Chapter 9
The common
Shiro and Aeris stood in the white room. At her command, the environment shifted targets materialized and began darting around the space. With practiced ease, Aeris pulled out her revolver and fired, striking each target with near-perfect precision.
Shiro drew his katana, focusing on his form. Each swing carved the air with intention, but his mind drifted.
My connection… it's fading even more, he thought, the weight of that realization sinking deeper with each motion. His dreams had been strange lately fragments of a life long past, seen through the eyes of someone named Azael. A man with a blood manipulation ability. A man who gambled everything and ran from responsibility. The sky had been gray in those dreams. The sun was shattered. It didn't feel like Earth. Where was that place? Why haven't Myrrh or the teachers ever mentioned it?
Sweat dripped down his face. He dropped to the floor, his back against the wall, lost in thought.
"You been to your Inner Realm yet?" Aeris asked, her voice ragged with fatigue.
"Domain?" Shiro blinked. The term sounded foreign.
Aeris stared at him, baffled. "You've never been? Your Inner Realm's where you meet your god, where you can train with them spar, talk. You gain access once your connection strengthens."
Shiro exhaled, frustrated. "Makes sense. My sister never let me train with mine."
Aeris rolled her eyes but didn't press further. Shiro left the room, the thought of his god and how little he understood eating away at him.
He wandered into the academy library. It was breathtaking: polished whitewood floors and matching walls, rows upon rows of books on towering dark-brown shelves. A massive white pillar reached up through the center, wrapped in delicate vines. A spiral staircase curled around it, stretching skyward like something out of a dream. To the right, a huge arched window with gold trim cast radiant light across the room. It illuminated the pillar like a monument to knowledge.
Shiro paused, overcome by the sheer beauty of it all. Humans built this? he thought, awed.
He made his way to a section on gods, scanning for anything related to Azael. Half the library was dedicated to gods and their histories it would take time. As he moved down the aisle, he bumped into someone.
She had light pink hair with black streaks, pale skin, and the kind of delicate features that looked painted on. But her eyes pitch black, hollow—made his stomach twist.
Why do her eyes feel so empty?
The girl stumbled back, startled. Shiro reached out to help her. Her hand was soft, like silk.
"Thank you!" she chirped, offering a polite smile. "What's your name?"
"Shiro."
Her eyes widened. "Oh… you're that common." Her tone was more surprised than cruel, but it still stung.
"I have a name," Shiro muttered.
She winced. "Sorry. That came out wrong." Then, placing a hand over her chest with exaggerated grace, she introduced herself. "Kaela Raelith. Nice to meet you, Commoner."
Shiro's eye twitched. "Nice to meet you, Kaela," he said, barely holding back his annoyance.
"Anyway," he continued, trying to keep focused, "do you know a god named Azael?"
Kaela tilted her head, scanning the shelves. "I don't think I've heard of them, sorry."
Disappointed, Shiro checked his phone and his heart sank. He was going to be late.
He dashed out of the library without another word. Behind him, Kaela watched quietly. Then, as if remembering something, she reached behind a row of books and pulled out a hidden tome. The title read: God 438: Azael.
"Strange," she whispered, a sly smile forming on her lips.
Panting, Shiro burst into class and dropped into his seat. The room was buzzing with chatter, students preparing for what came next. Unfortunately, Shiro knew exactly what that was sparring again.
The door creaked open, and the noise vanished.
In walked the teacher: a mountain of a man with jagged brown hair and cold eyes. He wore a tight black shirt that stretched across his broad chest and matching shorts.
"I'm Garron Voss," he growled. "You low-lives are nothing but dirt under my boots. Earn my respect, or stay trash."
Shiro rolled his eyes. Another charming instructor.
Garron pointed to the training arena just outside the window. The class marched out into the brisk wind.
"Pick your partner!" Garron barked.
Shiro looked around. Everyone had paired up quickly. Aurelia was in another class working on her fage.
Then came a voice behind him.
"You want to go, common?"
Shiro turned. A smug-looking student stood there, blue hair tousled by the wind, green eyes glinting with arrogance.
"Sure," Shiro replied, unfazed.
The crowd shifted their attention to them. Even Garron seemed interested now.
Shiro gripped his katana. The boy, Luis, the others called him, had no weapon in hand. Then, in a blur, his arm shifted, morphing into a blade.
Shiro's eyes narrowed. Skin-forged weapon… impressive.
The countdown began.
3… 2… 1… GO.
Shiro launched forward, the sheer speed of it sending shivers down Luis's spine. Before he could react, Shiro slashed upward so fast, the blade barely missed Luis's head, shaving off strands of hair.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Luis retaliated, jabbing his arm-sword at Shiro's chest.
Shiro sidestepped and slammed a fist into Luis's face, drawing blood.
Humiliated, Luis staggered back, his smugness replaced by rage. His other arm twisted into another blade.
He lunged, raising both swords over his head. But Shiro had already seen through it. He parried the blow with precision, knocking Luis back.
Another swing, this time at Luis's arm. The blade connected. Blood sprayed as Luis cried out.
The crowd erupted, chanting, "Commoner! Commoner!"
Shiro's stomach twisted. They're cheering… but not for me. Not really. Just for the spectacle.
Luis was shaking, glancing toward Garron hoping to reclaim some of his pride.
With a furious yell, Luis extended his blades to nearly seven feet, slashing them down in a final attempt to overwhelm Shiro.
The crowd held their breath.
Shiro ducked the first sword, the second coming down right above him. With a roar, he leapt, parrying the massive blade mid-air—sparks exploding from the impact.
Then, in one fluid motion, he spun and delivered a crushing kick to Luis's face.
Luis fell back. Before he could recover, Shiro closed the distance and drove his katana into Luis's leg.
Luis screamed, blood soaking the ground.
"Please! Stop! I yield!"
The match was over.
And for the first time, the silence afterward felt heavier than the noise.