair tied back neatly.
Hayjin stood up instinctively, and a genuine smile, devoid of any cynicism, spread across his face. Without a word, he walked over and welcomed her in an affectionate embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. It was a gesture of pure relief: after the clash with the bear and the tension with the Sages, Wren's purity was the balm he needed.
Caught off guard, Wren blushed violently, her cheeks turning the color of ripe strawberries. She slowly pulled back, thanking him politely with a small bow, though her eyes never left his.
"You're back..." she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I knew Rhaegalur would bring you back here. I saw you before the Council. You were... incredible. You spoke as if you weren't afraid of anything."
"It's just a trick, Wren," Hayjin joked, sitting back down and inviting her to sit beside him. "If you look confident enough, people stop noticing how much your legs are shaking."
They began to talk. Hayjin, with a patience he reserved only for her, told her of his progress. He explained how he had learned to feel the density of mana and how he had defeated the Gabbro-Bear using thermodynamics instead of strength. Wren listened raptly, her hands clenched on her knees, nodding at every technical detail as if it were the revelation of an oracle.
"I'm so proud of you, Hayjin," she said, with a gravity that didn't belong to a child her age. "I knew you were special. I knew you'd find a way to improve and change your magic."
After Hayjin finished his story, silence fell between them. The light in the hall was changing, turning toward a deep orange. They both turned to look out the large arched window overlooking the Exilia forest, which from that height appeared like a dark emerald sea.
Wren lowered her gaze. Her smile vanished, replaced by a melancholy expression that made Hayjin's heart tighten. Her little boots dangled in the air, and her eyes seemed to fill with an ancient sadness.
"Hayjin..." she murmured, staring fixedly at the ground. "I love you. So much."
As she said it, a small tear slid down her cheek, glistening like a crystal before falling onto the marble. And yet, there was still a smile on her lips the kind people wear when they know something that others cannot understand.
Hayjin felt bewildered. Logic was of no help to him at that moment. "Wren? I love you too, little one. But... why are you crying? Did something happen? Did someone treat you badly?"
The girl shook her head, wiping the tear with her tunic sleeve. "No... I don't even know why I'm crying. Maybe it's just that... the world seems so big tonight. And you're about to go to a place where I can't follow you. Not yet."
Hayjin continued to watch her, feeling completely helpless. There were no equations for the sudden melancholy of a child who seemed to see the future through a veil of smoke.
Wren stood up, regaining her composure with surprising speed. She straightened her dress and looked at Hayjin with a seriousness that chilled him.
"Good luck with the exam, Hayjin. Please... try to come back alive. Alius needs you. I need you."
Before he could respond, Wren leaned forward and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. Then, without looking back, she ran down the corridor, disappearing around the corner with the grace of a shadow fleeing the light.
Hayjin remained seated on the bench, his hand brushing the spot where his skin still burned from her kiss and her tears. He didn't understand. His scientist's brain searched for cause and effect but found only an incomprehensible void. Why the tears? Why that wish that sounded almost like a goodbye?
He continued to stare down the empty corridor as the palace shadows lengthened, aware that among the secrets of Opes, the one in Wren's heart was perhaps the most dangerous of all.