"First task, KiAera: rewrite reality by creating a new skill," her benefactress, Szylla, advised. Her voice rang through the chamber with the same arduous, melodramatic chime that once haunted KiAera during Ms. Blavastsky's AP English class. May that poor woman rest in well-earned peace.

  Peering upwards from her fifth attempt at penning a thesis, KiAera glared at her personal Don Quixote. Despite appearing no older than her mid-thirties, Szylla carried herself with the practiced poise of an ancient sorceress: white hair tied in a strict bun, a prim monocle perched over one eye, and a Victorian dress that did nothing to hide the quiet, librarian-like severity with which she judged the world.

  Sweet. Easy task. No pressure. Just rewriting reality. She watched Szylla twirl the quill in her hand as if it were a normal pen. It was not. Although the motion felt oddly domestic coming from someone who looked like she should be shushing noisy apprentices in a forbidden archive rather than guiding the birth of new skills.

  The quill itself glowed softly, black and silver, like it contained the power of a thousand unwritten fates. And probably some bureaucratic paperwork too.

  Because it did.

  "Sure, Szylla. I'll give it a go… again."

  Instant regret settled over KiAera the moment she touched Chancellor GamaGen's black quill.

  Holding it was like hugging a history book that whispered judgment. However, her mood shriveled into sorrow when recalling how she had called him GGen… because nicknames helped make ancient wisdom feel friendlier. His essence still coursed through the feather like some grudging ghoul. And this was not a normal writing tool, too; it was the legacy of a being who wrote rules into the world simply because he felt like it.

  Yet thinking of GamaGen made her chest ache. Only two plumes remained after his death. Naturally she was holding one of them. Excellent.

  Feeling her life force being sapped away with every passing microsecond, as she tried jotting down the creation of a mere [Basic]-tier skill—[Clap]—as advised. Then, with a loud clap, she nearly passed out on the spot, the darn quill dropping from her hand. She groaned, struggling to catch her breath.

  "And you passed the Sovereign Acolyte test."

  Szylla's voice, though gentle, carried a note of disappointment that cut through the haze of KiAera's mind. She stared at the quill, now resting on the floor, as if it were the source of her failures. Waves of power may have surged around her, but they felt more like chains than wings.

  "And clapping, KiAera? After all that training and everything we discussed, you chose something as mundane as a clap?" Szylla's brow arched, her monocle glinted, the tentacles under her dress shifted in a way that suggested she was trying very hard to not shake KiAera by the shoulders.

  "Right. Because I thought it would be simple." She struggled to stand upright as the remnants of pain circled her like vultures. "Everyone claps. I figured I could manage something that toddlers do between naps."

  "Think deeper," Szylla insisted, stepping closer. "Creating a skill is about intention, understanding, and the spirit of creation. A clap is no more than an echo unless it's imbued with purpose."

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  KiAera regained her footing. Szylla was right; a skill should resonate with the essence of the creator. She closed her eyes, envisioning the world beyond the chamber—the laughter of children mirrored in the joyous claps of celebration, the sound echoing across great festivals. But there was still something more she needed to grasp.

  "What if…" she breathed, her mind racing, "I crafted a skill that united claps with an expression of joy that amplifies the emotions of those around it?"

  Szylla's expression softened slightly, though caution lingered in her eyes. "And how would you achieve this?"

  "By weaving emotion into the fabric of sound! A skill that not only manifests sound but also amplifies the joy and excitement around it. I could call it… [Resounding Joy]!" KiAera laughed as the concept took form in her mind.

  "What happens if your resounding joy triggers overwhelming exhilaration?" Szylla warned, her tone more serious. "What if it brings forth chaos instead? Craft wisely."

  With a nod, KiAera picked up the quill again, but tilted forward and fainted on the spot.

  "Oh, dear." Szylla sighed.

  ??? ???

  Szylla caught KiAera just before she hit the ground, her tendrils extending in an elegant arc to cradle the young woman's unconscious form. With a delicate sigh, she placed her on the plush velvet chaise that lined the edges of the chamber.

  The walls were adorned with various portraits, each depicting KiAera herself posing with one of her subordinates, or, as KiAera would have insisted, her companions. Those vibrant faces regrettably smiled back at her, filled with covetous hope and camaraderie.

  Szylla traced her fingers across the surface of one portrait, where KiAera was laughing alongside a mousy figure with shimmering hair and radiant crystal wings hovering just behind her shoulders. She was Oath Ossedia, the First Division Captain of the Chimeron Sanctum. The duo had shared countless adventures and impossible battles, including surviving the end of the world together.

  But now, with KiAera unconscious, the vibrant colors of the room felt muted and lifeless. Except one object. Szylla eyed the quill, still glowing faintly on the floor, its elegant form untouched by the chaos that had just unfolded.

  "Ah, GamaGen," she murmured, shaking her head. "You would never have tolerated such a lack of focus." As KiAera lay there, Szylla's mind raced with thoughts of her young protégé. The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on the sorceress; after all, she had taken KiAera under her wing to guide and teach her about the delicate nature of creation and its consequences.

  After a moment, Szylla summoned a gentle wind to lift KiAera from the chaise and lay her back against the soft cushions. A shimmer of light enveloped the young woman, a protective aura that would guard her dreams while she regained her strength. And for another breath, Szylla allowed herself to consider the weight of potential resting in KiAera's lithe frame.

  "Rest, my little spark," she whispered, brushing a hand across KiAera's brow, beckoning a healing presence that enveloped the girl like a gentle wave. "You carry the dreams of many within you—don't let fear dim your light."

  As KiAera drifted further into dreams, Szylla shifted her focus onto the quill once more. It flickered an ember ready to ignite a blaze. She bent down and picked it up, feeling the pulse of potential coursing through it.

  "Maybe the time has come for a lesson," she thought, her gaze drifting to the delicate swirl of ink left behind on the parchment table.

  Szylla's vision shifted as she closed her eyes, channeling her magic into the quill. She sensed the echoes of GamaGen's mind within it, the wisdom and creativity waiting to be summoned. The air thickened, charged with possibility, and she began to write, her ink flowing like water from a spring.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. A warning.

  […stop…Lorgagore…]

  [...prevent the System Ultimatum...]

  The Ultimatum was slowly, inexorably coming. The declaration wasn't merely a notification; it was a solemn proclamation, a call to all who dwelled within the realms of Zeldritzon. Perhaps she and KiAera may play a pivotal role. This was the moment she had hoped to avoid, where creation intersected with consequence.

  Szylla turned toward KiAera. Lessons would no longer be gentle. The girl needed to wake, and soon.

  A low rumble stirred through the foundation of the sanctum.

  Something had already begun.

  [Thanks for reading ^_^ ]

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