The cheers still echoed in Hal's ears long after he had left the arena.
They weren't for his victory—because he hadn't won. But they were for him.
The nameless boy who stood toe-to-toe with a god's descendant.
Now, he lay in the infirmary. Not because his wounds demanded it—every awakened being could recover from physical damage in moments—but because something deeper was broken. His balance, the very core of his being, had been shaken. The fight had drained his Authority, not just in quantity but in harmony. It had left a scar on the essence of his existence.
Then, suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind. Ethereal. Vast. Unreachable.
It was the Voice of Existence.
Every Liberator heard it once in their lifetime, if they ever pushed far enough. A voice beyond understanding, woven into the very fabric of the universe. It spoke not in words, but in truth—one that clawed at the edges of perception.
Balance of Existence overthrown. Authoritorial decrease equal to — $&*($)!()^&Actions interfered with faith. Disharmony registered. Result: Authority has fluctuated within lifeform.
And then… silence.
The voice faded, and with it, any trace of what it had said. The message dissolved like a dream Hal couldn't fully recall. Only one thing remained clear:
He had become weaker.
The fight had cost him. He had pushed too far, wrestled with powers beyond his limit, and now paid the price in soulweight and spiritual strain.
Moments later, he stood from the infirmary bed, shaking off the last remnants of dizziness. Leer was waiting outside the door, leaning lazily against the wall as always, his black hood pulled low.
"You sure know how to put on a show, kid," Leer said with a half-smirk. "Shame it cost you half your damn soul. But hey—at least you made it entertaining. That's gotta count for something, right?"
Hal stayed silent.
"Anyway," Leer continued, tapping coordinates into the air with his fingers, "you've got a free day. I'm taking you to your dorm."
Before teleporting, Hal asked, "I find calling you 'guide' kinda annoying. Got a name?"
Leer chuckled. "What a weird way to ask for someone's name. Call me Leer. And yeah, it's weird. I'm from the backstreets. Named after an old alcohol brand. Like your cigarette brand name, kiddo."
Hal blinked. He hadn't expected that. Someone as powerful as Leer, coming from nothing?
Interesting. But he didn't press.
He barely had time to react before the world around him shimmered and folded inward.
The next moment, he stood inside his dormitory. And it was… extravagant.
Marble floors. High-tech systems. A crystal-clear macro-hologram screen floated above a fireplace that burned with azure flames. Maids moved through the space with machine-like grace. The entire room seemed to hum with Authority.
It felt out of place. Not because it didn't fit him—but because he didn't feel like he'd earned it.
Leer gave him a light tap on the shoulder.
"If you need anything," he said, turning away, "just say my name with Authority."
Then, like a ghost, he vanished.
"How the hell do I even do that?" Hal muttered.
Still, he didn't linger on it.
Instead, he washed up, changed into clean clothes, and sat cross-legged on the bed. His eyes closed, and he shifted into the Lotus Position, a traditional method for reflecting on one's existence and meditating on Authority.
He had lost too much. He needed to recover. Not just power, but clarity.
The next morning, a sharp alarm jolted him awake.
Hal groaned, rolled off the bed, and slipped into the uniform that marked him as one of the elite—black with golden trims, and a fiery eclipse stitched onto the shoulder. The mark of the Eclipse Class.
Now, he had to call Leer. He tried saying his name—once, twice, ten times. Nothing.
Then, he understood. It wasn't about the tongue.
It was about the voice.
He poured a thin stream of Authority into his words, not into a physical part of himself but into his speech.
"Leer."
The air shimmered—and Leer appeared.
"Well done," Leer said casually. "Figured it out faster than most."
A flash—and they were gone.
The classroom was crystalline, almost divine in design, shaped like a lecture hall but radiating power. Hal could feel it before he stepped inside. The auras of the other students nearly suffocated him.
Thirty seats. But thirty was too many, and somehow not enough.
Even without looking, Hal could feel the difference. Some auras bled through the veil of reality. Uncontrolled Authority leaked from a few of them—those were the heirs. The children of gods.
And yet Hal walked forward, unshaken well he himself was worthy of this class after all.
He chose a seat beside the only person he almost knew: Lyra Vanthe.
She glanced up from a book, her eyes icy blue as ever. "Seems you recovered. Got stronger, too."
"Yeah," Hal said. "Took all day."
Lyra nodded, her voice cold but honest. "It was a good fight."
There was a hint of emotion in her words—anger? Disappointment? Or maybe respect. Hal couldn't tell.
Before he could speak again, someone appeared at the front of the class. Not walked in—just manifested.
A man with a long face, dark circles under his eyes, and the slouched look of someone constantly exhausted. But the aura—
Hal nearly collapsed. He wasn't a speck in front of this man.
He was nothing.
Then, the pressure vanished like it had never been there. The man smiled cheerily and waved.
"Hello, class! I'm Professor Aer. I'll be your teacher. Not all your subjects, just the important ones. Y'know—Authority, History, Cosmic Balance, the Purpose of Liberators, and so on."
He laughed to himself.
"Oh, and I don't like to brag—but I'm a Lord. Which means I'm strong. Like, ridiculously strong. Ha!"
Hal blinked. This guy's a mess, he thought. But the power was real.
Professor Aer launched into the lecture like a storm.
"Let's talk about Authority, Calamity, and the reason we Liberate. Some students ask, 'Why are we liberating planets? Why not just hide?' Good question.
"But here's the thing. The Calamity—the same force that killed countless gods—it didn't just kill them. It erased them. Concepts and all."
He paused, smiling.
"Ever heard of the God of Culinary Appreciation?"
Blank stares.
Then—pain.
A sharp headache as the concept forced itself into their minds. They hadn't even known it was missing.
That was what it meant to destroy a god. It didn't just kill the being. It annihilated their meaning.
Aer nodded grimly.
"That's what the Calamity does. It deletes ideas. Worlds. Truths. It cracked the very universe."
He waved his hand, and an image appeared—a giant scar across the cosmos.
"The more concepts it destroys, the more the Balance of Existence reacts. That's why the Calamity is under Penalty. It's weakened—for now. But if we wait too long… it'll come back stronger."
Hal's mind was racing.
"And so, we reclaim planets. Not just for the gods, but to cut off the Calamity's resources. Every planet claimed gives a god power—because gods gain Authority through dominion."
Aer clapped once, changing slides.
"Now, about Authority. Think of it like that thing in video games mana, right? Early stages—Awakened, Ascended—it's a resource. You use it to push back reality. Declare something. Shape something.
"But if you overuse it? You vanish. No trace left in the world of the unawakened. Only those who wield Authority will remember you."
He paused.
"And once you become a Lord, it stops being about quantity. It becomes a battle of concepts. You don't fight with power—you fight with truth."
Hal sat back, absorbing every word.
"Now, let's talk about the Voice of Existence. Some of you may have heard it. Others, not yet. But make no mistake—it will speak to each of you, eventually. Think of it as a cosmic system—a divine mechanism that records and announces changes in your state of being. When something significant happens to your Authority, your soul, or your very existence, the Voice responds. Everyone has it, but only Liberators are attuned enough to hear it. And even then… we only catch fragments. Partial phrases. The rest is garbled, not because it's broken—but because those words are too heavy. Too foreign. They threaten to unravel the stability of our existence just by being understood."
The bell rang.
"Class dismissed!" Aer sang.
Hal walked out of the classroom, his mind aflame.
He had lost a battle.
But today, he had gained a piece of the universe.
And the path ahead had never been clearer.