The message hovered in Orion's HUD.
[ Orion, ]
[Call me using the secure comms I gave you.]
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he moved to his wardrobe, pulling on a loose training shirt and a pair of comfortable lounge pants before heading to his desk.
Reaching into the drawer where he had stashed the secure comms device. It was a sleek, palm-sized construct, untraceable, encrypted beyond even the Confederacy's standard protocols. He activated it.
A second later, a small holographic projection flickered to life above the device, revealing Aurelia's face. She was in her quarters, strands of hair slipping over her shoulder, her expression composed but laced with something tense—anticipation, maybe.
"You took your time," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "I was beginning to think you'd ignore me."
Orion leaned back in his chair, still feeling the soreness of training in his muscles. "I was in the shower."
Aurelia arched a brow but didn't comment. Instead, she exhaled, shifting slightly as if considering how to begin. "My family—along with several others—were invited to the academy."
Orion didn't react immediately. He had expected as much.
"I'm not surprised," he admitted.
Aurelia gave a small nod. "I didn't think you would be," she said.
She met his gaze. "For the first time, the Pythea System and Hekatryon will be implemented for both commoners and nobles alike."
Orion nearly jolted out of his chair, caught off guard.
"What?" His voice came out sharper than intended, but the sheer weight of the revelation crashed through him like a shockwave.
Aurelia exhaled softly. "You heard me correctly. The Pythea System and Hekatryon will no longer be privileges of the nobility."
His father. Was this his plan all along? The timing of the Pythia System's announcement… is it connected to all of this? The thought gnawed at him. If his father had intended this outcome all along, then what exactly is he aiming for?
The Pythea System—the system developed to stabilize the Genesis strain. Hekatryon—the very foundation of supernatural combat ability, both of them were long kept within the hands of the elite.
And now… open to everyone?
His mind raced. This wasn't just a military decision. This was a civilizational shift.
Orion's fingers curled against the desk. 'Why?'
Orion's breath came slow and steady, but beneath the surface, his thoughts churned violently. What the hell is he planning?
Orion leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "So, aside from your family, do you know if any other families have been invited?"
Aurelia's expression hardened. "Yes. Families from the Erythian League have also been invited. I don't know about others, but most of the Dominion's high nobility are on the list."
Orion noticed the shift in her demeanor—the slight tension in her voice, the way her gaze sharpened. She was holding something back.
But he didn't press further.
Orion arched an eyebrow, processing the information. "The Dominion's high nobility, and the Erythians… It seems we're being groomed for this new system."
"Correct," she replied carefully. "They want to mix things up —talent from every echelon, not just the usual suspects."
He frowned slightly. "So what's the expectation with these invitations? Is there a catch—like service for the military, or some other kind of duty?"
Aurelia's expression turned thoughtful. "From what I've heard, it's more about establishing alliances than imposing obligations. They're not demanding military service; it's more about integrating these families into the academy's network, fostering mutual support and strategic ties."
Orion shifted in his seat. "And what about tuition fees? Do the commoners pay for themselves, or is there a state subsidy? I mean, inviting the high nobility implies a certain level of financial commitment."
Aurelia smiled wryly. "From what little information I gathered, that tuition is waived for 'outstanding students'. Think of it as an investment in their future—and, by extension, the future of the human domain. If not they are obligated to serve in the military for five years."
He nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "So they're aiming to cement power structures and ensure loyalty across the board."
"Exactly," she said, her tone measured. "The criteria seem to be a blend of innate ability and potential for strategic influence. It's mostly purely meritocratic—but social standing and the promise of political alliance also play a significant role."
Orion rubbed his chin, his mind racing with implications. "And do you know if the selection process is transparent? Or is it just another game of politics behind closed doors?"
Aurelia's eyes flashed with a hint of exasperation. "In these circles, transparency is often just a facade. I suspect that while there are technical criteria—like aptitude in using Hekatryon but there's also a great deal of negotiation and backroom deals."
Orion leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Do you know anything about special candidates? Who exactly qualifies as a 'special candidate' in this whole setup?"
Aurelia's expression turned serious as she took a breath. "Special candidates are distinct from the nobles invited to the trials," she explained carefully.
Orion frowned. "So, the nobles—like most of the Dominion's high nobility—are only invited to participate in the trials?"
"Exactly," Aurelia replied. "The nobles will be part of the trials, contributing their influence and resources, but they aren't the ones who will venture into the raptures. That role is reserved for those exceptional few who are deemed capable of handling the inherent dangers and unpredictability of the dysarchial zones."
Orion's brow furrowed as he considered this. "And do you know how they select these special candidates? What are the criteria—beyond raw ability—for leading these expeditions?"
Aurelia hesitated, her eyes flickering briefly. "It involves both innate talent and a proven capacity for leadership under extreme conditions. It's not solely about combat prowess, it's about resilience, adaptability."
He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I see." His tone was more detached now. "That's enough for now, Aurelia. I need time to think."
Aurelia studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his mood, then simply nodded. "Of course."
He didn't answer right away. His mind was elsewhere, already dissecting the conversation and its implications. Finally, he offered a curt nod. "I'll contact you if I know anything on my side."
Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.
Orion leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled mess.
The timing. The invitations. The Pythia System.
It all lined up too perfectly.
Was this the plan from the start? To gather not just the nobility but the most promising candidates—the ones who could survive the expeditions into the Dysarchial Raptures?
It didn't matter if this was all part of his father's design. He was already in it.
And there was no turning back now.
Orion tapped his wrist console, calling Rahmat. The line clicked after a few seconds.
"Finally remembered to eat?" Rahmat's voice came through, laced with amusement.
Orion exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "Is there anything left in the kitchen?"
"Depends," she drawled, a teasing lilt in her tone. "What do you plan to eat?"
"I don't care, just bring me something," he said, his voice edged with exhaustion.
"You really are impossible," she muttered, the sound of shuffling in the background. "Fine, I'll check. But if it is not to your liking, don't complain."
"I won't," he replied, stretching out his sore limbs.
"Liar," she shot back, the call ending with a soft beep.