Swizz City did not announce itself with grandeur.
It rose from the plains like a wound that had never been allowed to close—layer upon layer of stone walls stacked over older ruins, each one built after a war, a beast tide, or a political purge. The walls were tall, but they leaned slightly, as if even the city itself was tired of standing straight.
Kaelen felt it the moment he stepped through the outer gates.
The air was heavy—not with Kyz, but with intent.
It was the weight of countless suppressed wills pressing down on one another, forming an invisible hierarchy that dictated who walked freely and who lowered their head. Guards in city colors stood at intersections, their armor mismatched, their weapons worn. Rank Seven and Eight Kyz signatures leaked faintly from them—enough to dominate civilians, not enough to challenge authority.
Merchants spoke quickly. Beggars avoided eye contact. Power was not admired here; it was endured.
"This is Swizz City," Kyle said quietly as they moved through the crowded street. "One of the nine major cities of the East Empire."
Her voice was steady, but Kaelen sensed the caution beneath it.
"If you're an official Kyz Master," she continued, "you're protected. If you're not… then the law depends on who's watching."
Kaelen did not reply.
He was already listening—to the way conversations stopped when guards passed, to the subtle shift in Kyz flow whenever someone important approached. This city did not function on justice. It functioned on recognition.
They reached a broad stone building near the inner district.
The Swizz Registration Center.
Its exterior was unadorned, but the sigils carved into its foundation were old and deliberate—designed not to inspire, but to suppress. People gathered outside in loose lines that never fully formed. Some were young, barely awakened. Others carried themselves with forced confidence, Kyz leaking through clenched jaws.
Kaelen felt it again.
That presence.
Compressed. Directed. Moving with purpose rather than force.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the pressure sharpened.
A man turned.
White hair tied loosely behind his head. Pale skin untouched by sun or stress. His robe bore layered velocity inscriptions—refined, restrained, and perfectly maintained. He did not radiate power outward, yet the air around him felt subtly displaced, as if the world adjusted itself to accommodate his existence.
"Kyle Snow," the man said calmly.
His voice was level. Controlled. Dangerous.
Kyle stopped immediately and bowed deeply. "Uncle John."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed slightly.
John Snow.
Rank 3 Kyz Master.
General of Swizz City.
A Velocity Master.
A man capable of erasing city blocks before most could react.
John studied Kyle with clinical detachment. "Four years," he said. "Since your Kyz awakened."
"Yes," Kyle replied. "I trained continuously."
John nodded once. "Surviving four years without losing control is… acceptable."
There was no praise in his tone. Only assessment.
Then his gaze shifted.
And locked onto Kaelen.
For a brief moment, the world tightened.
Not violently.
Precisely.
Kaelen felt it—a blade-thin probe of awareness brushing against his presence. John Snow was not searching for raw power. He was searching for abnormality.
Kaelen met his gaze without flinching.
The pressure eased.
"Who is this?" John asked.
"He saved me," Kyle said. "On the road here."
John considered that. "Then he has earned temporary tolerance."
He turned. "Follow me."
It was not a request.
The interior halls of the Registration Center were worse than the streets.
Raised observation platforms lined the walls, each occupied by officials and senior masters. Their gazes drifted lazily over applicants like predators judging livestock. Kaelen sensed Rank Seven, Rank Eight… even a few Rank Six presences watching openly.
None of them hid their disdain.
This was where ambition came to be filtered—or crushed.
"You see them?" John said as they walked. "Most of these applicants will never leave the lower ranks."
Kyle nodded silently.
"They think Kyz is freedom," John continued. "In truth, it is only permission. Permission to act without consequence—as long as you remain useful."
Kaelen listened carefully.
"This city," John said, "does not reward strength. It rewards control."
They stopped before a stone dais.
A woman sat behind a crystal plate etched with dense inscriptions. Her face was pale and expressionless, her eyes dull from repetition. One hand rested atop a circular array designed to read Kyz flow, density, and stability.
"This is the evaluation," John said. "It measures your control, your circulation, and your potential to survive."
His gaze shifted to Kyle. "Begin."
Kyle stepped forward and placed her hand on the crystal.
The array activated with a soft hum.
Light traced up her arm, mapping her internal flow. Her Kyz circulated cleanly, disciplined, showing no signs of distortion or Beast Will erosion.
"Rank Six," the woman announced flatly. "Balanced circulation. Stable mind. Above-average control."
Kyle exhaled quietly.
John nodded. "You will be registered."
Then he turned.
"You."
Kaelen stepped forward.
For the first time since arriving in this world, something inside him paused.
Not fear.
Calculation.
If he suppressed too much, he would appear damaged—useless.
If he allowed too much, he would be noticed.
The woman extended her hand. "Place your palm on the array."
Kaelen complied.
The moment contact was made, pressure surged inward.
The array probed aggressively—searching for circulation, expansion, hunger. It expected motion, growth, desire.
It found none.
The crystal hesitated.
Kaelen felt the pressure slide across the surface of his soul and disperse—redirected, filtered, absorbed.
The bracelet.
So that's it.
The divine artifact tightened subtly around his wrist, anchoring his soul weight inward and scattering the probing force into harmless fragments.
So this is its function, Kaelen realized.
Not concealment… but misdirection.
The array did not fail.
It adapted.
Light flickered uncertainly before stabilizing into a faint glow.
The woman frowned slightly.
"Rank Ten," she said slowly. "Minimal circulation. Abnormal density. Control… extremely high."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
John Snow's eyes narrowed.
Kaelen remained still.
The crystal dimmed.
The woman withdrew her hand.
"Registration complete."
John said nothing for several seconds.
Then: "Interesting."
Kaelen lowered his hand.
Inside, his thoughts moved calmly.
If not for the bracelet… she would not have measured me at all.
Or worse—
She might have measured too much.
John turned away. "You will both be issued temporary status. Any deviation from regulation will result in immediate detainment."
His gaze lingered on Kaelen for half a breath longer than necessary.
"This city tolerates many things," he added. "Uncertainty is not one of them."
They were dismissed.
As they exited the hall, Kaelen felt it again—
That deep, ancient awareness beneath the city.
Watching.
Measuring.
Waiting.
The system had accepted him.
But Swizz City had not.