The grand amphitheatre, suspended high above the sprawling city on a platform of shimmering magic, buzzed with anticipation. Parents craned their necks, eager to witness their children's magical potential revealed. In the opulent VIP section, Emperor and Empress sat regally, surrounded by the highest nobility. Below them, the testing machine dominated the arena. It was a spectacle of arcane artistry and cutting-edge technology: glowing runes pulsed with ethereal light, intricate clockwork gears whirred softly, humming crystals vibrated with contained power, and strange, unknown energies crackled and sparked within its complex framework. At its heart sat the egg-like chamber, crafted from a semi-transparent material that shimmered with an inner luminescence.
Twelve children, their faces a mixture of nervousness and excitement, stood before the chamber, awaiting their turn. Among them was Crown Prince Ying Xiong, outwardly calm, his posture radiating the confidence instilled in him since birth. He was the scion of a lineage renowned for its magical prowess, a fact drilled into him through rigorous theoretical training. He had never performed practical magic, his tutors deeming it unnecessary, his innate talent a foregone conclusion.
One by one, the children entered the chamber. Scanner-like beams of energy swept across their bodies, the semi-transparent shell revealing glimpses of swirling mana within. The results of each scan were projected onto a massive screen above the chamber, displaying symbols representing the various magical affinities.
Finally, it was Ying Xiong's turn. He ascended the steps, his heart pounding with anticipation, not fear. He entered the chamber, the door hissing shut behind him. The scanning beams began their work, bathing him in their otherworldly light. He closed his eyes, picturing the symbol of his dominant affinity, the one he knew he possessed.
The scan completed. On the grand screen, the complex symbols of magical affinity flickered and rearranged themselves. Then, a single symbol remained, stark and undeniable: a blank circle. Null affinity.
A collective gasp swept through the amphitheatre. Ying Xiong’s eyes snapped open. He stared at the blank circle on the screen, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. Null affinity? Impossible. The word echoed in his mind, a death knell to his carefully constructed world of expectation and privilege. His face, moments before a mask of serene confidence, now contorted in a mixture of shock and horror. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt a cold dread creeping up his spine. He didn't yet understand the full implications, the ancient custom that demanded the preservation of the noble bloodline, the fate that awaited those deemed magically deficient. He only knew the crushing weight of failure, the shattering of his self-image. The world seemed to tilt, the cheers of the crowd morphing into a cacophony of whispers and murmurs. The glowing runes, the humming crystals, the very magic that permeated the air, now felt like a cruel mockery. His carefully constructed reality had shattered, leaving him exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alone.
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The hum of anticipation that had thrummed through the vast amphitheatre faltered, a discordant note in the otherwise celebratory atmosphere. Crown Prince Ying Xiong, the golden boy, the prodigy, the future of the Empire, stood frozen. The words echoed in his ears, hollow and brutal: "Null affinity." He blinked, his mind struggling to reconcile the pronouncement with the years of rigorous magical training, the unwavering belief in his own inherent talent. It was an impossibility, a cosmic joke played on him, the son of Heaven.
His perfectly sculpted features, usually alight with self-assured arrogance, were now slack with disbelief. His breath hitched in his throat; a small, undignified sound lost in the sudden hush that had fallen over the assembled crowd. He glanced towards the VIP section, his gaze snagging on his parents. His father, the Emperor, sat impassively, his face a mask of regal indifference. But it was his mother's expression that pierced him like a shard of ice. Empress Mei Lin’s usually serene face was etched with a raw, visceral pain that mirrored his own dawning horror. Beside her, his elder sister, Ying XiuLan, stood with her hand resting on their mother’s shoulder, her expression a mix of fear and fierce protectiveness. He knew, in that instant, that the fight for his life had already begun.
The whispers started, subtle at first, like the rustling of leaves in a sudden gust of wind. "Null affinity," they murmured, the two words a death knell. He saw the shift in the nobles' eyes, the subtle widening, the barely concealed disgust. Their smiles, which had been so readily offered moments before, were now replaced by calculating glares. He was no longer the heir apparent, the future Emperor. He was… nothing. Less than nothing. He was a liability, a stain on the Imperial line.
The other children, who had stood beside him moments ago, their faces a mixture of awe and envy, now shrank away, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity. He was a pariah, marked by the absence of magic, a void in a world defined by its vibrant, pulsing presence. He felt a wave of nausea, not just from the shock, but from the sudden, crushing weight of his reality. He had been so certain of his place, so confident in his future. Now, he faced an abyss. The whispers grew louder, more brazen. The air crackled with unspoken judgment, with the chilling certainty of his impending doom. He was null. And in their world, null meant death.