The corridors of Skyreach Academy stretched wide, filled with the murmurs of first-years making their way to css. Despite the massive size of the academy, the students moved with purpose, guided by holographic signs that flickered in the air.

  Nero and his friends followed the stream of students, stepping into their first css of the day—Ability Awakening.

  The cssroom was spacious, lined with mana-imbued walls that pulsed faintly with energy. Holo-screens hovered near the ceiling, currently inactive, while rows of neatly arranged seats ensured every student had a clear view of the front.

  And standing at the podium, arms crossed, was their instructor.

  A short man, stocky with a compact build, who looked like a hybrid between a dwarf and a human. His graying beard was neatly trimmed, and sharp eyes scanned the cssroom with a mix of authority and impatience.

  As the st student settled, he cleared his throat.

  "Listen up," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "My name is Professor Warren. I'll be your instructor for Ability Awakening. If you're expecting a gentle introduction, you're in the wrong css."

  His gaze swept over them, assessing. "I've been doing this for a long time, and I can already tell which of you will struggle and which of you will thrive. But that's none of my concern. My job is to give you the tools to awaken your potential."

  Warren tapped a panel on his desk, and the holo-screens fred to life, dispying diagrams of a humanoid figure with various energy nodes pulsing across its form.

  "A standard awakening grants you access to your patron god's power. That much is obvious. However, what you receive at first is just the foundation—your mark and the passive benefits that come with it. What most of you don't realize is that there's a lot more lying dormant within you."

  Warren paced slightly, hands csped behind his back. "This css will focus on awakening abilities that have yet to manifest. Some of you might think, 'But, Professor Warren, if my god wanted me to have those abilities, wouldn't I have them already?'" His voice turned mocking for a moment before he scoffed. "No. Your god gives you potential. It's up to you to draw it out."

  At the back, Nero exchanged gnces with Zeke, Iris, and Jaris.

  "So, this is how we actually get stronger," Nero muttered.

  Iris nodded. "Makes sense. Everyone gets a starting point, but how far they go depends on their ability to awaken more powers."

  Jaris leaned forward slightly. "Some people awaken their abilities easily, and others struggle for years. What if someone gets stuck?"

  "Then they fall behind," Zeke said simply. Unlike the others, he didn't seem particurly surprised by anything. His expression was calm, almost bored, as if he'd heard all this before.

  "Not much room for second chances in Faltheris," he added.

  Jaris groaned, slumping in his seat. "Fantastic. Love that for me."

  Before they could continue their discussion, Warren tapped the panel again, and the holo-screens shifted. A new dispy appeared—a looping animation of a warrior standing amidst battle. Energy surged around him as his body pulsed with light, and in a fsh, his movements became sharper, faster, deadlier.

  "This," Warren said, gesturing to the screen, "is the process of an ability awakening. For those of you who think this is as simple as wishing for power and getting it, let me make something clear." His gaze swept across the css. "Abilities can be incredibly difficult to awaken—especially if they're beyond your current rank."

  He turned back to the screen, tapping the panel again. The animation restarted, this time highlighting glowing rings above the warrior, each marked with a number.

  "Once you awaken an ability, you are officially considered an Initiate—a Rank 1 Awakened. But here's where things get tricky. Can a Rank 1 Initiate awaken a Rank 3 ability of their patron god?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air.

  Silence.

  Then he answered himself.

  "Absolutely." He gave a small smirk. "But the greater the rank discrepancy, the harder it is to awaken. The process is not linear. Some of you may stumble upon abilities far beyond your current level—but doing so will take effort, training, and often, sheer luck."

  Nero rested his chin on his fist, thinking. So even a fresh Initiate has a chance to reach for something greater... but it's not guaranteed.

  Zeke, meanwhile, just exhaled through his nose. "That much is obvious."

  Iris gnced at him. "You sound like you already knew all this."

  Zeke didn't even look at her. "I do."

  Jaris gave him a side-eye. "Right, great family knowledge?"

  "Something like that."

  Warren let the css sit with that knowledge for a moment before he continued. "Some of you have probably already awakened an ability or at least felt the presence of one the moment you set foot in Faltheris."

  A few students perked up at that, murmuring among themselves.

  "This is due to resonance with the world itself," Warren expined. "It's the same reason why awakened could never use their abilities back on Earth."

  Nero's brow furrowed slightly. He'd heard of this before—the theory that Earth's environment simply wasn't suited for the powers granted by the gods.

  "So, the moment we stepped into Faltheris…" Iris mused.

  Zeke finished the thought. "Our bodies started aligning with the world."

  Jaris leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And that means some people got a head start." He exhaled. "Of course they did."

  Warren paced across the front of the room, letting his words sink in before continuing.

  "Initiate-rank abilities can differ greatly between the awakened of the same patron god." His tone was firm, making it clear that this wasn't just a theory but a fact. "Take the followers of Garnias, the God of War, for example. One awakened under him might develop a supernatural affinity for a specific weapon—becoming an absolute master of it—while another might awaken martial abilities such as Warcry, allowing them to bolster their own strength and the strength of those around them."

  The cssroom stirred at the implications.

  "So, even if two people have the same god, their powers can be completely different?" one student murmured.

  "That means there's no set path…" another whispered.

  "Exactly," Warren confirmed, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room. "You don't get to choose how your abilities manifest. They are a reflection of both your potential and your nature. Some of you may awaken strong, practical abilities immediately. Others may struggle for months before even sensing an ability worth developing."

  He sighed, rubbing his temples as if the next words pained him.

  "And, as much as I hate to say it…" He let out a slow breath. "Talent is a factor."

  The murmurs turned to hushed tension. Some students stiffened, while others exchanged uneasy gnces. No one liked hearing that effort alone might not be enough.

  Jaris groaned under his breath. "Yeah, great. Love that."

  Iris shot him a look but said nothing.

  Nero simply furrowed his brows, absorbing the information. It made sense. If everyone had equal potential, the rankings wouldn't exist in the first pce.

  Zeke, however, just exhaled softly through his nose—unsurprised. He already knew this.

  "But," Warren continued, "talent isn't everything."

  Some of the tension in the room eased slightly.

  "Effort, persistence, and the right training can make up for the gap. In some cases, even surpass those with natural gifts. You'll see it often in Faltheris—those who have everything handed to them fall apart the moment they encounter true adversity. Meanwhile, those who struggle early on build the resilience to keep pushing forward."

  He tapped on the panel, and the holo-screens shifted again. This time, an image of a young man appeared—a figure cd in battle-worn armor, standing amidst the wreckage of a battlefield. His golden eyes burned with intensity, and three distinct energy signatures pulsed around him.

  A name appeared at the bottom of the screen.

  Bram Pendragon.

  A ripple of recognition passed through the css. Even those unfamiliar with the depths of Faltheris knew the name.

  Warren gestured toward the projection. "Your predecessor, Bram Pendragon, awakened three abilities as an Initiate. That's nearly unheard of." His voice carried weight. "Most Initiates awaken with only one."

  A wave of whispers broke out.

  "Three?! That's insane."

  "Does that mean he was chosen by a high-ranking god?"

  "He was Adramelech's chosen, right?"

  "I thought most people got their second ability at Rank 2… not instantly."

  Warren raised a hand, and the murmuring died down.

  "Bram was an exception. His abilities weren't just strong—they complemented each other perfectly. They allowed him to grow rapidly, surpassing even those far above his level."

  Nero clenched his fist, eyes locked on the image. Three abilities right from the start…?

  He had always admired Bram Pendragon. The man was a legend. If that was the standard of greatness, then he had a long way to go.

  Warren's voice pulled him back.

  "Now, don't start thinking you'll be the next Bram. Some of you might get lucky and awaken two abilities, but most of you will start with one—if any at all."

  The room went still at those words.

  Then he smirked. "But that's why you're here. To change that."

  With a flick of his hand, the holo-screens dimmed, and Warren csped his hands together.

  "Now then. Let's see what you're capable of."

  * * *

  Warren led the css into a vast, open training arena. The floor was smooth stone, etched with faded markings of countless past lessons. Training dummies and weapon racks lined the walls, but in the center of the space sat a small stone pedestal with a single, gleaming object resting atop it.

  Professor Warren stepped forward and lifted the object—a small silver bell, ancient yet pristine, its surface engraved with glowing dwarven runes. The moment he held it up, the mana in the air seemed to stir.

  "This," he said, his voice carrying through the arena, "is the Bell of Ezik—a relic forged by the dwarves at our ancestors' request, created to aid the awakened in forming their first true connection with their patron."

  His sharp gaze swept across the students. "In the past, bells like these were rare, but now they are found in academies across the world. Their purpose is simple: to help you hear the call of your god."

  A hush settled over the students, some leaning in with anticipation, others shifting with uncertainty.

  Warren pced the bell back onto the pedestal. "Now, sit."

  They obeyed, lowering themselves onto the cold stone floor.

  "Close your eyes," Warren instructed. "Steady your breathing. Faltheris is rich with the energy of the divine, and you are bound to a fragment of it. Listen for it. Reach for it."

  A pause. The tension in the air grew heavier.

  Then, Warren's voice rang out once more.

  "Focus on the sound."

  A sharp, clear chime echoed through the arena as he struck the bell. It wasn't loud, yet it cut through the mind like ripples through water.

  Nero inhaled deeply.

  Then, the world around him faded.

  And he fell into his mind.

  The sound of the bell faded, yet its presence lingered—pulling him in.

  Nero found himself standing in the middle of a city.

  It was... normal. Stone roads stretched out before him, winding through narrow alleyways and open streets. Stalls lined the sidewalks, their vendors frozen in pce, faces blurred and indistinct. The sky overhead was a color he couldn't name, shifting between hues of gold and deep violet, as if time itself couldn't decide whether it was morning or night.

  But that wasn't the strangest part.

  The doors.

  They were everywhere.

  Lining the streets, attached to buildings that didn't match them. Some were too small, barely reaching his knees. Others were massive, towering above rooftops. Some were warped—twisted into impossible shapes—while others were as pin as the entrance to an old house. No two doors were alike.

  And something about them called to him.

  Drawn by an unknown force, Nero approached a small wooden door at the side of a street vendor's stall. It looked harmless enough—aged but sturdy, its iron handle slightly rusted.

  He opened it.

  And stepped into another world.