The number remained on the screen.
1.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Then the laughter started.
— Seriously?
— Him again?
— Even a Level 2 Imperium could do better…
Ymir didn't move.
Standing at the center of the circular platform, he stared at the luminous display above him. The number didn't flicker. It didn't change.
1.
Like always.
— Next!
The examiner's cold voice cut through the air.
Ymir stepped down from the platform without a word, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the mocking smiles. His steps were calm.
Measured.
Used to it.
—
The Academia Imperialis Aeternum did not train students.
It forged weapons.
Located at the heart of a repurposed European complex, it gathered each year the most promising young Imperium of the continent. Those capable of bending the world to their will.
And those capable of surviving.
Here, the rules were simple:
The strong ruled.
The weak served.
Or disappeared.
—
— Hey, ghost.
Ymir stopped.
Three students blocked the corridor. Perfect uniforms. Confident posture. One of them, tall, with an arrogant smile, stepped forward.
— So? Still can't read minds?
A few chuckles behind him.
Ymir remained silent.
— That's your thing, right? Mentalist?
The word sounded almost like an insult.
In a world where Imperium could tear through steel, manipulate energy, or reshape their own bodies… mentalists were rare.
And often… disappointing.
— Come on, show us something.
A pressure suddenly fell on Ymir.
Not physical.
Mental.
A crude attempt at intrusion.
Clumsy.
Predictable.
Ymir felt every thread of consciousness trying to latch onto him. He could have crushed them instantly.
He didn't.
Instead, he let it pass.
A slight dizziness. Just enough to be believable.
— Pathetic.
The tall one sighed.
— Even I could do better, and I'm a Pyro.
More laughter.
Ymir lowered his gaze slightly.
Submissive.
Weak.
Exactly what they wanted to see.
—
They left a few seconds later, already bored.
Ymir remained alone in the corridor.
Silent.
Then…
His fingers moved, just barely.
A sharp sound echoed behind him.
Crack.
A fracture spread across the wall, several meters away.
No contact.
No glance.
No effort.
Ymir let out a quiet breath.
— Still too noisy…
His voice was calm. Almost bored.
—
He resumed walking.
His gaze shifted slightly.
Colder.
Sharper.
—
Since birth, Ymir had never been like the others.
Not just an Imperium.
An hybrid.
Telekinesis.
And mentalism.
An unstable mix.
Rare.
Dangerous.
And above all…
Unacceptable.
Not without a powerful family name to protect him.
—
In this world, the great bloodlines controlled everything.
Powerful Imperium belonged to them.
Or ended up broken.
Recruited.
Controlled.
Eliminated.
—
Ymir had made a simple choice:
Be weak.
Or be a target.
—
He turned into another corridor.
Screens were still displaying the test results.
His name appeared briefly:
Ymir — Type: Mentalist — Level: 1
Some students were still laughing.
—
Ymir looked at the screen for a few seconds.
Then looked away.
—
"1"… huh.
—
His eyes narrowed slightly.
—
Because the machine…
had measured only one thing.
—
And ignored the other.
—
A faint tremor passed through the air around him.
Invisible.
Silent.
—
Something moved.
Far away in the building.
A chair slowly slid… on its own.
—
Ymir kept walking as if nothing had happened.
—
Because if one day… they discovered the truth…
—
He wouldn't be the one in danger.
—
They would