Holding onto the wooden leg, Ivan kept his body composed. In an instant, he focused on recollecting himself, and pulling himself together. His breathing halted to a steady rhythm until it quieted down to an astonishing level.
He closed his eyes, clinging onto the leather book as if his life was dependent on it.
Bam!
But his recollection of himself was not enough. The wooden above crumbled into numerous splinters as a gigantic hand swung down, grabbing Ivan by the neck.
"Little fucker," the one who grabbed him said. "Did you think we couldn't see the lingering mana?" The man was large, his physique gigantic. Fat and muscle clung to the man's bones and a deranged, slimy grin spread across his face.
"Grab the book," the man ordered. The other one - smaller, but muscle also clung to his body - leisurely walked to Ivan's side and ripped the book from his grasp.
"GHHHH!" His neck was being clamped down by the abnormal strength of the man before him. Ivan flung his arms wildly, trying to tear the man's grip away and to free himself from his grasp.
"The God of Combat is a blessing. You won't break free anytime soon." Ivan shot him a glare before he tried forming a fist and punching the man on the back of his elbow.
PSHHHHH!
"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Blood.
Not the man's blood.
But his blood was flying from all angles. It was as if a saw blade had came down on his arm and violently cleaved it down.
"You fucking lunatic!" The other man berated. The gigantic man threw Ivan's cleaved arm to the wooden floor. His eyes looking down on Ivan as he wiped the blood off his face and smearing it across Ivan's.
"Hey," he began. "Stop being so loud, you little baby. It'll be okay! Of course, only after send you to where you belong. Heaven or hell? That's the question!" Holding onto Ivan's head, the man tore Ivan's other arm in the utter fit of his rage.
Even then, despite the cries and tears alongside the pleas and yells--Ivan's gaze found itself back to the leather book.
And he did not know why - an instinct, perhaps - but he began to beg. Not to the two men, but to the book.
Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!
Inwardly, it was a pathetic sight to see. Not once in his life has Ivan ever begged for anything. He only knew the arduous journey of working towards his goal.
This was humiliation.
But he didn't care.
"...Save... me..."
The other man that held the book began to feel a slight disturbance in the air. He looked at the book that he was holding onto and saw the protection spell disperse and the pages of the book began to turn and turn.
The two men backed away, with the larger one dropping Ivan on the ground in order to prepare himself for any potential danger.
"What the fuck?! He never said this would happen!"
The turning of the pages did not stop, no, there was seemingly no end to it. As if infinity had been personified--the book floated upwards, and a voice - one filled with divinity and authority - swayed across the area.
"What is destiny? This is."
Everything in the immediate are was consumed by a pitch-darkness. But soon after, the darkness was filled with sparkles of light swinging from one end to the other as if they were shooting stars.
"This feeling... what is this mana?!"
Otherworldly and omnipotent.
They simply could not comprehend the depths of the situation. They were no longer the ones causing the danger.
The Divine are!
In the deepest parts of their head, a resounding pound echoed loudly. It made their eyes widen as they instinctively planted their hands on their head, attempting to subside it through careful tending.
But it wasn't enough.
Their heads exploded by the abundance of foreign, incomprehensible mana that was injected into their stream tearing their innards apart.
Ivan, laying, was submerged in divinity.
His arms regrew, flesh appearing and connecting into perfectly regular limbs.
In his heart, in the slight consciousness he had, a name appeared in his head. An engraving of the vow and prayer he had just been bathed within.
He was now the blessed of...
"The Endless Astral Overseer."
~~~
August 24.
The day in which the canon events of the novel "Blight" would start. Having a singular day of preparation, Grace could only be as ready as he could possibly have prepared himself.
"May your academy life be filled with bliss, young master."
Grace offered a quiet nod in return to Abraham as he stepped out of the vehicle at the entrance of a heavily prestigious place.
Central Ergo Academy.
It is often described by the author as the benchmark for most successful mages, hunters, assassins, warriors, and whatnot. This is where dreams are fostered and shattered. He mused, looking around quietly.
The academy blazer that everyone wore had a sky-blue color with a simple red-tie. On the chest of each blazer was a symbol of wings, the uniting symbol for the academy.
The wind blew his hair with calmness.
"This is proof of our ability," he muttered to himself.
There was no character of importance around him just yet, so he made the entrance ceremony. Even though it was at the ripe morning of 7:30, and the ceremony would start at around 8:10, the Grace in his memories was a person who was excessively punctual.
This was how he must live.
Carrying his bag, he swiftly walked through the crowd, gaining many gazes at not only his appearance but also his overwhelming status as a member of the Walker Family.
Well, can't blame them--'I'm' incredibly handsome! There was a bit of pride in being able to operate within a body as incredible as this one. However, it may attract unwanted courting.
And well...
Between love and magic--always choose magic! A saying that was popularized by Ivan later in the novel after rejecting a girl who had genuine interest in him. At first, it was easy to be disappointed in Ivan not pursuing a romantic relationship until the latter half of the novel, but it was understandable.
He was consumed by "magic."
There was not an instance in Ivan's life after encountering the Endless Astral Overseer that he did not think about magic at all. No, it could even be said that magic had consumed him even before it. Just not to the extent after.
It was because of his endless devotion and talent that awakened after the "prayer" that allowed Ivan to ascend to Rank 1 at the end of their first year of the academy.
The students Rank 1-30 are put together in Class 1-A. Even though I'm a addition to the cast, Ivan should be Rank 26 if he's down one spot. We should be the same class if my presence hasn't changed anything too significant. He chalked up.
Entering the ceremony hall, there were already students positioned at their seatings. All the students from Rank 11 and onward had to sit in front of the podium, but the seating arrangement for Ranks 1-10 were lined up perfectly along the stage.
Walking up the stage and to his spot as Rank 10, Grace plummeted himself down.
He waited patiently.
Until another person came to the stage and sat directly next to him.
Rank 9.
"Hello..." A quiet voice spoke. Grace looked to the side and saw a girl of average height planting herself to the rank that was directly above him. Her hair was a long and brown and put together to form a dutch braid.
"Umm... I'm Anne Ingram... Sir Walker."
His gaze was calm, but it held a certain sharpness.
"You're above me--just call me Grace."
For a moment, the world had been frozen in Grace's perception. It was as if reality was truly becoming infused with his own.
This girl was an integral character of the story.
Despite her reserved nature, she holds incredible talent. In the future she garnered an epitaph for her incredible usage of Wind Magic that was paired with her aligning with the Midnight Deity of Storm. Grace looked away, staring into the distance.
The Witch of Wind.