Chapter 324: New Season
Volume III: Bearer of Hope
...
Slowly, the golden sun began to drown in the horizon.
Its light spilled across the academy as honey poured from a tilted vessel from Olympus.
And soon enough, the sky had turned the color of a bruised fruit—deep purple fading into a star amber at the edges, and the first stars were already beginning to prick through the really vast darkening canopy above.
Classes had ended barely an hour ago.
But the garden behind the Freshmen Dormitory was still alive with activity.
It was a new season; winter already well-arrived.
Several months had slipped by like water through fingers—and with them, the rhythm of the academy had changed. The first class had moved beyond the basics all new Angels needed to know, and now delved into the intricate details of how the Blue Void formed—those swirling portals that they know as Sky Gates.
As for the second class, it had abandoned foundational winged-boots training entirely.
Now, the students graduated to battle maneuvers and mana conservation.
Powerful and convenient techniques that kept operating winged boots possible no matter the situation. Everything was new, thus challenging. But nothing, the freshmen students agreed, was nearly as brutal as those first weeks of foundational training, when their bodies had been pushed to the absolute limit in order to adapt to operating the winged boots.
In the early months of the academy accepting new Angels, the garden was mostly empty.
Only a few used it to bask in nature and clear their minds.
Now it was packed.
"How confident are you fucker?’
"I’ll mine for you two fucking days straight if you can win against me."
"Deal! Oh, I’m going to love watching you mine like a good little slave you are."
"Oy!" Another student crouching on the side yelled. "Give this horny guy a girl. The fuck was that?"
"Leave him be," Another one who was involved with the bet chuckled. "Go at it, big man."
"Oh, you know damn well I’m going to hit it." The student who made the bet got into position and raised a spear over his shoulder. He breathed for a few seconds, and his eyes narrowed at the target—a dummy made of hael-like material.
Its humanoid shape was worn from countless impacts, but its head was completely fine.
And that’s what the student was going to aim for.
Once he was ready, his muscles bulged before he threw the spear.
Swoosh—!
As soon as it left the student’s hand, it arced through the air with precision. But the student’s muscles twitched at the last second from exhaustion, and the spear veered, slamming into the wall behind the target made of the same material as the dummy.
He groaned, pulling at his hair in shock. "Shit! That didn’t count!’
On the side, the other students erupted in laughter, taunting him mercilessly.
"Two hundred feet and you missed? My grandmother could throw better than that, and she’s already on her deathbed!"
"Do you need glasses? I’m not sure there are Supernals with glasses out there, but hey, there’s always the first of everything, right? Who knows? Maybe it’s the start of a business venture that nobody has ever thought of making."
"Business venture my ass. Nobody is dumb enough to make glasses for Supernals."
"Get ready to lose, slave." The other student grabbed his own spear and got into position. It looked heavy, but in his hands, it was weightless. "I’ll see you later tonight. Make sure to bring your mining gear."
He threw without ceremony, and the spear punched through the dummy’s head.
A satisfying crack resounded.
Seeing this, the student grinned and cheered—as he didn’t need to mine for two days straight. He reached over to the loser and scruffed his hair. "Call me master for the next two days. After all, that’s only appropriate for a slave."
"Fuck you and your mom!" the loser growled.
Not too far away, another group of students was gathering in a circle.
At the center, two students wrestled bare-handed—each struggled to force the other party out of bounds. Their arena was simple: four torches planted in a square, connected by a chalk line drawn across the ground.
Considering what their activities for the day were, it was surprising for them to choose to do this.
But some Supernals simply have too much stamina.
On the calmer side of the garden, a group of fifteen female students had gathered—in a tight circle. Beside the circle lay a dead Awakened Monster shaped like an oversized goat. Its body was decorated with flowers and ribbons, a sacrifice.
Its trail of blood flowed to the center of the circle where a single golden flower bloomed.
Its petals shimmered with a soft, ethereal light.
One female student holding a makeshift die made of bones clasped it between her hands as her eyes closed in concentration. "Goddess Tyche, hear my question and show me a sign. Will I meet my fated one in five years?"
She then felt warmth in her hands as the die began to emanate a golden glow.
And then, she rolled the makeshift twelve-sided die across the grass.
It tumbled, bounced, and came to rest. Seven.
She smiled as a blush crept across her cheeks. A good number. A hopeful number.
Once her turn was done, she passed the die to the female student to her left. The next person took it and did the same thing. "Goddess Tyche, hear my question and show me a sign. Do I have a chance to get into the Ambrosia Pact in the near future?"
She rolled the die, and when it stopped, her face fell.
A big, fat zero.
Around, the circle erupted in sympathetic groans and stifled laughter.
Even then, the girl shrugged and passed the die along. There was always next time.
Not too far away from the circle, two students were sitting on a bench, basking in the moment of peace. Right now, the sky was already dark as the first streak of the night began. "Man, it’s really peaceful nowadays."
"We’re getting used to the First Sky, I guess." The other student shrugged.
"Do you really think it’s because of that?" The student opened his eyes and glanced at his naïve friend. "It’s a factor, but not the main driving factor. It has been a peaceful few months because Red Prince Kai lowered our taxes—so everyone didn’t need to mine as much. Or else, nobody would have the time to sit around like this."
"Eugh... the Red Prince again. Stop glazing him—I feel like a side character. How can a Lesser Angel achieve what he achieved? It didn’t make any sense."
"He’s not just a Lesser Angel. Besides, extraordinary people only came from the very top—or the very bottom. No exceptional people came from the center. So, we Angels should be content with what we have."
"That’s depressing."
"Is it? Can you go on your day without being disturbed?"
"Yes?"
"Do you need to always look over your shoulder out of fear of being stabbed in the back?"
"No?"
"Did you get accused of something you didn’t do?’
"No..."
"Then is it really depressing? I don’t think so."
"You always have to say something back at me—huh? I’m just complaining, dude." The other student stretched his arms up and folded them to touch his nape. "Besides—where is the Red Prince anyway? I haven’t seen him or his group."
"Probably training like his life depended on it again." The student shrugged.
...
Meanwhile, underneath a sky that seemed contradictory to the real world—a desert sprawled for as far as the eye could see. Sand dunes decorated the scene, and the mild sandstorm made it hard for anyone to look far.
But there were more than sun and dunes in the area.
And this wasteland was also not quiet; the air carried not the lonely howl of the wind, but the thunder of battle—shouts, clashes, and the wet crunch of bone and steel. In the distance, there was a stronghold that rose from the sand.
It was primitive, but still robust.
Several watchtowers of lashed timber and hide rose like obelisks, and nearly fifty camp-like barracks sprawled around its perimeter in a diamond formation. Bone spikes decorated their roofs, gleaming white against the perpetual harsh morning sky.
Grey Orcs filled the stronghold.
Muscular humanoids with dark-grey skin; their lower tusks protruded from their thick jaws, and they wielded blunt weapons—hammers, wooden clubs, and even axes that were severely dulled by their frequent use.
Hearing the commotion, these monsters came out of their camps in groups.
It seemed they were under attack. Peace was broken.
And then, they looked up.
Swish—!
A figure emerged beyond the sandstorm, hard to see, but the pair of eyes—that were glowing like magical honey. She dropped faster than gravity should have allowed, a golden comet that streaked toward the ground.
Boom—!
Her scaled shield slammed into the earth with a concussive blast that erupted outward.
A shockwave of force stunned every Grey Orc within her effective radius.
Matilda scanned the area with her eyes and did not hesitate.
She charged forward; a golden sword began to materialize in her free hand. Its golden sheen was brighter—and thicker than normal. She moved through them like a golden blur, hacking shins, carving torsos, and opening throats.
Known for their hulking bodies, the Grey Orcs were massive, as expected.
Their muscles were grotesquely ripped, and their bulk was intimidating.
But Matilda was a Supernal with divine blood.
Not any ordinary divine blood—but the blood of Goddess Athena coursed through her veins, and she wasn’t so small that they could overwhelm her with sheer mass. She was destined to be a powerful warrior, and was now tempered by months of brutal training.
At this point, these lower strong Pest-class Star Beasts were nothing but obstacles.
Matilda stopped on the far side, turning around to watch them.
Some fell; their bodies hit the sand with heavy thuds. Others remained standing, growling in pain, clutching wounds that bled dark, thick blood. Their eyes burned with fury—and they used that fury to push themselves up and charge at Matilda.
Matilda’s eyes glowed golden.
In her hand, the golden sword trembled; mana surged through its blade in a seamless stream.
Just as the first Grey Orc raised its club to crush her, she swung.
SLASH—!
A crescent of pure golden mana, impossibly sharp, erupted from the blade. It carved through the remaining Grey Orcs like a scythe through wheat—bisecting bodies from shoulder to hip, severing limbs, and cleaving torsos into two.
And the mana slash didn’t stop.
It continued past them, slamming into several barracks and shattering their walls.
None could let out a scream as the Grey Orcs fell in pieces.
Silence followed in the area, leaving only the sound of distant battles in the background.
Matilda stabbed her sword into the sand and looked down at her hand.
"I’ve gotten stronger..." She mumbled. "So this is what it feels like to be an Aspirant Supernal."