"In the year 2025, the world as we knew it shattered. From the sky to the earth, mysterious gates appeared, tearing apart the fabric of reality. They brought chaos, destruction, and horrors humanity was unprepared for.
Monsters spilled out, consuming cities and reducing nations to ashes. In just one year, over forty percent of the world's population was wiped out, plunging the survivors into despair. They called it Doomsday."
"But amidst the despair, hope arrived in an unexpected form. Two years after the gates first appeared, the lost began to return. Those who had vanished into the unknown came back, transformed. They were stronger, faster, and seemingly divine in their abilities. They saved lives, closed the gates, and turned the tide of the war. Humanity called them Angels. Within a year, the once-unstoppable gates were all but sealed, and humanity claimed victory over the invaders but not all Angels were as heavenly as they seemed.
Their return marked the beginning of another war—a war of ideals. Some Angels believed their purpose was to protect and uplift humanity, guiding them toward survival and prosperity. Others, however, saw humanity as inferior beings, fit only to be enslaved or ruled. These factions came to be known as the Angels and the Devils, and their battles turned the skies into a another battlefield."
Normal humans were powerless in this war. To some Angels, bullets were a threat; to others, they were meaningless. The only hope for humanity lay in supporting the Angels who still believed in them. But as the Angels and Devils clashed, the gates continued to open, releasing more monsters into the world. Humanity now faced a war on three fronts—against the monsters of the gates, the tyranny of the Devils, and the fragile hope offered by the Angels.
Despite their differences, they had one common goal: defeating the monsters still emerging from the gates."
"In the end, neither side emerged victorious. Instead, the world was split in two. The Angels carved out their domain, calling it Heaven, while the Devils claimed their own, known as Hell. Between these two great powers, humanity struggled to rebuild in the neutral zones, clinging to a fragile existence. Amidst this fractured world, one place remained untouched by the war—the schools.
These were sanctuaries where children were raised, educated, and kept away from the conflict. Some were ordinary schools, while others were far more specialized: the Schools for New Angels, where children with potential powers were trained, for them to choose one of the allegiance."
For Lucian Caius ı mean me the school was a refuge and a battlefield of its own. Born powerless and ordinary, ı attended one of the Angel schools.they even confirmed that ı will have a power but they didnt even know when i was going inside my world or what kind of power ı will get.
İn The school where children from both Heaven and Hell mingled uneasily. In this delicate balance, I was at the bottom of the food chain as a powerless—a target for bullies and a nobody in a world of giants. But the outside was nothing compared to the battles ı faced within these walls.
My father, an Angel Returner unlike me, had died sealing a gate in Africa. My mother, unable to bear the grief, hung herself not long after.
"Man, fuck this," I muttered, lying next to a trash can. My body ached from the latest beating, and my thoughts drifted back to simpler times. I used to play in the streets with my friends—friends who had once been my family. Now, one of them was my bully? friend?
I dont even know myself,someone who had trained himself far beyond the boy I used to know.
"Hey, Caius! Wake up, buddy! Or are you still dreaming?" His voice cut through the haze as he grabbed my head, forcing me to look at him. He was my childhood friend, Cian, but the boy I knew was long gone. When he returned from the world full of bandits, he came back changed. Stealth,Personality and Strength all of it was changed.that's what he gained, and he used to make my life a living hell.
Cian let go of my head, his grip loosening as he gave me a faint, almost mocking smile. "Okay, see you tomorrow, bro," he said, his voice dripping with a casualness that felt like a slap in the face.
He turned and walked away, his steps light and deliberate, a testament to the stealth he'd gained in that other world. Two others from the Devils joined. They laughed as they walked together, their voices fading into the distance, leaving me alone next to the trash can.
For a moment, I just sat there, the stench of garbage and humiliation clinging to me. Cian had always been like a brother to me,at mornings he was the Cian ı always known but after the school he was something else.
After a few minutes, I managed to push myself off the ground, my legs unsteady as I gathered the few things I had dropped. My body felt heavy, as though it had been weighed down by the beatings and the frustration of it all. "If you're gonna have a double personality, why do you have to be both the bully and the best friend at the same time, man?" I muttered, my voice a mix of anger and confusion. The words left my mouth like a bitter curse, but even as I said them, I knew they wouldn't change anything.
I quickly shoved the loose papers into my bag and adjusted my jacket, trying to avoid the looks from a few passing students who had witnessed the whole thing. I wasn't in the mood for sympathy, nor was I ready to face the pitying stares that always followed after an incident like this.
With everything packed, I started walking toward the street, the rhythm of my steps mechanical, like I was just going through the motions. The wind picked up, brushing against my face, cool and soothing. It kissed the small wounds that dotted my skin from the altercation, making them sting in a way that was almost comforting, like a reminder that it was still here. My black hair fluttered in the breeze, wild and untamed, just like the thoughts racing through my teen mind.
"Feels like you, mother..." I whispered, almost as if I was speaking to her, though I knew she couldn't hear me. My voice was soft, barely more than a breath, but the words felt heavy, like I was carrying the weight of her death all over again. The wind seemed to grow colder, wrapping around me as if the world itself was trying to embrace me in the emptiness she left behind.
I could see my house in the distance, the same worn-down structure that had never really felt like home after all those things. It stood there, unchanged, as though the world outside had moved on while I was stuck in this loop of loss and betrayal. Each step I took felt like I was walking further away from the person I used to be.
I used to be someone who believed . But now, ideas felt distant, like fading memories. Why had Cian changed? Why had everything changed? The questions buzzed in my head, unanswered and unresolved. The anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was different now. It was sharper, colder. It wasn't just about the bullying anymore—it was about the broken promises, the fractured bonds, the things I could never fix.
By the time I reached the door to my house, I felt exhausted, not just physically but emotionally. I had long since stopped trying to understand why life had dealt me such a cruel hand. I had accepted it. But even in my acceptance, there was a lingering ache. An ache that no amount of time or distance seemed to heal.
My hand on the door handle, before stepping inside. The silence that greeted me felt suffocating, the same silence that had been my constant companion since my family's death. It was almost as if the house was waiting for something. But it wouldn't be today.
I opened the lights to the house, but they shone far too brightly, almost blinding me. The entire house seemed to be swallowed by the harsh light, and as I squinted, trying to adjust, I realized something was wrong. When I finally opened my eyes fully, everything had changed.
I wasn't in my home anymore.
Instead, I stood in the middle of a black room, the air thick and suffocating. Torches flickered on the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. I was in a circle—a symbol I had seen before in school lectures. It was the same one described in books about the some angels getting summoned to fight the Demon King.
My thoughts raced, but before I could make sense of it, a woman appeared in front of me. She had black hair and she was beatiful like a dark moon her white skin and yellow eyes meet mine, flowing like a shadow against the dim light. Her presence was commanding, yet unsettling.
I instinctively stepped back,the woman lunged at me. Her movements were quick, but far from graceful. It was as if she had never trained on the sword properly. Her strikes were wide and clumsy, leaving me with plenty of time to see them coming
I barely had to move as I watched her attack. She was sloppy, and it didn't take much effort to sidestep her wild swings. The training I had endured in school—albeit basic—allowed me to react almost instinctively. It felt wrong. She was nothing like the warriors I had seen in class. She was weak.