The locker room smelled of sweat, steam, and faint traces of healing magic. Water dripped from the cracked tiles as the boys sat scattered across the benches — tired, bruised, and still buzzing from the adrenaline of their mock battle with the Five Crowns.
Ragnar leaned back against a locker, a towel slung over his shoulder. His reddish dreadlocks were damp, sticking slightly to his forehead. Then, suddenly, he laughed — loud, deep, unrestrained.
"Hah! We lost pretty badly."
For a moment, silence. Then, all at once, the others broke into laughter too — raw and exhausted, but genuine. The tension of defeat melted into brotherhood.
Light groaned as he stretched, the faint glow of healing magic running down his arms.
"Yeah, we did," he said with a grin. "But you and Yuuki were insane out there. I didn't even know you could move like that, Ragnar."
Yuuki scratched the back of his head, letting out a nervous chuckle.
"I didn't do much. Ragnar basically stole the show."
Magna chuckled as he examined a burn on his forearm.
"Don't sell yourself short, bro. You held your ground. Honestly, you scared me when your nose started bleeding mid-fight."
Yuuki laughed softly. "Oh, that? Just a side effect. I haven't completely mastered my [Celestial Burst (8th Grade)] yet."
Ragnar pushed off the locker, cracking his neck. "Yeah, I was actually thinking about advancing to 9th grade soon."
Yuuki blinked. "Wait… you're still 10th grade? I always forget that."
Ragnar smirked faintly. "Yeah. The worst part is, I don't even worship a god yet — so no chance of advancing."
That one sentence hung in the air like a weight. The laughter faded. Even the sound of dripping water seemed distant.
---
In their world, power wasn't just earned through talent or training — it was granted.
To advance to a higher magic grade, a mage had to devote their faith to a god. Through prayer, offering, and unwavering belief, they sought divine recognition. If the god accepted their devotion, they would bestow a Blessing — a fragment of divine essence that raised the mage's magic grade.
But faith was never free. Each god demanded something different: years of loyalty, dangerous pilgrimages, or sacrifices — sometimes even one's freedom or sanity.
---
Light tilted his head, eyeing Ragnar.
"Yeah… you don't really strike me as the praying type," he said with a half-smile. "You'd probably argue with a god instead of worshipping one."
Ragnar chuckled once — but his tone shifted. "You're not wrong. But if I'm being honest…"
His voice grew lower, colder. "I don't think I could worship any of them. To me, they all just sound like a bunch of idiots with power."
The laughter stopped again. The mood changed instantly.
Magna sat up straighter, his grin fading. "You know that's blasphemy, right? If anyone outside this room heard that, you'd be in serious trouble."
Ragnar's expression hardened. "It's not blasphemy if it's true."
He looked up, eyes dark and unflinching. "These so-called gods call themselves omnipotent. All-knowing. All-powerful. Yet there are dozens of them — each claiming dominion over something different. Fire, war, water, death…"
He scoffed. "If one of them were truly omnipotent, there'd only be one. One who controls all. One who's fair and just. But instead, they squabble like spoiled brats, fighting over worshippers like it's a competition."
Light frowned, shifting uncomfortably. Yuuki looked down at the floor, unsure whether to speak. Magna just watched Ragnar closely, unsure if this was anger or something deeper.
Ragnar continued, his tone gaining a quiet venom.
"And the worst part? The ones who claim to be 'good'… they're the most deceitful of all. They demand faith, obedience, and in return, offer 'blessings' that always come with chains. You give up your free will for power. That's not divinity."
He looked at his hand — his fingers trembling slightly as if fighting something unseen. "That's control."
The silence that followed was suffocating. None of them dared to speak. Ragnar's eyes glowed faintly — not with mana, but with something colder, older.
Then, almost as if waking from a trance, his tone softened.
"…I don't even know when I started thinking like this," he murmured. "I just… feel it. Like something inside me rejects them — like I was never meant to kneel before anyone."
Yuuki finally broke the silence, his voice soft. "You sound like you've seen something we haven't."
Ragnar gave a small, unreadable smile. "Maybe I have. Or maybe I just stopped pretending they're worth my prayers."
Magna sighed, forcing a grin to break the tension. "Alright, philosopher, that's enough divine heresy for one day." He slapped Ragnar's shoulder lightly. "Before a lightning bolt comes through the roof, how about we figure out who's buying healing potions next round?"
That did it — the others laughed again, the heaviness breaking apart. Ragnar smirked, and soon the locker room filled with noise once more.
But behind Ragnar's smirk, there was something distant — like his words had come from a place even he didn't fully understand.
And for a moment, the others couldn't help but wonder what kind of power — or truth — might be sleeping inside him.
The night air outside the academy gym was cold, carrying the faint hum of mana lamps that lined the stone pathways. The courtyard was mostly empty — students had already gone back to their homes, leaving only the echo of distant laughter and the soft rustle of trees.
Ragnar walked alone, his jacket slung over his shoulder, the light of the moon catching the reddish tint of his dreadlocks. His thoughts were quiet — too quiet — still circling around the words he'd said in the locker room.
He didn't notice the footsteps behind him until a voice spoke.
'You really don't believe in the gods, do you?"
Ragnar stopped and turned slightly. A boy stepped out from behind one of the pillars — a student, probably from another class. Short brown hair, nervous eyes, clutching his academy badge like he needed courage just to stand there.
"Were you listening in?" Ragnar asked, his tone calm but firm.
The boy swallowed hard. "Yeah… I was. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't just walk away after hearing what you said. You're wrong, you know. The gods aren't what you think they are."
Ragnar raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? Go on then. Enlighten me."
The boy stepped closer, his voice growing stronger.
"The Beast God ended the Third Great War! Without his intervention, humanity would've been wiped out. The gods have always protected us when we needed them most."
Ragnar chuckled quietly — not mockingly, but like someone hearing a story he'd already read the ending to.
"Protected us, huh?" He looked up at the moon, eyes narrowing. "You mean when he ended the war by sacrificing a million soldiers to seal the enemy kingdoms? Funny how the Beast Church skips that part in their sermons."
The boy flinched, his confidence faltering. "That was… necessary. A sacrifice for peace—"
Ragnar cut him off, his voice sharp.
"Peace built on corpses isn't peace. It's silence. The silence of the dead."
The boy tried again, stubbornly clinging to his faith. "But what about the Flame Goddess? She gave us mana — the source of all magic! Without her, we wouldn't even exist as a civilization."
Ragnar turned to him fully this time, his gaze piercing.
"And yet her followers burned entire villages to 'purify' those who refused to worship her. Tell me — does that sound like a gift from a goddess, or a leash from a tyrant?"
The boy hesitated, his mouth opening but no words coming out.
Ragnar stepped closer, his tone soft but heavy.
"You've been fed stories your whole life. Tales rewritten by priests who wear gold and call it faith. You see their light, but never the shadow it casts."
The boy clenched his fists. "You talk like you've seen the gods yourself."
Ragnar smirked faintly. "Maybe I have. Or maybe I've just seen what their believers do when no one's watching."
For a long moment, the only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. The boy's confidence had turned to confusion — his faith shaking under the weight of Ragnar's calm defiance.
"You don't get it…" the boy muttered, frustration lacing his voice. "Without the gods, there's nothing. No order. No purpose."
Ragnar gave a low laugh and started walking away. "Then maybe it's time people stop needing gods to tell them what purpose is."
The boy called after him, voice echoing through the empty courtyard.
"So that's it? You think you're better than the gods?"
Ragnar didn't turn around.
"No," he said, his tone quiet — almost sad. "I just think they were never better than us."
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the path home, leaving the boy standing there — shaken, silent, and unsure whether he'd just lost an argument… or had his faith cracked open for the first time.