The God Of Destruction's Academy Life

Xath’rael’s gaze remained fixed on the five students before him. But all of his attention had narrowed to a single one, the student kneeling on the ground, tears welling in his eyes as he stared back. That student was Simon.

Xath’rael stared at him with singular focus, but he wasn’t looking at Simon himself. He was looking at something else entirely, something strange hidden deep within him. Buried at the very core of his being lay something that radiated an aura of boundless power. Xath’rael studied it intently, a deep violet spiral turning slowly inside the boy.

The longer he stared, the brighter it grew.

Then it flared, a burst of violet light, silent and absolute. No one else in the clearing could see it. Only Xath’rael.

The instant that light struck his eyes, fire erupted through his entire body, every nerve lit at once, as though his blood itself had ignited. Blood began pouring from one of his eyes, thick and dark, running down the ridges of his face. He staggered backward, mind unraveling, as though something inside his skull was being pried apart with bare hands.

Stumbling, he lost his footing entirely and crashed to the ground. The moment his massive body hit the earth, the ground split beneath him, a shockwave rippling outward through the clearing. Trees at the edge of the field groaned and shed their leaves in a single violent shudder. The agony tore a scream from his throat, a sound too large for a human voice, closer to something torn out of the earth itself.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

The instant he hit the ground, all eight of his arms clamped around his own head, gripping it so hard the flesh beneath his claws split and wept. It looked as though he meant to crush his own skull between his hands. The pain inside was unbearable. All he could see was that violet spiral, spinning endlessly before his eyes, patient, indifferent, growing wider with every heartbeat.

The other students watched this bizarre display in stunned silence, unable to make sense of it. Confusion spread quickly through the group. Elizabeth, Lyra, and Dominic all stared, baffled by the creature’s sudden collapse, none of them daring to move, as though the wrong step might draw its attention back to them.

Simon, still on his knees, had no idea what had caused it, why the monster had suddenly reeled backward, writhing and screaming on the ground. He could only watch, chest tight, the tears on his face forgotten. And a moment later, he heard it speak.

"WHAT... WHAT ARE YOU? AHHH... WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH A TERRIFYING THING INSIDE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?"

Xath’rael thrashed on the ground, hands clutching his skull, his massive frame convulsing hard enough to throw up clods of torn earth. When it became clear the pain wasn’t subsiding on its own, he cast a spell on himself.

"Soothing Darkness."

Instantly, a massive black orb formed in the sky above him, radiating a strange dark light. It shot downward at tremendous speed and sank directly into his head. The moment it entered, the violet spiral behind his eyes began to fade, and slowly, the agony tearing through his mind began to ease. His breathing slowed. The blood still ran, but the scream had died in his throat.

Carlos stood where he was, hands still in his pockets, watching Xath’rael’s fit with open amusement, as if the ground splitting apart in front of him were nothing more than a mildly interesting curiosity.

"What is this ugly insect even blabbering about? To think the gods actually feared this thing. Looks more like a joke than a monster to me."

The students around him went rigid with shock all over again. Most of them stared at him like he’d lost his mind. But strangely, his casual mockery seemed to chip away at the fear gripping the crowd. A few of them started to wonder if the creature really was as terrifying as its legend claimed. A sliver of courage crept back into their chests.

Then, from somewhere near where Carlos stood, another voice spoke up.

"I actually agree with you on that one. So you don’t always think nonsense after all. Every once in a while, you manage a decent thought."

Carlos’s brow twitched. He turned his head to the left.

"What did you just say, commoner? When have I ever thought nonsense? I have never once had a foolish thought in my entire life."

The voice answered calmly from beside him.

"My name isn’t commoner. I have a name. It’s Arthur."

Arthur spoke evenly, his eyes never leaving the writhing shape in the clearing. He reached his right hand behind him, gripped the lower shaft of his spear, and hurled it straight upward. The spear arced into the sky, hung there for a moment against the pale light, then came spinning back down. As it fell toward him, he caught it cleanly in one hand and planted it upright into the ground, the impact sending a small tremor through the dirt at his feet.

Carlos held his gaze on Arthur for a moment before turning his attention back forward, toward Xath’rael.

The pain inside Xath’rael’s skull finally began to subside, and once his mind cleared enough to think, he tried, slowly, to push himself back up. His first two attempts failed. His balance gave out both times and he collapsed back down. On the third try, he managed to rise. Even standing, his balance remained unsteady, and he swayed on his feet. But after a few moments, he managed to stabilize himself. Once steady, he turned his gaze back to the five students in front of him. And looking at them now, he already had the answer to his own question, without needing a single word from them.

Whatever lived inside the brown-haired boy, that was what had protected them. That was what had negated his spell entirely. He didn’t know what kind of power it was, or why it existed inside a human body, but whatever it was, he couldn’t allow it to keep existing. It was dangerous, dangerous enough that it reminded him of something he’d felt only once before, thirty thousand years ago, in his war against the gods. That same kind of power had radiated from their bodies back then. Whatever this power belonged to, it couldn’t be allowed to remain. He made his decision on the spot: that boy would be the first to die.

Simon, still kneeling in the dirt, heard the question directed at him and had no idea what it meant. What could possibly be inside him, something terrifying enough to frighten an ancient abomination like this? He turned the question over in his mind, searching for an answer, and a memory surfaced.

His first day at the academy. He remembered lying in the dirt while a group of students kicked and beat him without mercy. And in that moment, he’d felt something strange stir inside his body, something that had erased every trace of pain, every mark the blows had left behind.

The memory was still vivid. After those students had walked away, he’d pushed himself back up and found himself staring at another student, someone walking away from him with his back turned, hands in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Beautiful black hair. And now, standing here, he suddenly understood exactly what power Xath’rael was talking about.

The terrifying thing Xath’rael sensed wasn’t some ability hidden in Simon’s own body. It belonged to his roommate. The one who loved to eat more than anything else in the world.

The God of Destruction, Necrotize.

Carlos watched Xath’rael rise back to his feet. Once fully upright, the creature fixed him with an unwavering stare, but Carlos felt no fear looking back into those eyes. He held the gaze without flinching. Then his attention shifted to the students standing around him, most of them still trembling with fear. Not a trace of courage remained in any of their eyes. None of them believed, even for a moment, that they might survive this. They’d already resigned themselves to death, as though they’d accepted it as their fate.

That resignation disgusted him. Carlos wasn’t the kind of person who feared anything, and he had no patience for people who crumbled at the smallest threat. He couldn’t stand cowardice. In fact, he despised it, because fear like this had once cost him something enormous, something he could never get back. That history was exactly why he hated fear and cowardice in equal measure now. It made his blood boil. If he got hurt, he’d get hurt. If he lost an arm, he’d fight with the other. If he lost a leg, he’d crawl forward. And if death came for him, he would accept it. But he would never once bow to fear, and he would fight with everything he had until the very end. With that conviction burning in him, he turned to the trembling students and spoke, his voice hard as steel.

"You idiots, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Why are you cowering in front of this thing like this? Do you have no self-respect left? No faith in yourselves at all, that you’d give up so easily? Have you no shame? You watched your friends, your classmates, get slaughtered right in front of you, and instead of a fire of vengeance burning in your chest, all I see is a river of fear drowning every one of you. You’re all sitting here, buried in self-doubt. Is that really who you are? Is that the extent of your self-worth? If that’s the case, then why die at its hands at all? Just take your own lives now, because you don’t deserve to keep living like this. Every one of you would just become dead weight."

Then he paused, and let his words settle in before continuing.

But if even a shred of pride, a shred of self-belief still exists in you, then pick up your weapons. Hold your ground. Fight. Even if death is written for us in the end, none of us have to die like cowards."

When he finished, Carlos drew both hands from his pockets. Behind him, small points of red light began igniting across the air, one after another, each one coalescing into a burning fireball, orbiting slowly behind him. At the same time, a dark violet light began to crackle to life between his palms. He spoke again.

"And I say we fight. And if it comes to it, we die with honor. Not like cowards."