The Broken Star!

The soft hum of overhead air vents filled the sterile, white-walled room. Ren sat stiffly in a chair, his hands resting on his knees, his fingers curled slightly as if holding onto something that wasn't there. His dark blue eyes flickered around the office—pristine, impersonal, suffocating. The polished floors reflected the faint tremble in his legs, but his face remained still, unreadable.

He didn't belong here.

Across the desk, a tall, imposing man observed him with a steely gaze. His nameplate read Colonel Edgar Wolfe, but Ren didn't need to read it to know who he was. Stories of Wolfe's exploits spread like wildfire among those who dreamed of serving the Principality. His uniform, black and pressed to perfection, bore a golden insignia of rank on his chest. A long, jagged scar ran from his temple down to his jaw, cutting through the graying stubble on his chin. His dark eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to strip away any façade Ren could put up.

The officer flipped through a thick file, his gloved fingers turning each page with precise, deliberate movements. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but laced with something Ren couldn't quite place.

"You're Ren, correct?"

Ren gave a small nod, his throat dry. "Yeah."

The officer's gaze lingered on him before dropping back to the file. "Sixteen years old. No formal combat training. And yet, you managed to injure and disable an armed rebel." He paused, his eyes flicking up again. "Tell me… how did you do it?"

Ren swallowed, his jaw tightening. "I… I don't know." His voice was rough, strained. "I just acted."

Wolfe leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the desk. "Acted." He let the word hang for a moment. "Do you realize how many trained men would have frozen in your situation? You didn't hesitate. That's something we look for."

Ren frowned, his hands clenching into fists. "It wasn't enough," he muttered. "I couldn't—"

"That doesn't matter now." Wolfe's voice cut through the room like a blade. "What matters is what comes next."

Ren lifted his gaze, a quiet fire burning behind his tired eyes. "What… comes next?"

The colonel leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I'm offering you a place at the Imperial Academy."

Ren stiffened. "The Academy?"

The officer nodded. "You'll receive proper training. Combat tactics, discipline, and access to resources you could never dream of having otherwise." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "If you excel, you could join the Imperial Guard. Or… beyond that."

Ren's thoughts raced. The Academy—where the best of the best trained to become warriors of the Principality. It was everything he had dreamed of. A chance to be strong, to protect. But...

He swallowed hard, a knot forming in his chest. "Why me?" he asked, voice laced with doubt. "I'm not special. I just—"

"You survived." Wolfe's gaze was unwavering. "And in war, survival is everything. You have potential, Ren. Raw, unrefined, but potential nonetheless."

Ren's hands trembled slightly. He looked away, his thoughts clouded with doubt. Every part of him screamed that this was too much, too fast. He was just a boy from the outskirts, someone who had never belonged in this world of power and war. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he failed?

His fingers dug into his palms. "And if I refuse?"

The officer's lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "Then you can go back to whatever's left of your old life." He leaned back. "But from where I'm sitting, there's nothing left for you there."

The words stung. Ren's throat tightened, his mind flashing to the smoldering wreckage of his home, to his mother's final moments. The monster. The helplessness. The rage.

His breath hitched. He couldn't go back. Not to that emptiness.

After a long silence, he looked up, his voice quieter but resolute. "I'll do it."

Wolfe nodded approvingly. "Good." He motioned toward the door. "Vaughn will escort you to the Academy tomorrow."

Ren stood slowly, his legs feeling heavier than before. He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the red stone necklace resting against his chest. It felt heavier now, as if carrying the weight of the choice he had just made. He looked the officer in the eye. "And after that?"

Wolfe's gaze sharpened. "After that, it's up to you." His voice dropped lower. "Whether you rise or fall depends on how far you're willing to go."

Ren nodded, his dark blue eyes narrowing with newfound resolve. "I won't fall."

The officer smirked, standing and offering a curt nod. "We'll see."

As Ren turned to leave, his footsteps felt heavier, each step carrying him further away from the life he once knew—and into something far more uncertain.

Colonel Edgar Wolfe leaned back in his chair, studying Ren with a calculating gaze. He tapped his fingers on the desk before speaking.

"The Academy opens soon," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Have you ever been to the capital before?"

Ren hesitated for a moment, shaking his head. "No," he admitted quietly.

A small smirk tugged at Wolfe's lips. "Then it's about time you got a good look at it." He stood up, stretching his shoulders, then walked around the desk and placed a firm hand on Ren's shoulder. "Come on, kid. I'll show you around."

Before Ren could protest, Wolfe's hand shot to his collar with startling speed.

"W-wait—!" Ren barely managed to blurt out before a faint blue aura surrounded them, and in an instant, they shot into the sky.

Wind tore past his face, his breath catching in his throat as the ground shrank beneath them. His heart hammered against his ribs, his body instinctively tensing at the sudden, gut-wrenching sensation of weightlessness.

"W-what the hell!?" Ren gasped, his eyes widening as the city stretched out below like a sprawling maze of steel and light. He gripped Wolfe's arm instinctively, his voice strained with shock.

"Relax," Wolfe chuckled, unfazed by Ren's panicked flailing. "You're not gonna fall."

Ren swallowed hard, his dark blue eyes darting across the breathtaking view beneath him. Towering skyscrapers lined with glowing mana circuits pulsed like veins, and bustling streets thrived with the constant hum of life. Vehicles, both ground-bound and airborne, moved in seamless coordination, their sleek designs reflecting the advancement of technology.

Ren forced himself to breathe, his gaze locked onto the city's vastness. "You're a... Fifth Circle mage, aren't you?" he asked, voice still laced with disbelief.

Wolfe grinned, guiding them effortlessly through the air. "Sharp guess. Only those at the Fifth Circle and above can fly freely like this."

Ren let out a shaky breath. "You... do this often? Just grab people and take off?"

Wolfe laughed, the sound deep and hearty. "Only when they need a little perspective." He gestured below. "Look around, kid. This is the beating heart of the Principality."

Ren's gaze flickered across the streets below. He watched soldiers in formation sparring with precision, their swords glowing faintly with Aura. A group of mages were casting intricate spells, their chants synchronizing in a mesmerizing display of power. Further down, martial artists radiated a golden aura, moving with a disciplined grace that felt almost otherworldly.

"What's with them?" Ren asked, his brows furrowing as he observed a cluster of robed figures standing apart from the rest, their hands glowing with an unfamiliar energy.

"Qi users," Wolfe replied. "They're from the Eastern Territories. Unlike us, they don't rely on mana—they draw strength from their own bodies, refining their life force."

Ren frowned. "I didn't think something like that even existed."

Wolfe shrugged. "The world's a lot bigger than Baldur City, kid. Stick around, and you'll learn that soon enough."

Ren murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. "I wish Mom could see this..."

Wolfe glanced at him, but said nothing. Instead, he shifted their course slightly.

Ahead, a massive structure loomed over the industrial district—a rusted, broken-down mechanical giant with its limbs twisted and bent. Engineers swarmed around it, carefully disassembling its exterior plating. Its worn metallic surface bore scars of a past war, and large pieces of its inner framework were already stripped away for examination.

Ren's eyes widened as they neared. "What... is that?"

Wolfe smirked, his grip on Ren tightening slightly. "That," he said, leading them down to land nearby, "is a Battlon."

Ren touched the ground with uneasy steps, eyes fixed on the towering relic. Its form was humanoid but unnerving—massive arms that looked capable of crushing buildings, a heavily plated torso marred with scorch marks, and a head shaped like a war helm. Deep grooves and old insignias were etched into its body, some barely visible under layers of rust and grime.

"A Battlon?" Ren echoed, taking a few steps forward. "I've never heard of them before."

Wolfe folded his arms. "Most people haven't. It's a relic from the Interstellar Wars. Back when Earth fought off alien invaders, Battlons were the pinnacle of warfare—massive war machines piloted by elite soldiers."

Ren's fingers twitched at his side. "If they were so powerful, why aren't they still in use?"

Wolfe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because they're outdated. Ever since the realms merged—the Lower, Middle, and Upper—the power gap between what we were and what we've become is too wide."

Ren stared at the Battlon, his reflection shimmering faintly in the cracked plating. "So… they're just junk now?"

"Not quite," Wolfe replied, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "They're still valuable for study. Reverse-engineering them gives us insight into old tech. But as for mass production?" He smirked. "They wouldn't last a second against a Sixth Circle mage."

Ren frowned. "Then why not leave them in the past?"

Wolfe glanced at the engineers, then at the battered Battlon. "Because history shouldn't be forgotten. There's still a lot we can learn from our mistakes."

Ren's gaze dropped to the massive chest plate, where faint letters were carved into the steel. He traced the worn engraving with his eyes, his lips parting slightly.

Freedom.

The word sent a chill through him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he stared at it, a sense of deep longing stirring in his chest.

"Come on, kid," Wolfe's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "We've got places to be."

Ren lingered for a moment, his eyes lingering on the Battlon's worn metal frame. Finally, he turned to follow Wolfe, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

As they lifted into the sky again, Ren's mind buzzed with questions he couldn't quite put into words. But one thing stuck with him—

"Even something this powerful can be left behind... discarded."

He wondered if that would be his fate too.