[Zayriel stared at the sky from his window, the faint glow of stars reflecting off his eyes. A notification blinked before him, cutting through the night like a cold blade.
[System Notice: Your element and weapon reward are currently locked. Awakening conditions will be revealed upon arrival at the academy. Prepare yourself.]
He frowned, leaning back in his chair. "The academy?" he asked, and the System responded with the familiar, emotionless confirmation. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Crucible Academy… An academy were monsters and abominations are forged. This is going to be interesting."he muttered
Some hours had passed since the beginning of it all. He yawned, stretching. "I should take a bath and get changed. Unlike other academies, they don't follow schedules. A message can come anytime."
He walked toward the mirror and froze.
"WHAT THE—?"He exclaimed Because
The reflection staring back at him wasn't the boy who had collapsed hours ago. This was… reborn. His hair shimmered like silver starlight dipped in midnight, streaked with hints of black like a fragment of the night sky. Each lock flowed wild yet regal, chaos and elegance entwined.
His eyes were molten gold streaked with violet lightning, moving like two galaxies caught in endless motion. Looking into them, you didn't just see him—you felt seen, your deepest secrets drawn into orbit.
Even his body had transformed. At fifteen, he now possessed the lean, shredded physique of a warrior decades his senior. Every muscle was tightly woven for speed, precision, and lethal power. Abs sculpted like divine hands had carved them, shoulders broad, arms sharp with definition. This wasn't a boy—it was a vessel the world wasn't ready for.
He blinked, struggling to breathe. "…Who the hell is this?"
[Notice: Host's body has undergone synchronization. This is your true form. Be advised—your appearance will attract unnecessary attention. Cloaking protocols recommended.]
Zayriel touched his jaw, his fingers trembling. Slowly, a smirk curled. "Handsome… this isn't handsome… this is illegal."Then something unusual happened
His room shifted color as a black sphere materialized out of nowhere—dark, terrifying, infinite, like staring into the abyss itself. A voice, emotionless and deep, echoed from within:
[Candidate Zayriel. Get ready. You will be transported to the academy in a few minutes. Only take items or artifacts of use. All else, abandon.]
The sphere vanished. Zayriel's thoughts raced. "Well, they came sooner than expected… doesn't matter. I'll prepare."
After a bath, he searched for clothes. "Nothing decent… all worn out. Fine… I'll create something."
He raised his trembling hand, imagining the clothes he wanted. A spark of Creation ignited in his palm: molten gold and violet light compressed like a thousand galaxies in a mote. Even this small spark made the air tremble, bending shadows like water ripples.
Threads of cosmic energy wove together, twisting and dancing as if alive. Each filament hummed with raw potential, whispering of worlds yet unborn.
Then—vanish. Where it had been, a black shirt, white hakama pants, a cloak covering him from head to toe, and a bone-white mask with narrow steel-slitted eyes appeared. The mask radiated cold, calculated stillness, etched with patterns too precise to be random.
Zayriel staggered back, catching his breath. "It's… done… but wait he muttered in his mind as if remembering something how am I able to use Creation? None of my other abilities supplyEnergy supply and creation itself need energy supply so it should be impossible for me to create anything or wait don't tell me....as if a realization dawned on him but unfortunately couldn't finish before the symptoms hit. The room blurred, his knees buckled, chest tightening. A violent drain surged through him—it felt like his very life had been siphoned.
"…Wait… no… it can't be…" he whispered, though deep down he has already deduced the truth.
"SYSTEM!" he roared, voice strained.
System "...."(host what is it)
Zeres almost coughed out blood when he heard the reply Why didn't you remind me about this he asked his voice growling.
(Because host you didn't ask)
Zeres brows twitched.
(Okay host let me enlighten you)The system replied
[ your Creation has been watered down. Normally, it doesn't require energy. This version, however, draws from unique sources. Remember not all source of energy can be used for creation Since your normal energy you use for daily activities couldn't qualify, it tapped into your life force instead.]
Zayriel coughed lightly, clutching his chest. I now understand but why my life force?this could've killed me!"
[You are lucky. Your life force was enhanced by your synchronization. And What you created were mundane items if you had attempted magical or powerful items it would have drained you to death or caused a coma. Though i am considering the formal]
He nodded weakly, sweat dripping. "i.see I guess i won't use creation for a long time unless it is absolutely necessary or i have a suitable energy he noted."
Before he could recover, the air thickened. The black sphere reappeared, silent and still.
[Candidate Zayriel. Preparation time is over.]
The sphere pulsed once, pale light cracking across its surface.
[Transport sequence begins now. You may only take items or artifacts tied to you. All else is left behind.]
Zayriel straightened, mask adjusted. His body ached, but his eyes hardened. "Already? Fine. Let's go."
The sphere spun, reality peeling like glass. A portal bloomed, a swirling maelstrom of black and silver threads, like a tunnel through the cosmos. Distant thunder rumbled, whispers of countless voices echoing.
[Welcome to the Crucible, Candidate.]
An unseen force tugged him. His wolfish grin returned. "Guess there's no turning back now."
The pull became a drag. The room stretched and twisted like liquid glass. The last thing he saw before the portal swallowed him was the black sphere collapsing like a dying star.
Then—nothing but swirling darkness hurled him toward the Academy.