"The world of Fragments stretches so far, it feels endless—like trying to count the stars in an eternal night."
Those were the last words written by Jason Lee in his world-famous book, The World of Fragments. It was the closing line—simple yet powerful. The book had sold nearly a million copies and was considered one of the greatest ever written on fragmentology, studied by both scholars and students across Solara.
After almost six hours of reading, Ethan finally exhaled softly and closed the thick, worn-out book. The sound of the cover shutting echoed faintly in his quiet dorm room. He placed it carefully on the nearby table beside a half-empty glass of water and leaned back on his chair, stretching his arms with a tired sigh.
He blinked at the holographic clock projected above his table—
2:00 PM.
"…Dang, I missed the orientation," Ethan muttered, rubbing his eyes. For a moment, his expression was blank—then he gave a small chuckle, shaking his head.
"Well, it doesn't matter," he murmured softly to himself, standing up slowly from the chair. "I've already seen it once before…"
A faint look crossed his eyes—distant and thoughtful. In his previous life, he had sat in that same orientation hall, listening to Aren Vaylen's carefree voice, watching the golden light as it shimmered around the stage. But unlike that life, this time… things were different. He was different.
Ethan looked around his small but neat dorm room—the bed made, his uniform neatly folded on the side, and his bag half-opened from when he'd taken out the book earlier. Everything looked calm and ordinary. Yet deep inside, he knew this world was anything but ordinary.
He ran a hand through his messy black hair, letting out another sigh. "Six hours… I can't believe I read for that long."
Even so, his heart wasn't restless. There was no regret. He remembered what would happen in that orientation. He remembered how Aren Vaylen, the second-ranked hero of Solara, would appear out of nowhere, joke around, and vanish in golden light like it was nothing.
At first, people had taken Aren lightly. The teachers whispered behind his back, thinking the "careless hero" wasn't fit for leading an academy. The students admired him but didn't understand his true power. But that changed—three months later, during the Inter-Academy Tournament, when seven high-ranked Sapiens had attacked the tournament grounds.
That day, Aren didn't just fight—he obliterated them. Alone. In mere minutes.
Ethan still remembered the sight—golden light, the sound of shattered ground, and the realization that the "easygoing principal" was a monster in disguise.
He blinked, pushing those memories away and letting out a small laugh. "Well, I already know what's going to happen," he said, standing up and stretching again. "No point in watching it twice."
He walked toward the small bathroom attached to his room, yawning as he went. His steps were lazy, his hair a mess.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—the black hair falling slightly over his forehead, and those deep blue eyes that almost seemed to glow faintly under the dorm light.
"...I didn't even brush yet," he muttered, laughing quietly at himself.
Turning on the tap, he splashed cold water on his face. Tiny drops ran down his chin as he looked into the mirror again—this time with a more determined gaze.
After washing his face and brushing, Ethan stepped out of the small bathroom, his hair still damp and sticking to his forehead. Droplets of water rolled down his cheek as he looked out through the half-open window — the sunlight pouring into his room like soft gold.
He quietly stood there for a while, watching the students outside walk in groups, laughing, talking, enjoying the new beginning of academy life. His lips curved slightly, but his eyes stayed distant.
"...Elara," he murmured softly, almost to himself.
The thought of his little sister always brought warmth — and a faint ache. She had finally gotten a chance to live freely, to chase her dreams, but he knew how fragile peace could be in this world. He had seen it once before — how jealousy, power, and cruelty had destroyed her.
Not again.
This time, he would protect her. No matter what it took.
Ethan turned around, his expression calm but resolute. He pressed his hand lightly against the far wall of his dorm. A soft click echoed. The metal panel slid open, revealing a hidden doorway — a narrow passage that led to a private training space, small but well-equipped.
Inside, the faint scent of iron and oil filled the air. A few training dummies stood in the corner, a simple bench press, some weights, and a wide mat for body training. The room was quiet except for the low hum of machines powering the temperature regulator.
Ethan removed his coat and shirt, revealing his lean yet defined physique — muscles that had been trained with discipline and time. He dropped to the floor, palms flat, and began his push-ups.
"One…"
His arms bent slowly, his muscles tensing, veins showing faintly under his skin.
"Two…"
A deep breath. Sweat already forming on his temple.
"Three…"
Each movement was painfully slow, deliberate — his body steady as stone. The sound of his breath filled the silent room, rhythmical and controlled.
He didn't rush. He wanted every push, every stretch of muscle to remind him — strength wasn't built in a day. It was earned, breath by breath.
After several minutes, he finally stopped. His chest rose and fell heavily as he sat back, staring at his trembling hands.
"Still too weak…" he whispered, clenching his fists.
Closing his eyes, Ethan focused — and in that instant, a faint triangle of light shimmered above his right palm. It rotated slowly, each corner glowing with a faint golden hue.
This was his Light Fragment — not a circle like most others, but a triangle, rare and powerful. Each corner represented a unique variation of energy:
Disorient, about speed and perception.
Disintegrate, about breaking and burning.
Construct, about forming and creation.
Even though a triangle seemed simple, its three points meant three completely different abilities. So far, he had only mastered one — Disorient.
He closed his eyes again, steadying his breathing. "Let's try it," he whispered.
Focusing on the second point, he felt warmth spread through his hand. The air around his palm began to shimmer faintly.
Then, the light brightened — from soft gold to blazing yellow. His skin tingled, and heat surged upward, making the air heavy and dry.
"Disintegrate…" he whispered, his brow furrowing.
The glow intensified — so bright it almost hurt to look at. A burning sensation crawled up his arm. He gritted his teeth, enduring it, but within seconds, the pain grew sharper — almost searing.
He hissed under his breath and stopped, pulling his hand back. The light faded slowly, leaving faint traces of warmth behind.
"Not yet," Ethan muttered, flexing his fingers. His hand still felt hot, his heart pounding hard against his ribs.
He exhaled deeply, leaning back against the cold wall.
He knew unlocking the second variation would take time. It wasn't just about control — it was about understanding what the power meant.
Still, he smiled faintly. "I got closer."