Weeks passed. Not slowly. Not quickly either. Just enough to feel like I was moving forward—barely—even as the weight on my shoulders grew heavier. I trained without rest—every morning, every dusk, every moment in between—until my muscles trembled and my breath burned like fire.
But none of it made the silence go away.
The pressure of being unchosen pressed in tighter each day, like invisible hands closing around my chest. I had to prove something—to the gods, to the ones who had been chosen. I needed them to look at me and see more than a shadow. I needed them to see a threat. An equal.
The morning air was cold when we stepped into the training chamber. Habit had settled deep into our bodies by now. The chosen ones practiced their Trace, drawing precise lines and shapes in the air to control the power the gods had given them. I trained beside them, but never with them—sword in hand, sweat on my skin, focused on something no rune could offer. That was the routine.
But yesterday, the instructor had told us the routine would end today—that things would change.
The instructor stood like a statue—already there when we arrived. He wasn't always. Some days I'd walk in and find the space empty. Today, he was already in place. Waiting. And somehow, it felt like the day itself had paused, holding its breath—not for me, but for what might come next.
"Your Divine Trace is stable enough" he said, voice cutting through the morning stillness. "You're ready to attempt your first Divine Rune."
The silence that followed wasn't confusion—it was pressure. That weight pressed down on them. Not on me. I wasn't going to trace a rune. But I could feel the tension in their shoulders, the tightness in their breath. They were the ones who had to prove themselves to the gods that had already marked them.
"We'll move to the courtyard. Not all gods grant combat-oriented blessings, but I'd rather not have to rebuild a wall because someone messed up their Divine Trace."
We followed. This time, I didn't turn away. I wasn't going to train on my own today. Not yet. I needed to see.
What the gods had given them. What they thought I wasn't worthy of.
The courtyard yawned open before us—sunlight, dust, and expectation.
"Line up" the instructor said. "I'll call you one by one."
"Kisaya" the instructor said. "You'll go first."
She nodded once and stepped forward. Then, with a steady breath, she raised her hand and began to trace in the air.
A curved line. An inverted crescent. Crossed by a jagged mark. I couldn't see the glow itself, but I saw its weight sink into her—shoulders squaring with tension, breath turning sharper, steadier.
"That glow confirms activation" the instructor said. "It means the rune responded. The ability granted by your blessing reveals its purpose."
Kisaya blinked and smiled faintly. "It sharpens everything—reflexes, perception, speed. I feel… tuned to the fight. It's like I can read the battle—see patterns, predict movement. It's not just faster—it's smarter."
A trace of surprise crossed his face before he nodded. "Good ability."
"But nothing comes free. Once the ability is active, it starts draining your spiritual energy. The stronger it is, the faster you burn through it. Push too hard, and you'll black out. You only start to recover once the ability is turned off."
She nodded. Her eyes gleamed. Not just from pride—but hunger.
"Neval" the instructor said. "You're next."
She stepped forward—thin, quiet. I hadn't spoken a word to her since training began, but over the weeks, I'd formed an impression. She was always on the edge of things, silent but never absent. She carried the air of someone who understood more than the rest of us, even if she never said it out loud. Constantly observing. Always calculating.
And now, as she moved into place, I could see it in the way she held herself—not afraid, not eager, but certain. Like she belonged here. Like the rune she was about to draw wasn't a gift, but a truth she already believed in. Then she raised her hand, deliberate and unshaking, and traced a spiral crossed by a slow, uneven wave. It looked simple. "It confuses the target's sense of space" she murmured. "Up becomes down. Right turns into left."
Some chuckled quietly.
"Do not underestimate that" the instructor said. "Confusion wins battles."
She didn't respond. Didn't need to. I made a note in my head: quiet, patient, and sharp. A disorienting ability in the hands of someone like her—someone who watches more than they speak—could be lethal. Not in brute force, but in timing. She wouldn't win by overpowering. She'd win by making you miss.
"Tarin" the instructor called.
He stepped forward with his chest puffed like a rooster—full of swagger, lacking any stillness. He'd been loud since day one, quick with mockery, especially when it came to me. Everything about him screamed for attention.
Even his rune fit: flashy, aggressive—a curved downward line ending in a sharp point, followed by an open semicircle beneath it.
"Short shockwave on contact" he said. "Knocks people back."
The instructor nodded. "Direct. Functional. Rely on timing."
I scoffed under my breath. Loud mouth. Loud ability.
"Ilkar" the instructor called.
He stepped forward without a word—broad-shouldered, silent, always with his eyes on the ground like he didn't want to be noticed. He hadn't spoken much over the weeks, but there was weight in the way he carried himself. Not weakness—restraint. Like he didn't want to be seen unless it was necessary.
When he began to trace, his movements were careful and slow. But something slipped. Midway through, his body jerked and he dropped to one knee, hand clutching his ribs.
The instructor moved instantly, crouching beside him with practiced calm. "That was a failed rune" he said. "Minor backlash. That can happen if your focus slips or the energy wavers. Reset your breathing. Try again when you're steady."
There was no judgment in his voice, just observation.
Ilkar nodded, stood again, and traced with more precision. The second attempt held.
"I can… change how someone feels" he said, voice low. "Amplify or reduce their emotion."
"Control emotions, and you control outcomes" the instructor said.
That caught my attention. The ability itself was subtle but powerful—to shift what someone feels, push them toward calm or tip them into panic. In the right moment, that could end a fight before it even began. I liked it. It had precision. Strategy. But I wasn't sure if Ilkar was the right one to hold it. He was steady, yes. Controlled. But he kept everything buried too deep. Power like that requires clarity, not just quiet. Still, if he ever learned to control it with clear purpose, he could become one of the most dangerous people here.
"Erenai" the instructor called.
She stepped forward slowly. Tall, wiry, her skin sun-worn and lined from long days under harsh skies. There was a weariness in her eyes, but not the kind that broke people. It was the kind that endured. Her hands moved with the steady care of someone who'd done difficult things often and without complaint. She didn't speak until the rune finished forming—a rising curve that split at the top, shaped like a leaf opening to light.
"It speeds up healing" she said. "A little. Just enough."
"Healers are rare" the instructor said. "Most of you will learn to break things. Few will know how to mend them. Cherish that role—because when everything begins to fall apart, those who can restore what's broken will matter more than those who caused the damage."
She gave a tired nod. I watched her carefully. Not flashy. But in the right moment, she might be the one who decides whether someone makes it out or doesn't.
"And finally… Darek" the instructor called.
He walked up with that same crooked smirk he always wore, like nothing in the world could touch him. He was lean, quick, rarely serious—the kind who never seemed to take the weight of this place seriously. I'd seen him laugh during moments others held their breath. That told me more than any conversation.
His rune reflected none of that carelessness: two symmetrical circles, joined by a perfect loop. Clean. Precise. Balanced.
"I can link vision with someone else" he said.
"Tactical" the instructor said. "It has high potential, especially in tight coordination. But it's not easy—sharing vision can cause confusion. Be careful."
I frowned. The skill itself was sharp—useful in the right hands, even critical in a fight where communication could shift the outcome. But Darek? He spent more time laughing than listening. I didn't know if he had the focus to use it properly. It felt like giving a blade to someone who liked mirrors.
As I stood there, I built the map in my mind. The useful. The unstable. The ones to watch. The ones to avoid.
The gods hadn't chosen me—but that didn't mean I wasn't paying attention.
The instructor turned back to the group, his tone shifting to something more measured.
"You may wonder—what happens if someone else traces your Divine Rune? Can they copy your ability? Use it?"
A beat of silence.
"No. Divine Runes are bound to the chosen. No glow, no activation—just wasted spiritual energy on a failed Divine Trace."
He looked over them all.
"Your task for the rest of the day is simple. Draw the Divine Rune cleanly. Deactivate the ability. Then do it again. And again. Refine each line, each breath. Push until your energy runs dry. That's how you make it natural."
I turned without a word, walked toward the far edge of the courtyard. My sword waited there, right where I'd left it.
Hours passed.
Just before dusk, the instructor spoke again.
"Tomorrow, I'll step aside" he said. "A new tutor will take over—a combat specialist."
Some of the heirs looked up. Others just shifted slightly, too tired to react after hours of tracing runes. Their hands ached. Their spiritual energy was drained. No one said anything. The man who had shaped their first steps wouldn't be here tomorrow. That mattered.
Then he said, simply:
"You're dismissed."
***
AN – Update on Spiritual Energy System
Hi everyone! Just a quick note to let you know I've made a few adjustments to how Spiritual Energy works in the story. These changes are meant to bring more consistency and depth to the system as the world expands.
Apologies if this causes any confusion with earlier chapters—I'll be gradually updating references where needed. Thanks for your understanding and support!
Here's a quick summary of the updated mechanics:
Spiritual Energy Color now reflects the god who granted the Divine Blessing. Each deity is associated with a specific color.
Spiritual Energy Brilliance (brightness) reflects the purity of that energy.
➤ The purer the energy, the brighter it shines.
➤ Purity increases as the chosen grows stronger and their bond with the god deepens.
All chosen start with dim energy—low brilliance. With time and progression, their energy becomes more radiant and powerful.
Hope this helps clarify things going forward! And as always, feel free to check the glossary if you want more details.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading!