All I ever wanted was to run away.
There was once a young boy who admired heroes. He was only five years old, yet he revered their names, their honor, their achievements, and their reputations. But the trait he admired most about these fearless figures was their divinity—their ability to defy logic and bend the laws of existence to their will. They possessed the authority to command the limits of human imagination, wielding power so immense it could force reality to bow, as they toyed with principles never meant to be trifled with.
This young boy had none of that.
In a stark, white room, the same boy sat chained to bare walls. Facing a mirror, he saw his reflection—emaciated, his hair and body mass diminished—but the will to bend reality still burned within him.
Three cylindrical metal rods were impaled into his back. They were forged from highly reactive Goz copper—a pale yellow metal that induced excruciating pain when in contact with human blood.
The mechanical hums echoed throughout the room. Every five high-pitched beeps, after a brief interval, the Goz copper rods glowed ominously and burrowed deeper into his flesh. On this particular day, the rods began to emerge from his ribs. Miraculously, they didn't shatter bone or puncture vital organs, but the agony was indescribable.
The boy's resilience was terrifying. Though his face winced, he didn't scream—not yet. Blood trickled steadily from the conical tip of the rod that now protruded from his chest.
"Emergence complete. Life graph at 57% efficiency," announced a warm yet stern female voice echoing through the sterile room.
Then, without warning, the rods were violently yanked from his back. This time, he did scream—a raw, guttural sound of agony—tears and blood spilling together.
A mirror on the wall slid open, and seven people in white coats entered. One of them, a woman, rushed forward and cradled the boy's unconscious body in her arms, tears in her eyes.
"Zeus! Zeus!! ZEUUSSS!!!"
"Me, I won," Caesar said after a moment of silence. A murmur rose again—louder than before. His declaration sounded half-hearted, as though even he didn't believe it.
He sat down heavily on his levitating bed, his head lowered. It was only then he noticed there was no solid ground in the hall. Massive platinum pillars stretched so deep into the abyss that their bases were lost from view.
Jacques looked wounded by Caesar's words, but he smiled faintly and turned to the crowd.
"You've all heard it," Jacques said, raising his hand. "Caesar here has defeated me, and I acknowledge his strength—and my own weakness. The largest weapon doesn't always deal the most damage. I realized that when I faced this prodigy."
He paused. A few people raised their hands with questions, causing Jacques' mouth to twitch.
"You know what? Never mind," he said and let his bed drift to another pillar—about four away.
Suddenly, a jarring sound—like a broken microphone—rattled the air, silencing everyone.
"The castle walls never fall, the castle walls never fall—fall, fall.They were painted with the blood of wars and all the flood.The castle walls never fall."
The same eerie voice that had welcomed the students into the academy now sang a haunting lullaby. It was weighty yet hollow—tugging at their very souls.
Caesar remembered the moment his mother slipped from his grasp, falling into the Balwen Cliff. Fenrir recalled the feeling of his father's teeth sinking into his skin when he was only seven. Jacques vividly saw again the night his father humiliated him before hundreds at a lavish party. Megara remembered the dark-robed man with a crow's helmet—the one who killed her mother.
Tears welled in many students' eyes as the song persisted. Then, as abruptly as it started, it ceased. Everyone regained composure and wiped away their tears.
Caesar wasn't angry at the song or the voice. He was angry at himself—for still being too weak to face that pain and say, "Enough."
Then the voice returned, more serious this time:
"If childhood trauma can shatter you, how will you endure watching your comrades die?How will you carry the lifeless body of a confidant?How will you bear the loss of everything you cherish and still carry the will of light?Zion is Light. You must carry that light to the edge of creation.You are diamonds in the rough—and you failed a simple test.I am ashamed."
Some students broke down in tears again.
Caesar clenched his fists. He could still feel his mother's fingers slipping through his. He wasn't ready. Not yet.
The voice shifted tone.
"Classes are about to commence..."
Flyers floated up from the pit below, landing in the hands of students.
"Check your timetable. Four classes a day, with two breaks and after-school activities.Each class lasts 50 Brumite—one full Horas.Breaks are 40 Brumite and one full Horas, respectively.Any questions?"
Silence.
"Lessons include: hexes, potions, magic, physical education, mathematics, sacred language, history, art and sculpture, and more.After-school activities include sports like Kickball, Striker Man, Self-Destroyer, Zero Gravity, Gear Shift, and others.You'll be sorted into one of five class ranks based on Grace, Intelligence, Divinity Usage, Versatility, and Skill.Understood?"
A chorus of different affirmations followed.
"Excellent. One more thing. When you understand..."
Suddenly, countless doors opened in the walls, which hadn't been there a moment before.
"Say, 'I Acknowledge.'"
Fenrir's shirt began tugging as if pulled by invisible hands.
"Uh... Caesar?"
Caesar felt it too. But it was too late. Every student was yanked toward the doors. The moment one entered, the door vanished.
Caesar barely had time to react before he found himself in a classroom.
The room resembled a theater: descending rows of orange wooden seats and a massive chalkboard on the wall.
A hand tousled Caesar's hair, pulling something out.
"Looks like you arrived the same way I did."
He turned. Two bright pink eyes met his.
"Izzy?" he said, surprised and relieved.
She smiled. But Caesar's joy turned to worry.
"Where's Fenrir?"
"Probably in another class. Did you forget about me?" Chalybe asked, seated in the row in front of Caesar. Beside him was Zeus—unusually quiet.
Caesar smirked. "Forget the guy with the most stereotypical build of a lazy, white-haired genius who loves girls? Never."
He and Chalybe chuckled. Zeus remained silent.
"You okay, Zeus?" Caesar asked.
Zeus looked at Chalybe, then Caesar. "Did you hear the announcer's song?"
Caesar's expression hardened. "Yeah. Fenrir and I both did. Jacques, too."
"Wow," Izobel interjected. "Jacques is in your faction?"
"Yeah. He looked alright. But Zeus, what happened?"
Zeus cleared his throat. "Just... old trauma. That song brought it back. And then the voice just mocked us..."
Silence returned. Caesar studied the classroom—walls decorated with posters, flyers, and famous historical texts. He realized they were in History.
"Looks like our timetable has our data," Izobel finally said.
"It does?" Chalybe perked up. "Sweet! It even lists our skills and class."
Caesar opened his flyer:
Name: Caesar Nova PercivalBlessed Name: EzekielYear: Year 1Year Rank: 2nd out of 209Divinity: Indestructible – (Refined Grace enhances physical capabilities or creates constructs)Divinity Class: Righteousness – (Balanced Offensive/Defensive)Attributes: [Neverland], [Swordsman], [Child of Light]Class: Vanguard – (The leader, the fighter, the heart of the team)
Caesar frowned.
"Second? Not even first." He turned to Chalybe. "What about you?"
Chalybe tried to suppress a grin.
Name: Chalybe Winter ArthurBlessed Name: BelteshazzerYear Rank: 1st out of 209Divinity: Event – (Freeze any object in space-time)Divinity Class: Valour – (Primarily Defensive)Attributes: [Neverland], [Archer], [Child of the Border]Class: Bersagliere – (Mid-to-Long Range Specialist)
"Looks like I got first. Sorry, Caesar."
Caesar scowled. He had Righteousness—balance—but Chalybe had only Valour, just defense.
"Spoiled brat," Izobel chimed in. "You got second. I'm fourth."
Name: Izobel Kyra EdgarBlessed Name: EstherDivinity: Swarm – (Magic based on insect traits)Divinity Class: RighteousnessAttributes: [Neverland], [Surgeon], [Child of Light], [Delusion]Class: Apothecary – (Healer and lifeline of the team)
Zeus scoffed at his flyer but quickly composed himself when the others noticed.
"Guess I'll never surpass you prodigies."
Name: Zeus Orson LancelotBlessed Name: HananiahYear Rank: 13th out of 209Divinity: Red Heaven – (Manipulate sky or atmosphere freely)Divinity Class: Goodness – (Offensive)Attributes: [Neverland], [Butcher], [Child of Light], [Ironhide]Class: Vanguard
After a few moments, a student blurted:
"Where the hell is the teacher?"
"I'm right here."
The class shot to their feet. A tall woman now stood by the chalkboard. She was stunning—almond eyes, black knee-length hair, cat ears poking through her scalp, and a long dark tail. Her outfit: a white blouse under a leather vest and tailored trousers.
"Welcome, nobles and noblewomen," she said confidently. "Welcome to History. Prepare for your world to expand."
The students sat down slowly.
"My name is Fiadh Fionnuala Berrycloth—but call me Ms. Fia. As you can see..." she twirled, showcasing her tail. "I'm a demi-cat, born in the city of Eborny."
Silence followed.
Caesar stood and bowed slightly.
"Greetings, Ms. Fia. I am Caesar Nova Percival, a human from the city of Shawnforth."
"Excellent," she smiled. "And for that, a reward."
She opened her palm. A swirling mass of green energy began to form—rotating and growing. With a push, she launched it at Caesar. His right eye flared crimson.