’Moon Breakers,’ a genuine, warm smile appeared on Azrael’s face. Now... that was a na he could get behind.
"Since you all have unique Inborn Traits and preferences," Arthur continued, "aside from the mandatory lessons, you’ll be given the chance to choose what you want to learn."
"You’ll undergo countless training sessions over the next few months—but I want to make sure you rember what I’m about to tell you. It’s of utmost importance, both for your progression and your survival."
Azrael’s eyes narrowed, ears perked up, ready to absorb the information the best he could. Even if he had grown up in the slums, so information had reached his ears. However, if it was just a myth or an actual fact was impossible for him to confirm... until now.
"First, rember that challenging a Rift—even if it lets you raise your Ascension Level—is a serious risk. It endangers not only your life but the entire world."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. "The only way to increase your Ascension Level is to enter a Rift with a Danger Level equal to or higher than your own and defeat the monster that opened it. Keep in mind that the being that opened the portal is always one Danger Level higher than the Rift itself."
Azrael’s fists clenched. His eyes darkened.
’Shit,’ he cursed bitterly.
To close a Rift one had to defeat a monster one Danger Level higher than the Rift itself? That was basically a death sentence, the only way it would work was if there was a large team of proficient fighters taking on the abomination, and even then the outco was far from certain.
’It seems making allies is inevitable.’
"Once you enter a Rift, it is your duty to close it. You absolutely must not die in there."
Arthur made his voice colder, ensuring that the young ones were to rember his next words.
"The more Chosen die in a Rift, the more Divine energy gets absorbed. Once it crosses a certain threshold, the Rift evolves, increasing in level—allowing the monster that created the connection to cross over."
A vein bulged on his forehead, his hand curling into a tight fist.
"At the lower levels this is not much of a problem... but I trust you are smart enough to know what I an. At the other side of the planet, on the Lost Continent, where a Rift with the Calamity Danger Level resides, it is to never be entered by a Chosen. After all, should the Rift evolve to the highest level, allowing a Genocide level monster to enter, humanity would be dood. We already have one that causes us enough harm — a second one would seal the deal."
Silence descended in the hall, no one dared to question the words of the principal. Not just because of his power, but because even if it was unpleasant to admit, he was right, painfully so.
Satisfied that he had frightened them enough, a small smile returned to Arthur’s face.
"But don’t worry about the state of the world just yet. You’re still too weak about that. Using the Feral Rifts we’ve contained, we’re going to raise your Purity Rank from Chosen to Blessed before sending you on real missions."
He raised three fingers. "If there are three lessons you must learn as quickly as possible, it’s these:"
"One — never face a Rift alone."
"Two — do not die a aningless death in one. It could have global consequences."
"And third," he grinned widely,
"What doesn’t kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping chanisms and a really dark sense of humor."
With that, the principal stepped offstage. "As such, if you think the ones stronger than you are weird, they are not. They have just gone through a lot."
With these parting words, the old man left the Chosen to fend for themselves.
Azrael seized the mont the second Arthur turned his back. He activated [Inspect].
Na: [Arthur Gray]
Race: [Human]
Ascension Level: [???]
Purity Rank: [???]
’It’s altered,’ he thought grimly. Today wasn’t the day to uncover how powerful the principal really was.
With his back turned, no one caught the faint smile that tugged on Arthur’s lips. ’Bold,’ he mused, happy that there were several Chosen brave enough to use [Inspect] on him.
Unsurprisingly, chaos stirred. Everyone scrambled to establish so form of friendship. Azrael noticed the wealthy-looking Chosen didn’t seem fazed in the slightest—probably well-inford by their prestigious families.
So of the regular-looking Chosen took note of their composure and gravitated toward them, eager to form bonds. With their lives on the line, enduring humiliation was a small price to pay for survival.
And Azrael, with his cold and distant nature?
He left, not willing to bother himself with making friends. He had used the skill [Inspect] on many of the Chosen he had co across, and all of them had the sa paraters:
Ascension Level: [Marked]
Purity Rank: [Chosen]
In other words, there was no way to separate the future elites from the cannon fodder. Even if he made connections now, what would happen when those people turned out to be nothing but dead weight?
He would have wasted his ti. So instead, he decided to wait until after the practical tests, where they’d face real Feral monsters. There, he’d judge who was worth befriending and who wasn’t.
Following the instructions on the wrist device he’d grown sowhat used to, Azrael made his way to his assigned room.
"Spacious," he praised out loud. It was about as big as the old ho he and the old man had shared.
A full-sized mirror caught his eye first. He used to have one like it—only his old one had a cracked corner.
Part of the living room was made into a kitchen with a working fridge, a pristine dark-wood table, and four chairs. At the back, a large two-person bed with a soft mattress and pillows sat beside a sleek nightstand. In the corner stood a dresser with several sets of clothing, clearly the official military school uniform. He figured he was expected to wear them when leaving the room.
’There’s even a separate bathroom!’ he thought, eyes widening. A full shower and a bath, both with running hot water. Gone were the days of baths with freezing water.
’I was really lucky to et Seyra...’ he thought, undressing and putting on the military uniform.
He adjusted his appearance in the mirror, admiring the precise stitching and fine quality of the fabric. Green, just like the officer who had escorted him to the Evaluation Test. On the right side of his chest rested an insignia of an angel with a golden crown and spread wings. On the left, a fractured moon, shattered into pieces.
Now, with night fast approaching, he headed outside, eager to see the second most important place after where he would be residing:
The cafeteria!
Seeing the luxury he had been blessed with when it ca to his room, he was sure there would be equally impressive stuff.
The mont he stepped inside, Azrael’s eyes widened. The cafeteria did not disappoint. It was massive—dozens of tables and chairs lined up neatly, ready to seat the horde of Chosen.
Beaming with excitent, Azrael didn’t hesitate. The second he realized the food was free, he began piling it onto his plate without a shred of sha. Eggs and at—his two favorite sources of nourishnt—took priority. Potatoes ca in second.
He noted that a few Chosen had co here directly after the introduction ceremony, but were denied service since they didn’t wear their assigned military attire.
After piling so much food on his plate that it nearly fell over, he seated himself at a table away from the chatter and dug in.
’So this is what a properly cooked al tastes like,’ he mused, hands not slowing. He devoured the food like a starving animal. Since neither he nor the old man had known how to cook decently, this was the first ti in his life that food actually lted on his tongue.
By the ti his stomach felt like it was about to burst from the mountain of protein he’d consud, Azrael finally stopped. He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, a smile creeping on his face.
At this mont, he was in a state of euphoria.
His mont of peace, however, was short-lived.
A sudden crash echoed across the entire cafeteria.
With a grimace, Azrael lifted his head toward the source.
It seed that soone had felt bold enough to cause a scene on the first day in the military school.
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