Parting Words

The Cloud-Treader glided gracefully towards one of the many crystalline docking platforms that jutted out from the mountainside, overlooking the magnificent city. The platform was a bustling hub of activity. Attendants in the grey and silver uniform of the Academy directed the arriving vessels with practiced efficiency. The air thrummed with a dozen different languages and the palpable, competitive energy of the young geniuses disembarking from their own opulent transports.

Amrit watched the scene from the deck, his Spirit Sea perception taking it all in. He saw a princess from a southern empire, her aura blazing like a phoenix, surrounded by a retinue of armored female warriors. He saw a young man from a nomadic desert clan, his skin tanned, his eyes holding a wild, untamed light, a massive scimitar strapped to his back. He saw a pale, scholarly-looking youth from a reclusive sect of runemasters, whose fingers idly traced complex patterns in the air, his spiritual energy as intricate as a spider's web.

Each one was a dragon among men, a peerless talent in their own homeland, radiating an aura of supreme confidence and pride. They were the stars of their generation, and they all knew it. This was their stage.

In contrast, the arrival of the sky-barge from Kshirapura was a quiet affair. Their kingdom's sigil—the silver lion—was recognized by few, and dismissed by most as the mark of a minor, provincial power. As Amrit prepared to disembark, he, Bhim, and Jian were met with cursory, indifferent glances. They were just another drop in an ocean of talent.

On the docking platform, Sword Master Jian turned to Amrit. His single eye, usually filled with a warrior's hardness, now held a deep, profound respect.

"Prince Amrit," he said, his voice a low gravel. "This is where my duty as your advisor ends, and your own journey begins. Remember what we discussed. The Way of the Sword is not just in the hand, but in the heart. Your insight is a divine gift. Do not let the arrogance of these young peacocks dull its edge."

Amrit nodded. "I will not, Master Jian. Thank you for your guidance. Your wisdom has been invaluable."

"It is I who should be thanking you," Jian said, a faint, rare smile touching his scarred lips. He gave a deep, formal bow, then turned and strode back into the Cloud-Treader. His mission was complete. He would pilot the ship back to Kshirapura, carrying with him a new, revolutionary understanding of his life's passion.

Now only Bhim remained. His massive frame seemed even larger amidst the slender, elegant architecture of the city. He looked down at Amrit, his expression a mixture of brotherly concern and profound awe.

"The Academy rules state that personal guards are not permitted past the city gates," Bhim rumbled, his voice heavy. "I will find lodging in the outer city and await your summons. If you have need of me, send a message. I will come."

"I know you will, brother," Amrit said.

Bhim hesitated, a rare sign of uncertainty on his stoic face. He looked at the throng of proud, powerful young nobles strutting about the platform. "Be careful, Amrit. These are not like the vipers in the palace. They are young tigers, and they will see you as a threat or as prey. They will not fight with poison and shadows, but with open challenges and crushing force."

"A tiger is still just a beast," Amrit replied calmly. "It can be tamed, or it can be broken."

Bhim looked at his younger brother—at his calm demeanor, at the unassuming, sheathed sword at his hip—and a sense of reassurance settled over him. He had seen what Amrit was capable of. The tigers should be wary of him, not the other way around.

"Father told me to protect you," Bhim said, placing a hand as large as a dinner plate on Amrit's shoulder. The grip was gentle, a gesture of pure fraternal affection. "But I see now that my role is not to be your shield. It is to be your anchor to home. Do not forget who you are, or where you come from, amidst all this grandeur."

Amrit was touched by the sentiment. Bhim, the silent mountain, had become his most steadfast, uncomplicated ally. "I won't," he said, his voice sincere. "Go, Bhim. Be safe. I will see you soon."

Bhim gave a final, firm nod, then turned and lumbered away, his powerful form carving a path through the crowd, a simple, solid rock in a sea of glittering jewels.

Amrit was now truly alone.

He stood for a moment on the docking platform, a solitary figure from a minor kingdom. He wore no ostentatious armor, was followed by no grand retinue. He carried a single, plain-looking sword. To the world, he was a nobody. A footnote. It was a familiar feeling, a shadow of the life he had lived for fifteen years.

But this time, it was different. Before, his insignificance had been a cage. Now, it was a cloak.

He took a deep breath, the crisp mountain air filling his lungs. He felt the thrum of a thousand powerful auras around him, the weight of a million ambitious dreams. He felt the cold, familiar weight of Soul-Sunder at his hip, a universe of power coiled and waiting. He felt the boundless Divine Ocean within him, calm and ready.

He adjusted the simple pack on his back, which contained little more than a change of clothes, his registration documents for the Academy, and the King's Royal Seal.

His parting words had been spoken. The farewells were done. The journey was over, and the true test was about to begin.

With a final, calm glance at the arrogant, preening geniuses around him, Amrit started walking. He moved with a quiet, unassuming grace, his steps taking him away from the docking platform and towards the grand, shimmering gates of the Sky-Piercing City.

He was a ghost walking into the sun, an unknown quantity in a city built on reputation. He had no legacy to stand on, no famous name to announce him. All he had was a system that could defy reality and an ambition that aimed to challenge the gods.

As he walked, a faint, almost invisible smile touched his lips. It was the smile of a predator that had just been released into the most target-rich environment it had ever known.

The path to the Academy lay before him, a road paved with trials, rivals, and the first true taste of the wider world. He took his first step onto it, not as a prince or a prodigy, but simply as Amrit. And that, he knew, would be more than enough.