Banished Divinity: Learning to be Human

(One month before Exams)

The lecture hall was quiet, and it was a rare and wonderful thing that it was empty.

Human Sera floated beside me, her form bright, her smile wide as she tapped an imaginary pointer against the massive whiteboard at the front of the room. I sat in the third row, surrounded by scattered notebooks, energy drink cans, and the distinct smell of early-morning focus. We had arrived two hours before the first scheduled class, determined to make the most of the silence.

"Okay, try again," Human Sera said, her voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "The 'Four Ps' aren't just for the exam. They're for life."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Product, Price, Place, Promotion. I know. But the textbook's example about elasticity of demand in a monopoly market is what's killing me."

"That's because you're thinking like a celestial being," she teased. "Stop trying to will the market into equilibrium and start thinking like a broke university student. If the only coffee shop on campus tripled its prices, what would you do?"

"Summon a thunderbolt on their roof."

Human Sera laughed, a clear, bright sound. "Wrong. Try again."

"You'd walk the extra ten minutes to the café off-campus and find a cheaper coffee."

"Yes! That's elasticity. See? You knew it." Human Sera smiled.

I leaned back, a genuine smile touching my lips. It was strange. The celestial powers Moo Moo had blessed me with usually hummed with the energy of the cosmos, but for the last few weeks, he had focused them inward. With a careful diet of replicated textbooks, his little green fluffy belly had glowed faintly, his antennae pulsing as he "digested" the information and zapped the core concepts directly into my long-term memory. It wasn't cheating. It was… efficient studying. I made a mental note to buy him a tiny graduation cap.

"You did it," Human Sera said, floating down to sit on the edge of the desk across from me. Her pride was palpable, a warm wave that washed over my tired mind. "You actually did it. The practice exam are coming soon. You are so going to pass and keep your scholarship."

A weight I didn't know I was carrying lifted from my shoulders.

"You're going to make Mum and Dad proud," she continued, her voice softening. "You're going to walk across that stage and—"

She stopped.

The heavy door at the back of the lecture hall clicked open.

Yuna walked in.

She was alone this time. No friends. No backup. Just her, in her expensive cashmere sweater and perfectly ironed trousers, her face arranged in an expression that was trying very hard to be confident and not quite succeeding. She was the same age as Human Sera—but in this moment, with her hands clenched at her sides and her jaw tight, she looked younger. She looked like a child who had been told she could have anything she wanted and had never learned that some things were not hers to take.

Human Sera tensed beside me, her form flickering with a protective static. "Sera—"

"I see her," I said quietly, closing my notebook.

Yuna stopped a few feet away. Her eyes flicked to the empty seat beside me, then back to my face. She was looking for something. Fear, maybe. Or weakness. Or the same girl she had ambushed in the art room, who had curled up on the floor and let herself be kicked.

She wouldn't find her.

"We need to talk," Yuna said.

I looked at her. At the expensive clothes, the perfect hair, the carefully constructed mask of confidence that was cracking at the edges. "We can talk here."

"No." Her voice was sharp. "In private."

I didn't move. "This is private. It's just me alone. And I'm not stupid. I'm not getting jumped twice."

Something flickered in Yuna's eyes. Something that might have been surprise, or frustration, or the first stirrings of respect. "Suit yourself."

She raised her hand.

The door opened again. Five girls filed in. I recognized them. Not their faces—I had been on the floor, in the dark, and I hadn't seen them clearly. But I remembered their laughter. Their giggles. The sound of their shoes on the floor as they circled me, as they kicked, as they left me broken and bleeding on the cold linoleum of the art room.

"Shit," Human Sera breathed. "There's five of them, Sera. Are you sure you can—"

"I am a celestial being," I said, and I stood up. "I do not lose."

One of the girls tried to sneak behind me. I saw her coming from the corner of my eye, her fist already raised for a cheap shot to the back of my head.

And then something surged inside me.

It wasn't a thought. It wasn't a decision. It was pure, liquid energy—like the blessing from Moo Moo, but different. It felt older. It flooded my limbs, sharpened my vision, and made the air around me feel thin and electric. My body moved before my mind could catch up.

I ducked. Her fist sailed over my shoulder, whistling through empty air. I pivoted on my left foot, my right leg sweeping low. Her ankles were knocked out from under her, and she hit the floor with a stunned thud.

The other four froze.

I didn't.

I felt their movements before they made them—a twitch of a shoulder, a shift of weight, an intake of breath. It was like reading a slow, clumsy language. I stepped into the next girl's punch, deflecting her arm with the outside of my forearm, and used her own momentum to spin her around. A firm push sent her stumbling into the desks.

Another came at me with a wild kick. I sidestepped, caught her foot, and simply held it there. She hopped on one leg, off-balance, her face a mask of shock. "Put me down, you freak!" she shrieked.

I tilted my head. "No."

I let go gently, and she fell back into a chair.

My body wasn't fast. Not like a celestial being's true speed. It was… mortal. Efficient. The body of the original Sera suddenly remembered how to move: the snap of a redirecting block, the economy of motion in a hip throw, the precise angle needed to turn an opponent's force against them. It was like riding a bicycle for a soul that had been away for too long.

Within a minute, they were on the floor. Coughing, gasping, staring at me with eyes that were no longer confident, no longer mocking, no longer anything but afraid.

I stood in the middle of the room. My heart was pounding. My breath was coming fast. My hands were trembling, not from fear, but from the aftershock of that strange, borrowed energy.

Human Sera materialized right in front of my face, her mouth agape. "Sera. Sera. Where in the world did that come from?"

"I don't know," I breathed, looking down at my own steady hands. "It wasn't… it wasn't the celestial power. I don't know."

Human Sera stared at me for a long, silent moment. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with dawning admiration—like a superfan with glossy eyes, the kind of look Moo Moo gets when he cries, but with pure glee shining through.

"Huh," she whispered, a strange, wondering smile touching her lips. "Maybe you weren't as helpless as I thought. And you actually kicked their asses now. I should have learned some self-defence to kick their backs. The satisfaction would be AWE-SOME!"

I looked at her. At the ghost who was still here, still watching, still waiting. "They beat you before? Why didn't you fight them?"

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, very softly, "I was scared. I was always scared. Of being seen. Of being noticed. Of being the kind of person who fought back and then had to deal with what came after. Because of family situation and scholarships… many reasons." She looked up. Her eyes were bright. "You're not scared."

"No," I said. "I'm not."

She smiled. It was a real smile. "Good. Don't start."

I turned to face Yuna. She was standing by the door, her face pale, her hands clenched at her sides so hard her knuckles were white.

"You," I said.

She flinched.

"I don't know what you expected," I said, walking toward her. My footsteps echoed in the silent lecture hall. "I don't know what you thought would happen. But this is over. Do you understand? It's over."

Yuna's jaw tightened. "You think this is over? I'll go to the director. I'll tell them you attacked us. I'll tell them you—"

"Tell them." I stopped a foot away from her. She couldn't move. "Tell them whatever you want. But I have witnesses. I have friends. I have—" I gestured back at the groaning girls behind me. "—the truth. And the truth is that you have come after me before. Not once, not twice, but many times. And now, I fought back."

Yuna stared at me. Her face was doing something I hadn't seen before. Something that looked like fear. Something that looked like the first crack in the armour that had been protecting her for a very long time.

"You'll regret this," she whispered.

"No," I said, and I meant it with every fibre of my borrowed, blessed, and now battle-tested body. "I won't."

Before she could respond, the door opened again.

Minjae—Gate-Rammer, as I had privately nicknamed him—stepped in. He was so tall that he had to duck slightly under the doorframe. He looked around at the scattered desks, the groaning girls, and Yuna's frozen figure. Then he whistled low.

"Wow," he said, crossing his arms. "What happened here?"

He bent down slightly to look at Yuna, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Hmm… You got your ass kicked? Or should I say your minions got their asses kicked? You always ask them to do the dirty work?"

Yuna lifted her chin, her voice trembling with forced dignity. "I am the victim here, and so are my friends. She—" She pointed a shaking finger at me. "—she is the one who hit us. I will report her. And you are my witness. As you can see, my friends are hurt and she is not."

Minjae scratched his chin thoughtfully.

I watched him closely. The male specimens seemed to do that a lot, I had noticed. Dad did it. Professor Kang did it. Now this Gate-Rammer. Did they have some kind of magic whereby they scratched their chins and then some form of blessing from the heavens appeared? I made a mental note: Celestial Observation Log #62 — Male specimens scratch their chins when thinking. No miracles observed yet. Further investigation required.

"Well," Minjae said finally, his grin widening. "From what I see… five girls against one. Sounds like you got your ass kicked and your daddy can't help you with that."

He laughed. It was not a normal laugh. It sounded… evil. Oh. Was he possessed? *Celestial Observation Log #63 — Gate-Rammer, after scratching his chin, performed an evil laugh. Fascinating. Possibly demonic. Will monitor.*

Yuna turned a deep shade of red. She snapped her fingers at her friends, who scrambled to their feet. "Let's go," she hissed.

Their footsteps echoed down the corridor, their voices rising in a chorus of excuses and blame.

Minjae waved cheerfully at their retreating backs. "Bye, girls! Hope your insurance covers bruised egos!"

The door slammed.