Damien's eyes flew open.
The academy bell was already ringing.
He cursed under his breath, rolled out of bed in a blur, and grabbed his bag. His travel backpack bounced wildly on his back as he raced through the polished halls of Saint Academy, nearly slipping on the marble tiles.
He wasn't the only one.
Just as he turned a corner, he noticed someone sprinting beside him — a boy with sharp gray eyes, messy dark-blue hair, and a steely expression.
"Late too, huh?" Damien muttered between breaths.
The boy didn't respond, only picked up his pace.
They reached the classroom door at the same time, flinging it open.
Every head turned.
The instructor stood at the front, arms crossed. She was tall, graceful, and wore a black Saint robe laced with silver energy threads that pulsed slightly with her heartbeat. Her voice was calm but dangerous.
"Welcome, Mr. Gray and Mr. Alastair. The next time you two pull a stunt like this, you'll regret it."
Damien and the other boy quickly took their seats — far from each other.
The woman stepped forward, introducing herself.
"I am Instructor Salira Voss, and for the rest of the term, I'll be your introductory combat and theory lecturer. That means I'll teach you how not to die, and if you're lucky, how to survive."
She turned to the board, raising her hand.
The room dimmed slightly as a glowing diagram appeared in the air — The Divine Ranking System.
---
Divinity Ranks (Lowest to Highest):
Zadkiel (Violet): Dormant potential. Weakest known level.
Camael (Pink): Average energy users. Lowest combat eligibility.
Jophiel (Yellow): Solid baseline for Saints-in-training.
Uriel (Gold): Combat-ready with advanced potential.
Raphael (Green): Elite level, healers and combat specialists.
Gabriel (Blue): Extremely rare. Tactical and spiritual mastery.
Michael (White): Legendary rank. Only one alive holds it—John Davis.
---
"Most of you will never make it past Uriel," Salira said plainly. "Some will remain Jophiel. A few of you might hit Raphael if you survive your third year. Gabriel? Michael? Don't even dream unless you're prepared to break."
She waved her hand again.
"The top student in this class is, of course, Theo Shaw — Uriel-ranked and combat-tested."
Theo stood with a smug smile, waving lazily.
"And the weakest student in this year's class…" Her eyes locked onto Damien. "…Damien Gray, Zadkiel-ranked."
The room erupted in stifled laughter, whispers, and smirks.
Damien felt his stomach twist. He stared down at his desk. Every whisper felt like a blade against his pride.
So this is how far behind I really am…
These kids had trained since they were children — Damien had spent his days scraping by in the slums.
But if he had to work three times as hard… so be it.
---
Later — The Sparring Grounds
A wide, circular platform floated in midair, surrounded by glowing orbs that recorded movement. Divinity flowed beneath the platform like an ocean of light.
Instructor Voss clapped her hands. "Today, you'll spar. No powers aimed at lethal zones. You win by clean contact or forcing your opponent to yield."
She scanned the class. "First match… Damien Gray versus Theo Shaw."
The class buzzed. Some laughed. Others looked at Damien like he was walking to his execution.
Theo stepped forward, stretching his arms. "Try not to cry too loud, Saint Slumdog."
Damien clenched his fists and stepped onto the platform.
But just before the match began—
"Miss Voss." A voice rang out.
It was the boy from earlier — the one who ran in with Damien.
He stepped forward. "This match is trash. Theo will flatten Gray in under five seconds. If you want a real test… put me in."
Instructor Voss narrowed her eyes. "Name?"
"Zeke Alastair."
She looked from Damien to Theo, then gave a sharp nod. "Very well. Alastair versus Shaw. Begin."
The Zenith Courtyard, a massive coliseum-like training arena ringed with sacred glyphs that absorb stray spells. Only advanced-rank Saints are allowed to spar here. The air hums with residual power from past duels. It's midday, and a silent crowd of students and instructors watches from the edges, sensing something explosive.
Theo stood in the center of the arena, his white-and-gold coat fluttering gently in the wind. His eyes—usually calm, observant—burned with restrained fury. Across from him stood Zeke, arms crossed, flame dancing at his fingertips.
Zeke (smirking):
"You asked for a spar, not a duel. You sure you're not just mad I beat you in the glyph relay?"
Theo (coldly):
"You broke protocol. You cheated."
He stepped forward. The ground beneath him cracked, and a low pulse echoed.
"I warned you once, Zeke."
Zeke's flame intensified, gold mixed with white.
Zeke:
"Then stop talking and swing already."
Theo vanished—Chrono Lock engaged mid-step. Time bent.
He reappeared beside Zeke, striking with a glowing Aeon Spear, which bent space as it pierced forward. Zeke barely reacted—Solarflare Rend ignited reflexively, clashing with the spear. A shockwave blasted across the arena.
Zeke was laughing even as sparks sizzled across his jacket.
"Okay. That was new."
Zeke surged upward, fists wreathed in Radiant Ignition, launching multiple flare bolts that traced Theo's afterimages. One hit Theo's shoulder—but in that instant, Heaven's Rewrite activated. The damage reversed, and Theo struck from above, glyphs spinning at his feet in a glowing circle.
Theo:
"Sanctum Field—Collapse."
Time slowed within a bubble around Zeke. His movements dragged, his flames dimmed. But Zeke smiled.
Zeke (growling):
"You think time is enough to smother fire?"
He roared—his entire body igniting in phoenix flame. Lucent Phoenix Manifest burst from his chest, the fiery creature screaming through the air toward Theo.
Theo raised both hands, his expression stern.
Theo:
"Aeon Seal."
The phoenix froze mid-flight—motionless, locked in time.
Theo stepped forward through the stillness—until Zeke was right in front of him.
Zeke exploded the moment Theo touched the seal. The phoenix's body detonated, flames raining down. Theo stumbled back, half his coat scorched, but his eyes sharpened.
They both screamed—one in rage, one in focus—and collided.
Fists. Spears. Glyphs. Fire. Time-ripples. Wings of flame. Shards of light.
The air cracked like glass.
Theo slowed time to land a full combo—Zeke ignited his halo and overwhelmed the glyphs with sheer heat.
Zeke caught Theo in the ribs with a flaming uppercut.
Theo grabbed Zeke's wrist—Chrono Lock.
Zeke froze. Theo drew his ultimate—Celestial Archon Descent.
Wings of starfire burst from his back. He raised his arm, divine glyphs circling his fingers like planetary rings.
Theo (echoing voice):
"This ends now—"
A thunderous CRACK tore the sky. A golden staff slammed between them, pulsing with force.
Instructor Arcturus, clad in obsidian robes etched with sapphire, materialized in a shimmer of stars.
Instructor Arcturus (furious):
"That is ENOUGH!"
The temporal field shattered. The phoenix faded. Theo's wings dimmed.
Both boys stood panting—Theo scorched, Zeke bloodied but still smirking.
Instructor Arcturus (commanding):
"Sparring is not warfare. What do you think this Academy is—a battlefield?"
His gaze narrowed on Theo.
"And you, Uriel-ranked, setting off Archon Descent in a student arena? What if he couldn't block it?"
Theo lowered his head.
Theo:
"He could. That's why I let it go this far."
Zeke chuckled, wiping blood from his lip.
Zeke:
"Told you I wasn't just smoke and sparks."
The crowd remained silent. Two of the strongest students had clashed—and neither walked away unchanged.
The students were breathless.
"You two want to act like wild beasts?" she snapped. "Then you'll clean the outer compound grounds. Both of you. For one week."
Zeke cracked his neck. "Fine."
Theo scoffed but nodded. "He's not bad, I'll give him that."
As they walked off the platform, Damien stared at Zeke in silent awe.
That guy just saved me… and fought evenly with Theo Shaw.
This school wasn't going to be easy.
But Damien Gray wasn't here to survive.
He was here to rise.