The teacher selection ceremony was supposed to be the moment where students took the first step towards their future.
For most, it was.
For others — the ones who didn't shine, who didn't come from golden halls or magical bloodlines — it was something else.
It was a wall.
A cruel reminder that not all talent was enough.
The prestigious professors stood tall, their gazes scanning the crowd. One by one, they picked the brightest: children of nobles, elite performers, and famed prodigies.
"You, with the lightning affinity—join me.""The triple-affinity student, come forward.""Your family owns a mine in Northern Drosk? We've met. You're in."
But the commoners?
They stood behind, hearts hopeful but arms trembling.
No one looked their way.
Not once.
Arin was among them, his gaze calm. His name hadn't been called, and he didn't expect it to be.
Just another boy from the slums, with no legacy, no money, and no backing.
And then…
A strange man walked to the side of the stage.
He didn't speak.
Didn't introduce himself.
He simply placed a crooked board on an old crate. Letters glowed, scrawled by magic fire:
"I accept only the following students."
And beneath it—a list.
The names of the students everyone else had ignored.
The crowd fell silent.
Some snickered.
Others frowned.
"Who the hell is that guy?""Looks like a beggar.""Is this a joke?"
The man wore an old cloak, frayed at the edges. A wide-brimmed cap shadowed his face. His boots looked like they'd walked through war.
Students hesitated. Even the ones on the list were too nervous to approach.
But not Arin.
He stepped forward, calm and firm.
He walked past students who stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
Right up to the man with the board.
His voice was quiet—but clear as glass.
"I don't care if you'll put me through hell or make my blood flow like the waters of the River Styx," Arin said. "I don't want to risk anyone else's life to get stronger. I accept your proposal… Professor Godsmith. Also known as the Hell Master."
The hall froze.
Time seemed to hold its breath.
And then—gasps.
"Did he say Godsmith?!""The Hell Master?! He's still alive?!""No one's seen him in years…"
The man tilted his head.
Slowly lifted his cap.
Beneath it was a face marked by countless scars. Wild, tired eyes. A grin like a mad poet who'd seen too much.
He looked at Arin… and smiled.
"Ohohoho~"
The laughter echoed across the stone walls.
"Who is this young lad? Accepting hell so casually?"
"Name?"
"Arin Vail."
"Elemental affinity?"
"Earth and Wind" Arin said simply, showing the faint flicker of colored sparks on his palm.
Godsmith narrowed his eyes. For a second, they flickered with curiosity. Then he nodded.
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
"Not many commoners awaken with two. You… I'll remember."
His hand glowed faintly. Arin's name etched itself onto the board in glowing red ink.
"I like your eyes, boy," Godsmith muttered. "They're not arrogant… but they burn."
And with that, the man turned around and disappeared into the shadows of the selection chamber.
Arin didn't flinch.
He simply bowed once, and walked off to the side, not caring for the stunned expressions or the frightened whispers.
What no one knew—
What even Godsmith didn't know—
Was that Arin's white core had all the 6 elements
Deep within Arin, hidden behind the veil of his white core, pulsed a second mana core—black as night, coiled and silent, like a beast asleep in a cave.
A core that not even Arin fully understood.
A core that wasn't supposed to exist.
But for now?
It would remain a secret.
Just like Arin intended.