On a distant planet, lava rages as ice falls from the sky like comets every few minutes, descending from clouds thick enough to block the view from space.
A typical newly formed planet undergoing a Terra Transformation Situation, or TTS for short—its completion dependent on the unique environment shaping how long the process will take.
Or at least, it should be… if not for the Impossibiliter Headquarters being located in the worst possible place—yet somehow the safest.
If one looked closely, they would see red, rocky mountain formations scattered across the surface, already beginning the cooling process.
At odd angles, however, strange lights flickered—similar in color to the lava, yet subtly different. Small, scattered glows that stood out against the molten landscape like misplaced embers.
If one were close enough to the surface—which was nearly impossible due to the constant bombardment of falling ice—they might notice small figures moving between those lights.
From a high vantage point, if not for the glare and steam created by magma meeting ice, it would resemble giant, infant ants crawling across a freshly formed anthill spanning the entire mountain range.
And within one of those peaks, a class was being held—with only one student, one adult, and one unknown, unseen presence.
Many do not ask the necessary questions.
Or perhaps they simply refuse to acknowledge the similarities between different possibilities.
Possibility itself is the recognition of patterns—shared events and facts viewed from one or many perspectives.
Yet many possibilities are judged incorrectly—dismissed outright or blindly accepted—by the masses or by smaller groups who share the same limited perspective.
There exists a small group—a Clan—who rely on synchronization with one another to accomplish what others deem impossible.
To outsiders, it might resemble groups experimenting with things like parkour—testing limits, defying expectations.
Meanwhile, the masses remain oblivious, denying the logic behind such "impossible" actions.
There are many things those who accept reality can become Masters of…
Most of which will be ignored, denied, or outright rejected—even by those who experience them firsthand.
"What is a Master?" a middle-aged female voice asked.
"A Master is someone who excels in a Gate Subject beyond the level of the masses," a young male voice replied.
"Correct."
The woman smiled faintly from behind her desk, a review paper resting in front of her.
"Why don't the masses like the Impossibiliters?" the young boy asked, rocking his chair onto its hind legs.
"They are afraid," she replied, tilting her head slightly as she observed his demeanor shift. "Afraid that we may become 'Monsters' from the Other Side. Many would not survive if another Outbreak were to occur."
"Afraid of that?!" the boy snapped. "That's history! If not for us, they would have gone extinct! It's us who have helped humans survive since the beginning! It's how they made it this far!"
—Mumble mumble—
Realizing his mistake, the boy quickly turned his head away, pouting so his teacher couldn't read his lips.
"What was that last part?" the teacher asked sternly, sliding the papers aside and fixing him with a sharp stare.
"P… plus the skill sets are fun…" he stammered. "They should be happy—and in debt to us—for Grandpa teaching them our abilities so they can use them too."
—Facepalm—
"Sorry! I mean… the correct term is…" He straightened nervously. "It's exciting to be allowed to pass through the Barriers constructed by the Masters of Old… to protect those who refuse to see."
He exhaled slightly, relieved he hadn't triggered another warning about the Punishment Distortion.
"Better," the teacher said, standing and walking around her desk. "Now remember—during your actual exam, they won't be as kind as I am. So. No. Funny. Business… unless absolutely necessary."
"YES!" the boy shouted, pumping his fists in excitement.
He nearly lost his balance on the chair but managed to steady himself as the teacher let out a quiet sigh. He immediately refocused.
"Now," she said, leaning against her desk with her arms crossed over her armored silk shirt, "do you have any questions before your exam… or do you believe you are ready for the Trial?"
The boy rocked his chair thoughtfully, balancing skillfully on the edge before looking up.
Taking a deep breath, a glint in his eyes, he unleashed a rapid-fire list:
"Does the bet still apply?
Why do the lights flicker at different intervals throughout the compound?
Why hasn't the backup generator kicked in if this room is still dark?
When is Grandpa coming back?
Besides teaching, what's your specialty?
What else do you teach?
When do I get to pass through a Distortion?
Why is there talk about the Lost Heiress being found?
Does that mean I have a sister… or a fiancée?
Do I get to meet her?
Can I rescue her?
Do we have to train her from beginner levels?
How should I address her?"
He finished in one breath, staring at her with wide, innocent eyes.
"…} -_- {…" —Glare—
":3" He smiled, slowly tilting his head.
The chair barely moved as the two locked into a silent staring contest.
The teacher massaged her temple, debating whether to answer.
Then—
The darkness in the room shifted.
It deepened behind the child, thickening unnaturally.
She froze.
If it struck now, the Young Master would not survive long enough for her to react.
But instead, it drifted away… toward the far wall.
Taking that as permission, she lowered her hand and exhaled slowly, regaining composure. The boy remained completely unaware.
She steadied herself mentally before answering.