The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

The Lecture Hall – Morning

As the tall doors of the first-year lecture hall swung open, Sylves stepped in with Ashia and Serena walking closely beside him.

The soft chatter that had filled the spacious, amphitheater-style room quieted.

Dozens of heads turned.

Eyes followed them — or more precisely, followed him.

And not far from their seats near the central platform stood a familiar figure, dressed in the academy's dark royal-blue uniform trimmed in gold.

Prince Elas.

"Ah, Sylves!" Elas greeted with a charismatic grin, waving them over. "Right on time."

Sylves returned the smile casually. "Good morning, Your High- I mean, Elas."

Ashia offered a polite bow. "Good morning, Prince Elas."

Elas nodded at her, then noticed Serena standing just behind them, shifting uneasily.

"Oh?" he said. "And who's this?"

Before Serena could gather herself to respond, the weight of the stares in the room bore down on her. Whispers flitted through the rows like wind rustling paper.

"That's Sylves Ellesmere…"

"And Prince Elas with him…"

"Who's the girl with the box?"

"Isn't she a Count's daughter? What's she doing with the heirs?"

Serena's fingers tightened around her box. Her chest constricted. She took a timid step back, heart thudding in her ears.

"I don't belong here…"

But just as she turned to excuse herself quietly, a hand reached out and gently took hers.

Sylves.

He didn't say much — just a simple, steady voice that cut through the noise.

"Would you like to sit beside us?"

Serena blinked, stunned.

"I think you'll be more comfortable with us… rather than alone under all those eyes."

For a moment, her throat closed with emotion. But she managed a small nod.

"Yes… thank you."

Without further hesitation, the four of them — Sylves, Ashia, Serena, and Prince Elas — climbed the steps to the very last row of seats, away from the judgmental eyes below.

As they sat, Serena whispered, "Thank you for letting me sit with you"

Sylves just shrugged. "We don't let our own drift off alone. That's not how I do things."

Just then, the hall dimmed slightly as the side curtains were drawn and magical globes of light floated into place above the lecture platform.

Professor Magreth entered.

A tall man with stern eyes and white robes adorned with swirling runes, he carried a wand instead of chalk and moved with the kind of grace that suggested power held firmly in check.

"Good morning, students," he began, voice calm but commanding. "Today, we delve deeper into the truth behind the world's greatest mystery: The Catalysts."

Whispers fell away.

The lesson was about to begin — but for Sylves, Ashia, Serena, and Elas…

Something far more important had already started.

A bond.

An alliance.

And perhaps, the first quiet rumblings…

of fate.

---

Professor Magreth strode to the center of the platform, his wand tapping once on the polished stone floor. The magical globes above dimmed slightly, casting a mystical glow across the hall.

"Catalysts," he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly. "Five primordial forces… older than the empires, older than the continents themselves. Creation, Destruction, Order, Chaos, and Transition. Each one represented by an ancient being — powerful, eternal, and bound by divine law."

The students leaned forward in their seats. Even the usual whisperers had fallen silent.

"These beings rarely reveal themselves, and even when they do, it is only in times of immense imbalance. But once in a thousand years, something… unusual occurs."

He paused, letting the words settle.

"A Catalyst Sovereign is born. A catalyst Sovereign is a Host who bears the powers of the Catalyst Of Creation."

Sylves stiffened slightly in his seat. Serena glanced at him, but said nothing.

"A Catalyst Host," Magreth continued, "is a mortal chosen by one of the five Catalysts — granted a fraction of their power. Their existence often foretells great change… or calamity."

A glowing diagram of the world appeared behind him, projected in the air by his wand. Five glowing points pulsed like stars.

"The Catalyst of Creation grants power over life, light, and elemental balance. But legends tell of Sovereigns who hosted more than one affinity… capable of wielding multiple elements without constraint."

Students gasped. Some turned to look at Sylves again, whispers beginning to spread.

Magreth's gaze swept the room.

"There are rumors already," he said, eyes sharp, "of one such Sovereign among you. Whether they prove true, time will tell. But if they are… then fate has chosen this generation to witness the Great Power Struggle once more."

The light faded.

"And class… fate," he said, with a rare smile, "is always watching."

---

Professor Magreth raised his hand, and the illusion of the world map faded into a ripple of white light. In its place appeared a burning figure—humanoid, wreathed in energy that shifted violently between elements. Lightning sparked from its hands. Flames danced across its spine. Darkness pulsed at its core. The students leaned back in their seats as the unstable projection convulsed with raw, untamed power.

"This," Magreth said solemnly, "is a phenomenon known as a Catalyst Burst."

A hush swept through the room.

He paced slowly before the projection, the light dancing across his robes. "It is the most dangerous state a Catalyst host can enter… and the most tragic."

"Catalyst Burst is not a spell. It is not a technique. It is a loss of control—a violent rejection of balance between the mortal vessel and the divine force they carry. When a Catalyst host—particularly a Sovereign—is pushed to their limits, the power within them may become unstable. It erupts… violently. Unpredictably. And fatally."

He turned to face the room, eyes serious.

"There are three known triggers for a Burst. Not external magic. Not injury. But something far more insidious… emotion."

The image behind him shimmered and shifted, taking on different forms—each terrifying in its own way.

"The first trigger: Fear. When the host becomes overwhelmed with terror—fear of death, fear of loss, fear of failure—the Catalyst within them, sensing weakness, may override their mortal will and lash out to protect its vessel."

The figure twisted into a monstrous form, wings of ice and blades of wind erupting from its back.

"The second: Pain. Not mere physical pain, but suffering. Trauma. Endurance beyond human limit. When agony becomes so great that the mind begins to fracture, the Catalyst can seize full control, believing it must act to preserve its power at all costs."

The illusion warped again—this time showing a screaming figure surrounded by a storm of burning debris, its cries muffled by the roar of destruction.

"And the third… perhaps the most dangerous of all: Regret."

The light dimmed, and the figure now knelt—alone—its head bowed, radiating sorrow and guilt. Around it, its powers surged and collapsed chaotically.

"When a host blames themselves… when they fall into despair over what they could not change, what they could not save—this inner collapse often leads to total resonance failure. The bond with the Catalyst twists… and it becomes poisoned."

A long pause followed.

"Catalyst Burst is the beginning of a far darker transformation. One that cannot always be stopped."

With a flick of his wand, the illusion reshaped once more. The figure now stood upright—but it was no longer a person. Its form had hardened, twisted into a jagged shell of elemental armor and unnatural shadow. Its eyes glowed red with madness. Its very presence warped the space around it.

"When the Catalyst Burst reaches critical mass… the host no longer remains the same. If not calmed, healed, or restrained, they begin to mutate. The power, tainted by emotional corruption, rewrites their being."

He lowered his voice.

"This is how a Catalyst of Despair is born."

Gasps rippled through the class.

"Yes," he confirmed. "The Despair Catalysts — the enemy of the Five — are not ancient evils that emerged from the void. They are… were… mortals. People. Hosts. Chosen ones. Those who fell too far, who lost themselves to fear, pain, or regret — and were consumed by the very power meant to protect them."

Magreth let the silence linger.

"There are nine known Despair Catalysts in the world today. Each one was once like you. A student. A warrior. A sovereign. They now roam the corners of the world, spreading corruption, their powers inverted from their origin. Creation becomes corruption. Order becomes tyranny. Chaos becomes annihilation."

Sylves's fingers tightened slightly.

Magreth noticed, and added carefully, "A host with a strong will and support can resist the Burst. There are recorded cases of near-Burst states being reversed with the aid of grounding rituals, emotional anchors, or… meaningful bonds."

His eyes flicked momentarily to Sylves, then moved on.

"But the most terrifying truth is this—you do not always know it's happening. Some Catalyst hosts operate in a semi-Burst state for days, even weeks. Their instability grows unnoticed… until the final snap."

He tapped the wand again.

The projection vanished. The hall dimmed further.

"That is why it is imperative, especially for those of you who display high affinity or elemental resonance, to understand your own minds. Power without control is not strength — it is a countdown."

He walked slowly toward the front of the platform again.

"Those chosen by Catalysts must master their hearts, not just their hands. It is not your magic that will destroy you. It is your failure to know yourself."

Then he finally smiled—but it was a sharp, tired smile.

"Now. Who can tell me which of the five Catalysts is most vulnerable to triggering a Burst in its host?"

Dozens of students hesitated.

But Sylves's hand slowly rose.

---