The Divine School was built atop a floating island, suspended in the sky by ancient magic and divine consensus. It was the birthplace of gods-in-training, a place where divinities were forged, tested, and ranked. Its halls echoed with ambition, rivalry, and tradition.
And now, it was buzzing with concern.
Adrian's name had begun circulating through the upper chambers—not as a student, but as a phenomenon. His divine system, the Internet, had spread faster than any known domain. He hadn't built temples. He hadn't recruited priests. He had built infrastructure.
And kingdoms were converting.
The faculty gathered in the Hall of Oversight, a circular chamber lined with floating screens that tracked divine activity across the mortal realm. Adrian's map was glowing. Arcantor was saturated. Eldoria had converted. Viremont was accelerating.
"He's bypassing the traditional channels," said Professor Malric, God of Ritual. "No sermons. No relics. Just apps."
"He's not demanding worship," added Dean Solenne, Goddess of Order. "He's offering value. That's dangerous."
Some viewed Adrian as a threat to divine orthodoxy. Others saw him as a visionary. A few whispered that he might be the prototype for a new kind of god—one who didn't rely on faith, but on functionality.
The student body was divided.
Some admired Adrian's creativity and independence. Others resented his success, claiming he had abandoned the sacred path. A few tried to replicate his system, launching their own apps and divine networks—but none matched his scalability, his AI, or his strategic partnerships.
Lucy and Zane's involvement only deepened the controversy.
"They've formed a pantheon without approval," said one instructor. "That's unprecedented."
But the metrics didn't lie.
Adrian's Divine Power reserves were growing faster than any student in recorded history. His user engagement was off the charts. His infrastructure was stable, adaptive, and expanding.
The Divine School issued a formal inquiry.
Adrian received the message in his cabin: a summons to present his system before the Council of Ascension. It wasn't a punishment. It was recognition.
He smiled.
He hadn't asked for permission.
But now, they wanted his blueprint.