"Essence is what defines and singles out a being in the Whole of Existence. To evolve and ascend, it needs nourishment. Your essence manifests in two primary forms; your Dynamis Core and your Will.
"Your Dynamis Core acts as the bridge between your individual energy, which is Essence, and the external universal energy, Dynamis.
"The potency of this interaction, the degree to which your Essence influences and communicates with Dynamis, is known as Dynisis."
The instructor's voice carried an undeniable weight, his tone steady and unwavering.
The words were not just teachings; they were laws that dictated reality itself.
The gathered children; young scions of the Crimson Family, who were the ruling force of Xenith, the human domain of Ares, and children of their subordinate families—listened with varying degrees of interest.
Some were solemn, absorbing every word with the weight it deserved. Others were merely attentive, their young minds attempting to grasp the vastness of the subject.
And then, there were those who looked as if they had no business being there at all, their minds wandering to far more mundane distractions.
Yet among them, one stood out.
Amidst a group of crimson-haired children, Kallen sat with his head slightly lowered, and eyes closed.
At first glance, it appeared as though he were disinterested or even asleep; but the reality was farther from was seen.
He was listening intently, absorbing every syllable with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
This was not the first time he was hearing these words since was reincarnated to this world, nor was it the first time for the other children present were hearing them either.
However, if these teachings were being taught again and again, surely and certainly, there was something to pick out of it everytime. No knowledge was a waste.
It was hard not to notice him. Particularly because, the other children of the Crimson Family, sat slightly behind him.
A subtle sign of respect… or at least, as much respect as they were willing to show.
"Is he asleep?" Elyon leaned closer, his breath warm against Eliot's ear and whispered.
Eliot didn't glance up, keeping his eyes fixed on the instructor. "How am I supposed to know? But if I were you, I wouldn't disturb him."
Elyon raised a brow, lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Why not?"
Eliot sighed. "I don't know. Atticus said we should never bother him. He's… quite peculiar, and is the Patriarch's son. Besides, the instructor is teaching. Pay attention."
Elyon scoffed softly. "Hmph." But the mischief in his eyes remained.
His fingers inched forward, creeping toward Kallen's ribs, intent on a single, well-placed poke—
"I'd suggest you refrain from your actions, young master Elyon."
The instructor's voice cut through the air like a blade through tofu. Elyon froze, his breath catching in his throat.
A cold bead of sweat formed at his temple as he turned his head ever so slowly toward the instructor. Thaddeus' gaze was sharp, displeased, and thoroughly disapproving.
Elyon swallowed, but rather than meeting that penetrating gaze, he instinctively turned to Kallen...
And immediately regretted it.
A pair of crimson eyes stared back at him. Glass-like, unreadable, and eerily reflective. There was no annoyance in them, neither was there any amusement, only stillness.
A chill curled up Elyon's spine, spreading into his limbs like creeping frost. Unconsciously, he shifted backward.
Kallen studied him for a moment longer, then, as if he were merely an afterthought, turned away.
Elyon exhaled—only now realizing he had been holding his breath. 'How scary'.
Kallen, meanwhile, was utterly unbothered. Mischievous children were not worth his energy. Though he was in the body of a child, he had lived over thirty years in his past life. Entertaining the antics of an eight-year-old was wholly bothersome.
"Alright, all of you, pay attention now."
Thaddeus' voice did not rise in volume. It did not grow sharper, nor did it carry the weight of irritation. But it struck through.
As if struck by an unseen force, every child straightened up, backs locking upright, shoulders pulled tight. Not a whisper lingered in the air.
Thaddeus was not just an instructor. He was Lord Luiz's right man. To disrespect him was to bring trouble upon oneself.
"Everybody is born with an unawakened Dynamis Core," he continued, his voice steady, deliberate. "It exists in a metaphysical state—not quite physical, yet perceptible all the same. Once you begin to sense Dynamis in the air, you may attempt to awaken it.
"Without an Awakened Core, evolution is impossible. One can only evolve by digesting Essence, and the core is the only conduit capable of absorbing it."
A hush fell over the room.
"Cores are graded into seven tiers: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Cyan, Blue, and finally, Purple. Each superior to the last. The higher the grade of your Core, the greater the amount of Essence you can absorb without suffering diminishing returns, and also the higher amount of active Dynamis your body can contain, and make use of.
"The grade of Core you awaken is determined by your affinity with Dynamis, or rather, the strength of your Dynisis."
The words hung in the air like scripture, sinking deep into the children's minds.
The air grew heavier.
"Although one can increase their Dynisis before awakening, it is difficult… and equally expensive," Thaddeus continued, his voice measured but firm.
"Through rigorous physical training and the use of extremely rare, insanely expensive cleansing elixirs, one can expand their inner reserves and purify their Dynisis roots.
"A more robust, impurity-free foundation allows one to absorb and hold more Dynamis, which directly affects the quality of their Core."
He let the words settle before adding, almost as an afterthought—
"There are myths, of course, about some individuals who have managed to upgrade their cores after awakening. But in the end, they are just that—myths. If such a feat is even possible, the chances of it happening are once in a trillion."
A subtle shift coursed through the seated children. A few of the more prominent ones turned their heads—not so much that it was obvious, but just enough to steal a glance.
At Kallen.
Some looked at him with pity, their gazes dripping with quiet condescension.
Some with disdain, lips curling at the corners, as if relishing the thought of his supposed limitation.
Some with glee, eyes alight with cruel amusement—because there was always something entertaining about watching a "lesser" struggle.
And then there was indifference.
Atticus fell into that last category, his expression unreadable, his gaze unwavering. He neither pitied nor mocked Kallen.
Thaddeus immediately regretted his words.
But he did not take them back.
His voice pressed forward, growing colder, harsher. A truth carved in steel.
"In this world, only the strong dictate the rules."
"It is a dog-eat-dog existence. Kill, or be killed."
His eyes swept across the young faces before him.
"Murder and power—this is what everything revolves around.
"You kill to gain Essence. You evolve by consuming the fallen. You fight for treasures, and in the process, you eliminate your adversaries. You kill, ascend, get a skill, kill again, ascend again, get another skill.
It is a cycle. An unchanging law."
Another silence, heavier this time.
"The universe demands evolution. But reality is fair—the weak are weeded out. Whoever perishes… becomes nourishment for the victor. Because without killing…"
His voice, steady as ever, delivered the final blow.
"One cannot evolve."