Chapitre 8: Déjà Vu
The creature didn't reply to Khalil's words. Instead, it leaned toward him, its ethereal form gliding closer until its forehead touched his. Instantly, a rush of warmth flooded through him, like a system-wide update installing itself across his consciousness. The creature's head resting against his felt both solid and immaterial, like a cursor hovering between states.
Khalil's vision began to blur, an all-encompassing brightness swallowing his surroundings. He gasped, but the creature's soothing presence steadied him, guiding him as he fell into the light.
Then, just as suddenly as the whiteness had overtaken him, it faded. He blinked rapidly, his senses returning one by one, like a page gradually loading its elements. The familiar hall began to take shape around him—the same expansive space near the portal he'd stepped through. But now, he was lying down, staring up at the ceiling.
Slowly, he sat up, his head still spinning as he took in the scene. Figures stood around him in a loose circle, their expressions varied—some looked at him with awe, others with suspicion, curiosity, or outright wonder.
But what seized his attention was the glowing, floating window in his line of sight. Finally, a proper user interface! It shimmered in the air just before him, casting a faint light that partially obscured the figures around him.
He was just about to reach out to touch it—to test its interactivity—when a voice cut through the quiet murmurs.
"Stand up," it commanded, firm and unyielding.
Khalil tore his gaze from the window, the figures becoming sharper in his vision as he refocused.
His gaze fell upon the man who had spoken—a slightly older, middle-aged figure wearing respectable robes of deep indigo trimmed with silver. His posture was authoritative, yet there was an unmistakable warmth in his expression.
His dark eyes were keen, observant, set above a strong nose, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Khalil noted the faint lines around his eyes, suggesting both wisdom and a life spent guiding others.
Realizing he was still on the floor, Khalil quickly muttered, "Apologies," and scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off. As he rose, he became painfully aware of the way the figures around him were eyeing him. He felt oddly like a prized item on display.
A familiar sensation of déjà vu crept in.
Hadn't he been in a similar situation just a short while ago, surrounded by creatures each vying for his attention? Yet here he was again, only now it was people—not beasts—who were casting their gazes upon him with the same eager intensity.
The voices began to murmur louder, escalating into a series of quiet, fervent arguments.
One figure, a tall man in robes embroidered with a silver guild crest, took a step forward. "My guild has yet to recruit a true genius this season," he insisted, looking directly at Khalil. "It should be me who brings him under our wing."
Another figure, a woman with bright emerald robes and streaks of blue in her dark hair, scoffed and waved him off. "Nonsense! I need a disciple, and this young man is more than fit for the position. I will take him."
A third figure, an older man with stark white hair and a piercing gaze, cleared his throat, eyeing both of his competitors. "Perhaps both of you should step aside," he said with a measured tone. "What this young man needs is proper discipline and guidance, not just guild titles."
Khalil could barely keep track of the competing voices, each one louder than the last, each argument seeming to draw him deeper into the middle of a whirlwind. The sensation of being chosen, desired, and scrutinized was overwhelming. Just as before, the tension rose to a near boiling point.
The middle-aged man in indigo finally coughed—firmly but politely. Instantly, the arguments ceased, the hall falling silent. The other figures turned their attention to him, reluctantly stepping back.
"Everyone, please," he began, his voice calm but firm. "This young man has clearly just arrived. He is in need of time, learning, and guidance, not an immediate rush of demands."
The others shifted uncomfortably, some exchanging annoyed glances. The blue-haired woman seemed particularly reluctant to back down, and the white-haired old man narrowed his eyes as if preparing to argue.
The man in indigo, undeterred, continued. "For now, I will accept him into the academy." He paused, looking back at Khalil with a small nod. "We will grant him the second place, as a recognition of his potential."
The blue-haired woman muttered something under her breath, clearly unsatisfied, while the white-haired man crossed his arms, his expression stern. All eyes turned back to Khalil, scrutinizing him in a way that made him feel like he was being assessed for every strength and flaw.
Khalil, feeling the weight of their stares, shifted slightly, uncertain of what to say or do next.
The man in indigo regarded Khalil with a steady gaze, his voice calm yet carrying an air of authority. "Tell me, young man—do you wish to study at the Astral Nexus Academy?"
The name hit Khalil like a bolt of lightning.
Celestial Nexus Academy.
It was the same renowned place and name he'd encountered countless times during his research on the game, the place where only the most promising individuals of the game world trained and honed their skills. Like discovering a prestigious tech institute, but for beast taming instead of code.
A famous school woven into legends and histories, where the greatest figures had once studied and risen to fame. Many of the main characters were also from this academy.
He also heard only a moderate amount of players could get into the academy—like an exclusive beta test with limited slots.
Khalil took a moment to consider his options, but the decision was clear. He nodded, and a subtle smile crept onto his face. "Yes, I would be honored to study there."
"Good, good."
The man's eyes glimmered, and he laughed, a deep, satisfied sound that seemed to echo across the hall. Some of the other figures groaned in disappointment, clearly unhappy with his decision.
But Khalil could already tell his troubles were far from over.
The blue-haired woman stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with an unyielding determination. "You know, young man, there are many paths to greatness. My Blue Sky Guild would ensure your success. Riches, resources, and all the guidance you could wish for—it could all be yours if you reconsider."
The white-haired old man nodded, his tone soft yet insistent. "Indeed. We would offer you the best fortune and honor you could imagine. In our ranks, you'd be highly respected and have access to rare techniques, even resources that the academy may not provide."
"Umm..."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone