Seraph's command was clear and final. "Explain everything. Now."
Jonah, with no energy left but a strong will, met her intense look. Her doubt was gone, and now she had a scary focus. This wasn't a test anymore; it was hard questioning.
He had two choices: lie and try to hide the specifics or tell her the truth. Lying to a woman who looked like she could spot a bead of sweat from a hundred paces seemed like a very quick way to end up in a very deep, dark hole.
"It started with my Awakening," Jonah began, his voice rough from being tired. He signaled for Shard to crawl onto the desk. It sat without moving. "The Pillar… it didn't just give me the mark. It opened something in my mind. A space. I call it the Workshop."
He described the endless darkness, and the feeling of a factory waiting to be used. Seraph listened without interruption, her eyes never leaving his face.
"A workshop needs materials," Jonah continued, gathering his thoughts. "The primer said Summoners use pacts, but this is different. My power uses… Essence."
"Essence from what?" Seraph's question was sharp and to the point.
"From defeated beasts," Jonah admitted. "When I fought a Crystalline Beetle in the Undercroft, I absorbed something from it when it died. A blueprint. That's the 'paint' for the creation."
Seraph's expression was blank, but a small spark of understanding lit up her eyes. Her mind, trained for strategy and logistics, worked super fast, connecting dots he hadn't even realized existed.
Defeated beasts? We can feed him specific essences. Need a water scout? Have him kill a Shadow-Gill Prowler. Need something that can dig? A Diamond-Claw Mole. We can pick the skills.
"And the 'canvas'?" she asked.
"A Genesis Core," Jonah said, his voice dropping. "An object with latent life energy. I… got lucky. I found one while scavenging." He decided to omit the part where it was a weird rock he'd kept in a dirty bag for months. That felt a little less impressive.
He explained the final step - the Synthesis. The draining, dangerous process of weaving the Essence into the Core, of combining the blueprint with the foundation.
When he finished, the room was quiet again. Seraph stared at Shard, then at Jonah. Her mind was no longer on the fight; it was on the bigger picture. The meaning of what he said was huge.
He wasn't a Tamer, with just one beast for life. He wasn't a Summoner, calling spirits that were already there. He was a factory. A one-man bio-weapon creator. He could make special assassins, disposable scouts or living war machines for any job. He could build an army.
Her serious look turned deadly.
"Forget combat classes," she said, her voice low and final. "Forget standard classes. From this moment on, your curriculum is now singular: Synthesis."
Before Jonah could process that, she unclipped a device from her belt. It wasn't the sleek academy datapad. It was a military-grade communicator, bulky and built to withstand a blast. She turned away from him, shielding the device with her body, and pressed a button.
A hiss of static was the only sound before she spoke.
Her words were short and quick, like a code he couldn't fully understand.
"Seraph reporting to Command. Authorization code: Sierra-Nine-Tango." A pause. "Found a live one. Confirmed active. Class-designation: Weaver."
*Weaver.* That word reminded him of the Golem's riddle in his dream.
So that's what he was.
"Potential," Seraph continued, her voice even colder now. "Omega."
Jonah didn't know the exact military classification, but "Omega" didn't sound like "average student." It sounded like "end of the line."
"Recommend immediate full-asset classification. Level five protocol. Secure and isolate. Acknowledged."
She clicked the communicator off and clipped it back onto her belt. When she turned back to face him, the last remnants of the instructor were gone.
"From this moment on, you do not speak of your ability to anyone," she ordered. "Not your classmates, if you ever meet them. Not other instructors. Not a soul. Am I clear?"
Jonah could only nod, his throat suddenly dry.
"What you can do… what you are… is now a state secret," she stated.
The weight of those words landed on him with physical force. A state secret. Yesterday he was an orphan trying not to starve. Today, his very existence was a matter of national security.
The thrill of his success, the joy of creating Shard, was rapidly being replaced by a cold dread. This wasn't the path to glory he had imagined. This path led to a cage, though a much nicer one than the Undercroft.
"Your evaluation is over," Seraph informed him. "Your new mission begins now. You will spend every waking moment with your creation. Study it. Catalog its properties, its strengths, its weaknesses. I want a full report on its speed, durability, offensive capabilities, and any other skills it might possess. And while you're doing that," she said, her eyes boring into him, "you will begin planning your next one."
Jonah stared at her, overwhelmed. "My next one? I don't have another Genesis Core, and my Essence…"
"I will secure the resources," she cut him off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "That is my job.
Your job is to create. The state has an interest in seeing just how far your abilities can be pushed. Do not disappoint."
With that final command, she gave him one last, assessing look. Then she turned and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click that sounded as final as a vault sealing shut.
Jonah stood alone in the silence, the distant hum of the Academy's power systems the only sound.
Shard hopped off the desk and nudged him with its stony head. The connection was still there, a soft comfort in the sudden loneliness.
He had escaped the ruins. He had Awakened. He had proven he wasn't a dud.
He had gotten everything he wanted.
And now, he was a prisoner of his own power.