Chapter 2
New Discovery
Shiro rubbed his head in frustration. Class was about to start.
His eyes drifted to the girl next to him again. Her golden hair practically shimmered, and her serene expression made it hard to look away. Shiro stared a little too long before snapping his head forward in a panic. The girl blinked at him, confused.
"Are you okay?" she asked. Her voice rang like a delicate chime soft, fragile, and strangely soothing.
Shiro gave a quick nod and turned back toward the front, where Myrrh was beginning to speak.
"Let's start with the basics," Myrrh said, his voice lazy but clear. "To channel the power of a god, you need an internal source. That source is Fage. It's the bridge between your soul and your god."
Shiro furrowed his brows. Fage… right.
He hated thinking about it. His god if he could even call it that was a weak one. Its only ability was to manipulate bubbles. Not poison, not acid. Just… bubbles. They stung a little, maybe. But that was it. Marigold had always forbidden him from using it.
Myrrh continued, pacing slowly as he spoke.
"When the gods descended, they awakened the Fage within us. Channeling your Fage lets you connect to your god and release its power. Each god is unique, and so are you. We don't rank gods by strength, but by class. There are two paths to measure them."
He paused, drawing a chart in the air with his finger. A faint glow followed his gesture.
"The first path is their main stage the god's core trait. Power. Speed. Range. Output. Input. Defense. Control. And occasionally… all of the above. For instance, if two gods share the same ability, say fire, but one's main stage is power and the other's is speed, the power based god will hit harder, but the speed-based one will strike first."
Shiro leaned back, resting his chin on his hand. So it's more about specialty than overall strength.
"Another example," Myrrh went on, "Let's say both gods control flame. If one is 'range' and the other is 'control,' the range one can launch attacks further. But the control one can manipulate the flame more precisely shaping it into weapons, weaving it like cloth, even bending it around defenses."
Shiro stifled a yawn. Yeah, no duh. Still, it wasn't boring. Just a lot to take in.
"The second path," Myrrh said, shifting tone slightly, "is… more personal. It's determined by your soul."
He turned to face the class, hands folded behind his back.
"During your early life, you undergo something called a foreseeing past. You go unconscious your spirit sent backward, not just through your lineage, but to shape a version of an ancestor that never existed. A trial of sorts. In that world, you gain powers and live a short life."
Shiro sat up straighter. This was new.
"If you accept your humanity in that trial, you're granted angelic sub-powers. Enhancements, transformation, subtle buffs wisdom, clarity, and more. You become what's called accepted."
The classroom was completely still now. No one dared interrupt.
"But if you reject your humanity… your god warps. Your sub-powers become more aggressive, darker. Your abilities gain intensity at a cost. You're called rejected. You're not cursed—but your path is steep."
"And finally, there's a rare third outcome: overborn. A soul that accepts and rejects its humanity at once. That path… is unstable. Rare. Some believe it's a mistake. Others, a gift."
Myrrh smirked lightly, almost bitter.
"And then there are legacies," he added. "They bypass all of this. A legacy grants you a passed-down sub-power. It overrides your trial. Convenient, right?"
He gave a dry laugh, clearly unimpressed. "Alright. That's enough for today. Head out."
The room burst into motion as students grabbed their things and filtered into the hallway.
Shiro stood in a daze, overwhelmed by the lecture. His brain was fogged with terms—Fage, main stages, foreseeing pasts, rejected, overborn, legacy… Too much, too fast.
Deciding to skip thinking altogether, he wandered toward the cafeteria.
Reading the menu board, he froze.
"50,000 won for a basic sandwich?!" he shouted.
Everyone around him glanced over. Some students gave him puzzled looks. Others chuckled or scoffed.
Shiro lowered his head, face red. He wasn't used to places like this where everything cost a fortune and being poor was basically a disease.
He stepped away from the line and sat at an empty table. Alone.
He hadn't made any friends. No one seemed interested in talking to someone without a famous bloodline. Even with the academy uniform, he felt like a walking stain.
"Man," he whispered. "I miss my old friends."
Just then, a voice cut through his thoughts.
"Mind if I sit here? You're the only one I've talked to so far."
He turned and saw her her the girl from class. Her golden hair caught the light as she approached, soft white eyes full of curiosity.
Without thinking, he nodded. "Please."
She smiled and sat beside him. Shiro tried to keep his thoughts clean. Her presence made that a challenge.
"I didn't catch your name earlier," she said.
"It's Shiro," he replied.
"What a lovely name. I'm Aurelia Solenne. Nice to meet you, Shiro."
He blushed faintly at her compliment. She didn't seem to notice or pretended not to.
Aurelia glanced at his empty tray. "Didn't eat anything?"
Shiro looked away awkwardly. "Can't afford it."
Without a word, she slid her tray toward him. "Take half. I don't eat much anyway."
"You sure?"
"Of course."
Not wasting time, Shiro dug in, devouring the food. Aurelia blinked in surprise, then gave a crooked smile.
After lunch, it was time for weapon training.
The field was massive wide open with a tall fence surrounding it. Racks of weapons stood lined up under a shaded area. The sky was bright, the wind gentle.
Shiro got changed. His training gear consisted of black shorts and a fitted compression shirt one that showed how little muscle he had. He winced at his reflection, then hurried to grab a katana from the rack.
His assigned partner?
Aurelia.
The moment they stood side by side, whispers spread like wildfire.
"Why is he with her?"
"Isn't she a Solenne?"
"No way a no-name like him"
Shiro tuned them out.
Aurelia wore a white skirt with golden trim, her top matching in color, also form-fitting. She held a rapier with one hand, standing gracefully.
They met each other's eyes.
Wind passed between them, silent.
Shiro adjusted his grip, lowering into a stance his sister had drilled into him. Don't show doubt. Just move.
A whistle blew.
They both dashed forward.
Shiro gripped the hilt of his katana with both hands, raising it over his head and swinging downward.
Aurelia stepped aside effortlessly. Her golden hair flared behind her.
She spun, her white eyes flashing with something like intensity and something else.
Focus? Or… fury?
She thrust upward.
Shiro tilted his head just enough her blade grazed his cheek. Blood sprayed. Stinging.
In a burst, he kicked the ground, launching dirt into the air.
She gasped, caught off guard.
Taking his chance, Shiro stepped in and kicked her square in the chest.
She stumbled back, the dust cloud swirling between them.
Through the fading dirt, she saw a blur
Shiro swung.
A sharp arc of pressure cut the air.
Aurelia leapt, the blade whizzing under her feet. She landed gracefully—but too slow.
Shiro was already there.
His eyes were focused, darker than before. He raised his katana
She kicked his ankle.
Hard.
He lost balance and crashed to the ground. Before he could recover, her blade was at his neck.
She said nothing.
He exhaled. "Alright, I give up."
She smiled faintly and lowered her sword. Then, with a sigh, she dropped to the grass beside him.
Sweat glistened on both of them. They lay in silence, catching their breath.
For the first time that day, Shiro didn't feel so out of place.