Chapter 2: Protagonist and Supporting Characters

8:30 AM. Half an hour remained until the final evaluation.

Morning sunlight filtered through the tempered glass, casting golden streaks across the heavily fortified training grounds of the base.

Along the corridor, Tian Dao Siming and Kalolin walked side by side into the arena.

He lingered on the last traces of cream clinging to his lips, savoring the decadent flavor that had left him utterly entranced.

Beside him, Kalolin shot him a look of mild disgust and quiet resentment—disgust at his childish behavior, resentment at being ignored.

“Tian Dao,” she said, voice laced with mock exasperation, “are you some kind of squirrel? You ate all of it—my strawberry cake too.”

“What kind of squirrel? I call it strategic reserves,” Tian Dao said, adjusting his sunglasses with a smirk. A sly glint flickered in the mirrored lenses. “Besides, Kalolin, today’s the final evaluation. Those guys are already volatile enough—like powder kegs. If things go sideways, we could end up in a fight.”

Before he even finished speaking, a timid figure darted out from the shadows at the edge of the training field.

“T-Tian Dao Senior… Kalolin Senior…” Chen Kong stammered, his voice trembling like a frightened rabbit. His small frame was hunched, his face gaunt, and his training uniform hung loose on him—sleeves frayed, worn thin from constant use.

It was clear he hadn’t been treated well here.

But Tian Dao didn’t let it show. Instead, he grinned and clapped Chen Kong on the shoulder.

“Hey, Empty-Head!” he teased, ruffling the boy’s messy hair. “How about breakfast? Did you eat?”

“Y-Yes… I mean, I did,” Chen Kong replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What’d you have?”

“Just… the standard nutrient paste.”

Tian Dao’s face twisted into a theatrical grimace. “What?! You’re facing the final evaluation—this important day—and you only had that… pig food?”

He shook his head, feigning heartbreak. “No wonder you can’t activate your star core, Empty-Head.”

Chen Kong blinked, confused. “Wait… what? Does what I eat even affect my star core?”

“Of course it does!” Tian Dao declared, pointing at himself with a dramatic flair. “As the #1 genius of the Ashen Line, my brain burns through sugar like a furnace—equivalent to three adults daily. Believe me…”

He leaned in suddenly, the icy blue eyes behind his sunglasses glowing faintly, as if stars were swirling within them.

Just that brief eye contact sent a jolt through Chen Kong. For a moment, he wasn’t looking at a peer—just a month older than him. He felt the presence of something far more ancient, far more dangerous: a Stellar Beast, primordial and merciless.

Seeing the protagonist—this boy who was supposed to be the center of it all—crumple under a mere glance, Tian Dao chuckled.

“See? That’s exactly what happens when you eat nutrient paste.”

“Why am I so strong? Because I eat double the sweets every day!”

“Just imagine—if you ate double sweets too, you might awaken your star core right now.”

“R-Really?!” Chen Kong’s eyes lit up instantly.

“Idiot,” came a cool, sharp voice from ahead.

Chen Xing had appeared without warning, standing before them, her blood-red blade Xueyan slung across her back, gleaming in the morning light like a promise of death.

Tian Dao and Kalolin didn’t react. But Chen Kong flinched—like a mouse seeing a cat.

“S-Sister…” he mumbled, shrinking back, unable to meet her gaze.

Chen Xing ignored him. Her crimson star eyes fixed on Tian Dao.

“Still trying to sell your broken ‘sugar theory’ again, Tian Dao?”

“Come on, it’s not a lie,” Tian Dao said with a playful shrug. “Science proves sugar boosts brain function—”

“Shut up!” she snapped.

The entire training field fell silent.

The other trainees instinctively stepped back, knowing full well what came next.

The last person to speak to Tian Dao like that had spent a month in the infirmary.

After that, no one dared challenge him—except Kalolin, of course.

But Chen Xing wasn’t intimidated.

She scoffed. “You really think everyone’s as obsessed with sugar as you?”

Tian Dao shrugged, feigning hurt. “You’re gonna break my heart, Star.”

Then, without warning, his expression shifted. He stared at Chen Xing—her sharp features, her regal posture, her aura of icy authority—until she blinked, confused.

Then, in a sudden whisper, he said, “Star… why are you so defensive all of a sudden? Not because you don’t respect Empty-Head… but because you’re jealous he’s getting my special attention?”

Chen Xing’s face twisted in disbelief. “Jealous?! Of him?!”

She yanked Xueyan from her back, the blade pointing straight at Chen Kong.

“Two years. He still can’t sense star energy. A useless waste of space. How dare he—”

“Hey,” Tian Dao interrupted, his voice suddenly cold. “I’ll let the rest slide, but that? Talking about your own brother like that? That’s uncalled for.”

A wave of pressure erupted from him—silent, overwhelming, like a tidal surge.

The nearest trainees began trembling. Chen Xing’s grip on her blade wavered.

But she wasn’t afraid. She was fighting. Fighting against the crushing force with sheer will.

“Did I say something wrong?” she gritted out. “Out of 36 in Stellar Plan, he’s the only one who hasn’t even activated a star core—”

“Because his star core is different,” Tian Dao cut in.

The words detonated like a bomb.

Every eye turned to Chen Kong.

Even Kalolin—usually so composed—raised an eyebrow, silently evaluating the truth in the claim.

Because while anyone else saying it would be dismissed as nonsense, when Tian Dao Siming said it?

That changed everything.

He didn’t lie. He didn’t need to.

“M-My star core… is… special?” Chen Kong stammered, stunned.

Tian Dao smiled, enigmatic. “Very special. Special enough that no one—not even me—could guess what it is… until now.”

“Wanna know what I discovered?” he whispered, leaning close.

Chen Kong nodded eagerly, hope flickering in his once-dull eyes.

“Empty-Head,” Tian Dao murmured, “your star core isn’t dormant. It’s overpowered. So powerful, you can’t even control it.”

Chen Kong’s mouth hung open.

“But why…?”

“Shh.” Tian Dao pressed a finger to his lips, grinning. “The best answers… are the ones you discover yourself.”

Just then, the training field’s massive metal doors creaked open.

A line of fully armed guards marched in, their black tactical helmets bearing the cold, sharp emblem of the Yujin Organization.

“Looks like the evaluation’s starting,” Tian Dao said, releasing Chen Kong and patting his shoulder.

“Good luck, Empty-Head. I’ve got big expectations for you.”

For the weakest of the 36 Stellar Plan trainees, those words were like a spark in the dark.

His face lit up—fierce, excited, alive.

But it didn’t last.

Chen Xing’s voice cut through the air like ice.

“Fool. You actually believe that? Tian Dao’s just mocking you.”

She stepped forward, cold logic in her tone. “If your star core were truly special, we wouldn’t know. But why hasn’t the Organization noticed?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really think they’re as clueless as we are?”

Her argument was flawless. Logical. Realistic.

The others’ shocked stares faded. Even Chen Kong had to admit—she made sense.

His light dimmed again.

Seeing him collapse once more under his sister’s shadow, Tian Dao spoke.

“Star. Let’s make a bet. If Empty-Head activates his star core during the final evaluation, I win. If not, you win.”

“What’s the wager?”

“Sweets,” Tian Dao said with a smirk. “If I win, your sweets for the next three months are mine. If I lose… well, you’ll hear about it.”

Chen Xing cut him off before he could finish.

“Fine. But you can’t help him.”

“Deal,” Tian Dao said, his eyes glinting with that familiar, predatory amusement.

He already knew the script. The original plot. In the original story, Chen Kong would be pushed to the edge—forced into a corner—before awakening a bug-level ability: Star Energy Nullification.

This bet? Already a guaranteed win.

But Chen Xing wasn’t done.

She took a breath, her eyes blazing. Her brown hair began to flicker, turning crimson—like embers catching fire.

“I win,” she said, “I don’t want your sweets. I want you to fight me—seriously. One-on-one. No holds barred.”

Tian Dao’s playful smirk vanished.

He slowly removed his sunglasses.

Instantly, the air turned thick. The same crushing, oceanic pressure returned—but stronger. Deeper. Like a storm about to break.

Chen Xing staggered, her knees trembling, but she refused to yield.

She would not be broken.

Tian Dao stepped forward, towering over her as she knelt.

“Some things,” he said, voice calm, “I can overlook once or twice.”

“But not a third time. Not a fourth.”

He leaned down, staring into her eyes.

“A lion doesn’t tolerate a hyena’s constant provocation.”

“Come back when you’ve mastered your star core. When you understand its true power.”

“Because right now? You can’t even withstand my presence.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder—light, almost gentle.

Then the pressure vanished.

The tension in the air melted away.

But Chen Xing wasn’t done.

She refused to surrender.

Twice, she’d been broken by his aura. Twice.

She clenched Xueyan tighter, her jaw set.

She wouldn’t accept being powerless—especially not against him.

Tian Dao’s eyes narrowed.

Kalolin subtly slid her hand into her pocket—something cold and sharp in her grip.

The air froze.

No one dared breathe.

Then—click.

The metal doors opened again.

High heels echoed across the floor.

A graceful figure stepped in—black uniform hugging her curvaceous form like a second skin.

“Ah, still bullying your classmates, little Tian Dao?” Yun Meng said, her voice smooth as silk, her cat-like stride hypnotic.

The teenage trainees couldn’t help but glance, some swallowing hard.

They knew better than to look too long.

Yun Meng’s body was an angel’s. Her soul? A demon’s.

Only Tian Dao received her rare warmth—her “special care.” Privilege reserved for geniuses.

Tian Dao feigned innocence. “I’m hurt, Yun Senior. I was just having a productive conversation with Star. Nothing wrong there.”

“Cut the act,” Yun Meng said, tapping his head lightly. Then she turned to Chen Xing. “The evaluation starts soon. And you wanted to attack your classmate? Chen Xing, have you forgotten the rules?”

Chen Xing lowered her blade, her expression dark, and silently returned to her place.

Yun Meng sighed, watching her go.

“Little Tian Dao… why do you always pick fights with Star? You’re both top prospects. Can’t you just… get along?”

Tian Dao spread his hands. “Can’t help it, Yun Senior. She’s the one who keeps provoking me. I’m just defending myself.”

Yun Meng shook her head. “You’re hopeless.”

She paused, then added, “Fine. I’ll deal with you after the evaluation.”

“Now, get back in line. The Organization’s got important guests today. Don’t embarrass us.”

Tian Dao grinned. “Don’t worry, Yun Senior. I’m the best.”

Yun Meng didn’t argue.

Because, as he said—it was true.

In the entire Ashen Line, among the 36 Stellar Plan trainees, Tian Dao Siming was, without question, the strongest.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end