The Orion Academy Library was a cathedral of knowledge.

Seven stories of spiraling shelves, floating platforms connected by crystalline bridges, reading nooks tucked into alcoves that seemed to exist in their own pocket dimensions. The air smelled like old paper and concentrated mana—thousands of books, scrolls, and data crystals packed into a space that defied normal architecture.

Kael approached the main desk with his technique tag in hand.

The librarian was a severe woman in her sixties—gray hair pulled back so tight it looked painful, spectacles that magnified her eyes to uncomfortable proportions, and an expression that suggested she’d personally executed students for returning books late.

"Reward collection?"

"Yes. Heaven Grade technique."

Her magnified eyes narrowed.

"Identification."

Kael held up his wristband. She scanned it with a device that beeped once, twice, three times—each beep accompanied by a small frown that deepened the lines around her mouth.

"Kael Vorn. Gold Class. Sector 3. Fifth place ranking." She set the device down. "Heaven Grade techniques are located on the fourth floor, eastern wing. Restricted section. You may select one technique from the available inventory. Your selection is final. No exchanges. No refunds."

She produced a small bronze key and slid it across the counter.

"Do not damage the books. Do not attempt to copy techniques beyond your selection. Do not disturb other patrons." Her eyes bored into him. "Violations will result in disciplinary action up to and including expulsion."

"Understood."

"Third floor. Eastern wing."

Kael took the key and walked toward the elevator.

The library was busy—students at tables, in reading nooks, browsing shelves. Most ignored him. A few glanced at his Gold class uniform with expressions ranging from envy to calculation.

The third floor was different from the lower levels. The books were fewer but larger, each one bound in materials that ranged from leather to something that looked like dragon scale. The air was thick with contained mana, dense enough that Kael’s Core responded automatically—lightning flickering at his fingertips before he suppressed it.

He wasn’t the only one up here.

Cassian Vale stood near the eastern section, a heavy tome open in his hands. His silver hair caught the light from a floating luminary, and his golden eyes scanned the pages with the focus of someone who understood that knowledge was its own form of power.

Beside him, perched on a reading ledge sat Rooley with his green hair and manic grin. A beast summoning manual lay open across his lap, but his attention was fixed on something else—a small starlight fox cub that had materialized on his shoulder, its nine tails flickering in and out of existence like a malfunctioning hologram.

Kael’s eyes met Cassian’s as Cassian sends a nod as he nods back.

Rooley caught his gaze next and grinned wider, raising one hand in a l

Kael moved past them toward the Heaven Grade technique section.

The shelving here was sparse—maybe forty manuals total, compared to the thousands on the floors below. Each one represented decades or centuries of accumulated knowledge, refined by generations of cultivators into something approaching perfection.

Kael browsed.

Gravity techniques—several, but none that synergized well with his existing style. Lightning techniques—more options, but he’d already developed SILENCE and Pulsar through intuition rather than instruction. Shadow techniques—interesting, but incomplete, and he didn’t want to rely too heavily on an element he’d only recently acquired.

Then he found it.

Tucked in the back corner of the shelf, almost invisible behind a larger manual on spatial manipulation. A thin volume, no more than fifty pages. The cover was faded—originally blue, now a sickly gray, the title barely legible beneath centuries of dust.

Sky Rending Technique.

Dual blade manual. Heaven Grade.

Kael pulled it from the shelf.

The moment his fingers touched the spine, something shifted.

The pages were yellowed, brittle, covered in handwriting that had faded to the point of illegibility in places. Diagrams showed dual blade forms—two short swords moving in complementary patterns, creating openings, exploiting weaknesses, building momentum through continuous motion.

But the manual was incomplete.

Only three forms out of seven remained legible. The others had been damaged beyond recovery—pages torn, ink smeared, entire sections reduced to fragments that conveyed nothing useful.

The first form was labeled Falling Star—a downward diagonal strike with the right blade followed immediately by an upward slash with the left, creating a cross-pattern attack that exploited the opponent’s raised defense. The diagram showed a figure being cut from shoulder to hip in two intersecting lines.

The second form, Shattered Moon, was a defensive counter—both blades raised to catch an incoming strike, then twisting to redirect the force while simultaneously cutting the attacker’s arms.

The third form, Heaven’s Fall, was the culmination—a spinning attack where both blades extended outward like the wings of a falling angel, creating a kill zone in a full three-hundred-sixty-degree arc.

The remaining four forms were gone. Names visible—Void Split, Starfall Cascade, Eclipse, Sky Render—but techniques lost to time.

Kael closed the manual.

Incomplete, dusty and centuries old.

Perfect.

A complete technique would teach him to copy. An incomplete technique would force him to create—to fill the gaps with his own understanding, his own combat experience, his own instincts. The difference between a student who followed instructions and a fighter who understood principles.

He tucked the manual under his arm and turned to leave.

"Hey, isn’t that—"

"—Kael from Gold class? The one who—"

"—placed fifth in Sector 3? He’s so—"

"—handsome. Have you seen his eyes? The silver—"

"—and Cassian too, they were both up here, I wonder what they’re—"

The murmurs followed him as he descended the stairs. Girls clustered near reading nooks, watching him with barely concealed interest. A few bold ones made eye contact. One blushed and looked away.

Kael ignored them all.

He was ten steps from the exit when something small and soft collided with his chest.

Arms wrapped around him. A familiar scent of honey and wildflowers, the signature of a specific bloodline—filled his nose.

Rue Moonveil clung to him like a barnacle.

"You," she said, voice muffled against his chest with a pout, "didn’t come to see me once."

Kael looked down at the top of her head.

"Hello, Rue."

"Don’t ’hello Rue’ me." She pulled back just enough to glare up at him with violet eyes that shimmered with manufactured outrage. "You and Sage went on that mission together. And I’m sure you had a lot of fun without me."

"I was preparing for transport."

"You could have visited."

"I was busy."

Kael smiled.

"I wasn’t avoiding you. I was prioritizing. There’s a difference."

"That’s worse!"

"Mm."

Rue’s pout intensified. Her tails squeezed tighter.

"Apologize."

"I apologize that my schedule didn’t accommodate your desire for attention."

"That’s not an apology."

"It’s the one you’re getting."

Rue stared at him.

Then she sighed—the sound of someone who’d expected exactly this response and was annoyed by how unsurprised she was.

"You’re impossible."

"I’ll make you pay for this."

"I’m sure you will."

Her tails loosened slightly. Her expression shifted from pouty to something more calculating.

"You’re going to make it up to me."

"Am I?"

"Yes." She stepped back, releasing him entirely, but her nine tails still swayed around her in patterns that suggested she hadn’t finished making demands. "You’re going to make it up to me properly."

Before Kael could respond, he noticed the audience.

The murmuring had intensified. A cluster of female students had gathered near the library entrance, watching the exchange with expressions ranging from curious to hostile.

"Is that his girlfriend?"

"She’s so lucky—"

"Wait, isn’t that Rue? From Gold class? The fox-kin?"

"The Moonveil twin? She’s gorgeous—"

"They look perfect together—"

"I hate her."

Rue’s ears twitched. Her cheeks flushed—golden fur darkening to amber as blood rose beneath the skin.

"Ignore them," she muttered.

"Hard to when they’re staring."

"Then let’s leave."

She grabbed his wrist and pulled.

Kael allowed himself to be dragged—out of the library, through the main corridor.

Rue’s room was in the Gold class dormitory—same building as his, three floors down, at the end of a hallway that seemed longer than architecture should allow.

She opened the door and dragged him inside as the door closed it with a decisive click.

Before she turned and pressed him against the wall, and kissed him.

Her lips were soft but demanding, her body pressed against his, her tails wrapping around his legs to prevent escape.

Kael kissed back.

When they separated, Rue was breathing hard. Her violet eyes were half-lidded.

"You will have to make up now," she whispered.

Kael leaned down.

His lips brushed her ear—barely touching, just enough to make her shiver.

"Then my lady, I’m going to fuck you silly."

Rue’s entire body went rigid.

Her tails stood straight up. Her ears shot perpendicular. A sound escaped her throat—half gasp, half whimper—that she clearly hadn’t meant to make.

And between her legs, through the thin fabric of her academy uniform, something dampened.

Her face went from flushed to incandescent.

"I—you—that’s—"

Kael smiled against her ear.

"Why don’t you position yourself on that bed for me."