Timeline: April 15, 1987

  Location: Baltonia Medical University

  Age: 11

  ?The Baltonia Medical University was a sprawling complex of reinforced glass, sterile white concrete, and polished steel, completely isolated from the smog of the city's industrial sector.

  ?I adjusted the heavy, temperature-controlled polymer crate resting on my shoulder. It contained fifty glass vials of refined digitalis and several synthetic coagulants, a standard weekly delivery from Vancleef's Remedies. To the campus security guards standing by the automated sliding gates, I was just another invisible courier boy. They scanned my delivery barcode and waved me through.

  ?They didn't notice the perfect silence of my footsteps on the pavement, or the way my breathing remained entirely unchanged despite carrying a load that was dense enough to make a normal man's knees buckle. And because I kept my aura tightly wrapped in a flawless layer of Ten, they certainly didn't feel the terrifying density of the life energy humming just beneath my skin.

  ?I navigated the sprawling campus, delivering the crate to the basement receiving bay of the biomechanics building. The technician scanned it, signed my digital pad, and dismissed me without a word.

  ?My official job was done. Now, the real work began.

  ?I slipped into the main instructional building, navigating the bright, fluorescent-lit hallways until I found Amphitheater 4. I pushed the sleek acoustic door open just enough to slip into the shadows at the very back of the tiered seating.

  ?Down in the center of the room, a tall man with a sharp nose and a digital stylus was pacing in front of a massive, glowing smartboard. This was Professor Elias Vance, one of the leading neuro-biomechanics researchers on the continent. I had memorized his schedule three days ago.

  ?On the board behind him was a slow-motion, 3D wireframe projection of a human walking.

  ?"Neuromuscular degradation is notoriously difficult to catch in its earliest stages," Professor Vance projected, his voice carrying clearly through the room's built-in acoustic amplifiers. The hundred or so university students in the tiered seats scrambled to type notes on their laptops. "By the time visible tremors or severe balance loss occur, the neural pathways are already heavily compromised. My question to you is: how do we quantify that degradation before the visible symptoms appear?"

  ?The room went quiet. A few students exchanged blank looks. It was a highly specialized question, bridging the gap between neurology and pure physical mechanics.

  ?I looked at the wireframe projection on the board. My mind immediately went to Project 2—my physical foundation. For the last five years, I had analyzed every single kinetic shift in my own body to perfect my balance and maximize my seven-ton natural strength. I knew exactly how the nervous system fired to keep a body upright.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  ?Before I could stop myself, I spoke from the shadows at the back of the room.

  ?"Vertical ground reaction force," I said.

  ?My voice wasn't loud, but the room was so quiet that it carried perfectly. Every head in the amphitheater turned to the back row.

  ?Professor Vance froze, his stylus hovering an inch from his tablet. He squinted through the glare of the projector, his eyes landing on my rough courier clothes and the empty delivery pad in my hand.

  ?"Who let a delivery kid in here?" one of the students muttered in the front row.

  ?Vance held up a hand, silencing the room instantly. He didn't look offended. He looked intrigued. "Explain that, young man."

  ?I didn't hesitate. "When a human walks, the foot strikes the ground, generating a reactive force. By embedding high-resolution pressure sensors into a standardized walking surface and analyzing the vertical ground reaction force data, you can map the exact pressure distribution of their gait cycle. Microscopic delays or asymmetries in that pressure data will reveal neural signaling lag months, or even years, before a visible tremor or limp develops in the patient."

  ?Silence hung in the air, broken only by the low hum of the projector.

  ?To a normal doctor, my answer was brilliant, cutting-edge diagnostic theory. But to me, it was simply the mathematics of motion—the exact kind of kinetic data I processed every time I shifted my weight to avoid a strike from Kael back in the forest.

  ?Vance stared at me for a long, calculating moment. "Come down here. What is your name?"

  ?"Kaelo," I said, walking down the carpeted steps with perfectly measured, silent strides.

  ?Vance stepped behind his podium and opened a small drawer. He pulled out a stack of blank, plastic University Library ID cards—the kind usually reserved for visiting scholars or audit students. He slotted one into the encoder on his desk, tapped a few keys on his terminal, and handed the freshly printed card to me.

  ?"This is an auditor's library pass. It's valid for one full year," Vance said, his tone entirely serious. "I don't care if you run parcels for a living right now, Kaelo. If you understand kinetic diagnostics well enough to casually solve my lecture prompt, you shouldn't be spending all your free time carrying boxes. Go to the library. Read everything you can. I expect to see you sitting in the front row of my advanced seminar next semester."

  ?"Thank you, Professor," I said smoothly, taking the plastic card. I didn't tell him that I had no intention of being here next semester. By the time this pass expired, I would be on a different continent, standing in Heaven's Arena.

  ?But for the next six months, this piece of plastic was exactly what I needed.

  ?I slipped out the door and back into the sunlit courtyard, Project 3 accelerating perfectly on schedule.

  ?Professor Elias Vance watched the heavy acoustic doors swing shut behind the boy.

  ?The amphitheater was completely silent, his enrolled students still staring at the back of the room where the kid in the courier jacket had just delivered a flawless diagnostic breakdown.

  ?Vance looked down at his terminal, where he had logged the boy's name. Kaelo.

  ?It was incredibly rare to find a mind that could bridge theoretical neurology and practical physics so seamlessly. The kid was raw, obviously working a blue-collar job just to survive in Baltonia, but the sheer analytical coldness in his eyes when he answered the prompt... it was the look of a natural-born surgeon.

  ?Let him loose in the library for a year, Vance thought, a faint smile touching his lips. Let him absorb the basics on his own. By this time next year, I'll secure him a formal scholarship and bring him into my research lab. A mind like that could change the entire medical field.

  ?Vance picked up his stylus, entirely unaware that his future star pupil had already mentally packed his bags and was quietly counting the days until he left Baltonia behind forever.