Sorin moved on, explaining his next power: Finder of Secrets (The Eye of Discernment). He described how this ability allowed him to see through deception and uncover hidden truths. “Since my encounter with Wuthum,” Sorin added, “I’ve also gained the ability to temporarily pierce illusions. Although I cannot really demonstrate this ability as we have no illusions nor the time for me to study something long enough to find a secret about it.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. “Illusion-breaking and ferreting out secrets? That could be crucial against those who use trickery in battle. Keep developing that.”
Next, Sorin called upon The Essence of Vesperos (Shadow Control). He extended his hand, drawing upon the shadows cast by the walls around them. The darkness responded to his will, forming simple constructs—shapes and tendrils of shadow that coiled and shifted in his grasp. Though the constructs were basic at this stage, Sorin knew they would grow more intricate and powerful as he gained strength.
Zane watched closely. “A common, but useful skill. It's called the Essence of Vesperos for a reason. All followers of Vesperos have Shadow Control and it's our bread and butter when it comes to combat. The ability to manipulate shadows can create opportunities others wouldn’t expect.”
Finally, Sorin showcased Eternal Twilight. He closed his eyes, channeling the essence of Vesperos, and the training ground was suddenly plunged into an oppressive twilight. Shadows swirled around them, distorting the space and making it difficult to see or move clearly. The area within the twilight became a realm of darkness under Sorin’s control, where vision was obscured and movements became sluggish, as though reality itself was being warped by the shadows.
Zane stepped through the darkness, visibly able to pierce the veil. “This...” he muttered, clearly impressed. “This is powerful. A domain skill at this level is rare. You’ll be able to manipulate entire battlefields once you’ve mastered it and grown in strength.”
Sorin released the spell, and the twilight faded, returning the courtyard to normal. He stood before Zane, breathing slightly heavier from the exertion but feeling a sense of pride in the abilities he had demonstrated.
Zane gave Sorin an appraising look after witnessing his abilities. “This is an incredibly good powerset to start with,” Zane said, nodding in approval. “Vesperos has certainly blessed you, Sorin. It’s clear that your abilities are spread out across several of his domains—stealthy, versatile, hard to pin down. It doesn’t lead to any particular group that follows Vesperos, which makes sense, given that you’ve got his blood in your veins.”
Zane began pacing, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve got Shadow Control, which aligns with the Shadowbound Disciples, the muscle of Vesperos’s followers. Your Finder of Secrets power echoes the Cult of Secrets, and your Echoes of Fear brings to mind The Fearful Brotherhood. Most people who follow Vesperos lean into one of those three domains—Fear, Darkness, or Secrets—but you’ve got access to all of them.”
Zane stopped pacing and looked directly at Sorin. “It’s rare to see such a spread of abilities. My brother Magnus and I were firmly in the Shadowbound Disciples—all about control over darkness and shadow manipulation. That’s where the heavy-hitters tend to come from, those who fight on the front lines. But your abilities cover all of Vesperos’s aspects. In a way, you’re more versatile than Magnus or I ever were.”
Sorin absorbed Zane’s words, feeling a strange sense of both pride and responsibility. It was becoming clearer just how unique his powers were, yet the burden of expectation grew with it.
Zane then crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Though, if I’m being honest—and no offense, Sorin—I expected something… stronger, given your heritage. The legends of Demigods paint them as walking powerhouses. Your ability set is impressive, but it’s more spread out and diverse than I thought it would be.”
Sorin shook his head, unbothered by the observation. “No offense taken. The thing about Demigods is that we aren’t locked into just one path like a normal follower. I can learn all the powers Vesperos bestows upon his followers, as long as I reach a high enough Rank to handle them.”
Zane raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “You mean to tell me that you could learn the powers of any follower of Vesperos—my powers included?”
Sorin nodded. “In theory, yes. I am limited to how many powers I can learn or possess based on my Rank. If I’m strong enough, I could learn the abilities and spells of the Shadowbound Disciples, the Cult of Secrets, and even the Fearful Brotherhood. A Demigod’s strength comes from this faucet of them. I will say I do not know what my limits are. Maybe I can only learn a single additional power everytime I ascend.”
Zane’s face broke into a wide grin, and then he began to laugh—a deep, booming sound that echoed through the training ground. “Well, that explains it, then. No wonder Demigods have always been so feared in history. You’d be a walking arsenal of power, able to adapt to any situation.” He rubbed his chin, still smiling at the implications. “If you can learn the powers of the followers of Vesperos around you, that would certainly justify why they’re so dangerous.”
Zane’s laughter faded, and his expression turned serious again. “Then we’ll waste no time. If you can learn what I know, I’ll teach you my strongest powers. We’ll meet here every day for training, and we’ll do everything we can to increase your capabilities.”
Sorin’s eyes lit up with eagerness at the thought of accelerating his growth. “I’m ready to learn,” he said.
Zane grinned again but then added in a gruff tone, “Don’t hold back, Sorin. I expect you to give this everything you’ve got. We need you at your best if we’re going to survive what’s coming.”
Sorin nodded eagerly, though he kept one secret to himself. He neglected to tell Zane about what Wuthum had said—the possibility that upon reaching the Rank of Disciple, Sorin might develop an additional power, something beyond even what Vesperos’s followers typically possessed. Wuthum had mentioned that this power was always kept hidden by Demigods, a trump card that could turn the tide in their favor. It was something Sorin would have to figure out on his own when the time came.
Zane glanced up at the darkening sky and waved Sorin off. “That’s enough for today. Get some rest, eat, and be ready to work tomorrow. I look forward to seeing what we can accomplish together.”
Sorin nodded and gave a respectful bow before leaving the training ground. He made his way back to the mess hall, grabbing a simple meal from the buffet. After eating, he spent some time doing cardio and strength training in an empty training ground, pushing his body beyond the limits set by his classes earlier that day. He needed to stay sharp physically, not just rely on his powers.
Once his body was thoroughly exhausted, Sorin returned to his dorm room. Vestian greeted him with a sleepy squawk before curling up on his spot on the bedpost. Sorin laid down on the bed, letting the weight of the day’s training and Zane’s words settle in his mind.
The path ahead was steep, but Sorin knew that with Zane’s guidance and his Demigod heritage, he had the potential to rise to heights he hadn’t yet dreamed of. With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Over the next few weeks, Sorin settled into life at Warbringer Academy. The dorms had become a second home, and Sorin found himself engaging in the rough, rowdy atmosphere, even participating in the wrestling matches that seemed to break out at random throughout the halls. He quickly found that it wasn’t just a way to blow off steam—it was how the students bonded, testing each other’s strength and endurance in a friendly but competitive environment.
Sorin’s circle of friends grew strong during this time, especially with Diego, Tytus, and Jackson. The four of them began to form a tight-knit group, sharing meals, training together in the evenings, and attending some of the same classes. Each of them had their own strengths and quirks, and Sorin found himself learning as much from their friendship as he did from his formal training.
Sorin had grown particularly close to Diego Fenton, the quiet and somewhat mysterious boy who wielded a scythe. Diego was a follower of Grimm, the God of Reaping Souls and delivering them to the Afterlife. He came from a legacy tied to Warbringer Academy—his mother, Johanna Fenton, was Zane Warbringer’s secretary, and his father, a former graduate of the academy, was now an instructor, though he only taught Disciple Ranked students. As a result, Diego had grown up in Cestead, the City of Academies, always knowing that he was destined to attend the very place where his father once trained.
Diego was an interesting character. He was typically quiet and polite, but he had a way of dropping unsettling comments about death that left others a little unnerved—except for Sorin and their close friends, who had grown used to it. It wasn’t that Diego was morbid, but his worldview, shaped by his devotion to Grim, was deeply intertwined with death.
Sorin recalled one instance during a sparring session when Diego, after disarming his opponent, remarked calmly, “Life is fleeting, you know. It’s funny how fragile it all is. One day, all of us will be walking through the Fields of Twilight, no longer worrying about these little battles.”
To an outsider, it might have seemed morbid, but to Diego, it was simply a fact of existence, and the rest of them had learned to roll with it. Tytus and Jackson, both more light-hearted in their demeanor, had taken to calling Diego the “Grim Reaper” as a joke, which Diego never seemed to mind to him; it was a compliment.
Despite his quiet nature, Diego had a sharp mind and was a precise fighter. The scythe, a weapon not often seen in the academy, was an extension of his devotion to Grimm. Watching him wield it was almost like watching a dance—each sweeping arc of the blade was deliberate, controlled, and lethal.
Diego’s calm presence balanced out the group’s more energetic members, particularly Jackson, whose antics often kept the rest of them on their toes. Together, they formed a powerful team, training and pushing each other to become stronger, both in combat and in their respective powers.
Sorin appreciated Diego’s company during their training sessions, and over time, they had grown to understand one another on a deeper level. Though Diego’s connection to death seemed distant from Sorin’s own connection to Vesperos, the two shared a quiet respect for the darker aspects of life—the shadows that loomed in the background of their existence.
On the other hand, Tytus Guvester, a loud and boisterous character, was one of the most vibrant members of the group. He was a follower of Tremor, the God of Natural Disasters, and his magic aligned with the raw, untamed forces of nature—powerful and destructive. Tytus had once been a part of Stormhold Academy, which specialized in elemental magic, a place where he seemed to fit perfectly. However, his time there had been cut short after he got into a fight with a well-connected student over a girl.
Tytus was from a wealthy family, though they had little influence outside of their small circle in Cestead. Despite his background, Tytus never hesitated to share stories of how his tendency to flirt and pursue romantic interests had gotten him into trouble. He had a tremendous flirtatious streak, his loud and cheery personality making him a hit with many of the female Acolytes and Disciples at Warbringer Academy. In fact, Sorin had witnessed more than one physical confrontation between girls vying for Tytus’s attention—a sight that surprised Sorin, given the intensity of the scuffles.
Tytus had a natural charisma that made him impossible to dislike, and his light-hearted, carefree attitude often helped relieve tension in the group. He always seemed to be in high spirits, even when things weren’t going his way. Despite the more serious nature of the academy, Tytus seemed to navigate it with a mix of charm and brute force. When it came to combat, however, Tytus was no slouch. His powers, tied to Tremor’s domain, allowed him to wield the raw elements, creating powerful blasts of wind, earth, and lightning. It was like watching a natural disaster in human form when he fought, his elemental magic unpredictable and wild.
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Then there was Jackson Hughes, an anomaly at Warbringer Academy. As a follower of Caligo, the God of Lies and Illusion, Jackson’s abilities were more suited to deception than outright combat. But what made Jackson truly stand out was his almost complete aversion to fighting. At an academy designed to prepare young warriors for war, Jackson’s tendency to run from conflict was an unusual sight.
Jackson openly admitted that his father, frustrated with his refusal to fight, had sent him to Warbringer Academy far to the north, hoping that the school would toughen him up. But Jackson’s approach was the opposite—he focused on avoiding conflict at all costs, much to the chagrin of his combat instructors.
Despite this, Jackson was incredibly funny and quick-witted, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. He had a way of making even the most intense training sessions feel a little less serious, and though he complained relentlessly about the physical demands of the academy, he always managed to make it through—sometimes by sheer luck, sometimes by cleverness.
Jackson’s illusions, however, were nothing short of impressive. Despite his reluctance to engage in direct combat, his magical prowess was undeniable. Sorin had been fooled countless times by Jackson’s tricks. Whether it was making objects disappear and reappear or casting elaborate false images, Jackson’s illusions were masterful. Sorin vividly remembered one instance during lunch when Jackson made his apple appear to vanish from the table, only for it to reappear elsewhere—though in reality, the apple had never moved at all. Jackson loved playing these kinds of pranks, and while they were often frustrating, they also kept Sorin on his toes.
Together, Sorin, Diego, Tytus, and Jackson formed a well-rounded group. Diego brought quiet strength and precision, Tytus was a force of nature with his elemental powers, and Jackson was the trickster, able to manipulate the surroundings with his illusions. Sorin found himself growing fond of their dynamic, even if Jackson’s antics sometimes tested his patience.
Life at the academy was intense, but having a solid group of friends made it easier. Sorin knew that as the weeks passed, he was getting stronger, both through Zane’s training and the camaraderie he shared with Diego, Tytus, and Jackson. They had each come from different places, with different Gods they worshiped and different goals, but they were united in their desire to grow stronger.
Over the weeks at Warbringer Academy, Sorin had been working hard, not just in his classes and with his friends, but especially in his daily training with Zane Warbringer. Zane had taken it upon himself to teach Sorin everything he knew, attempting to pass down the powerful abilities that came with being an Exarch Ranked Shadowbound Disciple. Every afternoon, Sorin met with Zane at his private training ground, and together, they pushed Sorin to his limits.
It was grueling work. Sorin knew that learning new powers, especially ones outside of his natural inclination, would be incredibly difficult. Still, they had persisted, driven by the knowledge that Sorin’s potential as a Demigod was vast. Each session had a clear goal: to help Sorin master powers similar to Zane’s and grow into the force he needed to be for the looming war.
Their attempts to teach Sorin new powers hadn’t borne much fruit yet, but neither of them had expected immediate results. Learning an entirely new power wasn’t something that could be done overnight, even for a Demigod. The complexities of mastering magic tied to the God of Darkness, Fear, and Secrets without divine guidance that came from Ascending in Rank made it all the more challenging.
Zane had been patient but demanding. He pushed Sorin to keep refining his existing abilities, emphasizing how important it was to fully master his current skillset before trying to take on new powers. They worked extensively on Sorin’s control over shadows and his combat techniques, mixing physical training with magic. Zane believed that once Sorin had an unshakable foundation, the more advanced skills would follow naturally. Perhaps a deeper understanding of spells and abilities would allow for Sorin to learn other powers.
Sorin, though tired from the relentless pace of their training, remained motivated. He knew that each session, even if it didn’t result in a breakthrough, brought him one step closer to realizing his full potential. Zane had a wealth of experience, and Sorin trusted him, knowing that his mentor was preparing him not just for the battles ahead, but for his eventual rise in power as a Demigod.
Despite the challenges, Sorin found the process rewarding. The sheer intensity of their training had sharpened his focus and honed his body and mind. He could feel himself growing stronger, even if the new powers still eluded him. Zane had been clear that the path to greatness was never easy, but Sorin had the advantage of time and determination on his side. And so, day after day, Sorin returned to the training ground, ready to push himself further, knowing that eventually, the breakthrough would come.
Sorin had been thinking about Torrid ever since the incident that had left the massive, muscular student isolated from his usual group of friends. It had all started with the prank that exposed Torrid's intense fear of birds—a fear that Sorin had unintentionally brought to light when Vestian, his familiar, had attacked Torrid in their earlier confrontation. While Vestian wasn’t a typical bird, the prank that followed—where some of the other students had put actual birds in Torrid’s room—had left Torrid terrified. The scene had played out in front of several witnesses, and the once-respected powerhouse had become the subject of ridicule.
Despite Torrid’s immense physical strength and reputation as a formidable fighter, his fear of birds had caused a dramatic shift in how the other students treated him. Sorin could tell that Torrid’s pride had taken a huge hit, and though Torrid’s abrasive personality and earlier behavior hadn’t exactly made him likable, Sorin still felt bad about the situation. The dorms were rough, and no one deserved to be completely isolated over something as trivial as a phobia.
That morning, weeks after the incident, Sorin decided it was time to make amends. He spotted Torrid sitting alone at a table in the mess hall, his hulking figure hunched over his tray of food. Sorin could tell that Torrid wasn’t used to the silence, having once been surrounded by friends and admirers. It didn’t sit right with Sorin, so he made up his mind.
After grabbing his breakfast, Sorin walked over to Torrid’s table. He could feel the eyes of the other students on him, their curiosity piqued by his bold move. Torrid glanced up at Sorin as he approached, his expression unreadable, but there was a flash of recognition—and perhaps resentment—in his eyes.
“Torrid,” Sorin began, trying to keep his tone neutral but friendly. “Why don’t you come sit with us? Diego, Jackson, Tytus, and I have a spot at our table.”
Torrid stared at Sorin for a long moment, clearly taken aback by the offer. His eyes flickered with suspicion, and for a moment, Sorin thought Torrid might refuse out of pride or embarrassment. The tension in the air was palpable, and Sorin could sense that Torrid wasn’t used to accepting help, especially after the way things had gone down.
“Why?” Torrid asked bluntly, his voice gruff. “What’s in it for you?”
Sorin shrugged. “Nothing. I just don’t think you should have to sit by yourself because of some stupid prank. We all have our fears. And anyway,” Sorin added with a small grin, “you’re a good fighter. I figured you’d fit right in.”
Torrid’s eyes narrowed, clearly trying to gauge whether Sorin was being sincere or mocking him. But after a few moments, he let out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Fine,” he muttered, standing up from his table with his tray. “But if this is some kind of joke…”
“It’s not,” Sorin assured him.
Together, they walked over to the table where Diego, Jackson, and Tytus were already sitting. Jackson, as usual, was mid-sentence in a story, animatedly gesturing with a piece of bread in his hand. When he saw Torrid approaching with Sorin, Jackson’s eyes widened in mock horror.
“Oh no, not my best friend Torrid!” Jackson exclaimed with exaggerated sarcasm. “I’m doomed!”
Tytus chuckled, while Diego simply raised an eyebrow, his expression as calm and unbothered as ever.
Sorin gave Jackson a light shove, smiling. “Cut it out, Jackson.”
Torrid, despite his earlier hesitation, seemed to relax slightly in the presence of the group’s banter. He sat down next to Sorin, his large frame taking up most of the bench. For a moment, there was an awkward silence as everyone adjusted to the new dynamic.
Diego broke the silence with a simple statement. “It’s good to have another strong arm at the table,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “Strength in numbers and all that.”
Tytus grinned and clapped Torrid on the back. “You’re a legend around here, man. No reason to sit alone.”
Torrid grunted but didn’t protest. He seemed to be taking in the fact that, despite everything, they weren’t treating him with pity or mockery. He picked up his fork and resumed eating in silence, but the tension in his posture had eased.
Jackson, never one to stay quiet for long, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “So, Torrid, I hear you’re not a fan of birds, huh?” Before Torrid could respond, Jackson waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I hate spiders. They have too many legs. Who needs that many legs?”
Torrid, to Sorin’s surprise, actually let out a small chuckle at Jackson’s ridiculousness. It was clear that Jackson’s ability to make light of any situation had its intended effect.
The conversation slowly picked up, and before long, Torrid had become part of their usual banter. Sorin felt a sense of relief. He hadn’t been sure how Torrid would react, but he was glad he’d reached out. Torrid might not have been perfect, but everyone deserved a second chance. And with the bonds of brotherhood being forged in the academy, Sorin knew that having Torrid with them could only strengthen their group further.
As the group settled into their meal, Vestian came swooping down from across the mess hall, letting out a loud squawk as he landed on Sorin’s shoulder. The familiar had been darting around the hall, scavenging for scraps from unsuspecting students, as was his usual habit. His sudden arrival startled Torrid, who jolted backward in his seat, almost knocking over his tray in the process. The massive man quickly tried to leave the bench, his face a mix of surprise and fear.
Sorin, noticing Torrid’s reaction, raised his hand calmly. “Whoa, easy,” Sorin said, trying to soothe Torrid. “Vestian does that to everyone. No need to be afraid.”
Torrid, still wide-eyed, glanced between Sorin and the small, scaled familiar, clearly uneasy. Sorin turned to Vestian and scolded him. “Vestian, stop scaring people,” Sorin said firmly. The familiar squawked in protest but stayed perched on Sorin’s shoulder.
Turning back to Torrid, Sorin offered a reassuring smile. “Here, try this. Hold out a piece of your lunch for him.”
Torrid hesitated, still unsure, but after a moment, he cautiously tore off a small piece of bread and held it out. Vestian cocked his head to the side, eyeing the offering, and then slowly leaned forward to take it from Torrid’s hand. This time, Vestian behaved, calmly and gently nibbling the bread. Torrid watched in surprise, his muscles still tense, but after a few moments, he relaxed.
“See?” Sorin said, smiling. “He’s not so bad. Just a bit mischievous.”
Torrid let out a slow breath and nodded. Sorin then encouraged him further. “Go ahead, give him a little pet.”
Torrid initially protested, muttering something about not being great with animals, but after a little nudge from Sorin and some good-natured teasing from Jackson, Torrid tentatively reached out and patted Vestian’s head. The familiar chirped in contentment, and Torrid visibly relaxed for the first time since Vestian had appeared.
"Not so bad, huh?" Sorin said with a grin.
Torrid gave a small smile. “Yeah… I guess not.”
The others immediately broke into a small round of cheers and laughter, clearly enjoying the moment. Torrid, despite his earlier reservations, couldn’t help but smile too. The group had successfully managed to break through his fear, and it felt like a victory for all of them.
From that point on, Torrid started spending more time with Sorin, Diego, Tytua, and Jackson. He became a regular in their training sessions and hangouts, quickly meshing with the group despite the rough start. Torrid’s strength, both physical and in his spirit cultivation, made him a valuable addition to their training. He was especially useful in sparring matches, where his sheer size and power often pushed the others to their limits.
At first, Jackson’s pranks—particularly his illusions—frustrated Torrid to no end. Jackson would often play tricks on him, making his massive broadsword disappear in the middle of a fight or creating fake birds that would appear out of nowhere. But over time, Torrid learned to take the pranks in stride, and soon enough, he started laughing along with the rest of them when Jackson’s antics struck. Though Torrid never fully got over his discomfort with birds, he no longer let it get to him, and Vestian even became a familiar sight perched near him during their meals.
As they trained together, the group learned more about Torrid’s background. Torrid was a scholarship student, his parents mortal farmers who lived outside the city. Growing up, Torrid hadn’t received a formal education, but his size and latent ability to cultivate spirit had caught the attention of a recruiter. With the encouragement of his family, Torrid had applied for a scholarship to Warbringer Academy, where his physical prowess earned him a spot.
Unlike some of the other students, Torrid didn’t come from wealth or nobility, and his time at the academy had been challenging, both in terms of fitting in and keeping up with the more academically trained students. But now, with the support of his new friends, he began to feel like he truly belonged when compared with the time where he had to fight every second to maintain his place among his peers. Sorin, Diego, Tytus, and Jackson welcomed him without judgment about his background, and Torrid, in turn, added a magnitude to the group that they hadn’t possessed before.