CHAPTER THREE: THE ACADEMY OF FALSE GODS
The gates of the academy loomed like the jaws of some massive beast. Black stone carved into sharp angles, with statues that grinned with cruel faces—faces that had no name, no past, yet seemed to know every secret sin in the world.
Kael walked forward.
The air was heavy with power. Not natural power. Not divine.
False power.
Every step he took, the ground hummed with magic—twisted, poisoned, arrogant.
He passed students in flowing robes and armors etched with fake divine runes. Each one radiated confidence, and yet he could feel their fear. Not of him… but of the truth he carried.
The academy was a stage. Its "gods" were illusions. Teachers who called themselves deities, students worshipping status and power. And Kael? He had returned too alive, too aware, too dangerous to be ignored.
A voice rang out across the central plaza, booming and hollow.
"New blood," it said. "Step forward."
The crowd parted with mechanical precision, revealing a raised platform carved into the center of the courtyard. Twelve thrones lined it—each occupied by a human, masked and draped in black and gold, pretending to be gods.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
They were not gods.
They were predators. And he could smell it.
One of the masked figures leaned forward, voice smooth as silk.
"Ah… the child reborn. I am Highmaster Seraphine Veyr," she said. Her voice cut through the plaza like a blade. "You carry magic that should not exist. You defy death itself."
Kael studied her. The ancient presence inside him stirred.
Careful, it whispered.
She does not forgive mistakes.
"Then I suppose," Kael said, his voice calm, "you must be careful as well."
A ripple of surprise passed through the crowd.
Seraphine's smile did not waver. "We do not punish the bold. We test them. You will train here, under the watch of false gods. Fail—or disobey—and you will vanish."
Kael's lips curved. "Noted."
The platform below him glowed with runes. The crowd's murmurs died as shadowy figures emerged—creatures of magic, half-formed, their bodies writhing like smoke. Students readied spells and weapons, but Kael did not flinch.
The creatures lunged.
The academy expected chaos.
Kael moved once.
Dark symbols bloomed across his arms. Shadows clung to him as if obeying instinct. The nearest creature froze mid-leap. Then its essence unraveled. Not a sound. Not a scream. Just gone.
The plaza fell silent.
Seraphine leaned forward slightly. "Interesting…" she muttered.
Kael looked at the other students, many of whom trembled. "This is your trial," he said softly, almost to himself. "And I'm not participating."
Another creature lunged. Kael's hand waved casually. It collapsed. The air itself seemed to obey him.
The false gods whispered among themselves. Fear crept into their eyes.
Kael smiled. "Let me show you what being reborn truly means."
As the sun set behind the jagged towers of the academy, casting long shadows over the courtyard, Kael walked forward. The whispers grew louder—half awe, half terror.
He could feel the eyes of the false gods watching, calculating, waiting for him to fail.
He would not.
Not this life.
And somewhere deep beneath the academy, in the hidden catacombs where the oldest and most dangerous illusions slept, a presence stirred. It had been waiting.
It had been waiting for him to awaken.
Kael clenched his fist. Dark energy coiled around him, almost alive.
"Let them come," he whispered. "I've been reborn to break this world."
And at that moment, Kael knew it—the Academy of False Gods had made its first mistake.