Changing People
Abel wandered the training grounds striking all sorts of bizarre poses. Like this? Or maybe that way? That doesn't work either? But in the end, it just looked like he was dancing some idiot's jig.
Unfortunately, his abilities weren't specialized in any single category. They were certainly impressive enough to have earned him the title of "authority" from past powerhouses, but it would be inaccurate to call them perfect in every situation without a single gap. Take the current dilemma: how could abilities from different categories synergize with each other? His inability to answer that question was proof.
Physical Enhancement came to mind effortlessly, so envisioning a future with it and yearning for it intensely wasn't hard at all. Swordsmanship was similar. Absorbing the power of the Four-Man Gang and making it his own boiled down to the mindset of just devour what's right in front of you, so that wasn't a huge challenge either.
But this path he was pondering now—gathering all the protagonists' abilities and using them simultaneously? With no information or examples to draw from, simply manifesting it through imagination alone was incredibly difficult.
In the end, to get even a little help on this path, Abel was trying to observe fragments of how ability users could blend their powers. One might argue, how can someone dreaming of becoming the strongest rely on others' help? But when you don't know the way or you've lost it, you ask someone. Abel saw it the same way. There was no shame in it. On the contrary, it was something to welcome, as it broadened his insight and experience.
'And it's not just helpful for me.'
If everything could be handled with individual techniques, there'd be no need for the Continental Academy. People learned about each other's abilities, how to counter them, and—when they became allies—how to cooperate for maximum efficiency.
The enemies were the Ability Supremacists who'd turned the academy into a wasteland before. Their actions reeked of chosen-people madness, but their skills were undeniably real. Fighting them one-on-one would be foolish. If necessary, they had to cooperate—or better yet, move as one body to crush them perfectly.
Judging by the flow of events so far, Flam and Portus would inevitably have to sync up at least once to face a powerful foe. Who knew? They might even realize new potential there, a way to succeed their fathers.
What worried Abel was one thing: the chance Seria might be involved. The story's flow should've had them fighting well to impress her, but his appearance had twisted that completely. It could lead to those two getting hurt instead.
"I hope that doesn't happen…."
He no longer saw this world as a mere novel or its people as characters. Still, there was a set trajectory. If he ruined it and something utterly off-script happened, it wouldn't sit well with him as Abel.
Flam and Portus were still the most promising pyrokinesis and hydrokinesis users of their generation. They were friends who should rise to stardom alongside him—not slump in disappointment or get sidelined by some accident.
Growth came with competition. And competition was running alongside those you acknowledged. Abel clearly saw those two as rivals. Even with differences in ability, their talents were close enough to qualify.
'Rel and Kalligo too. I don't know how they see me, but they're all comrades and peers I've grown fond of….'
Rel kept showing up at the training grounds—he'd heard stories and seen it himself. But Kalligo? He hadn't appeared at all lately. He attended lectures, sure, but that was it. Not even dropping by the club room meant something was up.
Meanwhile, Kalligo was out on special permission. The stated reason—a quick trip to the imperial palace—raised no objections. But his actual destination was a city far from the capital.
"…."
After catching his breath, Kalligo steeled himself and entered a building. Nothing special about it. Just a space for ordinary folk.
He scanned the surroundings briefly, then climbed the stairs to the second floor. Another check for tails, and he slipped into a room.
A man in black clothes sat there, his aura far from ordinary.
"Welcome, Prince Kalligo."
"…You look like you predicted I'd come."
"Our eyes and ears are everywhere. The Empire thinks they've rooted us all out, but how could that be everything?"
He chuckled softly, eyeing Kalligo with keen interest, probing.
Kalligo shook his head and spoke. "No tails on me. I've checked myself, multiple times."
"Ah, that's not the worry. I was just gauging how impressive your abilities are. No need to fret—we've got our people blanketing the area. All clear."
Doubt flickered across Kalligo's face for a moment. He'd been vigilant the whole way, even deploying shadows to scout. No suspicious vibes—yet apparently, eyes and ears were all around?
"The Empire thinks they're hunting us. Truth is, we let them 'track' us just enough. Gotta lure in secret contacts like you, right?"
"So an overly secretive group risks becoming too insular and weak?"
"Something like that."
"But that makes you vulnerable to outside spies."
The implication: What if I'm that spy? The man shrugged helplessly and answered.
"True. But we're confident. Ability users can't live among those barbaric failures forever. Join us, and they'll have no choice but to follow."
"…."
It was confidence bordering on arrogance. The Ability Supremacists. Preaching a world for ability users only. To normals, they were raving monsters—but to ability users, their pitch was tempting enough to hear out once.
The recent retirement of two era-defining powerhouses had fueled this mood. To ability users, Master Phoenix and Master Sparrow weren't just strong; they advocated for their kind. Neither started as nobles—they'd clawed their way up through blood and sweat, constantly urging juniors that effort could shine.
They championed the Continental Academy's necessity and rejected chosen-people notions among ability users, insisting it was luck, not divine favor, that made them special.
But now, with them stepping back, the unchanged gazes emerged. Empire nobles who'd fawned over them suddenly flipped, suggesting limited noble titles upon retirement. The Sparrow family even lost the "Master" honorific outright. Obvious how that looked.
Why let this happen? Why give Supremacists ammunition? If leaders had any sense, they'd honor the retiring greats more, steadying the next generation.
Simple reason: greed for the flesh in front of them. Instinct to devour the weakened.
With the world like this, Supremacists grew bolder. Those primitives always use us, then discard us, they could claim. Their momentum, stalled before, was surging again.
"And today, an Empire prince graces us."
They weren't total fools, though—no snap acceptance for Kalligo. Once vetted and safe, they'd induct him formally. Replenishing losses from the academy raid would spark another massive revolution.
"Your Highness, one question."
"What?"
"Why the sudden change? We heard you showed no interest before."
"…."
After a brief pause, Kalligo explained curtly. "Something I want to do, but I'm lacking. Plan to fill that gap here and go for it."
"Cryptic, but fine. Looking forward to the next meeting."
With the dismissal, Kalligo left the room. All the way back to the academy, a man and a woman lingered in his mind.