The hallways of the Academy buzzed with the usual chatter as students made their way to their respective classes. The excitement from the ranking ceremony still lingered in the air, with the higher-ranked students walking with an extra spring in their step, while those who had fallen in the ranks did their best to hide their disappointment. But for Asterius, the world around him was a blur of meaningless noise. The sting of humiliation from the ranking ceremony still burned in his chest, a painful reminder of his place at the very bottom of the Academy's hierarchy.
Asterius moved through the halls in a daze, his mind replaying the head instructor's words over and over again. Each time, the scorn in her voice cut deeper, and the mocking laughter of the other students echoed in his ears like a cruel refrain. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't afford to break down here, not in front of everyone.
But no matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they kept coming back, each one more painful than the last. How many times had he endured this? How many times had he stood in front of that ranking board, knowing that he would be at the bottom, knowing that he would be the target of ridicule and scorn? And how many more times could he endure it before he finally broke?
As he walked, the familiar knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach, making it difficult to breathe. He knew what was coming next. The other students would target him, as they always did, eager to remind him of his place. The sneers, the taunts, the physical abuse—it was all part of the daily torment he had come to expect.
But today felt different. The anger that had been simmering inside him for years was now at a boiling point, threatening to spill over. The fire that had been ignited within him during the ranking ceremony was still burning, fueling his rage. And beneath it all, the presence of the God of Astral was there, a constant reminder of the power that was supposed to be his.
But where was it? Asterius couldn't help but wonder. The God of Astral had promised him strength, had promised to help him rise above his tormentors. But he still felt weak, still felt powerless, still felt like the same pathetic Dreg he had always been.
As Asterius rounded a corner, lost in his thoughts, he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a group of Adepts. They were a rough-looking bunch, their eyes gleaming with malice as they spotted him. He recognized them immediately—these were some of the worst bullies in the Academy, the ones who took particular pleasure in tormenting the Dregs.
"Well, well, well," one of them sneered, stepping forward to block Asterius's path. "If it isn't the King of the Dregs himself. How's it feel, Asterius, to be at the bottom again? To be nothing?"
The others laughed, closing in around him, cutting off any chance of escape. Asterius's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of a way out, but his mind was blank. He had been through this so many times before, and it always ended the same way—with him beaten and humiliated, left to nurse his wounds in silence.
But today was different. The anger that had been smoldering inside him flared to life, burning hotter than ever before. He could feel the presence of the God of Astral growing stronger, his voice whispering in the back of his mind, urging him to fight back, to claim the power that was rightfully his.
"Why don't you answer us, Dreg?" another of the bullies taunted, shoving Asterius hard enough to make him stumble. "Too scared? Or are you just too weak to even speak?"
Asterius clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The fire inside him was raging now, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel the power of the God of Astral bubbling beneath the surface, just out of reach, teasing him with its potential. But no matter how hard he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like smoke.
"Come on, Asterius," the first bully sneered, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close. "Say something. Or are you going to cry like the pathetic little Dreg you are?"
Something inside Asterius snapped. The rage, the frustration, the years of suffering—it all came flooding out in a single, explosive moment. Without thinking, he shoved the bully away, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.
"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway. "I'm not weak! I'm not nothing!"
For a moment, there was stunned silence. The bullies stared at Asterius in shock, clearly not expecting him to fight back. But then their surprise turned to anger, and the first bully stepped forward, his expression darkening.
"You little—"
Before he could finish, something extraordinary happened. The warmth in Asterius's chest flared to life, and he felt a surge of power unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if a dam had burst inside him, releasing a flood of energy that coursed through his veins, filling him with strength.
The God of Astral's voice echoed in his mind, clear and powerful. "This is your power, Asterius. Use it. Show them what happens when they underestimate you."
Asterius's vision blurred, his surroundings fading into the background as the power consumed him. He could feel the presence of the God of Astral merging with his own, their souls intertwining, becoming one. The sensation was overwhelming, both exhilarating and terrifying, but he knew there was no going back now.
The bullies hesitated, sensing the change in Asterius. They exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unsure of what was happening, but their bravado quickly returned.
"Looks like the Dreg thinks he's got some fight in him," one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see how long that lasts."
They charged at him, their fists raised, ready to teach him a lesson. But Asterius was no longer the weak, defenseless boy they had tormented for so long. The power of the God of Astral surged through him, sharpening his senses, quickening his reflexes. He moved without thinking, his body reacting to the energy that now flowed through him.
The first bully swung at him, but Asterius dodged the blow with ease, his movements fluid and precise. He countered with a punch of his own, his fist connecting with the bully's jaw with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground.
The other bullies froze in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. Asterius had never fought back before, had never shown any sign of resistance. But now, he was moving with a speed and strength that seemed impossible.
The God of Astral's voice echoed in his mind again, urging him on. "This is only the beginning, Asterius. Show them your true power. Make them fear you."
Asterius didn't hesitate. He charged at the next bully, his movements a blur of speed and precision. He struck with a force that he had never known before, each blow sending his attackers crashing to the ground. The bullies barely had time to react, their attempts to fight back futile against the onslaught of power that Asterius now wielded.
Within moments, it was over. The bullies lay on the ground, groaning in pain, their arrogance shattered. Asterius stood over them, his chest heaving with exertion, his mind reeling from what he had just done.
But as the adrenaline began to fade, the reality of the situation set in. The other students had witnessed the entire encounter, their expressions a mix of shock, fear, and awe. Whispers began to spread through the crowd, rumors of the weakling Dreg who had suddenly displayed unimaginable strength.
Asterius felt a surge of panic. What had he done? How could he explain this? The power he had unleashed—it wasn't normal. It wasn't something that should have been possible for someone like him.
"Do not fear, Asterius," the God of Astral's voice soothed, "This is only the beginning. You have taken your first step toward reclaiming your place. But there is still much to do. The Academy will not take this lightly. They will try to suppress you, to keep you in your place. But you must not waver. You have the power now, and it is time to use it."
Asterius swallowed hard, his mind racing. The God of Astral was right. The Academy would not ignore what had just happened. He had broken the unspoken rules, had defied the system that kept him at the bottom. There would be consequences.
But as he looked down at the bullies lying at his feet, he felt a flicker of something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope. For the first time, he had fought back. For the first time, he had shown them that he wasn't weak, that he wasn't nothing.
The Academy might try to push him back down, but he wouldn't let them. Not anymore. The God of Astral's power was his now, and he would use it to rise above the torment, above the system, above everything that had held him back.
As Asterius turned and walked away from the scene, the whispers of the other students followed him, but he didn't care. He had made his decision. He would rise, no matter what it took. And when he did, he would make them all pay.
But as he left the hall, a figure stepped out from the shadows, watching him with narrowed eyes. It was one of the instructors, a powerful Adept who had seen everything. A dark smile played on their lips as they turned and walked away, already planning how to deal with this unexpected development.
The Academy had underestimated Asterius, but they wouldn't make that mistake again.