The Sky Did Not Fall.
It Split.
Like a cosmic mirror struck from the other side of reality, glowing fractures slowly spread across the sky above the school building. The sound that followed was not an explosion, but a long chime, like a colossal bell struck within an unseen cathedral.
The air grew heavy.
The colors of the world faded.
A magic circle formed beneath the feet of every student. Its pattern was intricate, layered, rotating like a wheel of fate that had just begun to turn.
Elara stood frozen, breath stuck in her throat.
Nadia lost her balance, her fingers trembling.
Arga tried to pull Kafka.
But the light had already descended.
White.
Pure.
Erasing their old world.
And when their vision returned,
They were no longer standing on the Earth they knew.
They teleported to a city made by pure white concrete and golds.
The City Built from Prayer
They floated in the air, descending slowly like snowflakes from a cold heaven.
Beneath them stretched a golden city.
Crystal towers reflected light like spears of radiance. Marble bridges arched between sacred buildings. At its center stood a colossal cathedral, its dome radiating an aura that made the chest tighten.
Grand Aurelis.
The heart of the world of Aethernox.
The holy city under the protection of the Sanctuary Church.
The main plaza was filled with thousands of people. White-armored knights knelt. Priests in silver robes stood with bowed heads.
When the students' feet touched the marble ground, the cathedral bells rang.
An archbishop stepped forward. His staff was crowned with a softly glowing blue crystal.
"O chosen souls from another world," his voice echoed, amplified by holy magic.
He raised both hands.
"You have been summoned by the will of the Eternal Light to become the heroes of this world."
Cheers shook the air.
Some students cried.
Some laughed in disbelief.
Some… were simply afraid.
Kafka did not speak.
His gaze lifted to the sky.
The crack was still there.
Thin.
Almost invisible.
As if this world… was not entirely stable.
Inside the cathedral's main hall stood a massive crystal altar like a heart of light. Above it floated layered magic symbols.
The archbishop raised his hands again.
"Today, the Light will mark you with Class and Title. The system of this world will determine your role."
Glowing letters appeared in the air:
D – Common
C – Adept
B – Elite
A – Saint-Tier
S – Divine Rank
One by one, students were called forward.
Magic circles ignited beneath their feet.
Satrio.
Soft light descended.
A short sword symbol appeared.
Golden letters formed:
Satrio – Iron Axe Guard (D)
Polite applause followed. Neither glorious nor shameful. Just acknowledgment.
Ilham.
The next circle flared.
A small flame appeared in his palm.
Text formed:
Ilham – Mist Assassin (D)
Light applause from the knights.
Adam
Adam stepped forward confidently.
The light descended brighter this time.
Wind swirled around him.
Text appeared:
Adam – Storm Spear Knight (B)
Nadia
When Nadia's name was called, the atmosphere shifted.
She stepped forward slowly.
The light that descended was not white—but greenish, like a misty forest at dawn.
The scent of wet earth filled the air.
Illusory branches sprouted from the marble floor.
Text formed with a gentle glow:
Nadia – Flaforest Archer (C)
Several priests nodded in satisfaction.
"Adept class. Controller of magical flora with her bow and arrows."
Elara
Elara's name was called.
Her steps were light.
The descending light was different.
Not just bright, but warm.
Like spring sunlight touching an empty field.
Illusory wings of light opened behind her.
A sacred circle symbol rotated.
Pure golden text appeared:
Elara – Gracebound Healer (A)
Class A.
Saint-Tier.
The priests smiled proudly.
Some knelt on one knee in respect.
Holy aura filled the hall.
Arga
When Arga's name was called, the air grew heavy.
As if the world held its breath.
He stepped forward.
His gaze steady.
The magic circle beneath him was far larger than the others.
The descending light was not merely white.
It was golden.
Blinding.
A gigantic sword symbol formed in the air.
The floor trembled.
The crystal altar glowed brighter than ever.
The text formed slowly—letter by letter, as if carved by divine hands:
Arga – Hero Incarnation (S)
Silence.
Then,
Every priest in the hall prostrated fully.
Foreheads pressed against marble.
Knights knelt, swords embedded in the ground.
"Reincarnation of the Hero…" one bishop whispered with trembling voice.
Golden aura surrounded Arga like an unseen crown.
Before Kafka's turn, teachers and remaining students were called one by one.
Some received Class B - elite but not supreme.
Some received Class C - capable, but ordinary.
Then Mr. Rahmat Hidayat's name was called.
The hall fell silent.
The history teacher stepped forward slowly yet firmly. His usually warm eyes now sharp and penetrating. His posture upright, aura calm, yet oppressive.
A magic circle formed beneath him and the light descended.
Not soft.
Not warm.
But intense.
As if pressing against the air itself.
Pure golden text appeared:
Mr. Rahmat Hidayat – Divine Detective (A)
Whispers spread in disbelief.
Even the priests looked uneasy.
The crystal altar pulsed faintly, sending a strange vibration only those who could see anomalies could feel.
The priests exchanged glances.
They sensed something did not align with the Church's system.
Silently, some decided to monitor him.
Mr. Rahmat remained calm.
He did not smile.
He raised his hand, steadying the students. His voice was gentle yet firm.
"Calm yourselves kids. Do not be fixated on the light or titles bestowed today. These are not for pride, but for growth. Show composure, control yourselves, and respect one another. Even if we still doesn't know what happen right now."
Guards that seeing him spoke without archbishop permission began to move, but the archbishop stop them.
Final Turn.
The last name was called.
Kafka.
His steps were calm.
No hesitation.
No expectation.
A magic circle appeared.
The light descended,
Then flickered.
Shuddered.
The crystal altar made a cracking sound.
Text began to form,
Then shattered.
Red letters appeared:
ERROR
NO DESIGNATION
"Huh?" echoed across the hall.
The magic circle beneath Kafka turned black.
For a moment.
A fraction of a second.
Then vanished.
No class.
No title.
No element.
The archbishop stared at him, face tense.
"Not registered within the world system…"
Whispers spread.
"Useless."
"Defective."
"Summoning error."
Another bishop stepped forward.
"An individual without designation holds no strategic value. For resource efficiency, we recommend he be returned… or removed."
Removed.
The word was spoken too lightly.
Nadia stepped forward first.
"No!" Her voice trembled, but firm.
Elara stood at Kafka's side.
"He's one of us."
Arga was silent.
His gaze met Kafka's.
There was hatred there.
Old wounds.
But something deeper.
Older.
Family.
He exhaled heavily.
"If he goes," Arga said coldly, "I go too."
Silence thickened.
The priests exchanged looks.
They could not lose the Hero Incarnation.
Not Class S.
Not the symbol of hope.
The archbishop finally raised his hand.
"…Very well. The individual without designation will remain under the supervision of the Sanctuary Church."
There were no cheers.
Only tension.
Kafka looked once more at the crystal altar.
And for a brief moment,
He saw something beneath its surface.
The shadow of a dungeon.
Black roots.
And a system that did not choose heroes.
But chose fuel.
Above Grand Aurelis, the sky cracked again.
And only Kafka noticed.
~TO BE CONTINUED ~