The heavens cracked open with screams of light.
The God of Emptiness stood at the center of the divine circle, chains of fire binding his limbs, spears of sunsteel driven through his body. The gods surrounded him, the air so heavy with divinity that lesser beings would have crumbled to dust.
And yet he smiled.
"You fear me," he said, his voice a hollow resonance that swallowed the air. "Not because I destroy. Not because I conquer. You fear me because I strip away illusions. I reveal what you are."
The Goddess of Dawn, her blade trembling in her grip, raised her radiant weapon high. "You bring despair, brother. We cannot let you remain."
His eyes — pits of endless void — bore into hers. "Despair is the truth you cannot smother."
The pantheon struck together. Light drowned him. The universe itself cracked with the blow.
And in the instant before his body shattered into dust, he laughed.
"Kill me. Scatter me. Forget me. But know this: emptiness waits. And emptiness returns."
The cosmos swallowed his curse.
***
Two thousand years later.
Ashen Academy, fortress of the powerful and the damned.
The halls buzzed with chaos. Firelight licked from one corner, laughter rang in another. It was a school for delinquents with fire in their veins — literally. Sons and daughters of bloodlines so cursed and blessed with magic they could not be contained in normal society.
At the center of the corridor walked Professor Won.
Twenty-four. The youngest professor ever hired here. And the weakest.
His glasses slipped down his nose with every step. His tie was crooked, his papers clutched in trembling hands like a shield. His back was hunched, eyes lowered, every gesture screaming: please don't notice me.
But of course, they noticed him. They always did.
"Oi, Hollow!"
A mocking voice cut through the chatter. Three students lounged against the lockers, their Ashen crests glowing faintly on their arms. One with fire still flickering on his fingers, another with frost dusting his breath, the third smirking like a predator.
Won stopped, already shrinking. "I… I have class."
The smirk widened. A hand lashed out, smacking the stack of papers from his grip. Sheets scattered in a fluttering storm across the floor.
Won bent quickly, desperate to collect them. His voice was small. "Please, don't—"
A boot came down, grinding one sheet into the floor. "Oops," the boy drawled.
Another plucked a paper from the air, snapped his fingers, and flame devoured it.
Won flinched but didn't move. He could have.
Because Won had power.
It lived inside him, humming faintly like a beast in chains. Space bent around him sometimes, the air shimmering. Things disappeared around him — objects, even once a stray cat — vanishing into nothing. Sometimes they returned, shredded. Sometimes they never came back.
Void. A terrifying power, the kind whispered about.
But his never obeyed him.
The one time he'd tried to defend himself in class, his desk disappeared instead of the bully. The students roared with laughter, tears streaming down their faces as they chanted:
"Professor Hollow! Hollow! Hollow!"
That name stuck.
The bullies walked away, laughter trailing behind them. Won stayed crouched, gathering scraps of paper with trembling fingers. His lips whispered words no one heard:
"I do have power. I do. I just… I can't…"
The faculty room was no refuge.
"You again," a broad man sneered from his chair, puffing smoke from his pipe. "Still alive, Hollow?"
A round of laughter followed.
Won froze at the doorway, clutching his salvaged stack like a shield. "I… I'm just preparing lesson notes."
"Lesson notes," another echoed mockingly. "As if anyone listens to you. Face it, kid. You're a disgrace. A failure Ashen. Void in your blood, and nothing to show for it."
More laughter.
Won forced a smile, his lips trembling. He whispered into his chest, unheard: "I just want to teach…"
But no one listened.
That night, he stood on the rooftop. He would always feel some energy standing there. Wind bit at his face, whipping his crooked tie. Below him stretched the Academy — glowing windows, restless power, a city within walls. Above him, the stars glittered, cold and distant.
Two years. Two years of being mocked, beaten, humiliated. Two years of knowing I had power, but never control. Two years of failure. Two years of surviving because no one thought I was worth killing.
The rooftop door banged open.
A group spilled out. Students. Their leader: a silver-haired boy with eyes like knives.
"Well, well. Professor Hollow." His smirk gleamed.
Laughter followed. A girl conjured frost, another lit sparks in her palm. They fanned out, circling him. Predators around prey.
"You know," the silver-haired boy drawled, "rumor is you've got some big scary void power. One of the rarest. Is that true?"
The others jeered.
"Yeah, show us, Hollow.""Erase something. Prove you're not a joke."
Won's fists clenched. His chest heaved. He wanted to scream. To unleash. To prove them wrong.
His power stirred, the air shimmering faintly, bending like heat haze. The rooftop groaned. For an instant, desks in a classroom below rattled as space warped. His heart leapt. Yes! This time—
It snapped.
With a harmless pop, the only thing erased was… his own tie.
The rooftop roared with laughter.
"Oh my god!" one girl shrieked, tears streaming. "He erased his tie! Void master, everyone!"
"Professor Hollow," another howled, slapping his knee. "The legend!"
Their laughter rang in his skull like hammers.
The silver-haired boy's smirk hardened into contempt. "Pathetic. You're not even worth laughing at anymore."
His palm slammed into Won's chest.
The world tilted.
The railing vanished behind him.
Air screamed past his ears as he fell. Stars wheeled above. His glasses spun away. His mouth opened, but no sound came.
And in that endless plunge, his last thought was not prayer.
It was regret.
If only… if only I had known how to use it.
Then — nothing.
A whisper. A laugh. A presence older than stars.
The God of Emptiness opened his eyes.
"This vessel…" His voice was velvet and void. "You had power. But no will. How exquisite. How deliciously tragic."
A cruel smile curved his lips. "Then I will show them what true emptiness means."
***
Morning. Class C was chaos.
Flames crackled. Frost dusted desks. Laughter ricocheted. Chairs slammed against walls. The room was less a classroom and more a battlefield.
The teacher's desk sat empty.
"Bet the coward quit. Because he is never late," one boy laughed."Or maybe he jumped," a girl sneered. "Finally saved us the trouble."
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Every head turned.
And silence rippled.
It was Professor Won. But it wasn't.
Gone were the crooked glasses, the hunched shoulders, the trembling lips. His posture was straight, his stride slow and deliberate, his coat falling sharp against his frame. His hair — slightly parted, sleek, framing his jaw — caught the light like silk. His features were no longer plain but striking, severe, devastatingly handsome.
And his eyes.
Dark. Bottomless. They weighed on the class like gravity itself.
Whispers broke out instantly.
"Is… is that Professor Won?""No way. He looks… different.""Holy shit, he's hot."
A girl near the front flushed, hiding her face behind her hand. Another bit her lip unconsciously. Even the cockiest boys faltered for a moment, eyes flicking uneasily at the stranger they thought they knew.
The man set his books on the desk with a single, deliberate thud.
"Stand."
A beat of silence. Then laughter erupted.
"Stand? Who the hell does he think he is?""Lost his glasses, gained an ego!""Hollow's pretending to be badass!"
The man smiled faintly, eyes sweeping the room.
One broad-shouldered boy sneered. "Make me."
The man's gaze fixed on him. "Your name."
The boy spat. "It's Kairn, you moron! Did you hit your head or tryna act cool?"
"Stand, Kairn."
Kairn laughed. "Or what?"
The man raised a finger. The air shimmered.
Kairn's chair vanished.
He crashed to the floor with a yelp. The class gasped.
The man's smile deepened. "That was a taste. If you want to learn what true emptiness is, test me again."
Kairn scrambled up, pale and silent.
The man turned, gaze sweeping the class again. Several girls shifted in their seats, their faces flushed, hearts pounding for reasons they didn't understand. Fear. Fascination. Both.
His voice was soft, yet sharp enough to cut the air.
"Lesson one: Respect is not given. It is taken. And I will take it."
No one laughed now. No one moved.
For the first time, Class C was silent.
The God of Emptiness had returned.
And his reign had just begun.