"Douglas Niles, step forward," the instructor called.
A man with stark white hair and deep, mesmerizing purple eyes, like an abyssal lake, stepped forward. His gaunt yet confident demeanor carried a strange charm, though the faces of the other nobles twisted in disdain as he approached.
"Lucky bastard!"
"Bootlicker!"
"What did the headmaster even see in this piece of trash?"
The instructor's voice sharpened, cutting through the murmurs. "The process of materializing a summon requires both miasma and imagination. The imagination must align with the requirements set by the miasma. Certain individuals," he glanced toward Misa Sanguine, "possess an innate ability for this. For others, it is a slower process. Now, slowly raise your hand, and allow the miasma to form a creature from within itself."
Douglas raised his hand, focusing intently as he sought to transform the miasma into a creature. The dark purple miasma flowed through his body like liquid shadow, seeping into his skin and curling beneath it. Slowly, it gathered into a pulsating lump of living mass, grotesque and unnatural.
The surface of the form writhed and throbbed, as if breathing. Strange, misshapen flesh rippled over it, and from within emerged twisted tendrils, writhing with a slow, deliberate motion. From its pores came faint, agonized cries soft, mournful, and childlike echoing like distant suffering. The sound seemed to seep into the bones of the classroom itself.
The instructor's gaze hardened, a mix of awe and disbelief crossing his face. For one so young to accomplish this on the first attempt was rare. Yet what was more shocking was the truth, Douglas was not merely summoning, he was creating, giving birth to a new creature. Such an act was a power only a Godkin could wield.
The thought struck him like a blade.
Is this the reason the headmaster personally chose him?
The instructor stepped back but made no move to stop Douglas.
The creature began to take shape, bones and spines forming slowly. Eyes and ears appeared misshapen, yet continuing to grow and mutate, pulsating into something entirely new. Wings emerged from its back, and its nails and teeth lengthened, razor-sharp and menacing.
Finally, the creature finished its transformation. Its form was a writhing mass of flesh and bone, grotesque and unnatural. Bones and spines jutted sharply from its body, arranged with no sense of order, as if grown in chaos. Its flesh pulsed constantly, stretching and tightening over the shifting frame beneath.
Several misshapen eyes had opened across its head and torso, each different in size and shape, blinking without rhythm, glowing faintly with a sickly purple light. Its ears were twisted and uneven, some long and blade-like, others swollen and raw, twitching as if hearing something beyond human perception.
From its back burst two enormous wings, thin and ragged, built of sinew, bone, and skin that looked as if it might tear at the slightest movement. They flexed slowly, producing a wet, creaking sound. Its limbs were uneven, ending in claws as long and blackened as steel, and its teeth were jagged shards, glistening with a slick sheen.
The air felt dense, laced with a faint, unending whisper, as if countless voices were imprisoned within its form. Its breath came as a soft hiss, and the scent of iron and decay hung thickly in the atmosphere around it.
It now stood complete, a manifestation of pure nightmare.
"What is it?"
The students whispered among themselves, voices trembling with awe at the sight of a creature none had ever seen or even heard of. Even the instructor, usually unshaken, stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
The creature lowered itself, bowing and then kneeling before Douglas. His hand remained raised, miasma pouring out in thick, suffocating waves, curling through the air and engulfing everyone present.
At last, the instructor stirred from his stunned silence, his voice low but firm."Enough. Dispel the circle."
Douglas gave a slight nod and gradually lowered his hand, the swirling miasma retreating and folding in on itself. The creature quivered, its form unraveling as though tugged apart by invisible chains. Bit by bit, it sank into the floor, leaving behind only the faintest echo of its existence. With one last tremble, it disappeared, consumed by the silence it had disturbed.
After a short pause to collect himself, the instructor finally called for the next student.The class resumed, yet the room felt different.
Douglas leaned back, content with his work. The mocking voices that had once followed him everywhere were now silent. The faces that had sneered at him were wide-eyed and pale, frozen as if the air itself had turned solid. The scorn they had so eagerly given him had twisted into fear, a fear that ate away at their pride and hinted at even greater threats ahead.
---
Lower class, Instructor Mia Charlotte.
The lower hall was dim, the air heavy with dust and murmurs. Instructor Mia Charlotte stood before us, her voice carrying a strange charm that drew even the most restless students forward.
"God of Time and Space," she began, her tone deliberate, "is the most crucial deity for the Usurpers. They believe he is the one who spun the threads of existence itself, weaving reality into being."
Her gaze swept the hall. "But he is not alone. The Usurpers revere nine others, each embodying a principle that shapes their creed."
She walked back and forth, her words lingering in the air.
"God of Revolution and Defiance, the fire of change in every heart. God of Universal Truth, keeper of hidden laws. God of Fidelity and Chains, master of oaths that bind will and flesh. God of Decreation and Lies, the unmaker who shows truth and falsehood are one. God of Malevolence and Benevolence, the dual hand of mercy and cruelty. God of Knowledge and Innovation, the spark behind progress. God of Vow, protector of promises. God of Sacrifice, the everlasting price of power. God of Reincarnation and Transmigration, the never-ending cycle of death and rebirth."
Her voice softened. "Remember them well. They are the pillars of the Usurpers' faith."
The God of Reincarnation and Transmigration… that must be the one who brought me here, I thought. Instructor Mia Charlotte's words still echoed in my head long after she spoke them. Was it curiosity or something deeper pulling my mind in this direction? Reincarnation meant cycles, endless returns. Transmigration meant crossing boundaries of form and being. If such a god truly existed, maybe my path was never truly mine. Maybe this place, this hall, this lesson, wasn't random at all.
I glanced around. Others were murmuring, jotting down names in their notebooks, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. A tension gripped my chest, part dread, part recognition. I had no proof, no certainty, just the strange pull of an idea that wouldn't go away.
Whether it was a blessing or a curse, I knew this thought would never leave me. Not ever.