The conference room door loomed before him; dark wood etched with runes that pulsed faintly blue against the grain. Fin Aodh followed Instructor Vera through the arena's winding corridors, his tantō tapping rhythmically against his thigh. The air thickened as they walked deeper into Haven's structure, cool, heavy with mana, as if the nearby cliffs pressed their ancient essence through the stone walls themselves.
Vera halted abruptly before the imposing door, her silver instructor's robe catching the dim light of wall-mounted mana lamps. She gestured toward the entrance with a precise movement, her face a practiced mask of neutrality.
"One at a time," she said, her voice crisp and efficient. "Answer or pass, the truth stone is active. No lies are permitted." Her silver robe swished softly as she stepped back, leaving him alone at the threshold of what felt like another test entirely.
Fin exhaled slowly, allowing Convergent Equilibrium to steady his pulse and calm the apprehension that threatened to rise within him. The skill hummed beneath his skin, its familiar balance spreading through his limbs, preparing him for whatever awaited beyond that door. He stepped forward, pushing it open with a deliberate motion.
The room was stark, bare stone walls unadorned by tapestries or ornaments, a single mana lamp casting eerie blue light from its ceiling fixture. A long table of polished obsidian dominated the space, behind which sat three silent figures draped in silver. At the center of the table rested a smooth gray stone the size of a fist, glowing with inner light that pulsed in time with Haven's distant heartbeat. The truth stone. Its hum was almost imperceptible, but Fin felt it prickling across his skin like static electricity.
"Fin Aodh," Vera announced from behind, voice crisp and formal as it echoed against the stone walls. "Sit." She gestured to a hard-backed chair positioned across from the panel. "Your evaluators: Instructor Lysa, central; Instructor Coren, left; Instructor Kara, right." She indicated each with a precise motion of her hand before retreating, the heavy door clicking shut with finality.
Fin settled into the chair, its wooden surface unyielding against his back. He positioned his tantō against his leg, its familiar weight a comfort in this austere setting. His face remained carefully blank, a skill he'd mastered almost as thoroughly as Equilibrium itself.
Lysa, steel-gray hair pulled tight, flint eyes boring into him, sat tallest among them, her presence commanding even in stillness. To her left, Coren hunched forward slightly, the scar on his cheek twisting his features into what seemed a perpetual sneer. To her right, Kara clutched her ledger like a shield, its pages splayed before her, filled with what Fin assumed were notes on his performance in the combat arena.
The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, until Lysa finally leaned forward, silver rings glinting on her fingers as she rested her hands atop the table.
"The parameters are simple," she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority honed over decades. "Answer fully, vaguely, or pass entirely, those are your options." Her eyes never left his, searching for something in his gaze. "Lie, and the stone flares. There are no exceptions, no clever workarounds. Begin." She paused, letting the silence emphasize her next question. "How many skills do you currently possess?"
Fin's fingers brushed the hilt of his tantō, an unconscious gesture as he considered his response. Thunderfang, Plasma Compression Burst, Convergent Equilibrium, Electromagnetic Perception, Scientific Warfare, five skills, forged through his hard work and ingenuity since arriving in this world. Not wild or flashy, but sharp, refined, practical. Each one crafted with careful precision rather than grabbed haphazardly for quantity.
"Five," he said, voice even and calm, Equilibrium ensuring no hint of deception colored his tone.
Coren's head jerked up sharply, his sneer deepening into something closer to disbelief. "Five? At Tier One?" He barked a laugh that held no humor. "What, too prissy to snatch more, runt?" He snorted derisively, scribbling something on the parchment before him. "Kids your age typically grab ten by now, where's the ambition, the greed?"
Lysa's eyebrow ticked upward, a faint sign of surprise breaking through her composed exterior. She studied Fin with renewed interest, as if seeing him differently. "What are their rarities?"
Fin shrugged casually, Equilibrium smoothing away the unease that question provoked. Rarities? His skills, tied as they were to his earthly knowledge and unique circumstances, defied traditional classification. All were Unique to him, products of his particular understanding and application of this world's mana systems. Saying so would invite deeper questions he wasn't prepared to answer.
"Hard to say," he replied, deliberately vague, his tone suggesting mild uncertainty rather than evasion.
Coren slammed his pen down with enough force to make the truth stone bounce slightly, his chair creaking as he leaned forward aggressively. "Hard to say?" His voice rose an octave, incredulity bleeding through. "You shatter orbs like fragile toys, blast boars to cinders with a casual flick, and it's 'hard to say'? Stop playing the dimwit, boy, I've seen full Tier Twos with less raw strength and mana control!"
"Are you really only Tier One?" Lysa cut in, her voice sharpening like a blade being drawn, silencing Coren's outburst.
Fin met her gaze steadily, Equilibrium preventing him from flinching under her intense scrutiny. He was well past the normal limits of Tier One, but the System ranked him there, nonetheless. A technicality he could use.
“That’s my rank,” he said carefully, sidestepping the true question of his actual capacity.
Coren barked another laugh, this one sour with frustration. “Oh, genius move, ‘that’s my rank.‘ Logged by who, your nanny?” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’re dodging like a greased rat in a drainage pipe, this truth stone’s a joke with you.” He glared at the softly humming stone, which remained dim, detecting no outright lies, only carefully crafted half-truths and omissions.
“Why are you here?”
Fin paused, considering. What did he hope for? Mastery? Safety? A shield for his unusual edge? "To learn," he said simply, finding truth in the basic answer.
Coren's face flushed crimson, a vein pulsing visibly at his temple. "To learn? That's your grand motivational plan?" He stood halfway, leaning across the table. "You waltz in here, break our testing gear, shred our combat trials to pieces, and your profound answer is 'to learn'? Spare me the meek-little-prodigy routine, you smug…"
"Enough, Coren," a deep, mana-laced voice interrupted, rippling through the room with quiet authority. The door swung open without a sound, Headmaster Elijah Torin stepped into the chamber, his gray hair cropped close to his skull, robes darker than the instructors' with intricate silver trim running along the edges. His presence brought a sudden weight to the room, as if the air itself had become denser with his arrival.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Coren slumped back into his seat immediately, though he continued muttering under his breath, "Kid's a damn nuisance, playing us for fools..."
Elijah moved to stand at the head of the table, between Lysa and Coren, his gaze locked on Fin with an intensity that felt almost physical, sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous. The mana that surrounded him was subtle but unmistakable to Fin's enhanced senses, a quiet storm contained in human form.
"One question," the headmaster said, his voice surprisingly soft given his imposing presence. The truth stone's hum spiked noticeably, its glow intensifying as if responding to Elijah's proximity. "Why hide what you can do?"
The question hit Fin like a physical blow, his chest tightening as Equilibrium strained against the sudden surge of panic. Why? Donovan's fear, study, exploitation, being turned into a curiosity or worse, a weapon. Cahira's insistent rule, keep the edge unseen, reveal only what must be shown. His own instinct, survival depended on controlling who knew what about him.
He could lie and be exposed. He could tell a truth that would change everything. Or...
"Pass," he said firmly, holding Elijah's penetrating stare without wavering.
The headmaster's lip twitched upward at one corner, approval? amusement? then he turned smoothly away, robes swirling around him like living shadow. "Welcome to Haven Academy, Fin Aodh," he said, the words carrying a finality that brooked no argument from the instructors.
And then, in a movement too swift for Fin to fully track despite his enhanced reflexes, Elijah's form seemed to melt away. One moment he was there, solid and imposing, the next, gone without a trace, not even disturbing the air where he had stood. No door opened. No footsteps echoed. Simply... absence where presence had been.
Silence hung in the room, thick and uneasy. Lysa exhaled slowly, her flint eyes unreadable as she exchanged glances with her colleagues. "Dismissed," she said finally, waving Fin off with a gesture that seemed both resigned and curious.
Coren continued glaring from his seat, muttering loud enough to be heard, "Five skills, more like fifteen, cocky brat," but the truth stone remained dim, unmoved by his accusations.
Fin stood smoothly, tantō tapping against his leg as he inclined his head slightly to the panel and turned to leave. The corridor stretched cold before him as the door closed behind him, Equilibrium working to ease the tension that had built during the interrogation. His thoughts kept returning to Elijah's question, gnawing at him like a persistent hunger, why hide? Because the truth, whatever it might be in this world of mana and monsters, remained his alone, for now.

The central courtyard buzzed with activity; families clustered in small groups beneath the shadow of Haven's imposing cliffs. Voices clashed in a cacophony of farewells, advice, and promises to write. Fin spotted Donovan and Cahira waiting near a stone arch, a sturdy travel trunk resting at their feet. Donovan's dark hair gleamed in the afternoon light, his Tier Four status keeping age at bay, his frame as steady as the mountains themselves. Cahira's cloak hugged her slender form, her brown eyes softening visibly as Fin approached.
"Passed," Fin said simply, stopping before them
Donovan clapped his shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Was there ever any doubt?" Pride tinged his voice, carefully measured but undeniable.
"Never," Fin replied with a genuine smile, glancing at Cahira, whose eyes searched his face with maternal concern.
Her smile flashed in return, fierce and protective. "Kept the rest quiet?" she asked, her voice dropping to ensure privacy despite the surrounding noise.
"Mostly," he admitted, shifting his weight slightly. "Truth stone session, told them I've got five skills, passed on the deeper questions." He shrugged one shoulder. "One instructor got pretty pissy about it."
Donovan's grip tightened momentarily on Fin's shoulder, then eased. "Five's good," he nodded approvingly. "Sensible. Most people rush to fill out their skill list with commons and end up regretting it when they hit capacity limits." His eyes held a knowing gleam. "But you're in now. Nothing they can do to change that." He hefted the trunk with ease, a testament to his Tier's physical enhancements. "We're off, Allsfern won't wait. Another seven days on the road for us.”
Cahira stepped forward, squeezing Fin's arm, her voice low and intense. "Stay sharp, Fin. Keep your eyes open and your guard up. Write to us, regularly." The words carried layers of meaning beyond simple maternal concern.
"I will," he promised, his voice softer than usual. "Thanks, for everything." He hesitated, then added, "I love you both." In his first life, on Earth, such declarations had never come easily.
They melted into the crowd of departing families, and Fin stood alone, tantō tapping against his thigh, one-two, one-two, until their footsteps faded among the many. A strange hollowness settled in his chest, not quite sadness but something adjacent to it. For the first time since being reborn in this world, he was alone.
Equilibrium hummed softly beneath his skin, balancing the emotion, not eliminating it but making it manageable. He turned away from the arch, facing the imposing structure of Haven Academy, his home for the foreseeable future.

The registrar's office crouched in Haven's lower spires, a cramped space where stone and wood merged into a cluttered sanctum of scrolls, ledgers, and carefully organized chaos. Fin pushed through the door, his boots scuffing against the worn stone floor as he entered. Behind a desk piled high with documents sat a frazzled-looking woman, her quill moving rapidly across parchment without pause. Glasses perched low on her nose, graying hair escaping a haphazard bun, she barely glanced up at his entrance.
"Name?" she snapped, quill poised expectantly, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Fin Aodh."
She rifled through a thick ledger with practiced efficiency, muttering under her breath as her finger traced down columns of names and assignments. Finding what she sought, she shoved a folded tunic across the desk toward him, dark blue fabric with silver trim, Haven's crest emblazoned on the chest in metallic thread.
"Uniform," she stated flatly. "Wear it starting tomorrow." An iron key followed, sliding across the polished wood. "Dorm 7, Room 14." She fixed him with a stern look over her spectacles. "Don't lose it, costs five silver to replace."
Fin took both items with a respectful nod. "Thanks."
She waved him off dismissively, already lost once more in her sea of scrolls and documentation. He slipped out quietly, closing the door behind him, uniform tucked under his arm and key clutched in his hand.

Dorm 7 squatted along the cliff base, its stone construction blocky and utilitarian, narrow windows cut into the facade at regular intervals. Mana lamps flickered to life automatically as twilight descended, casting blue-white illumination across the paths between buildings. Fin climbed the worn stone stairs to the third floor, locating Room 14 at the end of a long corridor. The iron key clicked in the lock with a satisfying sound of mechanism engaging, and the door creaked open on hinges that could use oiling.
The room revealed itself: modest but adequate, two narrow beds positioned against opposite walls, two simple wooden desks beneath the window, a single mana lamp flickering blue from a wall bracket. One bed already held a satchel and travel cloak haphazardly tossed upon it, his roommate's claim, though the person themselves was nowhere to be seen.
Fin dropped his own satchel on the empty bed, tantō clinking softly as he placed it beside the pillow where it would be within easy reach. The new uniform landed on the desk, iron key placed carefully beside it. Exhaustion suddenly slammed into him like a physical weight, the cumulative toll of travel, testing, and questions carefully dodged. Equilibrium hummed beneath his skin, working to maintain his energy, but even it had limits, and his body sagged beneath the day's demands.
He kicked off his boots, letting them fall where they might, and climbed onto the bed without bothering to change out of his dusty travel tunic. The mattress was firmer than he'd expected, but after weeks on the road, it felt like luxury. He let his head sink into the pillow, feeling the weight of consciousness already slipping away. Haven's cliffs pulsed outside the narrow window, their ancient mana whispering secrets too faint to decipher, but sleep took him fast, heavy, and dreamless, his body surrendering to restoration while his mind finally allowed itself to rest.
In the morning, everything would begin anew. Classes, training, navigating the complex social waters of Haven Academy, all challenges for a different day. For now, there was only darkness, silence, and peace.