The light of Grand Aurelis pierced the sky in a way that was anything except ordinary. It was neither warm or comforting, yet it compelled.
The main hall of the cathedral was filled with the students, their faces still trembling in the aftermath of the award ceremony.
The aura of the golden city reflected against the marble floor, yet the air felt heavy, as though pressing against their hearts. Kafka swallowed. His tongue felt stiff, his eyes fixed on the faint crack in the sky, something only he seemed to notice, a dark shadow moving between the deceptive light.
The Archbishop stepped forward, his silver robe fluttering gently. His gaze was sharp, though not frightening. He exhaled slowly before speaking, his voice resonating with a heavy piercing tone.
"Children, this world… was not created without purpose. Four continents stretch across it, each guarded and shaped for a sacred design: Solareth for humans, Sylthariel for elves and dryads,Vulkrath for dwarves, Beastkin and Pyronis Ignivar, then Noxvale for the Frostborn. Every war that has occurred… every conflict between races and kingdom… is part of the Divine Will. None of it is random. Every drop of blood spilled is an offering, an act of loyalty to the God Seraphiel."
The students glanced at one another. Soft whispers tightened. Some lowered their heads, others frowned.
Kafka kept staring, his heart trembling. The crack in the sky seemed to darken further.
The priest continued.
"Dungeons are not accidents. They are not merely trials of bravery, but sources of power. Every Dungeon will force you to grow or be destroyed. The Class and Job System you have received… are not mere titles. They are marks of Divine Will, tools to determine your role in this world. And most important… you will all be called to face the Demon King upon the continent of monsters, Jotunheim. Whose destruction will spread if left unchecked."
The students exchanged fearful glances. Whispers grew heavier, doubts forming unspoken questions.
"This… this is too much…" one murmured.
"We're… just students. We've never… faced anything like that…"
Elara gripped Kafka's hand, her face pale.
Nadia stared at the floor, teeth clenched.
Arga remained standing in silence, his expression blank, yet the aura of his S-Rank Hero Incarnation radiated a tense pressure through the hall.
Mr. Rahmat stepped forward, his firm gaze cutting through the air. "No. This is outrageous. They're still children! Forcing them into another world, giving them a 'sacred' duty you claim is divine… this isn't education. This is death sentence. I will not allow this to happen." His voice echoed, firm yet gentle. Attempting to calm all the students.
Kafka stunned again. His tongue felt frozen, unable to form a single word. He could feel the dark shadow behind every word the priest spoke. Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
As the tension peaked, the hall was washed in a brighter, more beautiful, and more imposing light. Archbishop Cardinal Magnus Aureon started to talk again, his steps steady, silver robe flowing, radiant aura piercing the entire chamber.
"Be at ease, children," his voice echoed, gentle yet commanding. "I know you are afraid. I know you are questioning. Such fear… is natural, that is human nature instinct. But trust that the Light has chosen you because you possess the potential to ignite this darkened world."
The light emanating from Magnus warmed the hall like the breath of life itself, soothing trembling souls. Some students calmed, though others stared at him with suspicion. Kafka observed carefully, seeing a faint shape behind the radiance.
Something horrifying. Inhuman.
It was staring directly at him.
Kafka's tongue remained bound, holding back words that desperately wanted to escape.
Magnus turned toward Arga. "I truly understand your concerns. The task before you is not an easy one. Therefore… Hero Incarnation… step forward!"
Confusion spread as the students looked at one another.
Arga stepped forth, and the entire hall fell silent. A golden aura enveloped him, commanding reverence. Priests and students bowed, some priests even prostrated themselves. Arga looked at his classmates, and his voice broke through the silence like a blade cutting the air.
"My friends! This world may be foreign to us, filled with darkness and trials. But we were not summoned for strength alone! We were called because of our hearts, the bonds we have forged will allow us to withstand the storm! Do not let fear consume you! Remember, courage is not the absence of fear… but the will to keep moving forward even as fear burns within your chest!"
Elara looked at him with shining eyes.
Some students straightened their backs. His words ignited their spirits, and for a moment, fear shifted into resolve.
Though Nadia kept her gaze lowered, unwilling to meet his eyes, aware of another side of him.
"Never forget," Arga continued, his voice thunderous, "that the greatest light emerges from the deepest darkness. We may be young, but every step we take… every life we protect… will become the light guiding this world. With me, we will move forward as heroes. Not because of titles, but because our hearts lead us!"
Kafka watched him, emotions colliding within admiration, and the creeping realization of systemic manipulation. Mr. Rahmat observed Arga with a serious expression, suspicion grow deep in his heart. He silently resolved to investigate on his own, without informing anyone.
The hall fell silent once more as Archbishop Magnus raised his staff.
"For the sake of mission efficiency," he spoke softly, perfectly composed, "this team will be divided into two operational units."
Magical symbols formed in the air. Light shaped two circles. The first glowed bright gold. The second shimmered faintly in silver.
"The Hero Team," Magnus continued, "will be led by the Hero Incarnation."
Names appeared one by one: Arga. Elara. Mr. Rahmat. Five students from rank B.
Some students sighed in relief.
Then the second circle lit up.
"The Support Team, led by the Stormblade Knight."
The next names appeared: Adam. Satrio. Ilham. Nadia. Kafka. Two students from rank C.
Following to that order, there is only an uncomfortable silence.
Elara moved first.
"Sorry archbishop," her voice was not loud, but it trembled clearly. "With all due respect… this division is heavily imbalanced."
Several priests turned, startled.
Magnus smiled faintly. "Explain, Gracebound Healer."
Elara stepped forward, her A-rank light glowing gently.
"The second team contains two D-Ranks, two C-Ranks, one without designation, and one unstable B-Rank. If they are sent into the first Dungeon without Saint-tier or Divine-tier protection… their mortality rate will be extremely high."
"The hell you say? Unstable?"
Adam shouted.
The hall tensed.
That was not emotional outrage.
That was analysis.
Mr. Rahmat stepped forward, his voice no longer gentle.
"This is not a strategy. This is a murder attempt."
Whispers spread.
"These children were just transferred from another world. Their mental state isn't ready. You're dividing them like chess pieces. The second team is clearly at far greater risk."
Magnus did not answer immediately.
His light remained calm.
Too calm.
"Every soul grows through trials," he finally said. "Weakness tempers strength."
"And death?" Mr. Rahmat cut in sharp like a razor blade. "Is that also part of your sacred curriculum?"
The atmosphere froze. Several knights gripped their sword hilts.
Elara stared at Magnus with a gaze she had never shown before. "If this is about growth," she said softly, "then at least give them fair protection."
Magnus turned his face slightly.
For a split second,
The light around him trembled.
Kafka saw it. A crack. Something moved beneath the robe of light. Magnus' smile returned.
"I know the Hero Incarnation will approved this structure. Right Arga?"
All eyes turned to Arga.
Arga was silent. His gaze heavy.
"I believe this is the best course," he said at last. "We must prioritize the strong. If teams are evenly divided, the weak will continue to depend on others and never truly grow."
The words lingered in the air.
Kafka did not turn. He could not. His tongue was still shut.
Nadia bit her lip.
"Grow? Or be sacrificed?" she whispered.
It was loud enough to be heard.
Pak Rahmat looked at the list once more. Then he made his decision.
"Then," he said quietly but firmly, "I will transfer myself to the Support Team. How about that?"
The hall erupted. Magnus turned sharply.
"Divine Detective," his voice remained gentle, but colder now, "the structure has been established."
"And as a grown man with logic, and asli as their teacher," Mr. Rahmat replied without hesitation, "it is my duty to ensure none of my students are used as test subjects or monster foods."
Satrio looked at him with admiration.
"God damn, I ain't gonna lie that shit was dope sir." lham whispered to Mr. Rahmat
He stepped beside Adam. Beside Nadia. Beside Satrio. Beside Ilham. Besida Kafka
A statement without symbols. Without light. Without theatrics.
Yet heavier than any speech.
Elara looked relieved. Arga watched Mr. Rahmat. Something flickered in his gaze, respect, and conflict.
Magnus remained silent. The aura around him hardened briefly. As if something behind the light growled. But he smiled once more.
"Very well," he said at last. "For the sake of harmony, the adjustment is permitted."
But his eyes, for a moment. Did not smile.
Kafka saw more than that. He saw the shadow behind Magnus
tighten. Observe. Evaluate. Mark.
And for the first time, Kafka felt
that Mr. Rahmat had just placed himself in greater danger than any of the students.
Moments later…
Guards escorted the students to their respective chambers according to gender. The hall fell quiet again, anxiety creeping through the marble corridors.
Kafka stared at the faint shadow in the sky, and within Magnus. A sharp pain rose in his stomach.
Upon reaching the boys' quarters, Kafka staggered, vomited, and collapsed unconscious. His tongue remained frozen, unable to utter a single word. The horrifying aura of Magnus,visible only to Kafka, still clung to his vision, a reminder that this world was steeped in deception.
Elara and Nadia stood anxiously outside the door. Mr. Rahmat knelt beside Kafka, concern etched across his face.
He realized,
This was only the beginning of the horror tragedy they would face.
~To Be Continued ~