"Truly... fascinating!" As my vision and hearing gradually returned, I thought I heard the otter’s voice.

"I’d say it’s terrifying," the fox’s blurry figure became clearer as she seemed to be trying to pull the otter away from the remnants of what used to be the platform. "You know that if Richter hadn’t contained the reaction, we’d all be vaporized by now, right?"

"A minor setback," the otter waved his hand dismissively, leaving a faint afterimage in my sight. "Not only did we discover a flaw in the ion trap, but we also found another way to induce nuclear fusion." He crossed his arms, gazing at where the platform had been. "Though, I’d say stability might need some improvement."

"He holds a star in his grasp…" I turned my head toward the stoat who hadn’t spoken until now. He was getting up from the ground, muttering to himself. "As if it were no different from breathing..."

I focused my attention forward, where a fireball, the size of a thumb, floated where the platform had once existed.

By Rationalism, despite the vast difference in size, the radiant plasma sphere undeniably held the qualities of a star. The waveforms transmitted through the domain clearly showed the sheer magnitude and majesty of the energy I was trying to capture with the containment circle.

I dared not look directly at the fireball; even with protective goggles, my optic nerves couldn’t withstand such intense energy.

But that’s when I noticed—the dark world around me was tinted with a red hue.

Damn.

I immediately attempted to establish a connection with Master Field, but before I could finish the full signal, a sudden wave of dizziness caused me to stumble, almost collapsing.

"Richter, are you okay?" I felt the fox steady me, her tone filled with concern.

"I’m… fine…" I tried to speak, but it felt like I’d just finished a grueling cross-country run, panting heavily. "Contact... the Master Field..." The exhaustion was seeping into my mind, draining my already depleted mental reserves; the containment circle could collapse at any moment.

"You're bleeding!" The fox's voice was edged with panic, and her remark made me aware of the cold, sticky sensation at the tip of my nose.

The scene blurred again, this time with clusters of black spots creeping from the edges of my vision, swiftly spreading over the entire view.

"I'm going into Red-Eye State!" I forced myself to stay conscious, trying to squeeze out every last ounce of strength. I knew that if I let go of the containment circle, not only would we be in danger, but a large section of the Academy would likely be vaporized on the spot. "Find Master Field, or Master Sunflare, quickly!"

I had lost both sight and awareness of my body’s posture, clenching my teeth and holding onto the containment circle’s strength with all my might. My inner ears pounded as if my eardrums would burst, and my heart thudded with the intensity of a potential explosion, but I couldn’t afford even the slightest slip.

To hold the world, the universe, within my grasp... one is all, all is one…

I had no idea how long I’d maintained this state, but when I finally heard a familiar voice cursing, I was able to let go, feeling safe enough to relinquish control. Then I immediately lost consciousness.

A chill roused me, and I quickly recognized from the furnishings and various instruments that I was lying in the infirmary.

"Good, you're awake." I turned toward the voice—it was a gray wolf with steely gray eyes, scanning the terminal in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Master Latent Heat*," I tried to greet him, but my body wasn’t fully responding. "Just a bit tired."

"Classic symptoms of psychic fatigue," the master said, setting down his terminal and directing his gray eyes at me. "Common in psychics who push their consciousness past their limits."

"Is everyone else alright?" I moved my fingers and toes, trying to ensure there were no residual side effects. Without my powers, I lacked the means for self-diagnosis.

"Not a single burn. Your swift decision-making was spot-on." Master Latent Heat nodded slightly, his way of showing approval. "Later, Solflare and the Field worked together to transfer that miniature sun into a reactor. Thankfully, the Academy has plenty of spare reactors; otherwise, we’d have no idea what to do with it." He tilted his head and scratched his chin—for a Gray, it’s almost equal to laughing. "There’s talk of naming the newly activated reactor after you."

"Uh…" I imagined the scene, feeling it was far too strange. "Shouldn’t it be named after the person who invented the new technology?" Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t asked their names.

"That’s a fair point. Although, it’s generally best to avoid naming new discoveries after inventors—knowledge and breakthroughs are cumulative, so crediting a single individual isn’t logical." The master tilted his head. Then, one ear perked up as he turned toward the door. "It sounds like you have visitors. Shall I let them in?"

"Oh," my ears perked up slightly, not sure whom I’d be seeing. "If you think it’s okay, Master."

With a wave of his hand, Master Latent Heat made his exit. After the sliding metal door shut, I could only make out faint murmurs from beyond.

"Ah," Piqsirpoq exclaimed dramatically as he entered the room. "How do you always manage to end up looking like crap?"

"Must be a family trait," I replied coolly, though I couldn’t help but chuckle, which weakened the effect.

"Binding a sun, huh?" He dragged a chair over and sat by my bed. "Do you know what your new nickname is now?"

"Whatever it is, I have no interest in knowing." I sighed, covering my eyes with both hands.

"The One as Mighty as a Star," Piqsirpoq announced with mock seriousness, making me laugh again. "At least it’s better than 'Star Devourer' or 'Icarus.'"

"Who comes up with this stuff anyway?" I asked sincerely, dropping my hands and looking up at the stark white ceiling.

"That’s one of those mysteries that will probably never be solved," he shrugged.

"I should have some say in how I’m referred to, don’t you think?" I muttered, idly running my fingers through the fur on my arm. "Like a kind of personal rights thing?"

"Too bad the nickname system doesn’t work that way—how people perceive you is something you can never control." Piqsirpoq stood up, straightening his clothes. "Anyway, I have actual important matters to attend to, so I won’t stick around watching you sleep off your beauty nap."

"I just need a little rest to recover, alright?" I rolled my eyes as he waved nonchalantly, not even glancing back as he swaggered out of the room.

A few seconds later, the door slid open again, and a female fox walked in.

"Well, this feels a bit awkward." She stood at the foot of my bed, shifting positions before settling her hands behind her back. "First of all, we offer our deepest apologies and gratitude." She bowed formally, as if she’d rehearsed it, leaving me wondering if she had. " Infinity has decided to end its collaboration with you, but as compensation, you’ll still retain access..."

"Wait," I raised a hand to stop her mid-sentence. "Why end the collaboration?"

"Well," the fox scratched her chin, looking a bit hesitant. "Because we nearly blew up half the Academy?"

"The explosion was only stopped because I was there, wasn’t it?" I flicked one ear down, applying a bit of pressure to make my point.

"Technically, it was your presence that almost caused the explosion in the first place," she shrugged, her gaze drifting upwards. "But I understand your logic."

"My logic is perfectly sound." I clicked my tongue unconsciously, and she didn’t seem inclined to argue the point. "Anyway, I’d like for our collaboration to continue."

"Even though we’re already compensating you?" She tilted her head, scratching her chin. "That’s generous, but if I may ask, why?" She made a few gestures in the air that I couldn’t quite interpret. "Everyone seems to think you’re either obsessed with adamantine or eager to disrupt the market, but this looks like something else."

"My intentions with adamantine are for me to know," I replied, giving her a knowing smile, unwilling to give away free intel. "As for continuing the collaboration—I’m very interested to see how you plan to save us from the end of the world."

The fox’s response was laughter, accompanied by a slight shake of her head.

"You’re even stranger than the rumors say. But I suppose that makes sense, given that your mentor is Master Field..." I tried to control my ears, but one involuntarily twitched; she didn’t miss it. "No offense intended," she added quickly, but I just waved for her to continue, a bit exasperated. "As for the end of the world—the end of the universe is inevitable, with no way to prevent it. The possibility we’ve uncovered isn’t about saving the world, but more… a solution."

I tilted my head, folding my right ear in a request for more explanation, but she didn’t elaborate.

"Then it seems," I conceded, "we’ll just have to uncover the truth gradually through our partnership?" She looked quite pleased with my compromise, replying with a broad smile.

"Looking forward to our collaboration." She made the gesture for invoking Rationalism as witness, and I mirrored it, touching my brow and chest in response.

"Oh, by the way," I called out as she turned to leave, "I don’t know your name yet."

"Anna," she replied, glancing back with a slight squint and a toothy smile. "Anna Karenina."

"Anna," I echoed softly, nodding slightly. "I suppose we’re officially acquainted now."

Apparently, I’d hit her funny bone; she was still laughing as she left the room, drawing curious looks from a passing red deer.

"Hey, are you okay?" Tadao asked, sitting on the chair Piqsirpoq had pulled over and pressing his palms beneath him.

"It's really not a big deal, to be honest." Mental exhaustion—or officially, "psychic fatigue"—could be recovered with a bit of rest, and as long as one didn’t remain in that extreme state for too long, it wouldn’t have lasting effects on body or mind. "I already feel a lot better. I just need to notify Master Latent Heat, and then I can leave."

"There are a lot of rumors outside. I'm not sure what's true," Tadao said, glancing at me. "But honestly, if it’s you, triggering a fusion reaction just by thought doesn’t sound all that exaggerated."

"Not you too, please." I sighed, shifting on the bed and quickly scanning the room to locate my shoes and other belongings. "I just prevented a plasma mass from a fusion reaction from exploding, and I even blacked out in the process."

"Ah, there’s a saying about never meeting your heroes, right?" Tadao joked.

"Yeah, it's a bit disillusioning," I replied, lacing up my snow boots. "Learning the First Emperor was a hedonistic coyote who got diagnosed with syphilis twice in record, that’s really something."

"What?" Tadao asked, looking utterly baffled.

"Exactly, twice." I started lacing up the other boot, noticing it could use some oiling. "I mean, are you serious? Once is bad enough; just get vaccinated, for Rationalism’s sake."

"That’s not the issue," Tadao muttered, turning his head as if exasperated. "The first emperor of the Canid Empire was a coyote?"

"Of course," I replied, confused by his surprise. Wasn’t this common knowledge? "It is called the 'Canid' Empire, after all."

"I must have slept through way more history classes than I thought. But that’s beside the point." Tadao shook his head vigorously, as if trying to clear unwelcome thoughts from his mind. I understood the feeling—though I worried he might twist his neck with those antlers. "Have you taken care of your external communications application?"

"Oh, it’s done." I couldn't help but smile a bit, thinking of the awkward yet endearing conversation with Aether.

"Hmm..." Tadao replied softly, and I realized that single syllable held a lot of unspoken emotion.

After finishing with my laces, I looked up, meeting the red deer’s gaze. He seemed uncomfortable under my stare, turning his head to look away even though he stayed seated.

"And you?" I asked in a casual tone, lowering my ears slightly to help him relax.

"I took care of it too," he replied, looking a bit restless, pulling his right hand from beneath him and scratching the skin between his antlers—a habit he had when his antlers were about to shed. Kotetsu did that yesterday too, I recalled. "There are some voices I haven't heard in so long… it’s almost nostalgic."

"Oh," I said softly, sensing his story wasn’t over. "Are things okay at home?" For those cadets who had left everything behind, reestablishing contact must be significant.

"Yeah… everything’s fine." He scratched at a few different places, and I saw him make several gestures, as if he wanted to say something but kept stopping.

"That sounds good," I replied gently, trying to give him more time to prepare. "It feels good to be able to share some things with others."

I transmitted a very faint, harmonious waveform his way, hoping to convey that I was listening.

"If you have kids someday, would you tell them you’re a psychic?" After wrestling with his thoughts, Tadao finally voiced the question that had been stuck in his throat.

"I can’t imagine myself with kids anytime soon, so my answer might not be very useful." Though I said that, I felt he didn’t really need my answer. My role here was to respond and listen. "But if I did have children, I think I would tell them. After all, being a psychic isn’t something to hide." I tilted my head slightly, trying to picture a future in which I inexplicably had kids, and realized it went beyond just that. "Even if there was a very good reason to keep this identity hidden, I don’t think I’d keep it from my children. I’d want people who are important to me to know me—all of me."

After I finished, Tadao didn’t respond immediately. We just looked at each other in silence.

"I found out my father’s a psychic," he said finally. I’d guessed it might lead here, so when he admitted it, I only nodded, quietly listening. "I mean… all these years… just saying something wouldn’t have killed him, would it?" His hands fidgeted with agitation, and he looked torn over whether to sit on his palms again. "I kept making excuses for him—special job requirements, always traveling, constantly at meetings, never home, missing all my important moments." He let out a string of nearly mumbled grievances before burying his face in his hands, leaving some parts unheard. "But just telling me, that’s all it would’ve taken. Why couldn’t he even do that?"

I continued listening, not wanting to speak on things I didn’t understand.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you suddenly. You just woke up, and here I am, dragging you down with my issues." Tadao sighed, standing up and adjusting his clothes. "I was so full of myself, lecturing you…"

"No, not at all." Sensing he was about to fall into the “I’m burdening others” mindset, I quickly redirected his attention. "Whether or not we ever understand each other or can agree, it’s impossible to achieve any of that without communication. Understanding starts with conversation."

On the bedside table, I spotted my terminal and checked it quickly, noticing no new messages. A slight feeling of disappointment washed over me, but I forced myself to shake it off. Tadao needed me right now—I couldn’t wallow in pointless self-pity.

"Is there anyone else outside?" I asked, securing the terminal back onto my arm strap.

"No," he replied, moving to stand beside me. "At least, I didn’t see anyone just now."

"In that case, I have two proposals." I double-checked my belongings to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. "First, I’m kind of hungry. Want to grab something to eat at the cafeteria?" He responded with a smile, which I took as a yes. "And second, I don’t think we’ve ever shared much detail about our lives before we came to the Academy." I lowered my muzzle and ears slightly, expressing openness and invitation. "Maybe we could talk about it over dinner?"

"That sounds great," Tadao replied, and I thought I caught a glimmer of gratitude in his brown eyes.

With a clear plan in mind, we left the room, exchanged greetings with Master Latent Heat, and headed to the cafeteria together.