Crowned in Flame and Stone (filler story)

Time: 8:00 AM

Jimmy glanced at the glowing digits on his portable console. Just an hour remained until the night's ceremony began.

He turned to Bruno, the ARC-17 mechanical Whisp, and typed quickly into the control pad:

"Bruno, monitor the incubator. Every time the solution level drops, refill it. Same with the fire crystals—top it off if depleted. I'll be gone for 30 minutes. Watch the place. If anything happens... record it."

Bruno's red optic gleamed.

:: Command Acknowledged. Standing By. ::

Jimmy slipped on his coat and mask, took Luna with him, and headed out. He moved quickly through the evening air, crossing neon-lit intersections to reach the nearest Whisp-care shop.

But luck wasn't on his side.

By the time he returned—26 minutes later—his hands were nearly empty. He had only managed to secure some additional solution. No fire crystals. The shops were closing early due to ceremony restrictions, and most stock had already been cleared after the auction rush.

His face fell with frustration.

As Jimmy stepped inside, Bruno's mechanical voice greeted him—more urgent than before.

"Jimmy. Something is happening. Quickly—go."

Jimmy's heart skipped.

He rushed into the main room.

And froze.

The incubator was glowing.

No—floating.

The Whisp egg inside had changed dramatically. The top part now shimmered with a blueish fire sheen, ethereal and radiant, while the bottom remained solid rock, etched with a voronoi texture like a celestial relic. It was levitating gently above the platform.

Below it, shards of hardened mineral—once discarded crystallization residue—had begun to condense and spin slowly in the air, orbiting the egg as if drawn by an invisible force.

Jimmy's breath caught in his throat.

This was awakening.

He scrambled for the recording device, setting up the camera to capture everything.

The solution inside the incubator was draining at an alarming rate—siphoned rapidly into the forming shell. Jimmy uncapped his reserve bottle and poured in more. Then again, ten minutes later. Then again.

Luna stood near, her fur bristling as she used her freezing breath to stabilize the surrounding objects—preserving the gemstones, the fossil egg, and even the seed.

Still, he refused to stop. The process was far from complete.

He returned to his console, preparing for another round of solution application—every ten minutes—while Luna maintained the rest.

The air shimmered.

The egg pulsed.

Something ancient was coming.

....................................

He didn't waste time.

He had read in one of the academy's old textbooks—"Whisp Evolution Anomalies and Stability Techniques"—that when an egg starts drawing energy too rapidly, applying elemental solutions aligned with its potential evolution line could stabilize the process.

Judging from the egg's behaviour—its fiery-blue aura and eerie, spectral glow—it was clear now:

Fire... and something ghostly.

He quickly purchased what he could afford:

→ 6 vials of A-grade Fire Pet Solution

→ 6 vials of A-grade Ghost Solution

→ A bonus vial of Psychic Solution, just in case.

By the time he reached back home, the clock had ticked past 9:15 AM.

Bruno immediately reported:

:: Alert. Solution levels near depletion. Suction rate remains elevated. ::

Jimmy rushed forward and froze.

The incubator was now glowing brighter than before.

The egg floated mid-air—steady, rotating slowly in an invisible cradle of force. The upper half burned in hues of blue fire, while the lower portion remained a hardened core of rock—carved with intricate Voronoi textures like cracked celestial armour.

All around it, the mineral shards had arranged themselves into a crown formation, like floating lotus petals—each one held aloft by some unseen magnetic pull.

The suction hadn't stopped.

It was slower now, controlled, but still active.

Jimmy didn't hesitate. He uncorked one Fire and one Ghost Pet Solution and poured them both into the incubator.

The egg flared—not violently this time, but rhythmically—as if accepting the infusion.

It rotated faster. Then slower.

Then stabilized.

Three more addition of mixtures—Jimmy counted them in tense silence—before the suction began to ease.

The egg stopped rising and hovered in place. Still glowing. Still feeding. But no longer burning itself out.

Jimmy exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"It's calming..." he murmured.

Luna stood at his side, her silver eyes locked on the floating egg as the air thickened with mystical energy.

Now it floated there—a star in its own gravity, drawing power, crowned by whispering stones.

But it wasn't done.

......................................

At exactly 10:30 AM, Jimmy stepped through the school gates. The sun was mild, the wind lazy. He had just finished registering his phone number into Bruno's command console, ensuring the mechanical Whisp could alert him in case of emergency.

But peace didn't last.

As he moved toward the entrance, a new guard stopped him cold.

"Hey! Don't block the path—go away, blind bastard."

Jimmy paused only for a second, but said nothing. He moved past without a word, swallowing the sting as if it were routine of that guard.

He entered the classroom quietly.

The class was already underway. The basics teacher had just arrived and was reviewing the school's recent results. Jimmy's gaze flickered across the room—he noticed someone familiar: the same boy he had met before leaving to find his new lodge.

Their eyes didn't meet, but the teacher gestured lightly. "Come in."

Jimmy nodded and took his seat without a sound.

The teacher continued, "We were runner-ups in this year's interschool competition. Don't be discouraged—we still made it far. From our class, Kira and Miren were selected."

He paused.

"Kira even made it to the final round."

The room remained silent, but the air was heavy.

Everyone knew what had happened.

It was 1-1. The final match had been Kira's. And he lost.

The quiet disappointment hung in the classroom like dust in sunlight. Even Kira sat with his head slightly bowed—his usual spark dimmed.

No one spoke.

..................................

Whispers began to snake their way through the classroom.

"He lost it …"

"…Final round. All that training for nothing."

"…Should've sent someone else."

Kira sat still, jaw tight, but his fists were clenched on the desk. He didn't argue. He didn't need to. The weight of failure was already sitting on his shoulders—and now the whispers were trying to bury him deeper.

Miren, sitting two seats away, tried to say something—but stopped when she saw the teacher glance sharply toward the murmurs.

"That's enough," the teacher said, his voice flat. "Win or lose, each of them represented this class. This academy."

But the words didn't quite sink in.

The bitterness had roots.

Kira turned his face slightly to the window. His lips didn't move, but Jimmy saw it in his posture—the silent battle he was fighting inside. One Jimmy knew too well.

Jimmy leaned back slightly in his seat.

He remembered what it was like to be the one they all stared at. To carry not just loss—but the weight of others' disappointment. The silent cruelty of classmates. The way they turned blame into truth.

Jimmy's fingers hovered over his wrist console for a moment.

Then stopped.

Some lessons weren't his to interrupt. 

He simply sat. Watch.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

After Launch;

The auditorium of Academy shimmered with dimmed lights and hanging banners—"Inter-School Challenge Ceremony – Honouring Growth." Students filled the rows, whispering and nudging one another while teachers stood tall in the aisles.

On stage, the principal stepped up to the podium. A tall, bald man with a sharp voice and a cane shaped like a phoenix's claw, he adjusted the mic.

"Silence, please," he said, his voice echoing. "This year's competition proved once again that spirit isn't just about victory. It's about resilience."

He turned slightly, eyes scanning the room, then landed on the trio from Class B standing beside the trophy table.

"Class B—often looked down upon—secured second place in this year's Inter-School Challenge," he continued. "They didn't win, but they did something more important. They earned respect. Let's give them a round of applause."

There was a polite clap from the audience. Some students genuinely clapped. Others... did it out of formality.

Kira, Miren, and Deem stood still. Kira was gripping the small plaque handed to him, his jaw tight. His Whisp pin glinted in the stage lights.

Deem leaned closer, voice barely hidden from the mic.

"Still your fault we lost."

Kira flinched but said nothing.

Then Miren (actually lost in first round, but from A class)—usually quiet—snorted, "Yeah. Hope you're proud."

Jimmy, seated silently in the third row with his blindfold and black coat, watched without moving. His hands rested on his lap. 

The mic picked up Deem's sharp whisper again:

"Maybe next year let someone else fight the final round."

Kira looked down. The shame was loud.

As Deem stepped forward to receive the runner-up medal, he turned to the audience, smirking.

"We could've won—if the team didn't choke in the last round," he said. Laughter broke out from a few students, but it died down when the principal cleared his throat.

"Enough," the principal said sternly. "This is a ceremony, not a blame session."

Just as tension filled the air, the lights near the front row shifted, and a new figure stood.

A woman in a lavender cloak with golden embroidery. Her presence felt… composed, powerful. She walked to the stage without waiting for permission. A teacher quickly handed her the mic.

She spoke, her tone smooth but confident:

"My name is Miss Ilaria Rayne. A-Rank Whisp Breeder. I was invited by the academy to observe today's ceremony and offer an opportunity."

A wave of silence washed over the auditorium.

"I am opening ten slots for students interested in breeding, nurturing, and developing Whisps beyond battle for 1st year. Those who wish to understand emotion-based growth, awakening signs, or egg stabilization—register in the east wing by sunset. And no, you don't need to be from Elite Class."

She smiled, briefly scanning the crowd.

Jimmy sat still, watching her faintly through the edge of his blindfold.

"Talent isn't always loud," she said, her voice quieter now. "Sometimes, the real change begins in silence. Give your name in office room or to your classroom teacher."

Then she stepped off stage.

The tension shifted.

.................................

jimmy checked the time, 3:30 PM and asked the Bruno by phone. "What is status?"