The hall of Valorhold Academy was filled with brilliance—gilded chandeliers floated above, casting warm, amber light across polished obsidian floors. Intricate runes glowed faintly on the pillars lining the ceremonial corridor, humming with dormant power. Today was not just a school event. It was destiny manifested.
Parents packed the royal balcony, watching with anticipation. Noble families, military elites, and Guild recruiters leaned forward, eager to scout their next prodigy. For today, every student of age eighteen would stand before the Class Crystal and receive their fate.
A single word would define them.
One word would decide their place in the world.
Knight. Sorcerer. Beastmaster. Rogue. Cleric. Even the rarer ones like Chronomancer or Spirit Dancer could set a young person on the path to legend.
And then there was Riven Darion—quiet, solitary, and invisible.
He stood alone near the far end of the line, his back against a cold stone pillar. His black uniform was wrinkled, his boots worn. While the other students exchanged nervous laughter or giddy whispers, Riven simply… watched.
His grey eyes were unreadable. Not from arrogance—but detachment.
---
"Next: Thallan Vire," the officiating mage called out.
The crystal sphere at the center of the stage pulsed with soft light.
Thallan strode forward with the swagger of nobility. Broad-shouldered, golden-haired, and born from the Blade Saint himself, he had been groomed for greatness. As he touched the platform, the crystal flared sky-blue, and ethereal symbols spun into the air.
> Class: Arcane Blademaster
Affinity: Aether + Sword
Grade: Mythic
Status: EXCEPTIONAL AWAKENING
Thunderous applause erupted.
"Of course," someone muttered in admiration. "The Vire bloodline always gets something rare."
"He's a guaranteed guild leader."
"Probably Emperor-class one day…"
Thallan flashed a confident smirk and returned to the crowd with all the grace of a prince. Several girls blushed. One guild scout scribbled furiously on a scroll.
Riven shifted slightly but said nothing.
---
One by one, names were called.
> "Elira Greyfall — Class: Stormcaller."
"Kael Morrowind — Class: Duelist."
"Mira Vellin — Class: Ice Dancer."
Each received applause—some louder than others. Every new Class came with a glow, a cheer, a possibility.
Time passed.
And then—
> "Riven Darion."
The hall fell quiet.
The name rolled through the chamber like a forgotten echo.
Riven stepped forward. His movements were fluid, unhurried. His boots clicked against the stone path leading to the stage. Nobody cheered. A few students chuckled.
"Who?"
"That orphan from the East Slums, right?"
"What's he even doing here? Can you awaken a Class if you've got mud for blood?"
Riven ignored the voices. He was used to them. He had lived in the shadows of this academy for three years. Barely passed classes. Ate alone. Fought alone. Survived quietly. The only reason he was allowed to stay was because of an anonymous sponsor—a noble no one could identify.
The Class Crystal before him floated soundlessly, radiating faint light. It looked like a condensed nebula—swirls of magic trapped in a perfect sphere.
Riven stepped onto the platform and placed both hands on the crystal.
Nothing happened.
For five seconds.
Then ten.
The silence thickened.
The air around the crystal began to tremble—faint at first, then violently. The lights in the hall flickered. A strange pressure descended, as if the world had paused to breathe.
The crystal flared grey. Not silver. Not white. Just… grey. Empty. Hollow. Like fog without substance.
The words appeared.
> Class: Nothing
Affinity: Null
Grade: Undefined
Status: Defective Awakening
Gasps broke the silence.
"Nothing?"
"That's not a real Class!"
"What kind of glitch is that?"
Even the officiating mage frowned. "There… must be a mistake."
The crystal flared again—sharper this time.
> Verifying Class Structure…
Confirmation complete.
Initializing: Core of the Void.
Unique Identifier Found.
Vessel of Erasure recognized.
Begin synchronization.
Everyone froze.
The chandeliers above flickered violently. Several instructors backed away from the stage. The Class Crystal began to crack—fine lines etching themselves across the surface.
The officiating mage stepped back. "What… is happening?"
---
Riven staggered.
His chest ached. Not from pain—but hollowness.
A void had opened inside him.
And something ancient had slipped through.
> "Welcome, Vessel of Erasure."
The voice wasn't spoken aloud. It echoed inside Riven's skull like a whisper from behind time. Cold. Vast. Timeless.
His breath caught. The air around him darkened.
The Class Crystal shattered.
Not exploded. Not imploded.
Just ceased to exist.
One moment it was there. The next, it was… nothing.
Not even dust remained.
Screams broke out. Some students ran. Others stared in horror. Professors began casting defensive wards. A security squad entered from the side, weapons drawn.
Riven collapsed to his knees.
His vision blurred—colours draining from the world.
He saw numbers flicker behind his eyes.
> System Rewritten.
Welcome: Core of Nothingness
All Templates Rejected
You Are Now: [Concept-Class: VOIDWALKER]
His heart didn't race.
It simply… stopped.
And yet he lived.
He blinked once—and for a split second, the world slowed. No, not slowed. Paused. Time hung like a frozen painting.
He stood alone in the stillness.
And the voice returned.
> "Your existence is the anchor of deletion. Erase, and become."
Then the world snapped back.
Riven collapsed fully, unconscious.
---
The headmaster rushed forward, fury and fear in his eyes. "Seal the room! I want containment spells! Summon a Classologist from the Tower! NOW!"
A professor knelt beside Riven. "His pulse is stable… but he's unresponsive."
The nobles in the audience whispered.
"A forbidden class?"
"No… worse. A non-class."
"But the crystal acknowledged him—what kind of anomaly is this?"
---
Far above, a single hooded figure watched from the viewing balcony, arms crossed.
He smiled faintly.
> "So the Vessel has awakened."