The Stairway of Heaven!

Here's a long, immersive, novel-style rewrite

So by now, dear reader, I trust you finally understand why Aether Ryens is stepping into this academy under the banner of a non-gifter. It's not just a reckless gamble or some cheap trick to stand out. No—this was carefully thought out, perhaps the only path that made sense for someone carrying a secret as heavy and dangerous as his.

But here's the twist not everyone might expect: Aether himself was actually rather interested in mechanisms. You see, because his family still believed he was just an ordinary boy without a shred of mana, they'd put him through all sorts of mechanical studies, hoping he'd at least master some practical trade. As it turned out, fiddling with gears and delicate rune circuits was… surprisingly fun. It gave his clever mind puzzles to chew on, and watching something mechanical whir to life under his hands was its own quiet thrill.

"I love my family, uwu…" Aether would sometimes think with a tiny, embarrassed grin. Because yes—even though they had no idea of the storm swirling inside him, they'd never treated him as lesser for lacking magic. They simply taught him what they could, filled their house with old books, and always made him feel wanted.

So really, by walking into this academy as a non-gifter, Aether was stacking the odds in his favor. He'd gain deeper knowledge of mechanisms, keep polishing his hidden magic on the side, and most importantly—he'd get a rare glimpse into how this world looked through the eyes of those without magic. That was valuable perspective, and he wasn't going to pass it up.

Now, people on the outside—if they ever learned the truth—might have assumed Aether was untouchable. The boy who held the Stairway of Heaven in his hands. The most feared, most mysterious magic ever recorded. A power with no supposed weakness.

But that's just how stories get told by people who've never felt that weight. The real truth? The magic itself was its own biggest curse.

Since this was a forbidden art, using it even lightly risked drawing the suspicion of master mages. Those older titans could sniff out stray trails of magic in the air, like hounds catching scent. If he used his power too recklessly, it'd only be a matter of time before someone noticed something was wrong. So Aether couldn't afford to flaunt it. Couldn't even safely train with it for long stretches.

Worse still, controlling his mana at all had been a nightmare in the beginning. Imagine holding your breath under water, trying not to let bubbles rise—and your lungs are magic itself, aching to burst. That was Aether, wrestling day after day with power that wanted out.

He'd learned mostly from the old books cluttering his home. His parents loved hoarding dusty tomes—some on rune mechanics, others on classical spellcraft. To them, it was just an old family tradition, a nod to ancestors who'd once been minor scholars. To Aether, those fragile pages were a lifeline. Even the forbidden books, stashed deeper on the shelves, found their way into his eager hands. And though his parents would sometimes walk in to see him nose-deep in texts about "the theories of primal mana flow" or "sympathetic bindings across ley lines," they never stopped him. In their minds, he was simply a boy wishing he could have magic.

Sometimes, when his family went out to the markets or festivals, Aether would steal precious hours alone. He'd experiment—tentatively freezing time in tiny pockets around him, then letting it rush forward again. Once, he stopped a falling cup mid-air, held it suspended for a heartbeat that stretched on and on, before reversing it neatly back into his hand. Each success was thrilling, but also chilling, because it reminded him exactly how terrifying this power could be.

It had taken him years just to learn the bare basics of controlling the Stairway of Heaven. Even now, he could stop or slow time only in small bursts, and reversing it remained delicate and exhausting. But along the way, he'd also discovered something that made his heart pound with equal parts awe and horror: this magic didn't just manipulate time. Somehow, by touching the fundamental current that underlay all existence, it let him brush against other elemental forces as well.

Fire, wind, lightning—they all felt dimly connected, like strings vibrating on the same cosmic instrument. Yet trying to isolate them was beyond him for now. Any attempt ended in chaotic feedback, raw mana nearly tearing him apart. So Aether understood, far too clearly, why this magic had once terrified the world into banning it outright. It was an unstable miracle, far too vast for any single person to truly master.

And besides, power without skill was worthless. Aether knew that painfully well. So in addition to mastering his magic, he also pushed himself to learn how to fight—how to weave his spells into combat. And that was… hard. Frickin' hard. He wasn't some perfect prodigy. Half the time he ended up on his back, panting and bruised, muttering bitter encouragements to himself like, "I am special, so I can manage everything—even if it goes slow, I'll get there…"

Right now, Aether would admit with cool confidence that he was probably stronger than most of these other new enrollments. But the truth was, he still had countless miles to go. And this academy? It was going to be his crucible. The place to quietly learn everything he possibly could—mechanics, tactics, even more obscure magic theory—so that by the time the world inevitably turned its gaze on him, he'd be ready.

"Thank you, you may go now," said the tester, marking the end of Aether's trial. His tone was neutral, professional—just one more non-gifter processed. Aether bowed politely, then stepped back out into the main hall.

As he did, predictably, the peanut gallery wasted no time.

"Hey look, it's that pretty boy coming out—must be nice, only being good for looks," one sneered.

"Ha! Poor guy, can't even toss a spark. What's he doing here, hoping to land a rich mage girlfriend?" another snorted, followed by snickers.

Aether pressed a hand lightly to his forehead, sighing. "Being low profile is going to be hard from now on… Help! Is being handsome actually a problem? God, help me—heh, just kidding. I don't give a damn about you background characters. Not my fault if you're ugly." Of course, he didn't say any of that out loud. Instead, he just walked by, offering a dazzlingly polite smile that probably annoyed them even more.

Then he paused mid-step. A sudden, horrifying thought struck him.

"Wait… what if I'm also just a background character like them?"

He nearly tripped right there, lost in dramatic self-analysis.

"Hello? Excuse me!" someone's voice broke into his spiraling thoughts, accompanied by a gentle tap on the shoulder.

Aether turned, blinking, to find a boy standing there. He was a bit shorter, with neatly cut black hair and lively gray eyes that practically glowed with friendly curiosity.

"Yes?" Aether asked, quirking a brow.

"Hii! My name's Morgan Bailey. Uh… are you a non-gifter?" the boy blurted, smiling so brightly it nearly hurt to look at.

Aether studied him for half a heartbeat. "Who's this? Doesn't look like one of those loudmouth jerks. Must be another non-gifter… probably wants to make friends. Well, not a bad idea to have allies among them."

So he allowed a small, easy smile. "Hey there. I'm Aether Ryens. Yeah, non-gifter. You too?"

Morgan lit up even more, if possible. "Yup! I'm a non-gifter too. Nice to meet you! There's a good chance we'll end up in the same class, right? So… wanna be friends?"

"Nice meeting you too. Yeah, sure, why not. I was bored anyway," Aether said with a faint chuckle. Honestly, it was refreshing to meet someone so openly cheerful without hidden claws.

Morgan was immediately off like a shot, chatting about the academy grounds, the upcoming dorm assignments, how nervous he'd been about the test. Aether followed alongside, nodding and offering the occasional hum of agreement, but inwardly…

"This guy's nice. Hard to find people like this. But geez… he's so energetic. Listening to him is more exhausting than mana training. I am a growing man—I need plenty of rest…" Aether lamented dramatically in silence.

About Morgan Bailey

Name: Morgan Bailey

Age: 15

Appearance: Short black hair, bright gray eyes, about 165 cm tall.

Personality: Smiley, energetic, playful — an easy spark of joy in a world often too dark.

And so, dear reader, our story marches forward with Aether stepping deeper into the tangled web of the academy—armed with forbidden power, secret ambitions, and now a surprisingly chatty friend at his side. Who knows how long his secret will last? Or how many gears must turn before the world finally learns the truth of the boy who holds the Stairway of Heaven?

Stay tuned. After all… this is only the beginning.