A/N: There will be a little story at the end.
***
The Huaxu Academy, a beacon of scientific prowess in the bustling city of Jinzhou, renowned for its illustrious academic legacy and state-of-the-art technology.
As a branch of the prestigious Huanglong Huaxu Academy, it had long led the charge in research and development, especially in the ongoing struggle against the Tacet Discord.
It thrived on bold ideas, global partnerships, and the freedom to pursue knowledge without restraint.
Once a trusted ally of the famed Court of Savantae, Huaxu had built a reputation through decades of scientific collaboration and breakthroughs.
The academy was divided into four main departments, each with its own specialty, yet always working together when the need arose. Special project teams formed whenever new challenges appeared, pulling talent from every corner of campus.
With the president overseeing operations and the Principal Investigator guiding research, Huaxu moved like a well-oiled machine—driven by purpose, fueled by curiosity, and always reaching for the next discovery.
And within the walls of this prestigious academy, someone stirred awake.
Blink—blink.
Kyorin's eyes popped open like spring-loaded toast.
Above him loomed that ever-familiar stretch of sterile white ceiling, and right on schedule, his nostrils were bombarded by the sharp sting of medicinal odors—eliciting a groan louder than a teen denied Wi-Fi.
'Déjà vu... I've just been in this place before.' He thought, it felt like he'd just been on a wild ride—drifting through some mental high-speed highway, accompanied with screeching tires and neon lights—as he pushed himself up with a bit of effort.
Thankfully, no one was stripping him this time. Instead, a member of the medical staff approached with a tray and silently handed over an item—It was the hairpin. Or rather, the sword. Kyorin was the only one who knew what it truly was.
He accepted it carefully, eyeing the staff member. "Something out of the ordinary?"
The medic shook his head. "Well, your Forte is definitely... unique, kiddo."
Kyorin blinked, scratching his neck. "How so? And... Can I get some water?"
The staff member handed him a bottle, and Kyorin took a sip—only to immediately spit it out with the force of a fire hose. "What is this, liquid air?"
"Sorry," the medic said with a sheepish smile. "Distilled water's all we've got for now."
"Tch." Kyorin clicked his tongue, grimacing like he'd licked a chalkboard, but took another swig anyway, thirst triumphing over taste.
"Haah"
He partially quenched his thirst, the insipid taste lingered on his palate, while his thoughts remained muddled from recent events.
He glanced down at the hairpin in his hand, twirling it absentmindedly between his fingers. "So," he inquired once more, "anything... unusual?"
The medic, his gaze still fixed on the data pad in his grasp, shrugged. "Your Forte isn't something we encounter frequently."
Kyorin arched an eyebrow. "In what way?"
"Well," the medic began, scratching behind his ear, "your elemental attribute has been recorded as Spectro."
"That's a rare one—light-based and unpredictable," the medic chuckled, finding irony in how it summed up Kyorin's Resonance Evaluation. "Your Forte symbol is a Lotus. That's all I can disclose."
"Lotus?" Kyorin echoed, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Indeed. You possess a kind of resonance that refuses to remain static. It's in a constant state of flux—growing, to be precise." The medic handed him a concise report.
"Most Resonators struggle to maintain stability when their waveform spikes as yours does," he added, frowning at the data. "But yours appears to... move with it. As if it's perpetually reaching upward."
"Sounds poetic," Kyorin murmured, securing his hair with the hairpin.
The medic chuckled lightly. "Poetic is one term. Dangerous is another. However, you're still breathing, so there's that."
Kyorin offered no reply. His gaze drifted to the window, where the sky was beginning to dissolve into dusk—rich reds gradually spreading across the horizon.
"What time is it?" he inquired.
"Six o'clock sharp," the medic responded, glancing at his terminal.
Kyorin turned towards him, a tinge of uncertainty creeping voice. "Are you a Resonator as well?"
The medic nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, a hint of helplessness slipping through.
"How do I become stronger?" Kyorin asked, his tone direct.
The question seemed to catch the medic off guard. He blinked, raising his eyes with newfound seriousness. "That depends. Why do you wish to become stronger?"
Kyorin tilted his head slightly. "Must I have a reason?"
"There's usually a purpose—something that propels it," the medic remarked, observing him intently.
"Indeed, I desire strength," Kyorin replied with a mere shrug. "What further reason, or desires do I require?"
The medic studied him for a moment, the silence between them stretching. Most people he'd seen chasing strength had something burning behind their eyes—vengeance, duty, fear. But Kyorin's gaze held none of that. Only clarity.
"No ambitions?" the medic asked quietly. "No revenge? No title to chase? Not even someone to protect?"
Kyorin shook his head once, slow and deliberate. "No. Just strength."
"That's rare," the medic admitted, his tone neutral but uncertain. "Most people need something to hold onto when the power starts changing them."
"That sounds... sad," Kyorin replied, his voice melancholic and somber.
"Why so?" the medic asked.
Kyorin hesitated before answering, "You see, there was a time I had a desire to help someone."
"They were strong, and I was frail," he said, his tone neither sad nor defensive. "But if I'm chasing something for someone who clearly doesn't need saving, doesn't that just make me a pushover?"
Though slow to speak, Kyorin was far from dull when it came to reading people. Rover was strong; he was weak—that was a fact.
He might have genuine intentions to help without expecting anything in return, but… who was he really? Who did he think he was?
"Compassion," Kyorin began carefully. "I might extend my hand out of compassion, but acting like 'I'm the one who's going to save you'… that feels a bit full of myself."
He paused, searching inward for the truth. Then it blossomed—like a thousand lotuses blooming in his heart.
"Even if I help," he continued quietly, "I want it to be like, 'I will help.' Not a permission or a declaration—just the purpose itself."
"You see, I…" Kyorin hesitated, uncertainty clouding his thoughts as he grappled with whether to continue speaking.
The medic, sensing his turmoil, gently offered, "A doctor doesn't force his patient."
Kyorin glanced at the man, gratitude flickering across his face, yet he felt uneasy about being so open with someone who had just seen him naked earlier.
But he set the thought aside—The past was past. No use crying over spilled milk.
"Yeah, I'm a dimwit, weak, and pathetic as a Resonator," he confessed quietly, "but I still believe I have potential. That's why, I am trying to stay out of other people's business, and focus on myself alone."
"It might come off as selfish, I know," he said, tightening his grip on the bottle, his voice wavering. "But if I get involved—helping when it's not needed—I worry the other person might feel indebted. And I don't want that."
"It might seem like I'm doing it for them—as if I'm living my life for someone else—but no." Kyorin crushed the bottle in his hand, water spilling out, though his calm demeanor belied the quiet turmoil within.
The medic nodded slowly, absorbing his words.
"I believe everyone should decide for themselves what they want to do. It's their life—not mine, not anyone else's." His eyes narrowed, the sharp edge in his gaze enough to make the medic sweat slightly under the weight of those splendorous eyes.
"I dislike it when care is just a disguise for something else—performative care," Kyorin said, voice low but resolute. "If I help, I help—nothing more, nothing less."
He met the medic's gaze again, unwavering. "Similarly, if I want to be strong, then I simply want to be strong."
The medic gave a quiet exhale, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "That's... either the most honest or most dangerous answer I've ever heard."
Kyorin didn't reply. He simply looked out the window again, where the red of dusk had deepened into bruised violet.
"Power for the sake of power," the medic murmured. "You might not find many friends with that kind of answer."
"I'm not looking for any," Kyorin said flatly. He got up from his bed, and headed out.
The medic watched him exit the room, glancing down at the data pad once more before letting out a quiet chuckle. "Truly, a solitary lotus amid the waves," he murmured.
Out in the hallway, Kyorin moved through the corridors until he suddenly bumped into someone. "Yangyang?" He echoed, to which she responded with a polite smile, "Good evening, Kyorin."
"Yes, good evening," he nodded in return, then asked, "Are you heading out?"
Yangyang shook her head and replied, "I'm on my way to the main lab. Baizhi and Rover are there—would you like to come along?"
"They're still not done running tests?" he asked, and Yangyang shook her head again.
"There's one last test to run before we begin deciphering the Tokens again," she explained.
"I see," Kyorin said with a nod.
"Want to come? It might speed up the deciphering of those tokens," she offered.
But Kyorin gave a firm shake of his head. "No, I have a few things to take care of."
Yangyang blinked. "Oh, alright."
Just as they were about to part ways, Kyorin suddenly asked, "Can I borrow some money?"
Yangyang blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"
"Money. Can I borrow some?" he repeated. Yangyang looked momentarily stunned, then began unbuckling her Terminal before hesitating. "Wait—you don't have a Terminal yet, do you?"
Kyorin paused. That was right. He let out a sigh. "I even forgot that," he muttered, pressing a hand to his face.
Yangyang offered gently, "How about I come with you for a bit?"
Kyorin raised his hands. "No need, but do take care of yourself and others out there—Rover and Baizhi."
Yangyang let out a soft giggle. "Of course."
With that, the two went their separate ways.
"Now, how do I earn some credits?" Kyorin muttered to himself, pondering his next move as he stepped out of Huaxu Academy.
***
Within the vast hall of Huaxu Academy, a quiet energy filled the air, centered around a massive, glowing pillar of warm orange light.
Its crystalline or metallic surface pulsed faintly as it rose through a circular opening in the ceiling. The chamber itself unfolded across dark, tiered platforms, bordered by towering grey columns that vanished into shadow.
Along the lower levels, soft blue-lit water features added a calm counterpoint to the hall's technological presence. Every element radiated a sense of purpose—an elegant fusion of function and futuristic grandeur.
The air in the room buzzed with anticipation as Baizhi completed some prep work ahead of Rover's final assessment. Large monitors flickered along the curved walls, and a Sonoro Sphere hovered at the center, pulsing with a faint resonance.
After finalizing the configurations on her Terminal, Baizhi turned to Rover, her voice calm and professional. "Please hold your Terminal firmly and remain still."
She gestured to the environment as the simulation loaded. "This is the Academy's simulated training ground. Don't worry—Yangyang and I will assist if necessary."
As Rover's consciousness settled within the Sonoro Sphere, Baizhi's voice came through the radio. "Now, engage the simulated Tacet Discords. Fight as you normally would."
Rover took her stance as holographic Tacet Discords materialized, their movements eerily lifelike despite their virtual nature.
Without hesitation, she advanced. Her strikes were precise and calculated—a fluid rhythm of evasion and counterattack as the creatures lunged toward her.
Baizhi monitored the data streaming across her Terminal in real time, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm… As You'tan previously detected, your physical functions are stable."
"The Crownless' energy shows no residual interference," Baizhi noted, her gaze narrowing as she pointed at the latest readings.
The data puzzled her—everything… was normal. "Your bodily systems remain completely unaffected. Not a single anomaly."
The test continued without incident. The simulated creatures dissolved one after another under her steady strikes.
But as the sequence neared its end, something shifted. Suddenly, the holographic environment flickered.
The signal fluctuated, distortions rippling across the projection.
"Rover! Can you…¥%Hear…#¥%… &*" Baizhi's voice broke apart into fragmented static over the comms.
Rover's eyes narrowed as she instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. "The comm line is dead… Something's wrong. I need to be careful."
Her gaze swept across the now unstable training ground. "Where's the exit…?"
She advanced toward the projected doorway, but as she stepped through, the surroundings warped unnaturally.
When the environment settled, she found herself standing in the exact same spot. "I'm back to the same place again…" she muttered, unease settling into her gut.
And then she noticed it—something unnatural in the sky above. The moon. "And this… moon? What is happening…"
The glowing orb hung massive in the simulated heavens, far larger than any moon should be, its surface subtly pulsating as though alive.
Before Rover could fully process the sight, the environment shifted again. A strange force gathered, and a presence emerged—not like the earlier simulations.
A towering figure stood a few meters before her. Its humanoid form gleamed white, almost porcelain-like under the moonlight.
Enormous wings unfurled behind its back, and in its hands it wielded a massive scythe that reflected the simulated starlight.
Rover took a cautious step back, her breath catching. "Is that… a Tacet Discord?"
The figure, seemingly aware of her presence, lifted off the ground as the air grew dense with pressure. Then, a distorted voice echoed through Rover's Tacet Mark.
"…Leave… Mother…"
Before Rover could react further, a voice broke through—familiar, concerned. "Rover! Rover!" Yangyang's voice cut sharply through the fading simulation.
The next instant, Rover blinked—finding herself back outside the Sonoro Sphere. The simulation had ended.
Yangyang rushed to her side, her expression anxious. "Thank goodness… You're awake." She turned to Baizhi, her voice laced with concern. "Baizhi, what happened? The connection was suddenly cut off."
Baizhi's brows furrowed, her tone thoughtful. "…Rover. Do you remember what you saw inside?" Rover nodded slowly as she explained her vision. "I saw a giant Tacet Discord… it wielded a scythe."
Baizhi's eyes narrowed as she repeated those words. "A giant Tacet Discord with a scythe… That doesn't match the characteristics of the Crownless. It may be something even more advanced."
Rover continued, her voice steady but uncertain. "There was also a massive moon… It kept fading in and out."
Baizhi fell silent for a moment, recalling oddities from past records. "An enormous moon looming above… That's reminiscent of the strange phenomena reported during the previous wars."
"This is the first time we've encountered anything like this since deploying the simulated training ground," she muttered, pondering the implications.
Yangyang glanced toward the Sonoro Sphere. "You think it's connected to the simulation itself?"
Baizhi nodded faintly. "The Sonoro Sphere archives and replays actual events from specific time periods. What you experienced may have been a lingering echo—either a real phenomenon recorded in its memory or a disturbance layered within."
"We built this training ground based on Sonoro Sphere architecture," Baizhi added, her voice turning analytical. "It's possible this was a side effect of its internal reconstruction."
She exhaled softly, her gaze returning to Rover. "I'll conduct a full diagnostic on the simulation core to investigate what happened." She glanced again at the physical test data streaming across her Terminal.
"Physiologically, you remain perfectly healthy. All vitals and data are within normal parameters. But," she added gently, "if you experience any discomfort or anomalies afterward, please report to me immediately."
Rover gave a small nod. "Thank you. I will."
***
Out on the bustling streets of Jinzhou, Kyorin searched for work, approaching vendors and asking if they had any small jobs he could do for a few shell credits.
But nearly everyone turned him away, eyeing him with suspicion as if he were some kind of con artist.
Though the thought of returning to Yangyang and asking for money crossed his mind, he dismissed it with a grim thought, 'She'd probably think I've lost my mind if I go back now.' And so, his job hunt dragged on.
Amid the noise and movement, a figure in a hooded cloak approached him and asked, "Why are you looking for work?"
"For money," Kyorin replied curtly, already turning to ask someone else for a job. But the person just scoffed. "I'm not an idiot."
"Haah—" Kyorin let out a frustrated sigh.
"You won't get a job like this," the hooded figure remarked.
"Then what do you suggest?" Kyorin asked, exasperated.
The cloaked stranger responded with a smirk, "Pay up for the advice."
An irked vein pulsed on Kyorin's forehead as he snapped, "Oh, spare me some sympathy, will you?"
"Sympathy, hmm?" the figure mused. "Alright then." He pulled out a small pouch, the shell credits inside clinking audibly as he held it just out of reach.
Kyorin's eyes narrowed, watching closely. As the man's grip slackened, and the pouch fell, Kyorin instinctively reached for it.
But in the very next instant, a broad blade appeared in the stranger's other hand.
Kyorin reacted without thinking—his other hand shooting to his hairpin. Perhaps it was urgency or instinct, but the moment he drew it, the pin extended into a full-length sword as he used it to parry the strike.
Clank!
Metal rang against scabbard as Kyorin's sword met the hooded man's strike. The stranger paused, surprise flickering in his voice. "Oh, impressive blade. Want to trade?" he asked, pointing toward the pouch lying on the ground.
"Piss off," Kyorin snapped, though his hand had already begun to go numb from the impact. Sweat beaded at his brow. 'This guy's stronger than me,' he realized.
The cloaked man, however, noticing something in Kyorin's eyes, withdrew his blade with a casual motion and bent to retrieve the pouch. He held it out once more.
"This can be yours," he said, voice oddly amused.
Then, with a grin that teetered on the edge of lunacy, he presented Kyorin with a proposition that has been the bane of humanity since the very beginning of time.
Yes, it was the dreaded J-word: "A JOB!"
To be continued...
***
A/N: I don't know why I went a little overboard on the last part of this chapter, but anyway—I wanted to get your opinion on the new cover and would greatly appreciate some feedback!
Also, funny story behind how it came to be.
So it all started when I handed my friend two Cappuccino and—just like that—he became my slav—I mean, assistant for the cover illustration project.
The pose was inspired by a panel from a manhua, which happened to be the first one I ever read. (I used to read manga but hadn't touched manhua until then.) When I saw the colors and art style, I was hooked. (Pic here)
We had this clear vision: Rover, curious and full of hope, standing alongside a serene, endearing OC. To get started, we even used AI to generate references—which was a horrible idea.
The results were unintentionally hilarious. The male had these predatory serial-killer eyes, and the female looked like she just smelled something awful and wanted to slap someone. We laughed so hard we practically died for five days straight.
At one point, we wanted to test if Rover's usual outfit would pair well with the OC's full-clothing design. No offense, but her outfit is kinda… provocative.
The result? A modest, psycho-looking guy next to what looked like a high-fashion hooker. It was chaos. We scrapped that and decided to fully commit to the clothing style from our original inspiration. (Pic here)
We used Clip Studio and PS mainly. The first version came out looking like a painting on old parchment—rough and rustic. Honestly, that was partly intentional, because we had zero understanding of color theory and no desire to mess up and redraw.
It was easier to mask things with that style. We also took a lot of creative shortcuts: hiding mistakes, blending where we could. Look, we're not exactly "gifted artists," okay! Even Rover's face was not correctly made on the art, we like gave her her earrings, and hair bow, with her black and silver theme clothing etc.
But then we hit a wall with coloring. It felt flat, like it was missing the pop we needed.
That's when my mom casually said, "Why not use filters like in Snap Chat?"
And I just stared at her like: "Mom… you're a genius."
So we ran the artwork through Canva filters (I'd gotten lifetime premium doing odd jobs in college, bless first year hustle), and it worked like magic. The colors lit up beautifully and gave the piece the playful energy we'd been chasing all along.
In the end, the whole process was wild and chaotic—full of caffeine, endless laughter, AI misfires, and shameless shortcuts. But honestly? That's exactly what made it so much fun—and so unforgettable.