The sky over Cultivation High looked like it had been painted in molten gold. Afternoon sunlight poured over the sprawling academy grounds, bouncing off marble pillars and ancient statues of legendary cultivators who had once ruled entire continents.
Today, the main auditorium—large enough to fit ten thousand people—throbbed with noise. The air buzzed with chatter, excitement, and the occasional burst of arrogant laughter. This was Blessing Day, the most important day of the year, when all candidates born on the 20th cycle would receive their Cultivation Skill Affinity.
A hundred meters away from the grand entrance, Nicolas was running like his life depended on it.
"Late, late, late—dammit, I'm so dead—!"
His shoes slapped against the cobblestone path, the leather strap of his satchel smacking his side with every frantic step. Sweat poured down his forehead, dripping into his eyes, stinging them. He wiped at it with his sleeve, but it was useless—he was drenched like he'd just fallen into a river.
The bell tower above the west wing rang once. Five minutes to closing.
If they lock the gates, I'm done for. I'll be the guy who missed his own Blessing ceremony…
He pushed harder, lungs burning. Every breath was like inhaling fire. The grand double doors of the auditorium loomed closer. Two guards in ceremonial armor stood beside them, their spears crossed. Nicolas felt their judgmental gazes burn into his sweat-soaked figure.
One of them sneered.
"Last-minute hero, huh? Better hurry before the Heavenly-SSG decides you're unworthy."
He didn't answer—just stumbled past them, chest heaving.
Inside, the auditorium was a different world.
It wasn't just big—it was colossal. A crystal chandelier the size of a carriage hung from the domed ceiling, scattering rainbows across rows upon rows of seats. On the far end, a stage stretched wide, backed by a towering sigil of glowing runes that pulsed like a living heart.
Front row, elevated above everyone else, sat the Heavenly-SSG—the Supreme Student Guardians. Nine of them, each wearing ceremonial white coats embroidered with gold. Their presence was suffocating, a mix of elegance and terrifying authority. They weren't teachers, but even instructors bowed slightly when passing them.
Up on the stage, an elderly instructor with a silver beard scanned the crowd through half-moon glasses. Beside him, an ornate pedestal held the Blessing Orb—a flawless sphere of liquid light that swirled with colors no human words could name.
Nicolas ducked into the back row just as the instructor's voice rang out, echoing through the hall.
"Candidates, you have been chosen by fate itself. Today, you will awaken the skill that will define your path as cultivators. Step forward when your name is called, place your hand upon the Blessing Orb, and receive what the Heavenly Masters have bestowed upon you."
One by one, names were called.
"Ronan Vale."
A tall boy swaggered forward. He placed his hand on the orb, and it erupted in scarlet light. [Affinity Acquired: Flame Monarch Arts – Tier: Celestial]. Gasps and murmurs filled the room. The Heavenly-SSG members exchanged approving glances.
"Lynae Morra."
A slender girl with silver hair touched the orb. [Affinity Acquired: Frost Lotus Sect – Tier: Heavenly]. Applause followed.
And so it went—every student stepping forward, light bursting from the orb, the system voice announcing their cultivation path for all to hear. Heavenly-tier, Divine-tier, King-tier… all blessings from the Masters.
Nicolas's stomach twisted. His shirt was still clinging to his back from the sprint. He hadn't even had time to comb his messy black hair, which now looked like a crow's nest.
He tried to calm his breathing. It's fine. It's just a formality. Everyone gets something. No one walks away with nothing… right?
The line grew shorter. Soon, it was almost his turn.
One of the Heavenly-SSG, a tall boy with piercing blue eyes, leaned toward the others and whispered—loud enough for Nicolas to hear.
"That's the late one. Let's see if he can make up for a pathetic first impression."
Nicolas swallowed hard.
"…Nicolas Dreyar," the instructor called.
Every head turned toward him.
He stood, legs suddenly heavy, and made his way to the stage. The walk felt like it took forever. The spotlight above the Blessing Orb made his shadow stretch across the polished floor.
"Place your hand on the Orb," the instructor said, voice neutral.
Nicolas took a breath, raised his hand… and touched it.
The orb should have lit up instantly. It should have filled with swirling light, announced a proud skill. That's what had happened for every single candidate before him.
But this time…
Nothing.
The orb remained still. Its glow dimmed, like a candle about to go out.
A stunned silence fell over the auditorium. The instructor's brows knit together.
"Strange…" he murmured. "Again."
Nicolas pressed his palm against the orb a second time. The sphere shivered faintly, then—
DING!
A faint chime rang in his head. A different voice, cold and mechanical, whispered inside his mind:
[Heavenly-Witch System Installed.]
[Initializing… Complete.]
[Welcome, Nicolas. Your path begins.]
His eyes widened. What—?
But outwardly, there was still nothing. No light from the orb. No system broadcast.
The instructor stepped back, baffled. "No… affinity detected?"
A ripple of shock passed through the audience.
"No affinity?" someone in the crowd whispered.
"Is that even possible?" another hissed.
"I thought everyone on Blessing Day got something!"
From the Heavenly-SSG row, the tall blue-eyed boy smirked.
"Looks like we have our first trash-tier zero."
The instructor cleared his throat. "Candidate Nicolas Dreyar… it appears you have not received any Cultivation Skill Affinity."
The words hit like a blade.
No skill. No path. No future—at least, not in a cultivator's world.
Even the members of the Heavenly-SSG looked uneasy. It was the first time in recorded history that a student had been enrolled without a blessing.
The instructor hesitated. "Still… your enrollment stands. You will report to Class F tomorrow morning. Dismissed."
A few students snickered.
"Class F? That's the pit."
"Hope you enjoy being the punching bag, no-affinity."
Nicolas walked back to his seat, heart pounding.
But beneath the sting of humiliation, there was something else.
The voice in his head spoke again, calm and absolute:
[Quest Generated:Survive your first week at Cultivation High.]
[Reward: Witchcraft Skill – Lesser Hex.]
His lips twitched into the faintest smile.
They thought he had nothing.
They were wrong.