They still had quite a bit of time before class ended. Seeing as no hands were raised, Father Paul pressed on with his lesson.
"Grenusaism is a faith that places little value on material objects. We have only two sacred things: our holy book, and our place of worship."
He paced slowly across the front of the room, his voice calm, deliberate.
"Our book is called Baran. Each of you will be assigned a copy in due time."
He stopped then, folding his hands behind his back, and his voice grew firmer.
"But more important than any object—more important than a building or even the book itself—is faith. You do not need a church to pray. You do not even need hands to pray.
As long as you believe—believe in our gods—you will be saved."
"That's odd," Vael said to Kiera telepathically, his brow furrowing. "I was under the impression this religion would be more… controlling."
"Yeah. But it's still too soon to tell," Kiera replied, her skepticism sharpening the words.
At the front, Father Paul continued without pause, his voice steady and deliberate.
"For today, all you need to know are the names of the Gods, and the concepts they embody.
First, the goddess Natela—she governs luck and prosperity.
Next, the goddess Venta—health and freedom.
Third, god Lucius—knowledge and culture.
Then comes Hecrolo—god of strength, courage, and war.
And finally… Panteus."
Here, his tone deepened slightly, carrying a subtle reverence.
"This one is unique, compared to the others. Where the rest represent concepts, Panteus is the Creator. Time, space, even the very soil of our planet—all originated from him.
Some call him the Creator. Others, the God of Gods. And in time, you'll all learn why."
Kiera quickly scribbled down Father Paul's teachings.
"Well, class, that'll be all for today. Happy weekend to all of you."
"What? It's Friday already?" Kiera asked internally.
"Seems so. Who even starts school on a Wednesday, though?" Vael replied.
The bell rang, dismissing the class. Quiet chatter filled the room as students rose from their seats and filtered out. Some lingered to ask questions, others rushed toward the doors.
Vael and Kiera exchanged a glance, both silently agreeing. Without waiting for the crowd to thin, they slipped out and made their way down the hall. Their footsteps echoed lightly against the stone floor, the muffled voices of their classmates fading behind them.
Training Room Four was on the far side of the compound, past a row of narrow windows that poured in slanted afternoon light.
The air outside the classrooms grew cooler, the corridor less crowded. A faint hum of mana could already be felt in the direction they were headed—a subtle sign of the wards that reinforced the training grounds.
No other student was present, since class had just ended. The key for the room was already in the door, waiting to be claimed.
Vael and Kiera slipped inside without hesitation. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the quiet hall.
Almost immediately, a remote materialized in midair, hovering expectantly. The device shimmered faintly with runic inscriptions, the tool used to reshape the chamber at will.
"Mountains," said Kiera, not bothering to look at Vael.
The room responded with a low hum. The sterile, white chamber dissolved in an instant, walls rippling outward into towering cliffs and endless pines. Jagged peaks rose on the horizon, their snowy caps glistening beneath a bright, artificial sun. The air cooled, settling at a crisp fifteen degrees—perfect for training. A breeze rolled in from the east, carrying the faint scent of pine resin and damp earth.
Vael inhaled deeply, the freshness of the air cutting away the last remnants of the classroom. He tightened his grip on the strap of his practice blade.
The plan was clear: a spar. Nothing showy, nothing reckless. No flashing techniques or wasted energy—just control, precision, and discipline.
Vael loosened his collar, then pulled his shirt over his head. He wasn't one to fight in a tight uniform. The tie followed, folded neatly on top of the discarded shirt.
Now dressed in only a tank top, he rolled his shoulders, testing the freedom of movement. The cool mountain air brushed against his skin, refreshing after a long day of lectures and mental strain.
Kiera didn't remain idle. Inspired by her partner, she began adjusting her own uniform. Women were free to wear either skirts or pants, and she had opted for the latter—more practical, less revealing.
She shed her tie and unbuttoned her shirt, slipping it off to reveal a plain, fitted t-shirt beneath.
Students were expected to own a Spatial ring, so the academy's uniforms weren't designed to carry weapons. Instead, each reached into the shimmer of their personal storage.
Kiera's twin short swords materialized first—sleek, perfectly balanced, their edges catching the artificial sunlight. Every motion spoke of care; they were less tools than extensions of her will.
Vael's approach was different. He didn't reach for steel. This was the perfect chance to test the refinement of his new ability.
Space itself rippled at his side, converging into a single point before stretching outward, thin and sharp, until a blade hung in his grip. Unlike the unstable, whip-like manifestation he'd first managed, this version held form. Compact. Rigid. Almost steel.
The two stood a few meters apart, the mountainous forest around them heavy with silence. Each knew the other's habits, strengths, and tricks—making this spar the perfect testing ground. Not for victory, but for growth.