It had been a full week since Rehan began training the summoned students of Class 9.

  In just seven days, everything had changed.

  At first, they struggled to even move properly under the weight of foreign mana saturating their bodies. Their muscles ached. Their breathing was uneven. Their coordination felt wrong, as if their own limbs no longer belonged to them.

  But now?

  Now they stood beneath the golden morning sun, breathing steadily, moving fluidly, their bodies honed to perfection.

  The truth had become undeniable.

  Those summoned by the ritual had not merely gained the ability to perceive mana faster than ordinary people of this world—they had been enhanced to the very limits of human potential. Strength, endurance, reflexes, recovery. Every physical attribute had been sharpened to its peak.

  They were no longer ordinary students.

  They were weapons in the making.

  The training grounds shimmered beneath the sunlight, the golden pillars reflecting the rays in radiant waves. The heroes moved through their drills with precision. Not a single one of them was sweating anymore.

  Rehan stood at the center, arms crossed, watching them carefully.

  His gaze was sharp, analytical—but there was unmistakable pride behind it.

  “Not bad,” he said at last. “You all have the strength now. You own it.”

  Anjal exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. Even after an hour of intense training, her breathing remained steady.

  “Hey…” she said, glancing at the others. “Why don’t we check our levels?”

  The suggestion caused a ripple of curiosity.

  Vaishavi blinked. “Wait… there’s actually a system like that?”

  Sneha leaned forward excitedly. “You mean like in games?!”

  Anush stepped forward with a confident grin, folding his arms behind his head.

  “Yes, of course,” he said casually. “Chirag was the one who discovered it first.”

  At the mention of that name, several faces shifted.

  Sohoni glanced toward the distant castle tower, her expression softening slightly.

  “Speaking of Chirag… don’t you think he’ll be very far behind us now?”

  A brief silence settled over the group.

  Rehan’s expression remained calm.

  “Don’t worry about that yet,” he replied. “First, focus on yourselves. Check your levels.”

  One by one, the students closed their eyes and focused inward.

  Mana responded.

  A faint glow flickered before each of them, forming translucent status screens that hovered in the air like reflections on water.

  Gasps filled the training grounds.

  “Level 2…”

  “Same here.”

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “Mine too.”

  Almost the entire class stood at Level 2.

  Anush glanced at his screen and smirked.

  “Level 4.”

  Several heads snapped toward him.

  Varsha raised her hand quietly. “Mine is 3.”

  “What?!”

  “How?!”

  “That’s not fair!”

  The others began comparing results in confusion. Vaishavi turned to Sandhya.

  “Yours?”

  “Two,” Sandhya sighed.

  Sneha pouted. “Mine too…”

  Rehan observed the scene without interference. Competition was healthy. It would push them forward.

  But before the discussion could continue, the atmosphere shifted.

  A metallic echo rang across the training grounds.

  An armored soldier rushed between the golden pillars, his breath uneven. He stopped before Rehan and bowed hastily, leaning in to whisper something into his ear.

  Rehan’s expression changed instantly.

  The warmth vanished.

  His eyes sharpened.

  Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward the castle.

  The students watched in stunned silence as he disappeared beyond the grand gates.

  Inside the throne room, the air felt heavier.

  Rehan knelt before the towering throne.

  “All hail my Lord.”

  The King gazed down at him, his expression grave.

  “Rehan… do you remember the Daishin Territory in the southern district?”

  For a split second, nothing happened.

  Then—

  Crack.

  The stone floor beneath Rehan fractured.

  His fist had clenched unconsciously, veins bulging along his forearm. A faint surge of mana rippled outward, spiderweb cracks spreading across the nearby pillars.

  Even the royal guards flinched.

  “Dai…shin…” Rehan whispered.

  The word tasted bitter.

  A memory flashed through his mind—an image of crimson earth stretching endlessly to the horizon. Bodies. Silence. A sky that refused to turn blue again.

  It was as if the land itself had been devoured.

  “Don’t throw yourself away,” the King said firmly. “He is returning.”

  Rehan slowly rose to his feet, forcing his breathing to steady.

  “We need to accelerate their training,” the King continued. “If Daishin truly moves again, the heroes must be prepared.”

  Rehan’s gaze hardened.

  “They control their strength now. The next step is magic.”

  The King nodded.

  “Do not worry,” he said. “She is coming.”

  For the first time since entering the throne room, Rehan’s composure faltered.

  “…Really?”

  Meanwhile—

  In a quiet chamber deep within the castle, silence reigned.

  Chirag lay upon a bed carved from polished stone, faint golden runes glowing beneath him. He had not awakened since the day of the summoning.

  A court mage entered the room, carrying a scroll to record his vitals.

  He approached calmly.

  And then—

  He froze.

  The scroll slipped from his fingers.

  His eyes widened in pure horror.

  “W-What…?”

  The air felt wrong.

  Thick.

  Heavy.

  He stumbled backward and bolted toward the door, nearly colliding with Anush in the hallway.

  “Bro, chill!” Anush said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “What happened?”

  The mage’s lips trembled.

  “There… C-Chirag…”

  Without waiting for explanation, Anush sprinted down the corridor, shouting for the others.

  Within moments, Class 9 gathered outside the chamber.

  Anush didn’t hesitate.

  He pushed the door open.

  And immediately froze.

  Darkness filled the room.

  Not ordinary darkness—but something alive.

  A swirling, shadowy aura coiled around Chirag’s unconscious body like a colossal serpent. It moved slowly, deliberately, its form indistinct yet undeniably present.

  The air trembled.

  Anush took one step forward—

  —and dropped to one knee.

  A crushing pressure slammed into him.

  It felt as though gravity itself had shifted, choosing Chirag as its new center.

  The floor beneath the bed cracked in circular fractures. The walls vibrated. The very air seemed to compress inward.

  The girls rushed in behind him—

  —and were forced to their knees instantly.

  Sneha gasped, struggling to breathe.

  “What is this…?”

  Vaishavi pressed her palms against the floor, eyes wide in disbelief.

  The aura pulsed.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Each pulse sent invisible shockwaves through the room, distorting the air like heat over desert sand.

  Anush gritted his teeth, veins straining as he tried to stand.

  His body refused to obey.

  It wasn’t fear.

  It was weight.

  Reality itself felt heavier near Chirag.

  The dark serpent shifted.

  Its massive, ethereal body coiled tighter.

  The shadows seemed to breathe.

  Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

  The door burst open again.

  Rehan entered, followed closely by a priest clad in white robes. Holy symbols shimmered faintly around him.

  Both of them stopped upon seeing the scene.

  Even Rehan’s expression paled.

  The priest stepped forward, chanting softly as golden light formed between his palms. The holy radiance pushed against the darkness—but did not disperse it.

  “This isn’t ordinary mana…” the priest whispered, sweat forming on his brow.

  Rehan’s eyes narrowed.

  “No,” he said quietly.

  The serpent-like aura shifted again.

  Slowly—

  Deliberately—

  Its upper form began to rise.

  Not toward the class.

  Not toward the priest.

  But upward.

  As if sensing something far beyond the castle walls.

  The pressure in the room intensified.

  And for the first time since his summoning—

  Chirag’s fingers twitched.

  The shadow tightened.

  Something was awakening.

  — To be continued —