“Hey?!”

  A voice broke through the fog in Adam’s mind.

  “How long do you intend to sleep? Hey! Why won’t he answer me? Did he really die?”

  Whose voice is that?

  He felt a tug on his cheek before his eyelids fluttered open. Bright light burned his vision, forcing a wince.

  “Finally, you’re awake,” the same voice said. “Friend, is your Blessing related to sleeping?”

  Adam blinked until the glare faded. A painted ceiling came into focus—swirling patterns, a chandelier with its crystals floating a few inches below the frame like detached stars.

  He sat up slowly, shielding his eyes with one hand. A warm palm landed on his shoulder.

  “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  Adam looked up into the brown eyes of a smiling young man. Curly black hair, tied back in a messy ponytail. Broad shoulders, tattooed arms. He looked like someone you’d cross the street to avoid—if not for the easy grin on his face.

  “Who are you, and where am I?” Adam asked, brushing the man’s hand away.

  “The name’s Hendrix Moon. Remember it well,” he said with mock gravity. “You’re in the Year One dorms.”

  Adam frowned. I don’t remember falling unconscious.

  Hendrix extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, roommate.”

  Adam took it. “Adam.”

  “Adam?” Hendrix tilted his head. “That’s… surprisingly normal.”

  “Why?”

  “Well,” Hendrix said, chuckling, “you’ve got silver hair. It’s not exactly common around here. I was half-expecting some fancy name or a declaration about being from beyond the walls.”

  Adam smiled faintly and looked around the room instead of answering. Two beds. Two desks. A wall-length bookshelf. Black uniforms hanging neatly in one of the open closets—six sets in total. Boots lined up beneath them, gleaming like they’d never been worn.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Not sure,” Hendrix said, scratching his chin. “I found you like this when I moved in.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  Hendrix raised two fingers.

  “Two hours?” Adam guessed.

  Hendrix shook his head. “Two days.”

  Adam stared. “Two days?”

  He couldn’t stop himself from saying it aloud. No way.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Hendrix said, settling into the chair beside him. “Someone came to see you.”

  “Who?” Adam asked instantly. Could it be Captain Wallace?

  “Don’t know her name,” Hendrix replied. “Greenish-purple mohawk. Kinda scary. She said you’ve got a month to pick your reward or you’ll forfeit it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well,” Hendrix tilted his head, thinking. “She also mentioned you need to register your Blessing before classes start. But you probably already knew that.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” Adam said.

  “No problem.” Hendrix grinned. “So… what happened in your trial? Was it that rough?”

  Adam shook his head slowly. “Sorry. I don’t remember much.” Then, after a pause, “I have a question though—if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Ask away.”

  “What is Emria’s Passage? And who is Pyren?”

  Silence fell like a dropped stone. Hendrix’s grin froze.

  Adam didn’t need an answer to know the question had been common knowledge.

  “You’re amazing,” Hendrix said at last, voice hushed. “Especially for someone ranked E.”

  How did he know my rank? Unless…

  “Wait,” Adam said. “You’re rank E too?”

  Hendrix nodded. “Yeah. Everyone in this dorm is. None of us can even dream of making the top twenty-five.”

  So it’s like that. Adam’s lips curved faintly. Better to blend in than to stand out too soon.

  “The lowest-ranked person in the top twenty-five—besides you—has a rank A Blessing,” Hendrix added.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Adam said nothing, though the confirmation settled something cold in his chest. It’s not public yet. Good.

  “Hendrix,” he said softly. “Can you keep this between us?”

  “Of course,” Hendrix said at once. “If word gets out, you’d have half the academy knocking on your door.”

  “Thanks,” Adam murmured.

  He exhaled and summoned his interface. The system window flickered into view, its blue glow reflecting faintly in the room.

  Name: Adam Staples

  Age: 17

  Race: Human / Demonkin

  Status: Awakened

  Rank: D

  Stats

  Constitution: 20

  Agility: 18

  Endurance: 30

  Dexterity: 20

  Strength: 20

  Skills

  Summoning — Lv. 0

  Illusion Inducement — Lv. 0

  Dominator — Lv. 0

  Devourer — Lv. 0

  ???

  Title

  Manipulator

  Omen Points: 12 (Insufficient for rank upgrade)

  Vicar was right.

  The realization sank like a stone in Adam’s chest. I had to merge both souls to unlock them…

  His eyes skimmed the glowing list again, but one name refused to let go of his attention.

  Devourer.

  The moment he focused on it, something stirred. A gnawing ache bloomed behind his ribs, sharp and hollow, as if something inside him had been waiting for this exact moment to wake up.

  The hunger wasn’t human. It wanted, demanded, and craved.

  Adam’s breath hitched, and his hands trembled before the feeling vanished—snuffed out like a candle.

  He sat still, chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm. What the hell was that?

  His gaze drifted back to the interface. The second new skill remained greyed out, but his gaze shifted back to the devourer.

  “Adam,” Hendrix’s voice came from nearby, “I don’t mean to pry, but are you the first Awakened in your family?”

  Adam gave a bashful smile. “Yeah. I didn’t exactly grow up in what you’d call a civilized society.”

  “No wonder you had no clue who Emria or Pyren were,” Hendrix sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Those two names are practically sacred around here. Emria—the first high priestess of Sulhel—was the one who tamed the white flames of purification. She conquered the Varidan dungeon itself and built this academy on the ruins that remained. It’s said she vanquished over ten è?ù—”

  “è?ù?” Adam interrupted, brow furrowing. “What’s that?”

  Hendrix blinked, almost offended. “You really don’t know the ranking among demons?”

  “Uncivilized society, remember?” Adam’s tone was easy, but his eyes stayed sharp.

  “Right.” Hendrix nodded, collecting his thoughts. “Alright, quick version. In ascending order: Familiars, Demonkin, and è?ù. è?ù are the soul-takers, the ones who forge Omen contracts.”

  Adam’s curiosity sharpened. He listened without cutting in again.

  “Demonkin are usually Omen Awakened—like us,” Hendrix continued. “Depending on how deep their corruption runs, they’re ranked Plagues, Disasters, or Havoc. Familiars are the lowest, weak reflections made by è?ù. Like the thing we fought during the first trial.”

  Adam frowned. “Unranked Demonkin you mean?” he asked slowly.

  “Unranked Demonkin?” Hendrix echoed. “Never heard of it.”

  The announcer definitely said it.

  Adam exhaled through his nose. “Forget it.”

  Hendrix shrugged and carried on. “Anyway, Emria’s story doesn’t end with her death. Before she passed, she left behind six scrolls detailing how to communicate with the flames. The Church of Sulhel guards them now, but even they haven’t found a new successor.”

  Adam studied him for a moment. “You sound like a believer.”

  “Not really,” Hendrix said, chuckling softly. “Just fascinated by power and the people who had it.” He tilted his head. “The academy and the church don’t share ties anymore. But each year, new students can try reading the first Passage of Emria. If someone succeeds, both the church and the academy fight over them.”

  Adam arched a brow. “They let random students near something that important? What if a demon tried to use it?”

  Hendrix burst out laughing. “Any demon dumb enough to try would disintegrate. The scrolls aren’t even paper—they’re living flames. They burn the souls of the unworthy.”

  Adam nodded, lips twitching. Good to know. Note to self: stay the hell away from Emria’s Passage.

  Hendrix’s tone softened. “Pyren’s tale, though—that one’s tragic.” He shifted in his seat, expression dimming. “He was a master smith, blessed by Sulhel herself. His creations could slay è?ùs easily. Seven of his weapons killed more than twenty of them. Emria’s Black Sword of Sulhel was one of his.”

  Adam’s brows lifted slightly. He could already sense where this story was headed.

  “But the demons couldn’t kill him,” Hendrix said quietly. “So they went after his family. His wife and two sons died from a plague no healer could cure. Only his daughter survived, but she was dying too.”

  Adam’s chest tightened. “Let me guess—the demons made him an offer.”

  “Right.” Hendrix nodded. “An è?ù promised his daughter’s life in exchange for his soul. When people went to his workshop the next morning, they found his weapons scattered everywhere—and his daughter crying beside him, a dagger in his chest.”

  “So he took the deal,” Adam said softly.

  “Yeah. And it worked.” Hendrix’s gaze dropped. “She lived. But the demons didn’t realize who she’d become.”

  Adam leaned forward slightly. “You’re saying—”

  “Exactly.” Hendrix smiled faintly. “Emria was Pyren’s daughter. The priestess who built Varidan on the ashes of her father’s sin.”

  Adam sat back, mind racing. So the academy I’m in exists because a demon’s bargain went wrong.

  He almost laughed. How fitting.

  Adam’s mouth parted slightly as Hendrix’s words sank in. Though their stories weren’t the same, he could feel the weight behind Emria’s choices. Losing someone to the demons—he understood that kind of pain far too well.

  “If Pyren had such a reputation,” Adam said slowly, “why would they let a new student access his works? I’d imagine the stronger Awakened would have taken them all by now.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Hendrix said with a shrug. “Most of Pyren’s weapons are long gone—either bought, hoarded, or destroyed in battle. The ones left here are mostly incomplete, or pieces he wasn’t satisfied with. Still, for people like us, even his ‘failures’ are treasures.”

  Adam nodded, his voice softening. “Thank you.”

  Hendrix didn’t have to explain any of this, but he had—and Adam appreciated that more than he’d admit.

  “Why are you acting like I just saved your life?” Hendrix chuckled, his grin widening. “It’s nothing. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

  Before Adam could reply, Hendrix pushed himself to his feet. “Since it’s our first day together—well, your first day awake—I’ll treat you to something nice. Your stomach must be screaming by now.” He pointed toward the closet with a dramatic flair. “Get changed into your uniform. The cafeteria here? Out of this world.”

  Adam’s lips curved faintly. It had been a long time since anyone sounded that casual around him.

  Maybe Varidan wasn’t as cold as he’d imagined.

  “Oh, Adam—just a heads up,” Hendrix said, tugging the inner shirt of his uniform over his head. “Varidan Academy isn’t the kind of place that believes in equality. Its purpose is simple—to breed the best of the best among the Awakened.”

  He straightened the collar and shot Adam a look. “In other words, it’s a class-based academy. Whether you’re a prince from Permisia, a drifter from Wazar, or someone from beyond the walls—it all comes down to your level of connection. Know your place in the hierarchy, and you’ll be fine.”

  Adam didn’t reply right away. He’d read about systems like that before; where strength decided who mattered and who didn’t. Only now, he would live it too.