System, please just shut up

Kael adjusted the collar of his uniform as he walked through the quiet inner paths of the academy.

The ancient stone was still damp from last night's cleansing wards, and the golden moss lining the walls pulsed faintly in the cool shade, emitting a soft, ethereal light.

Today was the day he'd learn his first sword technique, a fundamental step in his perilous journey to fulfill the Archive's impossible demands.

And he was doing so through the most basic and simple method available.

He'd read a dozen explanations by now on skill and technique acquisition, and they all contradicted each other in some small, infuriating way.

But most scholars, generally agreed that there were three primary, recognized methods of acquiring skills or techniques in the modern Archive age:

✦ 1. Archive Acquisition

This was, by far, the most common, easiest, and most stable method.

You entered a specialized place referred to as 'The Physical Archive,' essentially a grand, magically-infused library designed for skill imprinting. Here, you could choose from a meticulously registered list of curated techniques, spells, or abilities.

Once selected, the chosen skill was synced directly into your personal status window, becoming an indelible part of your being.

It was fast, reliable, and extremely structured, offering a predictable path for cadets.

This method ensured uniform training and measurable growth across the academy's vast student body.

However, it also meant your progress was locked to what the system allowed. There were inherent limits—based on your current rank, level, and something more obscure and less understood called "soul compatibility."

It was the default method, the one most cadets used, a fundamental aspect of their academic progression. And it was exactly what Kael was about to use today.

But despite it being the easiest in terms of of raw effort, it was still deceptively risky, given the critical fact that not everyone would be compatible with every technique.

More terrifyingly, once acquired through the Archive, you couldn't unlearn it. It was permanently woven into your spiritual fabric, for better or worse.

✦ 2. Naturally Learned

Rare, but not entirely unheard of in the annals of recorded history.

This happened when someone instinctively created or discovered a skill through pure, raw experience—usually in high-stress, life-or-death situations.

An archer, after weeks of relentless frustration and near-failure, might unleash a perfect, impossible shot that defied conventional physics.

A fighter, pushed to their absolute limits, might instinctively dodge a fatal strike and feel something 'click' deep within their very essence, a sudden flash of insight.

When the Archive detected that natural resonance, that innate understanding of a hidden truth, it sometimes recognized and converted that raw movement or epiphany into a formal, named skill on its own. These skills often felt incredibly intuitive and powerful to the user, as they were born of innate talent and desperate necessity.

✦ 3. Inheritance or Transfer

These were skills or techniques passed directly from one person to another—often through ancient, enchanted items, powerful tokens, or sometimes even fractured memory impressions burned into bloodline relics passed down through generations.

The results of this method were notoriously unpredictable. Inherited skills often came with built-in strain, unstable compatibility, or even a hidden cost that manifested years later.

The Archive, in its infinite and inscrutable wisdom, didn't always cooperate with abilities it hadn't personally registered or overseen during its acquisition.

Some of the strongest warriors in history had inherited their most powerful, world-shaking moves, becoming legends.

But so had some of the most tragic failures, undone by the very power they sought to wield. It was a gamble, a roll of the dice with potentially catastrophic consequences.

Kael exhaled slowly, the cool morning air filling his lungs.

The Archive method might not be the most romantic or dramatic way to learn something, lacking the mystique of discovery or the weight of ancient lineage… but it was stable.

And right now, stability was exactly what he needed. His life was already chaotic enough.

He just hoped whatever technique he picked actually made sense to his body, that it resonated with his instincts. Theory was one thing—comprehension and practical application were entirely another.

And he really, truly needed the comprehension part. His survival depended on it.

He jogged lightly down the east path, his breath steady, boots clicking quietly on the rune-smoothed stone.

The sky above was streaked with early golden light, painting the clouds in hues of rose and amber, and a cool breeze brushed past the archways that lined the garden terrace.

Third bell had just rung, its clear chime echoing through the academy grounds. Seraphina had said to meet at the east gate by third bell, and Kael prided himself on his punctuality, especially for appointments with his instructors.

He turned the corner, the ancient blackstone wall of the gate coming into view.

She was already there.

Leaning against the blackstone wall like she'd been carved into it.

Seraphina stood with arms crossed, back ramrod straight, eyes closed—not in impatience or boredom, but in a state of quiet, intense focus, perhaps meditating or simply conserving her energy.

Her dark uniform fit clean and sharp against her lithe frame, every line crisp, every fold precise, a reflection of her own unwavering discipline.

She opened her eye the moment he approached, her gaze sharp, piercing. "You're on time," she stated, her voice even, devoid of inflection.

"I try," Kael replied, a faint smile touching his lips.

She nodded once, a curt, economical gesture. "Let's go." And that was that. No small talk, no complaints, no wasted words.

Just pure efficiency.

******

'The Physical Archive' wasn't what Kael had expected.

The front gate had no guards—a testament to the sanctity and inherent security of the place.

Just a single, profound line carved into the ancient stone arch above the entrance: "Knowledge is not given. It is remembered."

A stark reminder that the Archive didn't impart new information so much as it awakened inherent truths already present within the soul.

Inside, the Library opened up like a cathedral of pure knowledge and contained power. Ceilings stretched impossibly high, vanishing into a gloom pierced by shafts of light from unseen windows.

The vast space was crisscrossed by an intricate network of floating bridges of etched stone and levitating rails that hummed softly as they carried racks of glowing scrolls from one wing to another.