The garden fell into chaos.
Not the chaos of battle.
Not the chaos of war.
But the chaos born from shattered understanding.
The moment the Twelve Priests and Priestesses declared that Kel's awakening had succeeded through Space itself rather than a constellation—
Every person present froze.
For several heartbeats.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Nobody even seemed capable of processing what they had heard.
The cold northern wind swept through the garden.
Silver lanterns flickered softly.
The ritual circle beneath Kel's feet slowly faded.
And then—
The silence exploded.
"WHAT?"
The voice came from one of the younger temple attendants.
His face had completely lost color.
The moment he realized he had shouted aloud, he immediately covered his mouth.
Too late.
Several others had already done the same.
"Space itself?"
"That's impossible."
"Can something like that even happen?"
"There isn't any record of it."
"There shouldn't be any record of it."
The murmurs spread rapidly.
Like wildfire.
The younger nobles of House Rosenfeld were even worse.
Kel's younger brother stared at the priests.
Then at Kel.
Then back at the priests.
His face twisted.
"I don't understand anything."
His younger sister immediately nodded.
"Me neither."
The siblings looked surprisingly relieved.
At least they were confused together.
Nearby—
Several cousins were already arguing.
"No constellation?"
"How can someone awaken without a constellation?"
"Didn't they just say he awakened?"
"They did."
"Then what awakened?"
Nobody possessed an answer.
Even the people asking the questions weren't sure what exactly they were asking anymore.
At the front of the gathering—
The Seven Priests and Five Priestesses remained calm.
Or at least attempted to appear calm.
The truth was—
They were asking the exact same questions internally.
The Priestess of Fate slowly removed her glasses.
Massaging her forehead.
The sight shocked several attendants.
Their teacher never did that.
Ever.
Which meant her confusion had reached catastrophic levels.
The Priest of Knowledge looked toward the sky.
Then toward Kel.
Then toward the sky again.
He had repeated this sequence seven times already.
As though hoping reality would correct itself.
It didn't.
The elderly scholar finally sighed.
"Extraordinary."
The Priest of War snorted.
"That's your conclusion?"
The scholar adjusted his robes.
"No."
A pause.
"My actual conclusion contains language inappropriate for a holy ceremony."
For the first time that night—
Several priests laughed.
Because they understood exactly how he felt.
Not far away—
Duke Aktaris stepped forward.
The conversations immediately quieted.
The ruler of the North possessed that effect.
His gaze settled upon the Twelve Priests.
Unlike everyone else—
His expression remained composed.
Yet even he desired answers.
"Explain."
A simple word.
The Priest of Dawn nodded.
"If possible."
The addition earned several strange looks.
Duke Aktaris raised an eyebrow.
"If possible?"
The Priest smiled bitterly.
"Because we are trying to explain something we ourselves do not fully understand."
The statement immediately stunned everyone.
The Twelve Priests.
The greatest spiritual authorities of the Empire.
The people who dedicated their entire lives to understanding awakenings.
And even they didn't understand?
The realization made the situation feel even more absurd.
The Priestess of Stars eventually stepped forward.
Moonlight reflected from her silver robes.
Her gaze moved toward the fading ritual circle.
Then toward the heavens.
Finally toward Kel.
"When people awaken..."
Her calm voice spread throughout the garden.
"They call to the stars."
Everyone listened carefully.
"The stars answer according to alignment."
"Warriors receive warrior constellations."
"Scholars receive scholarly constellations."
"Rulers receive royal constellations."
The explanation was familiar.
Basic.
Fundamental.
Then her expression changed.
"But Kel's situation was different."
The entire garden became silent.
The priestess continued.
"He did not attract one constellation."
"He attracted all of them."
Several attendants nodded.
They had witnessed that themselves.
The priestess continued.
"That means every known path acknowledged his will."
The statement alone sounded unbelievable.
Yet it was merely the beginning.
The Priest of Knowledge took over.
"The strange part happened afterward."
His eyes settled upon Kel.
"He rejected all paths."
A pause.
"He rejected every specialization."
"Every destiny."
"Every predetermined future."
The scholar slowly exhaled.
"And something answered anyway."
The garden became still.
Because that sentence revealed the true problem.
The stars were rejected.
Yet the awakening still succeeded.
Which meant—
Something beyond stars had responded.
The Priestess of Fate stepped forward.
Her silver eyes seemed unusually serious.
"When I sensed his connection..."
A brief pause.
"I found no constellation."
The statement sent another wave through the crowd.
"Instead..."
She looked upward.
"I sensed the space between stars."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Because the statement sounded ridiculous.
Until people remembered who was speaking.
Lady Astra never joked.
Never exaggerated.
Never lied.
Which made her words infinitely more terrifying.
The Priest of Dawn continued.
"Imagine a painting."
Many listeners frowned.
An unusual comparison.
"The constellations are images painted upon a canvas."
He pointed toward the sky.
"The stars are the paint."
His finger slowly lowered.
"The canvas holds everything together."
Understanding slowly appeared on several faces.
Not complete understanding.
But enough.
The priest finished.
"Kel did not connect to the paint."
"He connected to the canvas."
Shock spread again.
Even among the attendants.
Because now the implications became obvious.
Every constellation existed upon the canvas.
Which meant—
The canvas naturally touched all constellations.
And that explained why all eighty-eight answered.
Nearby—
Aria stared at Kel.
Her silver eyes reflected countless emotions.
Confusion.
Admiration.
Disbelief.
Mostly disbelief.
"Of course."
The thought appeared naturally.
"Only Kel would somehow skip the entire system."
A small smile appeared despite herself.
Nearby—
Helena looked completely lost.
She gently tugged Duke Aktaris' sleeve.
"Did you understand any of that?"
The Duke remained silent.
Several moments passed.
Then he answered honestly.
"Partially."
Helena sighed in relief.
At least she wasn't alone.
Several cousins overheard.
They looked relieved too.
Not understanding apparently ran in the family.
The discussions continued.
Questions followed questions.
The attendants asked.
The nobles asked.
Even some priests asked each other.
The deeper they analyzed—
The stranger the situation became.
Because eventually someone asked the most terrifying question.
"What abilities does Space grant?"
Silence.
The question hit everyone simultaneously.
Because nobody knew.
Not one person.
No historical records existed.
No previous examples existed.
No theories existed.
Nothing.
For the first time in thousands of years—
Humanity possessed absolutely no information regarding an awakening path.
The Priest of Knowledge looked almost excited.
The Priestess of Fate looked worried.
The Priest of Judgment looked exhausted.
The Priest of War looked interested.
Every reaction was different.
Yet all shared one thing.
Curiosity.
Immense curiosity.
At the center of it all—
Kel remained calm.
Standing within the fading ritual formation.
Watching.
Listening.
Observing.
And for some reason—
That calmness unsettled the Twelve Priests more than anything else.
Because despite everything that happened tonight—
Kel looked neither surprised nor excited.
Almost as though—
Deep down—
He had already expected his path to be different from everyone else's.
Above them—
The stars continued shining.
Silent.
Ancient.
Mysterious.
Yet for the first time since the First Epoch—
The stars were no longer the most mysterious thing in the night sky.
That honor now belonged to a fifteen-year-old boy standing beneath them.
A boy who had rejected eighty-eight destinies.
A boy who had awakened to the endless canvas of possibility itself.
And a boy whose future had suddenly become impossible for anyone—including the Twelve Temples—to predict