*************

Heath Caldwell

The early morning air of August threatens the heat of the upcoming day, but I am too dazed by the grand structure before me to focus on any of that. I am finally here, the only school in the world that can promise Angelhood to its graduates.

Heartsword Academy. The home of Angels, Archangels, Demigods, and even a lone man who can match the Gods.

Grand stone gates, rising hundreds of feet into the sky, mark the entrance to my new home, standing tall and proud with intricate carvings and glistening in the morning sun. The main building is akin to a sprawling castle, with towers reaching towards the heavens and stained glass windows casting colorful patterns on the ground below.

The distant chime of bells fills the air, accompanied by a rush of students heading toward orientation. I watch them pass as a gentle breeze rustles through the trees behind me, carrying the anticipation for the day. My hand tightens at my hip, where my sword lies.

At the touch of my blade, I release a sly smile, thinking of my sister. Summer inherited our father’s gun skills, so she is training with Aunt Elizabeth and her own burgeoning school, hoping to compete with the Heartsword. As for me…

I am awful with firearms. I hate the smells, the noise, and the clunkiness. Claymores, however, are much more my style. Everything about them just feels so… smooth. More than that, though, I’ve been told countless times that I’m talented with them. No, more than that. Mother has praised me for fighting like a man she once knew quite well.

And it was that very same man who let me enter without any tests or qualifications. But I don’t want that. It feels… wrong. Especially because… there are others enrolling that I want to match. I won’t be beneath them.

I have to… I have to be the best. Why? Because only the best can beat my sister. And she’s far too full of herself. The oldest has to knock the other down now and then, even if our clocks are only a few seconds off.

But as I stand here in thought, someone collides with my shoulder. I step to the side, rebounding slightly from the impact, as I see a girl who invokes a bizarre sense of familiarity.

Her locks of gold hair spread all the way down to her hips, not tied up in the slightest or worried about how they may affect her in combat. For a moment, a brief moment, I assume her to be one of the many who will be disqualified and kicked out early, but her eyes inform me otherwise.

They are brilliant spheres of fire. And almost inversely, they send a shiver down my spine.

A light smile greets me with an apology, but I don’t even register the latter before she is gone. More bodies swarm, stranding me alone and without any sight of the peculiar woman.

Who was that? I don’t know, but I could swear I’ve seen her somewhere.

Shrugging, I finally decide to stride forward as the bells of the academy ring louder, announcing that orientation is about to begin. Not wanting to miss it or the Trials afterward, I hurry along with many other students.

Countless voices share words, but I don’t join in as we file through and enter the main halls and are directed to a massive auditorium. Thousands of seats fill up in minutes, and I sit beside a particular pair of chatty people. A male Bado and a female demon who are far more sociable than me. Again, this is another trait that sets me and Summer apart. I’d rather swing my sword all day long than go socialize for an hour.

Summer? She doesn’t need to train nearly as much as me. Her hands move those Colts as if guided by a Divinity.

“Woah? Isn’t this place incredible, Hora? I could fly in here! If my wings were that strong yet…”

A burst of laughter from this ‘Hora’, whose face is covered in spike-like needles, almost pierces past the cacophony around us.

“They’ll get there! Why else are we here? For fifteen years, this place has been the best! We just need to make it the full six years!”

I squint my eyes as I hear their ‘enthusiasm’. Are they aiming for all six years?

How… mediocre. Sure, you can take all six years to reach the Angelic realm, but that is… slow. I want to do it in two at most. That would set a new record for the academy. I believe the current is held by a Tiranus, a talented demon who was taken in by one of the Headmasters for training, who did it in two and a half.

These two are just aiming not to be kicked out. A diploma from a first or second year, while influential, isn’t quite the same as a third for four years. Now, the fifth years who nearly graduated are wanted everywhere while the actual graduates…

My eyes rise to the stands above as the seats are now full.

The four Headmasters empty out from the side of the stage with a row of seven students behind them. From here, I feel the Ether emanating from them. While I might not have a Sigil yet, Mother did teach me how to sense it. Otherwise… I’d never gain a Sigil.

And those seven aren’t hiding anything. They are all Angels. Powerful. So strong. Maybe even stronger than Mother. Beside the Headmasters, though, they almost pale in comparison as the Archangels practically glow with a blinding radiance.

Still… I know that while they are more powerful than Mother, Father could have handled them. Maybe even all at once. My eyes squint in shock as the tallest Headmaster, a Nahullo woman, speaks to the whole population of expectant students.

“Hello all. I am Anodra, Headmaster Of Steel. We have over ten thousand of you this year. I believe before tomorrow when classes are administered, we will have less than a hundred. Now, that is not to demoralize you. That should, if you are meant to be here, excite you. The Heartsword Academy is home not to the strongest in the world but to those who wish to be. Every soul here reaches for strength. Endlessly. Some flaunted their all because of a need to be respected. Some do it for others. Some are simply selfish and wish to be unrivaled. Whatever the reason. You will find it today.”

A torrent of information settles into my mind, and I nod along, feeling as though this is exactly what I wanted. I want to be strong. I want to live up to my father’s legacy. I want… I want to see the universe and all that it holds.

I’ve heard stories from Uncle Wyatt, but nothing is truly the same as bearing witness to the planets and planes beyond. Beyond that all, though, I want to be the best with the blade, just as my father was with a gun.

Still, the Headmasters are not done. Another one steps up, introducing their deathly paleness and those behind them.

“Yes, Anodra speaks true. I am Plilial, Headmaster Of Death. Today, you will all enter the Heartsword Trial. If you do not have a Sigil, you will gain one. If you do, it will be tested. If it does not fit you, we will remove it and provide a more suitable one. Behind me are the graduates of last year—seven brilliant young men and women. Their class began with five hundred. I hope to see many of you in our halls for years to come.”

A third Headmaster immediately follows up after Plilal, waving their arms out excitedly. Their short stature belies their race quite easily as a Pygmy.

“Indeed. And I am Gweren, Headmaster Of Cunning. And today will be the start of it all. Shortly, you will all split up for the Trial. Instructions will be given then, but for now, look around. Gauge your competition. Because they are that, your competition. You can have allies, but do be wary of betrayal.”

My eyes flicker to the two beside me and even the empty spot on my other side. The duo gives me a pair of suspicious glances, but I ignore them for now. The last Headmaster, a middle-aged human man with two blades on his back, unveils themselves as the students in the back bow and walk off the stage.

“And I am Hara, the Headmaster Of Misery. Allow me to introduce a special someone. While he was more active in the past decade and has started to pull back from the academy, he is still our President. Students, welcome the man, the myth, the unrivaled swordsman who slew countless Gods and brought the Limitless itself to a draw, Lennon Hull.”

The heart in my chest catches its beat as my breath seizes. It’s not just me, either. A presence descends onto the auditorium, alienating all of us. Most introductions would have applause. This?

There is only silence as an armless human, scarred from head to toe and dressed in loose clothing, calmly strides to the center of the stage. I recognize him from the photos Mother has at home—the group of people who defied the Gods and beat the Mother Below.

This is the man who slayed her. Lennon Hull. He might not be a God. But there is not a God in existence who would be confident in beating him. I know just about everything about him. He’s my idol, after all.

He began this school shortly after the Second Collapse, and it was only due to his severe injuries that he did so. As the years passed, he slowly recovered, and it appears that he is not back to his peak. Or close to it.

After all, why else would he draw back from teaching?

He’s getting along in his years, sure, now in his fifties, but that means little for a master like him. In all my eighteen years, I’ve wanted to meet him. So badly. Mother wouldn’t let me, though.

She said I had to wait. And I understand why. He’s…

“Hello. I hope one of you can kill me. That would, heh, be fun. If you do find such a thing entertaining, well… the sixth year is where you will stop. Now. Where are you, Marigold? If I found out you brought Lily, I’ll send you home myself.”

Insane. Absolutely insane.

But as the golden girl from before stands with a waving smile, I feel a sense of purpose arises within me. Perhaps purpose is the wrong word, but a challenge has been presented. And… I want to surpass the hurdle.

All attention falls on Marigold as her bubbliness counteracts the words shared.

“I didn’t! I promise! Just me! I can’t wait to take your Trial! It sounds so fun!”

The monster in human skin on the stage guffaws, laughing into the ceiling as he is humored by Marigold. Then, to my surprise, he sets a challenge.

“Wonderful. I hope your brother doesn’t believe me to go easy on you. If anyone out there can outperform Marigold Graves, I will take you personally as a student. Now, enjoy your first day. Let’s begin.”

A boo originates from Marigold as she sticks out her tongue and pulls down her radiant eyelids, but Lennon Hull doesn’t care. He chuckles once more before shaking his head and walking away. As he does so, my memory shifts into gear.

Marigold. Graves.

That’s Uncle Wyatt’s sister. I haven’t ever met her as she grew up with Wyatt’s mother, and he himself doesn’t visit all that much. He’s a busy God, after all. Though, from what I’ve seen so far, Marigold might actually be more obnoxious than Lily.

And that… that is a curse worse than death. I won’t worry about beating her. She’s a Graves, after all. No point there.

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Teachers begin to point and usher the students out of their seats, so I stand, following their directions. After a few minutes of walking, I find myself standing, unfortunately, beside the very woman I wished not to see. We’re in line to be sent to our solitary rooms to receive Sigils. Eighteen years old is the requirement for most to be ready. Mother had me wait until then, too. I’m surprised, however, that Marigold did as well. Who knows, though. She is…

“Oh! You again! Sorry about earlier! I’m a bit clumsy, you see. Easily distracted, too. What’s your name? I’m Marigold! Oh! Your sword is so cool! Who made it?”

Overwhelmed by the questions, my hand is taken before I even offer it, being shaken and released. Blinking slowly, I answer her as best as I can.

“Heath. Heath Caldwell. The sword came from Earl Garner.”

Marigold bobs her head up and down, those golden waves moving along with her. Worse yet is the heat flooding her eyes. It’s uncomfortable, but since it doesn’t hurt, I don’t say anything. I just listen to her rambling.

“Oh! Awesome! If I had one, I’m sure it would be, too. My niece’s and nephew’s stuff surely will be! Oh! Would you look at that!? It’s your turn!”

Thank Leviathan herself. A teacher motions for me to walk into a steel-reinforced room. If it were any other place at any other time, I’d be suspicious. But today? Not so much.

I adhere to their instructions, escaping from Marigold and into the solitary room. Here, silence greets me with a pedestal placed in the center. Hearing some of the bits from Mother, I reach out and position my palm on it.

Then, I feel Ether sink into my flesh and whisk my mind into a swirling tunnel of light. Before I know any better, a smoky smell invades my nostrils, and the sound of someone wiping down a glass bottle grabs my attention.

Still, even as I turn my head to the sound, I take in my surroundings—a saloon of some sort. There are a bunch of empty seats. Everything is vacant. Is that where I am? The Saloo—Father!?

Johnny Caldwell, just as I have seen him in photos and paintings, stands behind the bar, cleaning empty glasses. Before I can ask or formulate a thought in response, the figure speaks.

“Welcome, Heath Caldwell, to the Saloon. Give me one moment to finish this. Then, we can find you a Sigil. Ripe with potential, I must say, young man. Congratulations.”

Father praises me as he sets down the items in his hand, walking out from behind the bar. Still starstruck, I simply stand motionless. That is until he wraps an arm around me and pulls me toward the second floor.

“Don’t be scared. This is all to begin your journey. You need a Sigil, no? Come, come.”

Dumbly, I am led into a room on the second story where there are countless swords embedded into a stone floor. There, I feel…

I feel a pull toward one in particular.

“Swords is how your soul envisions Sigils? Not too rare, but yours are of great detail. Let’s see what we’ve got here. The Hourwright? What? That shouldn’t be…”

Father’s exclamation draws my attention as I find a book in his hands, the golden hawk-like eyes peering into it. Regardless, I don’t know what to say or do. This must not be the real Johnny Caldwell. If it were… he’d recognize me, right? Yeah… Yeah… My dad was dead before I was born.

He saved the world—a true… a true soldier.

His confusion comes out as a rambling that hardly makes any sense to me, but I listen nonetheless.

“More Sigils popping up. That’s… Is Limitless causing this? Or is it something else? Hmm… Perhaps he’s too strong and bringing more that we’d never seen before. Or… is he making new ones simply due to his presence? That… sounds more likely.”

I raise a hand to ask a question, finally getting my bearings under me. This isn’t my father. It won’t ever be. This is a construction of some kind. But it is not him.

“What is an Hourwright? Is it good for a swordsman?”

Johnny Caldwell nods meaningfully toward me before striding to the centermost blade in the room, weaving in between the others. Holding an open palm toward the blade with a spinning clock as its handle guard, he explains it to me.

“Yes. It would be good for just about anyone. It’s… very powerful. Time always is. The first Sigil gives its bearer the ability to speed up time for themselves and anything they touch. Fast-forward is the main skill. Beyond that, it passively increases your dexterity and strength. I would recommend taking this, Heath. It has never been seen before. Some people have different Sigils appear, rare ones or common ones, but…”

I catch Johnny’s meaning as we both stare at this blade.

“Power comes with unexpectedness. As the first to wield a Sigil like this… I’d have a massive advantage.”

Beyond that, the Sigil itself speaks to me through the Saloon.

An Hourwright is a child of the Sandy River. They possess golden blood and the boundless potential of time. One cannot anticipate how far they can step into the realms. However, Hourwrights have little defense, so they must be careful, lest they are shoveled into an early grave.

A nodding head settles the deal of the Saloon while offering additional boons.

“Exactly. And rarely does anyone gain access to more Sigils along their path. Limitless can pull whatever Sigil you resonate with for you, but it must exist, and you must resonate with it. Here are two general skills that will go well with this one. Don’t want to overload you, but Adrenaline Surge and Lightfooted would make you a menace in close combat.”

I smile as the possibility of defeating my sister starts to emerge. This… this will be amazing!

Extending my arm, I grasp a hand around the handle of the clockwork blade and pull it from the stone floor. The instant I do, knowledge of how to flow Ether for my skill Fast-forward emerges, and Johnny lays a hand on my shoulder. From there, the other two skills and how their Ether flows enter my mind.

Adrenaline Surge forces the body to reach its limits. Short-term use is only recommended as any more can cause damage and severe exhaustion. Lightfooted reduces the user’s weight and causes them to be swifter and harder to hit. Additional Ether input can increase these effects, but only to a limit.

Adrenaline Surge to enhance my overall body, from senses to speed to strength, and Lightfooted to doubly capitalize on my speed. All in all… with Fast-forward, which doubles the rate of time for me at its current strength, I’ve become immensely more powerful.

Some part of me wonders if I could beat my sister yet, and while I could beat the old her, I’m sure she’s just as affected by a Sigil as me. Another aspect of me thinks of Marigold Graves. Could I surpass her? I don’t know.

But Johnny encourages me and tells me how to return before sending me back into the lights.

“You’ll do great. Come back when you have time. Just meditate and seek your soul. Prayer to yourself will speed it up. Time passes when you do so. Only are the Absolutions different. Go. I can’t wait to see what you’ll become.”

A moment later, I wake up in an open field on a bed of straw. Plucking out the pieces, I find myself to be the first awake among countless rows of unconscious students. That is, barring a certain someone. Marigold grins at me, waving from across the field next to a bunch of teachers.

I walk over to them, careful not to step on anyone, as a tall, burly man congratulates me.

“Nice. Not everyone gets a Sigil. Most do, but to do so quickly means you either have heaps of talent or none at all. Sit. Rest. The Trial is to come.”

Not seeing a reason to fight back against the order, I sit on an open bench, purposefully away from Marigold. The woman doesn’t even appear hurt by my actions, only more intrigued. Ignoring her, I turn to the teacher.

“What’s the Trial?”

The burly man with a label on his chest as Jorge nods with a smile.

“We change it up every year. Each class has to take one, too, to move on—even the sixth-years. For you guys, it’s a battle royale. The battleground? The Academy. All the other classes are out on their Trials, so you will have free reign.”

I raise an eyebrow, bewildered by such a turn of events.

“What do you mean the academy? What if we break something? We are Sigiled now, aren’t we? And what about deaths? Injuries?”

Jorge chuckles and pats me on the head before I can attempt to dodge. Rustling my hair, he forces me to grit my teeth in annoyance.

“Ah, don’t worry about that. You couldn’t break something if you wanted to. Plus, we’ve got countermeasures for injuries. Sure, deaths do happen, but they aren’t that common for first-years. It is the second and thirds that die the most. Fourths know their limits, and so do fifths. The sixth-years, however, are strong enough that they aren’t so easy to kill.”

Shrugging, I just accept what is about to happen and close my eyes, wanting to train with the Ether now originating from the forefront of my brain. It’s better to be prepared physically than mentally. One can always settle one's mind in a fight; after all, they are the best places to focus.

And I do so, receiving some more praise for it.

“Good. Train. Familiarize yourself with Ether. Some of these students were Sigiled before entering. Some are born monsters. Those like us need every second to catch up.”

Streams of Ether flow from my brain and activate each of my three skills, one after another. Quickly, I grow lost in the rhythm. The rivers and coursing creeks that evolve my body momentarily are everything Mother and Uncle Wyatt said they’d be.

Time ceases meaning, even with Fast-forward increasing my perceptions and actions. There are no other descriptions other than I find myself in a new world, and I love every aspect of it.

Suddenly, a hand bonks me on the back of my head. Shaking the dizziness away, I find that same teacher staring down at me.

“Wake up, kid. I let you practice past the introductions. The Trial starts in five.”

I nod to the man in thanks, and I see that the entire field has already been cleared out. There are lingering students, but they are obviously those who are preparing for battle, either with ambushes or some other sort of attack.

As such, I head in the other direction, following the path back to the main building of the academy. Sprinting, I hurry as fast as I can. I even reach for Fast-forward before I feel a burst of Ether saturation burn into me.

Shit. I practiced too much. Whatever. It’ll have to do.

Forcing the Ether anyway, the world around me slows, and I speed up. Swiftly, I pass by others who are heading back, too, and I step inside the academy a little while later.

Still, there are students everywhere. I don’t want to fight someone instantly. That will only wear me out.

So, I run further, dashing up the opulent wooden stairs and into the second-floor halls. This place is almost endless. Dozens of rooms exist on just this floor, and there have to be a dozen more stories. I continue my search for momentary safety, moving from floor to floor as I feel the clocks around me tick.

Just as a grand hum fills the academy and enters my ears, those of the bell tower, I step out and onto the roof of the academy. The footing here is sub-optimal, but that means no one else will come here. I should be utterly—

“Heath! Let’s fight!”

A golden-haired girl stands with her hands on her hips and no weapon to be seen. Her eyes are just as radiant as before, and I slide backward across the shingles, laying a hand on them for stability. Nevertheless, Marigold seems to have no issue with her balance.

“Do we have to?”

I try what I can to erode her desire, but I only manage to make things worse. She shouts louder, almost tearing my ears off.

“Of course! It’s the Trial! We’re supposed to fight! So we will! What’s your Sigil!? Mine’s Wayfarer!”

I shake my head, not wanting to answer her, but sudden danger forces my hand to draw my blade. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Marigold clashes her Claymore of solid flame against my sword. I struggle to match her strength, and then she retreats just as impishly, with a smile on her lips.

“Not bad! Now attack me!”

Marigold’s Claymore vanishes, the flames receding to her pupils. Instantly, I know that has nothing to do with her Sigil. Somehow, she can control fire? With her eyes? It’s weird, but Mother knows a Rougarou that can write, so…

I am quick to adapt, rushing Fast-forward into action. Time slows again before I dash across the shingles, the sound echoing across the morning sunlight sky. Marigold’s fire reemerges in time to meet my blade as her speed also doubles.

How can she match me? Without—

Again, she evaporates, and heat rushes at the back of my neck. Twisting and pivoting so the handle of my Claymore covers my spine, I catch her flame. Agony races across my flesh as the heat burns me, but I slide down the shingles to escape her momentarily.

As I do so, I know I need more to match her. She’s stronger, faster, and has far more abilities than me. Her swordsmanship isn’t bad, either. Damn Graves.

Ejecting my legs beneath me, I leap to a nearby tower. My Ether rushes like coursing thunder, and I force a second skill into being. Adrenaline Surge provides the strength needed to crash land on the other rooftop.

Rolling across it, I steady my breathing as my brain spikes in pain. I’m using too much Ether. At this rate—

I toss myself over due to a flaming blade splitting the rooftop beside me. It even damages the roof, firing shingles off every which way! What is she!? A monster!?

Huffing against the incredible strain on my body, I read my blade against her, and her smile eludes my understanding.

“Big brother did say there would be some exciting folk to join me! After I beat you up, I’ll go see the weird shark guy and the girl with four arms!”

Again, she blitzes me, and I barely manage to put the tempered steel of Earl Garner’s creation between. Still, I’m sent tumbling across the rooftop. In order not to fall off, I steady myself with my Claymore, stabbing it into the floor.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can’t lose like this!

I look up at the woman as she struts toward me in total glee. How is she a 1st Sigiled? This is… insane. I… how am I supposed to match her?

Desperation claws at my chest as Marigold approaches, her fiery blade casting dancing shadows across the rooftop. I struggle to my feet, muscles screaming in protest, my grip on the Claymore white-knuckled and slick with sweat. It’s been, what? One minute? This is pathetic!

"Come on, don't tell me you're done already!"

The she-demon taunts, her eyes glowing like embers.

"I was just starting to have fun! Are you not that special?"

I grit my teeth, mind racing. There has to be a way to turn this around. Or is there? Am I just done for? Will I be expelled if I lose this? Even with my free pass? Probably. Lennon Hull gives no quarter or second chances.

Again, the woman rushes for me only a half-second after waiting. Her footsteps seem as light as a feather while her whole being vibrates with strength. She’s utterly terrifying.

I… I can’t lose. Not here. Not ever. I… I promised Summer I’d only let her kick my ass. It was a stupid thing, sure, but… I can’t break it. We have our arguments and our fights, but we’re still a team. If I break my promise to her… then… I can’t trust any other promises I’ve given.

Time slows to a crawl as I feel my heart beat in unison with some distant threat of significance. My vision overlays with that of a sword placed into concrete, the clockwork nature of it thrumming with power.

The sword shifts in place again, and Johnny Caldwell, not my father, but the spirit, speaks to me. No. The Saloon speaks to me in this distorted time.

Congratulations, Heath Caldwell. I am impressed. One hour to achieve Absolution. That is a record for the universe. The previous was seven days. You are a man of infinite potential, and I hope you live up to it.

The Dialed Hourwright,

For one second at a time, you may make the world stand still. The resolve you hold can halt even Gods, though it would end your current life to do so. I must warn you: do not force your will upon the world more than once per day. As you push, so does reality. We do not want to see you erased from the Sandy River, do we?

Additionally, this burgeoning Power may only be used in your nearby surroundings, a few feet at most. To extend it any further would do the same as using it many times.

Nevertheless, you have shown the realms your will. It cannot be stopped before it has begun. The sands have already started to fall for a new era.

I hope to see you again soon. Have fun with your new skill, Halted Sands.

The words end as time does more than slow. It utterly halts in my nearby vicinity, and that includes Marigold. Without waiting to see if those words spoke true, I rush forward and stab the frozen Marigold through the chest before kicking her off my blade.

The instant she exits the thin range of my Absolution, her eyes widen in shock. Marigold plummets toward the stairs of the entrance to the academy. Despite her situation, I don’t see any fear or sadness. Only…

Excitement.

Nevertheless, she simply spreads her arms out before a scarred man catches her with phantasmal arms, the air detonating from his sheer speed. Winds rush at me from the rooftop of the academy as eyes rush up to meet me.

Lennon Hull’s stare becomes more than a gaze. It physicalizes into an aura of Ether that possesses physical form. He becomes a massive humanoid figure, holding a long blade in his hands. Space fractures and ripples before the danger suddenly dissolves.

With a snort of his nose, Lennon smacks Marigold on the head. I don’t hear what he had to say from here, but I’m already crawling back from the edge of the rooftop.

The battle was short, but I can’t do another. I’m already exhausted. Simply thinking about Ether makes my mind howl in pain. The Saloon was right. Halted Sands is incredible but also dangerous.

If I held it another split-second, I think I’d be dead.

Gusts of air fill my lungs one after another while I rest, praying to Leviathan that I’ll have time. But before I even know better, the back of a man faces me from the edge of the rooftop. Lennon Hull.

His gray hair and full beard stand before the sun as if he could slice it in twain.

“I said such a thing in jest. But… you are unique. Marigold has a thousand advantages over you. Sure, she was playing around, but still, even if she were serious, you’d have won that. Welcome to Heartsword. We’re happy to have you. Just be on the lookout. A lot of people are going to want your head.”

Managing to get my breathing under control, I can’t help but be confused. Raising an eyebrow, I ask the swordsman who turned Gods into legends a question.

“What do you mean? Why will people want my head?”

Lennon Hull laughs, shifting his head to face me with one eye, the rising sun obscuring it from my sight. All I can see is the silhouette of his face.

“The world isn’t as peaceful as it may seem. Limitless’ presence has caused a surge in the whole universe. A new era is coming. That is why this academy exists. Well, also to ground me. As for you, though… I haven’t had a student before. That means my enemies are now yours.”

Finally, the Godless God pivots all the way to me, displaying an unnerving grin. Despite it all, my heart accelerates, the notion of matching Lennon Hull in some way too exciting to ignore. I return his smile and deliver a promise of my own, one that I will fulfill.

“I’ll kill you.”

The joy that floods from Lennon’s face is indescribable. The man wishes for nothing but a battle to bring him to his limits. He wants someone who can beat him. He wants someone who can render him powerless. Why? So that he can claim all that power and more.

I see him for who he is at this moment. He’s a teacher now, yes, but only in passing. In essence, he is a warrior searching for not death but the sensation of it. He has been training all of us to strengthen the world but also to find the person who can give him what he seeks.

And I’ll be the one to deliver it.

Why?

Because it’s something that has never been done before, and that’s enough for me.

With that promise in my mind, I reach a palm up and take Lennon's phantasmal offer as he lifts me to my shaky feet. Then, he pushes me off the roof with a laugh. Splaying out my hands, I seek any sort of salvation, only to find none as he's sent me a dozen feet outward. Wind spreads my hair, and the lack of gravity causes my heart to sink into my chest.

"I'll catch you. But I promised to keep Marigold safe while Wyatt and Aniwye are off-world. Just gotta teach you lesson number one. Never piss off a Godslayer."