Chapter 68 - Sixty Eight
"All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players."
— Shakespeare, As You Like It
---
"The scene starts with Kai and Aaron in a restaurant or bar. Kai is trying to make a move on Aaron."
Zeke’s voice drifted from the corner of the living room, his tone flat and directorial.
"Action."
"I love you."
Kai’s delivery was earnest, reaching toward Aaron with manufactured longing.
"I love you... too?"
Aaron’s confusion bled through, his inflection rising at the end.
"You don’t understand. Not as a friend—as a lover."
"That’s weird, man. You need help."
Aaron shuffled backward, hands raised defensively.
Kai lunged forward, closing the distance with exaggerated desperation.
"I can’t let you go—"
"Let me go! He’s trying to rape me! Help!"
Aaron’s shriek pitched high, theatrical panic flooding his voice.
"Stop!"
A commanding shout cut through the chaos.
Jude stepped into view, hand outstretched like a tragic hero interrupted mid-monologue.
"Stop it, Kai. How could you? How could you cheat on me—with him?"
"You’re just a fling, Jude." Kai’s voice dropped, cold and dismissive. "Aaron is the one I love."
"You guys handle your love triangle. I’ll be going now."
Aaron edged toward the exit, movements careful, measured.
"Stop."
Jude’s voice cracked with emotion, raw and wounded.
"What does he have that I don’t? I love you."
He stretched his hand toward Kai, fingers trembling.
"Hey—what do you mean, what do I have?" Aaron spun back, indignant. "He came onto me. I haven’t done anything."
He jabbed a finger at his own chest.
"And if I wanted him, I could have him. You’ve got nothing on this."
"Heh." Jude’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Kai—you have to choose between us. Who do you want?"
"I... I choose both of you."
Kai collapsed to his knees, arms spread wide in surrender.
"Hohoho. You can’t be serious." Zeke glided forward, bending to lift Kai by the arm. "I am the one for you. These little rats have nothing on our love."
"Drop my son."
Michael materialized behind them, voice low and sharp.
"Tell them, son. Tell them about our love."
"You’re his father?" Aaron recoiled, face twisted in disgust.
"Yes." Michael’s form shimmered, features softening, body reshaping. "But I am also his mother."
The transformation completed—delicate, feminine, impossibly smooth.
"And also his lover."
Michael’s new voice was honeyed, serene.
"Wow."
Anton clapped slowly from the sidelines, each strike of his palms deliberate and mocking.
"This was wonderful. Weird. Much more weird. But wonderful."
"At your service."
Michael bowed with exaggerated flourish, form rippling back to male.
"I can’t believe the first time you showed off your shapeshifting ability, it was for a play."
Zeke dropped into a chair, voice thick with disbelief.
---
"Well. Today’s the day."
Anton straightened, clasping his hands behind his back.
"The day of Armageddon. Destruction. The day of the academy’s entrance examination—"
"You could have just said it without all the fluff."
Kai rolled his eyes, stretching his arms overhead.
"Fuck off."
"Well, boys—I’ll be going to my orientation."
Zeke pushed himself up from the chair, movements lazy but purposeful. As he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, lips curling into a smirk.
"Don’t be late, prospective students. And somebody tell Yeon to get started on her trial. She doesn’t want to get left behind, right?"
The smirk widened.
Kai’s gaze swept the room.
"You guys are doing that, right?"
He directed the question at Anton and Michael with a pointed look.
"Why us?"
Anton’s expression flattened, unimpressed.
"Well, we have an exam." Jude’s tone was measured, practical. "And you have the most knowledge of the Tower. Michael has the most connections. He knows where to find Yeon."
"What made you guys think she hasn’t started her trial?"
Anton folded his arms, brow raised.
"Michael told us."
Aaron’s answer came quick, matter-of-fact.
"Nuh-uh." Michael wagged a finger, grin sharp. "I only mentioned it because that should be the case—since she’s on the second floor."
"He’s denying—"
"Nuh-uh."
"Enough."
Jude’s voice sliced through their bickering, calm and absolute.
"Regardless of whether she’s begun her trial or not, it would be better to tell her we’ve reached the third floor. And Michael—use your connections to free her from her duty on the second floor."
"Meh."
Michael’s shrug was careless, dismissive.
"Boys. Let’s go."
With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jude sent his coat billowing behind him and walked on without another glance.
"Why’s he acting like that?"
Aaron muttered under his breath, frowning.
"Who died and made him king?"
Kai added, voice low and mocking.
They looked at each other and laughed—quiet, conspiratorial—before following after Jude.
As they passed, Kai turned back toward Anton, smirking. His lips moved just enough for Anton to read
"That bastard."
Anton’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding audibly.
Michael chuckled—soft, amused.
Anton stared at him for a long, silent moment, then turned and walked upstairs without a word.
"What? You’re not staying with little old me?"
Michael’s voice was light, teasing.
"I don’t bite."
Anton continued without looking back.
Michael’s smile widened. He settled into a chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest.
---
"You’re here."
Nox’s voice greeted Zeke as he stepped onto the academy’s grounds.
"You have the luxury of meeting with me here?"
Zeke’s tone carried faint skepticism.
"Maybe."
Nox’s smile was placid, unreadable.
"Not to worry. You’re the only one who can see me. To the rest of the school, I’m in my office."
"So to the outside world, I’m a weirdly handsome man talking to himself."
"Hoho."
Nox’s chuckle was warm, indulgent.
"A small price to pay for my guidance. Lack of knowledge is a sin, after all."
"I get not knowing about your academy. But do you really have to show off?"
"Get to my age and argue with me."
Nox stroked his beard with theatrical gravity.
Zeke glanced around. Most students were staring at him—not with recognition of his oddness, but with the wide-eyed curiosity of people seeing something new.
"Pay them no mind. Sophomores who think they understand everything about Asterea. A new face is quite surprising to them."
"Do they not know they might have new attendees today?"
"Until they’ve passed the entrance exam, prospective students do not enter the academy. And with your age, you couldn’t be a new student."
"But I could be a professor?."
"I wouldn’t call you a professor." Nox’s tone sharpened, precise. "To be a professor, one must have knowledge to give—or notable talents for the art of teaching students of my academy."
He paused, smile returning.
"But... yes. You have the title and duties of a professor. But we both know you’re nothing close to one. A quasi-teacher, perhaps—you have the trait needed to teach. But the actual knowledge? Of magic and teaching?"
His smile widened.
"Well. We both know about that."
"I’m teaching magic?"
"No. You’re just to look your students in the eyes and smile."
"Fuck you."
"I understand your pride makes you unable to process the severity of your actions. But I hope you do know pride is part of the seven deadly sins for a reason."
"You need to teach me how to threaten like that."
"What a special child."
Nox’s tone was warm, almost affectionate.
"Did you just call me an idiot?"
"I did no such thing."
Nox’s face held a smile—serene, untouchable.
---
Zeke sat on the platform where his fellow professors gathered, watching the entrance exams begin below. The headmasters and higher-ups occupied a separate platform—elevated, distant.
"Say, boy. Do you know the different fields we have in this academy?"
"I know nothing about your academy, old man."
Zeke’s reply was flat, uninterested.
Nox remained beside him, still invisible to the others.
"Why are you here?"
"I am everywhere." Nox gestured casually. "If you take a look at the other side, you would see me chatting with the Vice Headmaster as he descends from the riveting speech he has just given."
Zeke followed the gesture. Nox stood there too, engaged in quiet conversation with a man who had, moments before, delivered the most tedious speech Zeke had ever endured.
"Speeches are usually boring. But your assistant—or vice, however you put it—is very talented at making his exceptionally boring."
"Hoho."
"Let me enlighten you, my boy."
Nox’s tone shifted—instructional, formal.
"In my academy, we have different fields for differently abled persons. We have the very popular Magic classes—an elite class, as not everyone has the talent of a mage. For those who lack such talent, we have other fields: the ability-oriented field, the alchemy field, the enchantment field, the blacksmithing field, the array field, the summoning field, and the combat field—which has the most branches."
He ticked them off on his fingers.
"Martial arts, weapon mastery, magic-related combat, abilities-related combat."
"Take a guess which field you think you’ll be assigned to."
’Zero. What ya think?’
{ Did you lose the ability to guess? }
’I was involving your bored ass in a civilized conversation.’
{ Fuck you. }
"Any guesses?"
Nox interrupted Zeke’s internal exchange with Zero.
"You did mention magic, did you not?"
"Ah, yes. Magic." Nox nodded, pleased. "You’ll be taking the magic-related combat division. Though you’ll be doing more than just teaching magic. You’ll teach combat, of course. How they effectively use their abilities will be up to you. Martial arts. Every other thing related to combat. Just fifty percent magic-related."
"It’s an elite class."
"Elite." Zeke’s jaw tightened. "I really don’t like that."
He clicked his tongue.
"I’ve been talking to you for a while. How is it that nobody is giving me weird looks or walking up to me? I know I’m sorted at the back and all."
"This is an isolated zone, boy. None of our conversation leaves this zone."
"You have a plethora of abilities. And you have a way to block me from copying them."
"Well, it’s neither magic nor an ability. Well, it’s magic—but not magic magic."
"Explain."
"Hohoho. What do you know about ranks?"
"F to SSS-Rank. And an unknown rank."
"Hoho. Unknown rank." Nox’s smile widened. "I did hear you kids talking about it the other day."
"You should stop peeking, voyeur."
"To you—what do you think ranks are for?"
"Please. No riddles. Just tell me if you wish to tell me."
"You’re no fun."
"One last question before I lecture you. You do know the way one ranks up and the threshold for each rank?"
"I was informed of it."
"Enlighten me."
"Tsk."
Zeke exhaled sharply, then rattled it off:
"F-Rank: 1 to 49 stat points. E: 50 to 99. D: 100 to 199. C: 200 to 349. B: 350 to 549. A: 550 to 799. S: 800 to 1149. SS: 1150 to 1599. SSS: 1600 and above."
"You go up a rank when three of your stats reach the next rank."
"Indeed. Worlds outside the Tower employ the same rhetoric."
"Talk to me."
Zeke sat up straighter, interest flickering in his eyes.
"Well. There’s little to no difference in how we rank up here. It’s just the knowledge. We just have different knowledge of ranking up. And to be honest, that knowledge is only useful for SSS-Rank."
Nox leaned back slightly, gaze distant.
"But before we get there, we need to get the main issue out of the way."
"When you rank up, my boy, you do not just increase your physical stats, magic power, or mental stat. You enter a whole new world."
"It is not obvious in the lower ranks. Perceptive persons notice it at S-Rank. S-Rank is a whole new package of its own."
"But the real change begins at SSS-Rank."
"The first change: you do not need to get a certain number of stats to the next rank to rank up."
"To understand this, you have to know how ranking up works in the Tower—and from SSS-Rank and beyond."
"The sum number of your five stats, divided by five. So if it equals 1600, you reach SSS-Rank."
"What happens after? What ranks are after SSS-Rank?"
"Well, SSS-Rank is divided into tiers. Popularly known as the saint ranks. The first limit that most gifted people reach: the 5,000 stats limit. That’s the first tier of sainthood."
"Then the second limit: 10,000 stat points. Then 50,000. Then 100,000."
"That marks the end of sainthood—but not the end of SSS-Rank. You see, after that, one becomes what is known as a demigod, with a limit of 500,000 stat points."
"That is the sum total, divided by five."
"Naturally, you would think ’leveling up’ is just gaining physical stats. But no. You awaken authorities. Bypass or control certain rules. The higher your rank, the stronger your control of rules becomes."
"And I do not mean fire rules, water rules—those useless gimmicks from starved mages."
"That is why you cannot copy what I do. You do not have the necessary rank to do that."
"Increase in ranks allows one to use their abilities to their maximum potential. A person with a fire-manipulation-based ability gets freedom the higher their rank."
"These are nuances you would pick up on when you grow stronger."
"When you reach SSS-Rank, you would understand." Nox’s voice dropped, grave. "Anyone below SSS-Rank are ants."
’He said it. He said the line.’
{ Is that the only thing you heard? }
Zero’s tone was exasperated.
’The things he said are none of my business. It’s dope. But I can’t do what I can’t do. That’s all I understood.’
"You need to understand these things to teach properly."
"What’s the strength tier of professors here?"
"To be honest, you’re one of the weakest. The strongest is a first-tier saint, of course. The first ten floors have power limitations of first-tier saint."
"With the exception of administrators, of course."
"The glaze."
Zeke’s tone was teasing, lips quirking.
"Focus. Your friends have begun their exams."
Nox’s voice turned sharp, commanding.
Zeke’s gaze dropped to the arena below.