Burying one's body doesn't guarantee the soul's demise.
The third period had just commenced as Caesar reclined casually in the back row of his next class—Biology.
The classroom was a museum of anatomical models, each meticulously crafted from plastic to depict the intricate physiology of various races, creatures, and monstrous beings.
The walls were adorned with a collage of posters overflowing with biological diagrams and detailed information—an overwhelming celebration of the life sciences. Glass panels allowed light from the sun to pass through.
To Caesar's right sat Chalybe, while Izobel occupied the row directly in front of him, talking to a girl whom Caesar did not recognize. Beside Chalybe, Zeus remained absorbed in his Data, eyes unmoving from the stream of information.
Fenrir was absent due to having different classes from the rest of the group, but Caesar couldn't stop himself from being fond of his enthusiastic nature.
Caesar became increasingly aware of the numerous glances being cast toward their group. However, Chalybe bore the brunt of the attention.
As the second-born prince of the Kingdom of Zion, Chalybe possessed what many revered as the "will of farthest winter." His lineage not only made him a noble but also a figure of widespread recognition across the realm. During the previous period, an entire flock of admiring girls had swarmed him and asked him so many questions.
At times, a twinge of envy stirred within Caesar, but he swiftly silenced it. Chalybe was nothing like the haughty, perfection-obsessed nobles who paraded their titles like trophies. Instead, he was grounded and gracious, a noble who wore humility more proudly than a crown, unconcerned with superficial perfection.
A memory surfaced—one from their boyhood in the Royal Palace.
The grand corridors had once echoed with Caesar's laughter and Chalybe's gleeful shouts as they chased each other through glistening Ash marble halls. They had dashed with such reckless joy that a royal guard had been summoned to restrain them—though his warning had been ignored.
Lost in the recollection, Caesar didn't realize he'd been staring at Chalybe until a sharp snap of fingers brought him back to the present.
What are you gawking at? Chalybe asked, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Oh, nothing, Caesar raised his hands. Just surprised at the number of fans you have. I'm so jealous.
Chalybe and Caesar's laughter rang out—warm and unfiltered—until Izobel turned around with an irritated glance and promptly shushed them.
Shush, you two, Izobel whispered, a flicker of amusement gleaming in her eyes, though she masked it beneath a veil of irritation. The teacher's about to walk in at any moment.
And how exactly do you know that, Lady Izobel? Chalybe asked, his voice laced with amusement.
I can feel the vibrations of his footsteps, an unfamiliar voice said.
The girl Izobel had been chatting with turned to face them, her gaze steady and peculiar. Her eyes were vast and stormy grey, with gloydon-hued pupils shaped like a hexagram—eerily precise and otherworldly.
Her hair cascaded in a deep obsidian shade, each strand tipped with burnished gold, and her sharp smile revealed teeth like small, jagged blades—striking and unsettling.
Oh! Where are my manners? She said abruptly. My name is Leofrun Mildgyth Billington—but feel free to call me Leo. Or Leofrun, if you prefer, though people say it's a bit of a mouthful. I wouldn't want to trouble anyone with my name—oh dear, I'm rambling, aren't I? Pardon me…
Izobel placed a calming hand on Leo's shoulder.
You know what? She's right. Leofrun is a mouthful. I am going to refer to her as Leo. Yes, much better for me and you, the reader. HELLO.
Well then, Izobel said smoothly, her voice composed. This is Leo. She's a close companion of mine.
Second-best companion, Leo said.
Leo offered a wide, toothy grin—her beast-like teeth flashing in the soft classroom light.
Why is it now I'm meeting her? Caesar asked
Why do you think you are my only friend? Izobel questioned sweetly.
Fair point. Chalybe nodded.
Chalybe chuckled, then a thought struck him. Are you by chance related to Edith Billington?
Leo's smile wavered. Uhm, yes. But I consider myself the smarter one.
Caesar tilted his head, puzzled. I thought Edith was an only child. We are sort of... acquaintances.
Sort of? Chalybe interjected.
I said sort of, Caesar repeated. She's never mentioned a sister.
Of course not, Leo replied, a shadow fell on her gaze. Why would anyone notice me—a mediocre, unremarkable girl?
Leo's smile cracked. When my sister is one of the illustrious Paragon Eleven? Beautiful. Charismatic. Wise beyond the grasp of most scholars.
Her smile disappeared. Compared to her, I'm... invisible.
A heavy silence fell between them.
Caesar didn't need her to explain further—he understood that weight, that gnawing envy. He had twelve siblings, each striving for glory in their way, each threatening to push him into the shadows.
The cost of being overshadowed.
Before he could find the words to respond, a deep voice rumbled behind them, cutting through the silence like a blade:
I understand your struggle.
Caesar turned, startled, and found himself staring into the unwavering gaze of Zeus—his eyes gleaming an intense, almost otherworldly crimson.
I am not a Paragon. Zeus began. A flash of lightning appeared in his eyes, his voice calm and resolute. And when compared to Caesar, I am hardly a figure worthy of acclaim. Yet... I do not see that as proof of.
Zeus…, Caesar murmured, stunned, his mouth slightly ajar in disbelief.
I see it as my potential, Zeus smirked. I may not be celebrated. I may be dismissed—labeled as strange or out of place—but I use that perception as fuel.
He locked eyes with Leo. It compels me to push forward, to strive toward the impossible, to stand beside the so-called prodigies I am surrounded by.
Zeus leaned forward. I understand your struggle, Leo. I stand with this idiot every day, but I use him as a sort of...benchmark. Let your hunger drive your growth. Let's prove that geniuses can surpass prodigies —even the likes of Edith.
The gloom in Leo's eyes began to lift, her former radiance creeping back into her expression.
In spontaneous harmony, Chalybe and Caesar broke into applause. Bravo, bravo! They cheered, grinning.
Caesar's skin stung from his clapping. A sharp pain shot through his chest.
He hoped to be the one to elevate Leo's spirit. But he was afraid that he would mess it up.
Would I have done it as good or better? Caesar thought.
At that moment, the door creaked open and a man strode into the classroom.
Good afternoon, noble sons and daughters, he announced with a wide grin.
He dropped a stack of worn folders onto the desk with a satisfying thud and rubbed his hands together with anticipation.
The man was human—his head bald and bullet-shaped, with a neatly groomed salt-and-pepper beard. Though of average height, his muscles were evident beneath his scholarly, deep blue robes. Yet despite his formidable physique, his face was uncanny, his soft expression hiding something more.
Alright then... my name is Shawn Harry Pontifeux, and I just have a simple question for you all: In all honesty, aren't you curious about the taste of death?
Caesar could feel his seat getting lighter. Chalyen caught sight of Shawn's shadow fluctuating.
The class fell into an uneasy silence. After a pause that lasted not too long, someone finally blurted out, What?
In an instant, the entire row of desks vanished.
The floors and walls evaporated like mist, revealing a boundless dimension—a dreamlike expanse without beginning or end. Only a firmament of endless sky and the sound of infinity answered to their confusion.
It was painted in hues of sapphire, lavender, violet, and deep indigo, with clouds swirling in every direction, ethereal and shifting, like living brushstrokes on a sky canvas.
Panic broke out.
What is this place?! one student shrieked.
I didn't sign up for this!" shouted another.
Awesome! A third cheered.
Yet among the panic, Caesar stood still, eyes wide in awe. Izobel was beside him, breath caught in her throat.
…It's beautiful, she whispered. But a bit cold.
Caesar turned to her, catching the gleam of her smile, bright and elegant, her teeth like polished ivory.
Then came the teacher's voice—calm, resounding across the surreal expanse, amplified by the unseen dimension. The silent echoes of laughter and footsteps were heard, not belonging to any student.
Death is natural. Immortality is a myth. No being escapes it—not truly.
His voice rang out, the clouds began to twist and re-form, taking on symbolic shapes—diagrams, figures, mythic scenes—each more vivid than the last, much like the Light Divinity of Ms. Fiah.
Welcome, future knights, to my field of Asphodel. Let us see who among you is truly ready to meet death.
Notes and books appeared in the hands of the students. Caesar pulled out his favorite black ink pen, while Izobel reached for her ever-dependable blue ballpoint.
The teacher's tone shifted, scholarly now:
When a being dies, their soul transcends the mortal shell. Each soul is drawn to the Judges of the Seven levels of paradise. But my interest lies not in the spiritual. I care for the physical.
Some students cheered, while others were still paralysed in fear.
Different races possess different names and philosophies for this essence.Humans have Dawnmark, their burning life force.
Caesar's mouth dried as an Intense Pain swept through his body. His hearts convulsing, his life flashing before his eyes, and his spirit fleeing his body as he grappled his hair. Then suddenly, the pain stopped.
When a human dies, Mr. Shawn continued. microorganisms invade the body—unicellular predators such as Arghertue and Gerhjsune. These creatures proliferate rapidly, consuming flesh, liquefying tissue. In roughly four months, a human corpse is reduced to dust—a remarkable feat, considering the body's complexity. Especially… with both hearts."
Caesar looked around. Every human student had pain plastered on their face. Though it was excruciating, Caesar felt more alive. He felt like he had died and been reborn.
Hey, you okay? Izobel asked.
I just felt this sudden jolt of pain. Caesar tried to look at Izobel, but it was hard to do in a dimension with no gravity. But I'm good, it's the dimension doing it.
Izobel's expression still spelled worry.
Hey, I'm okay. Caesar managed to grab her wrist. Giddy Caesar over here.
Izobel giggled. Okay, sure.
The teacher's voice thundered.
The Nephilim have their Seraphaine. Their core and their basis of existence. When they die, their body don't decompose into a slow, disgusting process.
All students were silent, waiting for the teacher's next fact to jot down.
Chalybe winced, as if someone had punched his torso. His vision blurred, his ear rang, and his blood boiled. His three hearts were giving way, and he couldn't hear his voice. But as suddenly as it started, the pain subsided.
When they perish, their Seraphaine visibly ascend into the Havens, glowing with celestial radiance. Their bodies resist decomposition—immune to bacteria and rot. Instead, they unravel into shimmering fragments of light. Over two days, they dissolve entirely into luminous ash.
The voice deepened. The head is always the last to vanish, remember it because it might come in a test.
The sounds of grunting echoed through the dimension.
Dude, what's wrong? Zeus tapped his shoulder.
Chalybe's eyes widened. I feel...alive.
The same process was followed. Whenever the professor touched on a race's soul, every student from that race would experience a high level of pain.
The clouds of the dimension created beautiful illustrations of the teaching, maybe trying to distract students from their pain.
Titans with their Vaelmir, Ghouls with Tharos, Dwarves with Karnweld, Neptunians or Merfolk with Kelvyr, Demi-humans and Aether, etc. No present race was left out.
There are many more, Mr. Shawn said. but time, tragically, is short.
Through the pain and agony, all students felt alive. It was as if the pain unlocked a dormant feeling, a feeling they had never felt before.
Murmurs flickered through the crowd. Caesar and Izobel were enthralled, their pens flying across pages even after the pain.
Caesar allowed himself a quiet smile, remembering the torment he endured to enter Black Meadows: the gunfire scars, sleepless weeks, and despairing days. he was proud - everything was worth it.
Izobel, in silent reverence, offered a whispered prayer of gratitude to The Almighty for allowing her to study in such a prestigious institution.
But at the edge of her vision—she saw him.
While the teacher now explained how Ghoul corpses scatter into flocks of crimson-eyed crows or silver-beaked ravens, Izobel's focus shifted. She nudged Caesar and subtly pointed.
Following her gaze, Caesar spotted him too.
A familiar face. Blue hair cascading like silk, just long enough to hide his eyes. Jacques—another of the Paragon 11. He floated toward the back, expression calm, diligently transcribing every word. His presence carried weight, even in silence.
Caesar couldn't help but feel a strange joy bubbling up as he scratched his scalp—delighted by the sheer absurdity and wonder of having a teacher who warped an entire classroom into another dimension for a lecture on decomposition. What a day indeed
When Mr. Shawn was elaborating on why the bodies of Neptunians dissolve into saltwater upon death, his explanation was abruptly cut short.
Pardon me, class, he said, his voice still echoing in the minds of his students like a resonant chime. There's someone at the door.
In an instant, the entire dimension dissolved, leaving the students once again in their ordinary biology classroom.
Mr. Shawn stood at the front, an inscrutable smile curling across his face, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
With deliberate steps, he strode toward the door and opened it. A guard awaited him — clad in gleaming Imperial iron armor, exquisitely forged to resemble a knight born of nightmares.
The helmet, sculpted in the likeness of a dragon's head, gleamed ominously. In the knight's left hand was a lance, tipped with slaver crystal, exuding menace.
Mr. Shawn conferred with the armored figure for three brumites before turning back to the class.
That was amazing, Chalybe said.
That was...interesting, Zeus said.
Izobel laughed and looked at Caesar. What, Caesar? Are you still in pain?
Caesar's eye rested on the knight, with his mind working furiously. The shuddering of the armour, the presence of the wearer - Something was unusual.
It's the knight, Caesar whispered.
Chalybe and Zeus exchanged gazes.
What about him? Zeus whispered back.
The knight was talking to Mr. Shawn, grabbing his lance with an unbreakable grip. Caesar turned to see Jacques in the corner of the room. He stared back and mouthed, You notice?
There aren't meant to be knights here, just guards, Caesar said.
Uh… class, Mr. Shawn returned, it seems the knight has come to—
Before he could finish, the knight's gaze rested on Chalybe, the armor humming as if eager for blood.
He vaulted into the fifth row with blinding speed.
Caesar's eye flared crimson.
Jacques reached for his pen.
Izobel's hair blazed lilac.
Lightning cracked in Zeus's palm as the knight and the knight's lance screamed through the air, aimed straight for Chalybe's skull.