It was one of the first times Tyrin and his friends had gone to the crowded restaurant. Their class schedules didn't align that day, so they decided to use lunch as a chance to catch up.
— No fucking way you saw more than one Vultra. Holy shit, I've only seen Caronte transformed once! — Cassandra exclaimed, incredulous.
Despite the shock, she believed Tyrin's story. After all, he had the strange habit of always being at the center of chaos, yet somehow coming out unscathed, as if he always had a trick up his sleeve. Even so, he left out details about Klandato and his dragon.
— What do you mean by "transformed"? — Tyrin asked, frowning.
— What? You not knowing basic stuff is becoming a habit — Cassandra rolled her eyes but continued. — Anyway, when we reach certain milestones, we can transform. That's why our ranks have names. I don't know exactly how it works, but they say you get way stronger. As far as I know, everyone develops blue fur, but I've heard that the Ultras had variations in their first transformations. So, it might be a rule… with some exceptions.
— Are you saying it's possible to go back to normal after turning into a Vultra?
— Not necessarily. — This time, Damian joined the conversation.
— My father said that once you become a Vultra, you create a path. From there, it gets much easier to transform again or even maintain that state.
Tyrin processed the new information. It made sense—after all, the headmistress didn't have blue hair, yet she was considered the strongest person in Vanaheim. Maybe she was simply in a non-transformed state.
The conversation shifted to the classes Tyrin had missed, including Custer's, who had apparently organized a one-on-one fighting tournament. Both Damian and Cassandra had been eliminated in the round of sixteen, but there was a clear reason for that.
— The Essentials are way too strong. Ty, these guys have been training combat arts since they were kids. I don't know if I can beat them with brute strength alone. I never understood how they defended the planet from the Tyranos without the injection, but once you fight one of them, you'll get it. They're insane. — Cassandra crossed her arms, resigned.
Her accepting tone surprised Tyrin, but when she explained the advantages of her own lineage, her attitude made more sense.
— Guys, I'm going to talk to the headmistress. See you in Custer's class tomorrow?
— No problem, big guy. But be ready—he asked about you and seemed pissed about your absences. I think he's going to give you a hard time — Damian warned.
— But don't worry — Cassandra smiled. — We'll be there with you.
— Alright. I'll count on you guys.
With that, Tyrin headed to his last task of the day: training with the headmistress. Part of their agreement was to meet every day, and he was beginning to suspect that she wanted to train him personally—which, to him, was an advantage. Still, he wanted to return to the dorm as soon as possible. He was breaking his promise to Karma, as almost a full day had passed, and he still hadn't summoned her. He wanted to handle all his pending matters before doing so, to be able to meet her with a clear mind.
As soon as he arrived, the headmistress greeted him with an assessing look.
— Tyrin. You're early. Did you speak with who you wanted to?
— Yes, professor. I've already talked to my friends. What do you need me to do?
— Perfect. Follow me, I have a room for this.
The headmistress's house was beautiful on the outside but seemed even bigger on the inside. Tyrin followed her to the kitchen, where she pressed a discreet button near the counter. The floor opened up, revealing a secret passage.
— Please, follow me. We're heading to my training room.
He was still trying to process the absurd size of the place, but he focused on what mattered: following the headmistress into the darkness that lay ahead. However, when the lights turned on, the sight left him speechless. The space was massive, with multiple areas and doors leading to unknown places.
The headmistress crossed her arms and looked at him.
— Today, I heard that you humiliated one of my teachers.
Tyrin immediately realized she was talking about Manfred.
— I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention. I just… got irritated.
— Don't worry, I know how he is — she said, surprising him. — After all, I was the one who hired him. His father is a close friend of my family, and I thought this opportunity might help him grow. From what you've noticed, he brings out the best in people… but through methods I would never use. I know he's prejudiced, but I have to admit—it's a herculean task to find a pilot who isn't.
Tyrin was intrigued by the headmistress's approach. Was she explaining herself to him? Apologizing? In his mind, he was the one who should be apologizing.
He was still trying to understand her words. What did she mean by that? Favors, limits… and the fact that she saw herself in him? Before he could formulate a response, she announced:
— We're here.
He looked around, still confused. The space was vast, minimalist, and somehow carried a tension in the air. As much as he wanted to use his ability on her, he hesitated. The incident with the gatekeeper was still fresh in his mind.
— Where are we, professor?
— Good question. This room has two functions. The first… is increasing gravity.
She turned a dial on the panel near the wall, adjusting it to 3. Instantly, Tyrin felt his body become as heavy as lead. Breathing became difficult, his muscles protested, but he forced himself to stay standing.
— You'll get used to it — she said, unfazed by the change. — Your teacher told me you're extremely curious, so I'll tell you something… at the very least, interesting. Do you know why we never tried to invade the Tyranos' main planetary system, even after reclaiming our territory?
That was a question Tyrin had asked himself before. Humanity had been on the brink of extinction, but with the Ultras, they managed to regain part of what they had lost. However, they never advanced beyond that. Instead of seeking revenge, they chose a defensive stance. It had always seemed odd to him.
— Actually… I don't know, Headmistress.
Before he could think more about it, he watched her turn the dial up to 10.
The impact was immediate. His body was slammed to the ground as if a mountain had collapsed on top of him. Every muscle trembled under the crushing weight, air fled from his lungs, and a suffocating pain spread through his bones. He felt like he was being crushed.
The headmistress, on the other hand, remained standing, a faint smile on her lips.
— This is half the gravity of those sons of bitches. — Her voice was almost amused, but there was a sharp seriousness in her words. — Imagine fighting in a place like this. The Tyranos born on the main planets live and die under double this gravity. Never forget who our real enemies are.
And just as quickly as she had increased the gravity, she lowered it back to normal.
Tyrin gasped, feeling the lightness return to his limbs. His body still ached, but he managed to sit up, trying to process that revelation. Now it made sense… fighting in an environment like that was suicide.
— Well… it's still too soon to teach you this. Let's take it slow — she said, as if she hadn't just crushed him with the force of a planet. — The second function of this room is simpler.
Still dizzy, Tyrin watched as she pressed a second button just below the dial.
In the next instant, a girl of about 12 years old appeared before him.
Tyrin's eyes widened.
— What…?
— This is me at 12 years old — the headmistress explained matter-of-factly. — This room has recorded all my training and progress since I was a child. Your goal is simple: defeat me. Easy, right?
She turned and walked toward the exit.
— Well, I'll leave you two alone. Once you beat me, you can return to your room.
The door closed behind her, leaving Tyrin alone with the girl.
He stood up slowly, still trying to process the situation. The girl in front of him looked… normal. Almost frail for someone who would later become the headmistress of the planet that trained the universe's elite soldiers.
But he didn't want to underestimate her.
That was his last thought before his body was violently hurled against the wall on the other side of the room.
The impact knocked the wind out of him. What the fuck was that?! He barely had time to react. His gaze snapped to the girl, who was just lowering her leg after the devastating kick she had landed on him.
She smiled.
IN ANOTHER ROOM, UPSTAIRS
Caronte watched the fight through a monitor, arms crossed. His expression was a mix of surprise and anticipation.
Then, he heard footsteps.
— So, you're curious too? — The headmistress's voice came from behind him.
Caronte chuckled.
— Twelve years old… Don't you think you're being a bit harsh on him? HAHAHA! It took me weeks to beat you when you were ten.
The headmistress raised an eyebrow, but he continued:
— A prodigy of the Essentials clan. Feared even among them. What was it they used to call you again?
— You're awfully chatty today — she replied, indifferent.
Caronte leaned back in his chair.
— I just want to see what he's capable of. Besides… he has an Ilutar. Think he'll summon it?
She shrugged.
— I believe so.
Caronte smirked, a curious gleam in his eyes.
— Ah, now I remember… "The Singularity."
The headmistress was silent for a moment, as if that name were a distant echo from another life.
— That was a long time ago — she said flatly. — Today, I'm just the headmistress.
He raised his hands in surrender.
— Of course, of course. My apologies… But how many years has it been since someone last summoned an Ilutar?
She didn't answer. Her gaze remained locked on the screen, where Tyrin, somehow, was holding back the girl's kick.
Caronte 's eyes widened.
— He blocked your kick?! How?!
The headmistress tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with interest.
— I don't know either… but now, I'm even more curious to find out.