The light around Hal slowly began to settle, but within his mind, the world was anything but calm.
Reality twisted. The room vanished.
What surrounded him now was something far beyond the physical—a plane of raw, surreal presence. Foggy white energy coiled and danced in the air around him, soft and warm, yet incomprehensibly vast. Beyond that… a boundless void, infinite and alive. It wasn't empty—it teemed with light. Not just light, but Authority.
Hal's breath caught in his throat.
It stretched in every direction: waves of energy, colors he couldn't name, forms he couldn't describe. They weren't just visual—they had weight, feeling, intention. Like stars drifting through a midnight sea, these radiant presences pulsed and flickered in rhythm, alive with meaning.
He realized—this was the essence of existence itself. The truth beneath the veil. Authority.
Each light was different: a signature, a soul, a will. Some glowed in sharp, angular patterns—disciplined, rigid, cold. Others danced in wild spirals, chaotic and beautiful. Some pulsed with sorrow. Some shimmered with rage. Some whispered.
They were alive. And he was among them.
He didn't just see them—he felt them. As if they were brushing against his very being, acknowledging him. Inviting him. Testing him.
His attention snapped back as the heavy door creaked open.
The old man stepped in, looking both amused and annoyed. "And here I thought you had failed, judging by this mess."
"What mess?" Hal asked instinctively.
He turned and finally saw it: a shallow crater beneath him, and cracks spider-webbing across the once-pristine walls.
"It's not that bad," Hal muttered.
The man chuckled."Do you even know what this room is made of? That's Vorthium—strongest known material in all the Aegis system capable of even resisting an antimatter bomb. A single gram of it is worth more than your life''
Hal's expression stiffened. "Do I have to pay for it?"
The man laughed heartily. "Only if you feel like it. No, kid. It just means you're one of the scary ones. Come on, don't waste time. You're due at the Class Assignment Tournament."
Hal halted the man before he could leave.
"I want to know what's in that book," he said firmly.
The man in the lab coat turned around, his expression unreadable.
"That book contains forbidden knowledge," he said. "Something only those who are Awakened—and who have truly comprehended—can even begin to look at. It was written by someone newly Awakened, for others who seek to Awaken. We call it an Awakening Book."
He glanced briefly at the closed volume.
"According to every person who's survived the process, the book contains a single word. A key. But don't even try to tell me what that word is."
"Why not?" Hal asked.
"Because I wouldn't be able to hear it," the man said. "Not because you're lying, but because of what we call Authority Value—and the Border. There's a line between those who are Awakened and those who aren't. Words spoken from the other side don't cross over. They vanish. I wouldn't register it, even if you shouted it in my face."
He stepped a little closer, more serious now.
"You also need a tremendous amount of willpower to comprehend what's in that book and not explode on the spot. The energy released by a failed Awakening can be more destructive than a nuclear bomb. In some cases, closer to an antimatter detonation. And if the person has high Authority potential… well, they might even generate a singularity. A black hole."
He looked at Hal with something like respect.
"That's why the test exists. Not to see if you're worthy—but to make sure you won't take the world down with you."
Hal now understood why he had been required to take a psychometric test beforehand.
The truth hit him like a cold wave—this wasn't just a ritual. It was a containment protocol.
Someone with weaker willpower would've been obliterated by the exposure to raw Authority. Their body and mind would collapse under the strain, and the resulting backlash wouldn't just kill them—it would detonate.
Hal's mouth had gone dry when he heard that.
He wasn't really scared about the fact it could have happened to him—what was done was done. He had already Awakened. There was no use dwelling on what might have gone wrong.
What concerned him now were the others.
Other students. Other candidates. Not all of them had his level of willpower. Not all of them would make it. Some would fail. And if the man was right, those failures wouldn't just end in quiet deaths—they'd end in destruction. Catastrophic, uncontainable destruction.
Hal swallowed hard. He could only hope that the chambers used for the trials were as durable as they claimed, and more importantly, far enough away from his own.
Because if even one of them cracked…
It wouldn't be a mess. It would be obliteration.
The man then waved his hand toward the door. Hal stepped out and found his guide waiting for him. The hooded figure now wore the official HighGuard uniform—a black suit with gold trimming. His face was stern, eyes hidden, but to Hal's newly awakened perception, the man shimmered with power. It overflowed from him like a storm waiting to burst.
Just an Ascended? Hal thought. How much more powerful could those above him be?
The guide stepped forward. "Get ready."
Before Hal could react, the man began inscribing something in the air. Curious, Hal asked, "What are you writing?"
"Coordinates," the guide replied. "And a bit of Authority. It alters our spatial anchor—lets us move instantly."
Before Hal could process further, the world shifted. In an instant, he stood in a massive colosseum filled with thousands. He was in the spectator stands. Then, above them all, Enforcer Sienna materialized, floating with her usual commanding grace.
"Congratulations on your awakening," she began, her voice magnified. "It seems most of you succeeded."
Hal looked around—around 4,000 students, fewer than the 5,000 that began. He could now feel the gap between those who had awakened and those who hadn't.
"Now, let's begin the Class Assignment Tournament. A few rules: First, if you try to kill your opponent, I will intervene. Second, your class assignment is not strictly tied to victory. We're evaluating your judgment, creativity, and control. Lastly… to motivate you all—first place will receive a monetary reward and... a Fruit of Authority."
The colosseum gasped.
A Fruit of Authority? Even among the six great families—the god-born houses spread across different planets—these were near-mythical. Said to dramatically increase Authority and glimpse into Truth, they were coveted beyond measure.
Sienna waited for silence, then began calling out matchups. Battles exploded into life—gravity-defying strikes, conceptual manipulations, and awe-inspiring creativity. Air hardened into shields, terrain melted and reformed, light bent into spears.
Then, the next match:
"Hal Brenn versus Lyra Vanthe."
Vanthe. The name tickled something in Hal's memory, but he brushed it off. Didn't matter who she was. He'd fight with everything.
Before entering, he was offered weapons. He chose a sword—not out of skill, but as a distraction. He was, after all, a hand-to-hand fighter. The arena floor was firm beneath his feet. Across from him stood Lyra—icy blue eyes, raven-black hair, armored lightly, no weapon. She radiated confidence.
Sienna hovered above them. "Three. Two. One. Begin!"
Hal moved first.
He used his Authority to break bodily limits—enhancing speed, strength—and amplified his blade's sharpness to mountain-splitting levels. He lunged. Lyra responded instantly, manipulating her surroundings into a hardened shield. She moved like a martial artist, her icy fists glowing with reinforcement.
Hal tried to collapse the ground beneath her using Authority—but she denied it. She had more Authority than him.
Her punch landed—Hal barely caught it with his bare hands. The sword was too slow. He kicked toward her head, which she blocked. Hal backed up, broke his sword midair, then levitated the shards into projectiles. She blocked them effortlessly with a pulse of her own power.
They began trading blows directly—fist for fist, blow for blow—moving at supersonic speeds. Each strike rang like a thunderclap. Their clash drew gasps from the crowd.
Blood trickled from Hal's nose. Lyra, too, was bruised. Both recovered quickly and dove back in.
In an Authority battle, victory comes by exhausting your opponent—pushing them into reckless decisions or attempts beyond their level. Overuse strains the soul. The body breaks next.
Hal saw it—Lyra wasn't holding back. She had more raw power, better technique, but he had experience. So he changed tactics.
He targeted her hand—the focal point of her ice enhancement. Every time he denied it, she had to reassert it. Each denial put a subtle strain on her.
She retaliated with a Declaration.
"Reveal Hal's Weakness."
It partially worked. Her Authority overwhelmed his. But he stayed on his feet. Weakened, but not broken.
Why was she still losing ground? She was superior in every measurable way.
Because Hal fought like he had his whole life. He had—on the streets, in the wild, in situations where losing meant dying. He wasn't a duelist. He was a survivor.
But it wasn't enough.
His body started giving in. Authority drained. Her Declaration took its toll. Blood poured from his mouth, his nose, his ears—but still, he stood.
One final clash. One final push.
Then darkness.
Hal collapsed.
Lyra, breathing heavily but victorious, walked to his fallen form. "It was a satisfying fight," she said. "You were incredible."
Sienna descended and raised her hand. "Winner: Lyra Vanthe."
Then, after a pause: "As for Hal Brenn… he will be admitted into the Eclipse Class."
The coliseum erupted. Not for his class assignment—but for the fight itself. It was unforgettable.
The tournament continued. The top six:
Ray Erebus
Lyra Vanthe
Serl Hyperion
Shira Thanatos
Li Chiyou
Meria Dian
Later, as Hal recovered, the truth became clear. These six were no ordinary students. They were descendants of the active gods:
Ray, heir of Erebus, god of darkness.
Lyra, of Vanthe, goddess of ice.
Serl, of Hyperion, god of light.
Shira, of Thanatos, god of death.
Li, of Chiyou, god of war.
Meria, of Diana, goddess of nature.
No wonder they radiated such overwhelming Authority. They were born of divinity itself.
Still, Hal smiled faintly.
At least I got a good class.