Chapter 10

  Aster made his way to the classroom located in the Hurcowake section of the school. The deep mustard color of the area seemed to absorb the sunlight, casting a warm but oppressive atmosphere. His classroom was located in one of the massive open courtyards that dotted Galamad, each one the size of four rugby fields. The sheer scale of the place was awe-inspiring. As he neared the courtyard, he spotted a small group of people gathered a short distance away. The students were loosely clustered around a gruff-looking Sergeant, who had a presence that commanded attention. As he approached, he saw Musa standing among them and made his way toward him.

  “Aster, good to see you,” Musa greeted with a warm smile. “Ready for some Scripturet training?”

  “I guess,” Aster replied, uncertainty lacing his voice. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was walking into.

  “Mr. Elchen, I presume?” The Sergeant called out as he noticed Aster talking to Musa. “Ah, a man who’s seen the streets and knows real hardship. It’s good to have someone with grit around here, away from these entitled beige trust-fund princesses. Let’s see if you can surprise me!” He turned to the group. “Pair off in groups of two and start sparring. If you want to learn something, you can spar against me.”

  Lighting a cigarette, the Sergeant stepped back, observing the students as they formed pairs and began to move into the sparring areas. There was a crackle of energy in the air as the sound of bodies moving and the occasional thud of punches filled the courtyard.

  “So, did you manage to engage with your scripture yet?” Musa asked, his voice casual but with an underlying sense of curiosity.

  “Not yet,” Aster admitted, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “I’ve been a little distracted after coming back from… well, a world-changing event.”

  Musa nodded knowingly, as if he’d anticipated the response. “Will you take it out now?”

  Aster pulled out the wrapped rectangle, and Musa’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t even unwrap it?”

  Aster gave a sheepish shrug and quickly unwrapped the rectangle. Inside, a crystal-clear tablet lay before him, covered in intricate engravings that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. I really hope I’m not supposed to read this right now, Aster thought to himself, eyeing the script warily.

  “Musa told me you have an E+ Will level,” Musa said, looking Aster over. “Try entering the tablet with your will and absorb the North Star Sigil into yourself. See what happens.”

  Aster didn’t ask questions; instead, he focused on the task at hand, assuming it would come as naturally to him as the cultivation had. As he focused, he felt the familiar presence of the tablet in his mind—its cold, smooth surface almost tangible as his will brushed against it. An electric charge vibrated through the tablet’s surface, and as he continued to probe, he noticed a certain area that seemed to have more give. Applying more of his focus, he pressed into that area, and that’s when his mind connected with something—no, someone. A sigil that seemed to reach out to him, as if calling him.

  He instinctively reached back, and the connection was made. A surge of information flooded his senses. He felt an overwhelming rush of knowledge, experiences, and skills all pouring into him at once. His body trembled as if it were about to break apart under the weight of it. Aster almost broke the connection out of sheer shock, but remembering his instructions, he held on tight as more and more flowed through him, his body absorbing the sigil like a sponge.

  After about five minutes, Aster finally opened his eyes, but when he looked at his body, he felt no immediate difference. Confused, he turned inward, using his will to search for any changes. That’s when he found it—an intricate web of golden threads, like a delicate tapestry, woven throughout his Astral form. The threads glowed faintly, humming with energy. Studying the strange script, he sees the same connection point as the Veneration spell. Without thinking, he drags the Faith spell and latches it onto the web, feeling the thrum of energy as he opened the valve.

  The moment he did, an explosion of pain erupted in his legs. It felt like every bone was shattered, every muscle torn, and his tendons snapped like the strings of a broken guitar. Before he could react, he was hurled headfirst into a wall twenty meters away, his body slamming into it with brutal force. He felt his bones break with sickening cracks. Am I dead?

  In the next instant, Aster was back where he had been standing, facing Musa. He would have thought it was just his mind playing tricks if it weren’t for the unmistakable imprint of his body on the wall in front of him and the entire class rolling on the grass, laughing. What the fuck?

  The Sergeant suddenly slapped him on the back, the force so strong it felt like he had hit a wall again—or more accurately, like a wall had struck him. “Living on the edge, huh? A man after my own heart—no fear, just a hunger to push your limits.” The Sergeant’s grin was wide, showing sharp teeth, making him look more like a wild animal than a teacher.

  “What the hell was that?” Aster exploded, his voice tinged with frustration as he turned to Musa, who was still chuckling from the spectacle.

  Musa rubbed tears from his eyes, grinning like a maniac. “No one told you to connect your Faith Spell to the newly imprinted Scripture.” He burst into laughter again, clearly remembering how Aster had gone from absorbing the scripture to rocketing himself into a wall in an instant.

  “That explains that, but how am I not dead? I just splattered against a wall!”

  Musa, finally composing himself, still had a grin that wouldn’t leave his face. “That was the Sergeant. He’s a Hierophant-level cultivator who has access to the Law of Time. He rewound you to just before you connected your Faith to the Point Burst scripture.”

  He can control time?? Aster screamed in his mind.

  “But don’t worry about Laws right now,” Musa said, his tone suddenly serious. “Unless you get your hands on some super-rare artifacts, you won’t be dealing with Laws for a while. Do you know why you ended up flying into a wall when you connected your Faith with your Scripture?”

  Aster shook his head, eager to understand.

  “When you absorbed the scripture, you didn’t just take in the knowledge of the Point Burst Staff—you had its experiences and skills imprinted on your very body. It’s like muscle memory—every technique, every movement is now stored in you. It’s as if a master had written down the attack, and your body now knows it instinctively. Usually, you train your body during the Initiate phase, allowing it to adapt to the techniques and building the strength to handle the energy injection the scripture requires. Once you hit the Acolyte phase, you tap into your own self-made energy to fuel the scripture. What you did was replace that energy with Faith, which is incredibly potent. It’s used for moments of explosive power, but without preparing your body first, it can tear you apart.”

  Aster shuddered, remembering the intense pain in his legs. “So how do I begin?”

  “Well, it helps to understand your technique first. The Point Burst Staff Scripture relies heavily on footwork and explosive energy in a straight line. At level one, it lets you launch yourself toward one of four points in an area, attacking each one in quick succession. At level two, you can target eight points, at level three, sixteen, and so on. The scripture is driven by your will—it expands over an area, and within that space, you can sense anyone who enters it. The moment they do, they become your target, and your will launches you toward them.”

  Musa paused to let the information sink in. “Your first task is to master the basic movements. The knowledge is already in you, but you’ll soon find that even something as simple as a jump will feel difficult, like you’re fighting against your own body’s instincts.”

  Aster looked sceptical. He already felt like he knew everything there was to know about the technique, but Musa pointed at a straw dummy nearby.

  “Launch yourself at that dummy and attack it with your staff.”

  Aster scoffed. His mind was brimming with the technique’s experience. He focused his will behind the dummy, using it as an anchor to pull himself forward. The moment he did, three things happened: First, his body felt like it was tearing apart again—not as violently as with Faith, but still unbearably painful. Second, his staff and arms—which should have been adding thrust—dragged behind him like they were made of lead. The wind resistance was so strong it felt like he might pass out. Third, when he finally collided with the dummy, he struck it with all the force of a wet towel, his chest slamming into it, only to feel his bones crack again.

  In an instant, he was back where he started. The Sergeant was watching him, his grin wide and proud, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

  “Believe me now?” Musa asked, barely able to contain his laughter.

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  Aster’s staff spun in his hands as he went through the fluid motions of the Burst Point Scripture, trying his best to replicate the master’s movements etched into his mind. Each motion was a delicate dance, his body attempting to match the precise angles and postures dictated by the scripture’s ancient blueprints. His concentration was absolute, but the sounds of the duels around him kept drawing his attention. Despite his best efforts, the cacophony of power clashing in the distance tugged at his focus, making it hard to keep his body in sync with the overwhelming knowledge embedded in his mind.

  A few meters away, a young cultivator wielding a sword coated in flames charged at his opponent, sending brilliant blades of fire slashing through the air. His adversary—a cultivator of wind—twisted and danced through the strikes, his movements sharp and quick, each gust of air deflecting the flames with an effortless grace. Aster's eyes widened at the fluidity of their exchange, the raw intensity of their elemental battle on full display. It was a perfect manifestation of their scriptures, a harmony of will and element. The way they moved—so precise, so intuitive—left Aster breathless.

  Nearby, a duel between an earth cultivator wielding a massive hammer and a water cultivator with a spear was unfolding. The earth cultivator swung his hammer with brutal force, sending boulders tumbling toward his opponent, but the water cultivator raised his spear, commanding a stream of water that swirled and twisted into sharp blades. The water sliced through the rocks as if they were nothing, and in a flash, a surge of water erupted from his spear, sending the earth cultivator stumbling back. The control both of them exhibited over their elements was stunning—each strike, each counter, was a work of art, each movement a testament to years of perfecting their respective scriptures.

  Aster felt the sting of frustration as he continued to swing his staff. His own movements felt stiff, awkward in comparison. His body was trying to adjust, to catch up with the knowledge implanted by the Burst Point Scripture, but it wasn’t nearly as graceful or powerful as the duels around him. It was as if his body was at odds with the power he now carried. Each strike was a struggle, and the more he watched his classmates demonstrate their abilities, the more he realized how far behind he was. The raw mastery of elemental combat—fire, wind, water, earth, wood and lightning—was something he could forget of ever reaching. His Will was his strength, but it felt so weak, so fragile compared to their sheer elemental force.

  His movements faltered, the staff slowing in his hands. His spirit typing, the one thing that was supposed to set him apart, suddenly felt like an anchor, dragging him down. He had no fire to whip through the air, no water to flow with grace, no wind to carry him. Just his will. And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a poor substitute. He couldn’t help but feel inadequate—he was struggling just to master a single scripture, while others effortlessly commanded entire elements.

  The bell rang, signaling the end of the class, and Aster sighed deeply. Two hours had passed, and while he had made some progress, it felt minimal. The imprints of the master who created the Burst Point Scripture were clear in his mind, but his body had yet to catch up. It was like being an Olympic gold medalist trying to learn how to walk again—every step felt like it needed to be relearned. Yet, despite his frustrations, there were subtle changes he could sense. His wrist, his ankle, the tiniest shifts in his posture—those small adjustments were starting to align with the movements of the master.

  But even that couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his chest. The gap between his classmates and himself felt insurmountable. He couldn’t help but feel that he had drawn the short straw—he was miles behind, and there was no clear path to catching up.

  He passed through the third mirror just in time for his next class in the Marlisuee area. The green marble of the walls and the copper trimmings with intricate engravings of bamboo forests greeted him as he stepped into the new space. The classroom wasn’t far from the mirror exit, and outside, he spotted Lena and some other students chatting. As he walked closer, Lena noticed him and waved him over.

  “Aster, how was combat class?” she asked, her voice light with curiosity. Aster couldn’t hide his disappointment as his shoulders slumped.

  “Not great,” he mumbled, the frustration clear in his tone.

  “That bad?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Don’t worry, when we did our first class, the teacher had us watch a duel between two second-year Initiates. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to match what they were capable of. After two weeks, though, I could already see myself reaching that level. The scriptures are a powerful tool for growth. It won’t be like trying to pick up a skill in the material plane.”

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  Aster’s spirits lifted slightly. He could see how quickly he could improve with the right focus, but his unease still lingered. The doubt gnawed at him, the fear that his spirit typing would always hold him back. Lena must have noticed his lingering doubt, because she raised an eyebrow.

  “Why are you still upset?” she asked, concern flashing in her eyes.

  “I didn’t realize how powerful the other typings are,” Aster admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “I saw them using their elements, and my spirit typing just feels so... weak compared to it.”

  Lena blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. Aster’s face reddened, feeling his pride take a hit.

  “Hey, I’m not laughing at you!” Lena managed between giggles. “I’m laughing at how wrong you are! Yani has the spirit typing in our combat class, and she’s one of the strongest fighters.”

  Aster looked unconvinced. Lena’s expression softened as she realized his concern wasn’t quite assuaged.

  “Seriously. She’s incredible. You’ll see for yourself.” Lena’s voice was earnest. “Spirit typing can be really powerful, and Yani’s proof of that.”

  Aster didn’t quite believe it, but before he could voice his doubts, Lena’s eyes flickered to the clock. “What period is it?”

  “Third,” Aster replied, confused.

  “Great, I can help you with some history after class,” Lena said, a knowing grin spreading across her face. “Yani has combat class now. Let’s go ask her for a demonstration. Skip the history for today?”

  Aster perked up at the suggestion. He had been wanting to talk to Lena about Anathi, and this could be the perfect opportunity. “Sure, let’s do it.”

  They made their way through the three mirrors back to the combat grounds, where the class was already in full swing. The Sergeant was addressing the students when Lena let out a relieved sigh.

  “They haven’t picked partners yet,” she sighed in relief. “Let me go talk to Yani.”

  Lena walked over to Yani, and Aster watched as the two of them exchanged words. Aster was still unsure what was going on, but when Lena gestured at him, Yani turned, and both women burst out laughing. Aster flushed with embarrassment, wondering what had caused the sudden reaction. Yani, however, gave him an eager smile and nodded in agreement before heading to the duelling area.

  As Lena returned to Aster’s side, they moved to the spectator seating by a large duelling space where Yani had promised to show off her skills. The Sgt finishes his conversation with the Initiates, and the group begins to pair off. Everything seems like it’s going according to plan, until Yani walks across the field toward Larson—a tall guy with pitch-black hair, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. As soon as the students notice, the chatter in the air dies down, and a ripple of excitement passes through the crowd. Aster watches, curious, turning to Lena to ask, "What’s going on?"

  Lena’s eyes sparkle with knowledge. "Yani is considered one of the strongest fighters of our year, and Larson’s right up there with her. The top twenty don’t usually face off during regular practice, they save their real showdowns for the end-of-year tournament. This is a rare sneak peek at who’s in the running for the top spot this year."

  Aster watches as the rest of the Initiates abandon their practice, flocking toward the seating area where Lena and Aster have already taken their seats. Even the Sgt moves to the sidelines, standing with the intent of ensuring the duel stays under control. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation.

  Yani and Larson move toward the center of the field, exchanging a handshake, Yani’s expression warm but relaxed, while Larson's gaze is sharp and focused, his every movement deliberate. They take their positions at opposite ends of the field.

  Suddenly, the air around Larson shifts with electric tension. From his hands, two gleaming hand axes materialize, crackling with sparks of lightning. The axes hum with energy, the metallic scent of ozone filling the air. The sheer weight of their presence presses down on the crowd, their eyes widening at the display of power. "E- Grade Lightning-Type artefacts," Lena notes, her voice barely audible over the murmurs from the students. "Larson’s been holding back in his previous duels."

  Yani, unfazed, eyes the axes with a cool appraisal. Instead of summoning a weapon, Yani’s entire body seems to shimmer and morph. A massive suit of jagged rock forms around her, towering four times her size. The design is curiously angular, resembling the rough edges of a boulder, standing on all fours like a gorilla, but with an odd sort of grace, like something that could move faster than you’d expect. The rock armor gleams with a spectrum of colors—reds, blues, oranges, yellows—pulsing with energy across the surface in intricate patterns. The moment the suit materializes, a heavy, oppressive pressure washes over the crowd.

  "The Nareesh family Artefact, Walking Fortress. D- Grade," Lena whispers, her voice filled with awe. "It incorporates multiple elements—Rock, Fire, Water, Wind, and Lightning. One of the many strengths of spirit typing. Unlike other typings, spirit typing can blend multiple elements into one cohesive force."

  Yani and Larson brace themselves, both focused, their stances radiating readiness. The Sgt drops the flag, and as it hits the ground, the two erupt into action.

  A burst of lightning roars from both of them, crashing toward each other with a deafening boom. The air shudders as the two opposing spears of power collide, their raw energies swirling, battling for dominance. Larson’s bolt forces Yani’s back, inching her defensive stance toward the edge of the arena, but she holds firm, limiting her loss of ground.

  Yani’s strikes are slower, more controlled, but Larson’s assault becomes relentless. His lightning is fierce, faster than hers, and he was able to launch more of it as it crashed into the ground around Yani with thunderous booms that made the entire arena shake. Aster feels the impact in his bones as each strike lands, rattling the very air they breathe. Yet, despite the onslaught, Yani remains seemingly unscathed, the rock armor around her glowing with blue patches that pulsed with energy, seemingly directing the lightning away from her body and into the ground.

  "With her ability to integrate multiple elements," Lena explains, her voice full of reverence, "Yani’s armour is designed to counteract various typings. The lightning she redirects using the lightning-imbued sections of the armour, conducting the strikes safely into the ground. She’s also has mechanisms to deal with fire, water, wind, and even wood."

  Yani seems to grow tired of playing defense. With a sudden shift in her stance, she stops retreating and begins charging toward Larson. Her massive armored form lumbers forward, each step creating a shockwave as the earth trembles beneath her. Then, in an instant, she drops low, her body curling inwards as she starts rolling, forming the shape of a boulder, scraping across the ground as she launches herself at Larson.

  Larson’s eyes widen in realization, a moment of panic flashing across his face. He leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding the massive boulder that nearly flattens him in its path. The force of the charge sends dust and debris flying, leaving a deep scar in the earth where she’d struck.

  A game of cat and mouse ensues as Yani becomes the aggressor, charging again and again, forcing Larson to dodge and weave between her powerful strikes. The ground splinters beneath her, boulders shattering into pieces, walls crumbling as she barrels through them. Larson’s once-confident stance begins to falter. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his breath comes quicker as Aster realizes the constant onslaught must be taking its toll.

  “The spirit typing might not have the raw power of the other typings," Lena comments, her eyes narrowing as she watches the battle unfold. "But where it lacks in sheer force, it excels in versatility—fusion of elements gives spirit typers an incredible range of tactics.”

  Larson stumbles, his foot catching a piece of rubble as Yani charges again. His eyes flicker with fear, and in a moment of desperation, he stops trying to dodge. Instead, he raises his axes high, deploying an electric shield around himself, hoping it’ll be enough to withstand her next strike.

  But Yani isn’t finished yet.

  With a guttural roar, the very air seems to warp around her. Massive heat and crackling lightning surge from the boulder-like form as she barrels toward Larson, surrounding her body with an explosive aura of flame and arcs of electricity. The collision of forces as she slams into Larson’s shield is like an eruption, sending shockwaves through the field.

  Aster watches, stunned, as a massive explosion engulfs the arena, lighting up the air with hellish fire and raw energy. The explosion that rockets the field, like an American hellfire missile detonating in a middle eastern wedding party, threatens to overwhelm the entire courtyard, but is stopped at the borders of the Arena by a the sudden formation of an ice wall.

  When the smoke clears, Larson is lying next to the Sgt, perfectly fine as he had been revived through a time jump after being obliterated by Yani’s attack, but looking shellshocked and dazed. Aster sits frozen, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what he’s just witnessed. The power, the precision, the fury of Yani’s attack—it’s unlike anything he’s seen before.

  Lena turns to him, her expression one of knowing triumph. "Still think the spirit typing is weaker than the rest?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "With enough foresight and strategy, any typing can be devastating. Spirit typing makes up over three of the Celestials on the council. Never underestimate it."

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  After congratulating Yani on her victory, Aster and Lena left her to continue her training and made their way toward the lunch hall. They were early, which meant they’d have some quiet before the midday rush—a perfect chance for Aster to talk about Anathi and his financial troubles. After grabbing their meals—Lena’s treat—they settled at an open table near the cascading sound of the indoor waterfall.

  Lena leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You said you needed to talk about some things. I’m all ears.”

  Aster hesitated, unsure where to begin. Then, with a deep breath, he started from the beginning. He spoke about the Void Wyrm that had haunted his life, how everything he attempted seemed doomed to fail no matter how much planning or good intent he put into it. He told her about the crushing weight of poverty, how he had eventually ended up on the streets, and the night he met Matter—the night he was first introduced to the Astral Plane.

  Then, he told her about Anathi.

  About how she, too, had been ensnared by debt to a loan shark. How he had discovered that she was trapped in the same vicious cycle he had barely escaped. His voice wavered as he admitted, “I can’t help but agree with what people say—it’s unfair that I get to survive while others don’t.” He exhaled sharply, his fists clenching. “I feel like I have a responsibility to those still suffering from this disease, and I want to use the Void Wyrm sealed inside me to cure them. Starting with Anathi.”

  He then explained his plan: how he needed to buy Anathi’s freedom, how he was willing to put his house up as leverage to get the money. But because of his credit rating—wrecked by the Void Wyrm—he would need someone like Lena to sign as assurance.

  Lena listened intently, her expression softening as he spoke. At times, her eyes welled with unshed tears, the weight of his hardships sinking in. But more than anything, she was moved by his resolve. The moment he finished, she didn’t even hesitate.

  “Of course, I’ll help,” she said firmly. “I’ll sign as your assurance.”

  Aster exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. It was exactly what he’d hoped for, and hearing her say it so easily filled him with gratitude.

  “But,” Lena continued, “you haven’t told Anathi any of this yet. She still doesn’t understand what’s happening to her, or even what the Astral Plane is. I want to be the one there to explain it. She’s going to need support, and it’ll be easier to process if she hears it from someone outside yourself, to make sure she doesn’t think your trying to manipulate her or something.”

  Aster nodded. That had been his thought as well, and he was relieved that Lena had brought it up first.

  “Now,” Lena said, shifting gears, “your first priority should be getting a steady income to handle this debt you’re about to take on. Luckily, the Astral Plane is an excellent place to generate wealth if you know what you’re doing.” She ticked off options on her fingers. “Hunting lodges, crafting guilds, mercenary work—they can all bring in money quickly. Hunting and mercenary work are out for now, though. You don’t have the skill or experience to survive that yet. But because of your strong Will ability, alchemy and artificing are both perfect for you.”

  Aster leaned in, intrigued.

  “Your Willpower will give you an edge over other Initiates,” she explained. “Plus, working on alchemy or artificing will train your Will even further. That means you’ll get stronger while making money, which will help you with your Burst Point Staff Scripture. And once your Willpower improves enough, you’ll be able to take on hunting and mercenary work down the line.”

  Aster felt something shift inside him—a flicker of hope igniting into something real. He had worked dozens of jobs in his life, grinding away for survival. Hard work was second nature to him. But now, for the first time, it felt like there was a path forward. A way to achieve all his goals while getting stronger in the process. He still didn’t know how to handle the Void Wyrm inside Anathi, but with Lena’s help, he was sure they’d find a way.

  They spent the rest of lunch working through the details of his plan, figuring out the best steps to take next. But before they could finalize everything, the bell rang, signaling the start of fourth period.

  Spellcraft.

  At least they had that class together. As they stood and made their way toward the classroom, they continued refining their plans, knowing that this was only the beginning.

  _________________________________________________________________________________

  Aster and Lena arrived early to class, the lunch hall being close to the Synphri wing of the school. As they stepped inside, Aster’s eyes were immediately drawn to the glowing glyphs covering the walls—thirty-six posters, each displaying intricate rune formulas.

  “The fundamental rune structures that define the different elemental types,” he read, scanning them with fascination.

  Lena nudged him forward. “Come on, let’s introduce you to the teacher and find a good spot. Spellcraft is incredibly complex—and incredibly important, no matter which path you take.”

  They made their way to the front of the classroom, where a strikingly beautiful Middle Eastern girl was speaking with an Indian woman in her mid-thirties. The teacher wore overalls, her large glasses perched on her nose as she engaged in conversation.

  Aster barely paid them any attention—until he heard the teacher refer to the girl as “Mrs. Mesha.”

  His blood ran cold. Mesha? As in the family responsible for implanting the Void Wyrm inside him as a baby? The ones who had wiped out his parents' bloodline?

  Lena, unaware of the turmoil building inside him, continued forward, but Aster cut straight into the conversation.

  “Are you part of the Mesha family?” he demanded.

  Both the teacher and the girl turned to him in surprise. For the first time, Aster took in the girl’s face—full lips, almond-shaped amber eyes that burned with intensity, and a flawless olive complexion. There was a fire in her gaze that, for a brief second, made him reconsider his outburst.

  But then he remembered Anathi.

  Remembered the suffering.

  Was it not bad enough that people were cursed by chance? But to have people like the Mashes deliberately infect others on top of that?

  His fists clenched. “Answer me! Are you part of the Mashe family?!” he shouted.

  Lena stiffened, now fully aware that something was wrong. She grabbed Aster’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Aster, stop,” she hissed. She knew exactly who he had just picked a fight with—Ziya Mashe. The Ziya Mashe. The number one ranked fighter in their entire year.

  Ziya, unfazed, simply tilted her head and regarded him coolly. “What if I am?” she said. “What does my family have to do with you?”

  Rage erupted through Aster. Without thinking, he brought forth his staff. The scripture of the Burst Point Staff hummed through his body, raw power crackling beneath his skin. He could barely control the technique—but at that moment, he didn’t care. The anger bent his body around the scripture, forcing it into form, ready to be unleashed.

  Ziya’s lips curled in amusement. He had drawn a training staff—something meant for practice, not even an F-grade artifact. She couldn’t even sense his Gates opening.

  Was this supposed to be a threat?

  “Your family infected me with a Void Wyrm!” Aster roared.

  A ripple of shock spread through the classroom. Even Ziya’s expression faltered for a split second. But then, she laughed.

  “The Void-Cursed who survived,” she said, shaking her head. “I knew I’d run into you eventually.” Her voice took on a mocking edge. “My father told me all about you. The boy who spins tall tales, blaming my family for his failures. The weak always point fingers at the strong.”

  Aster’s grip on his staff tightened as she continued.

  “Your family was simply too weak to make the hard decisions,” she said, voice dripping with contempt. “My family has had to make those choices three times in my lifetime alone. Maybe instead of blaming us, you should blame your own parents for not being strong enough.”

  Something inside Aster snapped.

  His mind blanked, his Willpower surged, and before he could stop himself, his scripture activated. His staff pulsed with power as he pulled it back to strike—

  But Ziya vanished.

  Before he could even blink, pain exploded at his neck.

  The world twisted.

  His vision tumbled, his body falling—except it wasn’t his body. He saw the ground rising up to meet him, but something was wrong. His perspective was lower than it should have been.

  A terrible realization dawned in his mind as he saw his own decapitated body crumple to the ground.

  For several long, stunned seconds, his severed head blinked lazily before his vision faded to black.