Sezel slumped at his desk, lost in a storm of thoughts. The classroom's murmurs were a distant, buzzing hum.
The teacher's grim warning about the Spirit Realm's inescapable grip had landed like a lead weight, and the mood in the room had shifted from nervous excitement to quiet dread.
Sezel could practically see the gears turning in their heads as they plotted safer career paths—teachers, researchers, anything but Slayers. But the teacher's last line had shattered even that fragile hope.
So, you can choose not to be a Slayer, but you're still on the menu. Great.
The question arises, why would one want to be a Slayer?
"I am aware most of you are wondering what the pros are of being a Slayer," the teacher spoke, his voice cutting through the gloom as if he'd read their minds. The class stiffened. Sezel leaned forward, his red eyes glinting. Maybe he can read thoughts. After all, there was always a possibility.
The teacher continued, "Being a Slayer isn't mandatory, but it's the fastest path to power and wealth in this broken world."
Sezel's brow furrowed. Money and power? What are they worth when a dog-thing is trying to chew your arm off? Then again, in this room, surrounded by nobles in tailored coats and veterans with scarred faces, he knew those words held weight. And what about the other part? That even if they ran, the Spirit Realm would find them.
Was any Awakened really safe?
The teacher, sensing the rising tension, shifted gears. "You all have awakened," he said, his smile a little too enigmatic for Sezel's comfort. "And I am here to teach you everything you need to know about being an Awakened in this world."
A collective sigh of relief went through the room. "At its core," the teacher explained, "Awakening is measured by Spirituality Rank. Rank 1, the weakest, to Rank 5, the strongest."
This was old news, even to Sezel. The class was still.
"Rank 1s can enhance their physical capabilities. Rank 2s can do that, plus infuse weapons and tools. You'll learn more in practical class." He paused, his expression turning cold. "Rank 3 and above… that's where it changes."
The class tensed.
"Those who awaken at Rank 3 or higher receive a Fable," the teacher said, his words heavy. Sezel sat up straighter.
Okay, now we're getting to the interesting part.
"We don't know exactly what a Fable is," the teacher admitted, "And we don't know how an awakened receives one. We believe they are based on your heroic actions you did before the awakening."
Sezel grimaced. Heroic actions? Who in that hell does that?
The Teacher added another little detail after a break, " All awakened receives a card that provides your status and binds your soul to the Spirit Realm."
Sezel gulped. Binds the soul? Sounds Like a demonic timeshare.
The teacher turned to the wall, his voice low. "The ability given by the Fable is what shapes the Awakened. They come in different forms: Black for Rank 3, Bronze for Rank 4, Silver for Rank 5."
He faced the class, his eyes gleaming. "Then there is the Golden Fable. A legend. The findings suggest only one man ever bore it: Akijo Kyoko, the first human to become a Sovereign."
Gasps rippled through the room. Sezel's mind went blank. That's what the voice had said to him. The Master of Death. But that had to be a dream. He was Rank 0. A statistical anomaly of uselessness.
It was my imagination… wasn't it? A side effect of drowning in cursed goo? Even thinking about it made him wanna puke.
He looked up, and his eyes met the teacher's for a brief, unnerving moment. He quickly looked away, his heart pounding.
Why is he looking at me like that? Does he think I look weird? or perhaps i am new? It's probably the second one.
"That's the basics," the teacher concluded. "Any questions?"
A hand rose, attached to a young boy in a pristine, tailored suit. "How does one know their Fable's ability?" he asked, his voice as smooth as silk.
Rich bastard, Sezel cursed, glancing at the clock. Probably worried about how to coordinate his Fable's glow with his fancy outfit.
The teacher smiled. "That is for a later class." Sezel let out a silent, inward laugh.
The room fell silent. Sezel burned with questions, but his translating device was a one-way street. The teacher bowed and left, leaving a hush in his wake.
'Wonder what kind of class would be next.' Sezel leaned back, his white hair veiling one crimson eye. Five minutes ticked by. His stomach gnawed at him as he watched a group of teens circle a slim, blonde-haired boy in an elegant red shirt, their laughter sharp and cruel. Damn rich rat. Must be bragging about his Rank.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Captain Raelion stormed in, plopped down in the front chair, and took a large, noisy bite of a crisp, red apple. Sezel gulped, his stomach growling in protest. The sound of the crunch was an exquisite torture.
But he noticed something strange. He wasn't weak. His body felt... solid. He had gained some weight, his muscles a little more defined. The effects of Awakening, perhaps? A consolation prize for being the very first Rank 0?
"So," Raelion's voice boomed, snapping the class to attention. "I will be your instructor for practical classes. Are you all ready?"
The students straightened, their eyes shining with a reverence that Sezel couldn't comprehend. Maybe this guy is actually cool?
Raelion took a final bite of the apple, and Sezel glared at the core as he tossed it away. Soon, I will also eat those apples. A whole barrel of them.
Raelion stood up, exhaling sharply. "How many of you know what is the Spirit Meridian?" he asked, his voice deep. The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. Spirit Meridian? Is that a fancy street in a city I'll never see?