Forge Goddesses to Rule the World

021

The heavy, pressurized silence of the classroom was suddenly shattered by a sound that was more primal than human—a jagged, stuttering sob that escaped the throat of the boy standing at the lectern.

“This... this can’t be happening...”

The young man’s fingers, which had been pressed so hopefully against the Awakening Crystal, were now trembling with a violent, rhythmic palsy. He stared at the cold, dark surface of the cube, his eyes wide and bloodshot, reflecting nothing but the sterile fluorescent lights of the ceiling.

“I haven't awakened? Me? Out of everyone? There has to be a mistake... the crystal... it must be defective!”

His voice rose to a frantic, hysterical pitch, echoing off the stone walls of Class 2-Spirit. He reached out again, slamming his palm onto the crystal with a desperate, meat-slapping force. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorted in a mask of pure agony, as if he were trying to pull the very soul out of his body through sheer force of will.

But the Awakening Crystal remained a silent, unyielding block of synthetic mineral. There was no surge of Spirit Power, no shimmering aura, and no holographic text announcing his ascension into the Metahuman World. He was a "Zero"—a genetic dead end in a world that had moved past the limitations of the old human race.

Leo Shaw watched from the back of the room, his expression calm but not unkind. He had seen this drama play out a dozen times in the news cycles of The Grand Dominion. In a society where your "Tier" dictated your social standing, your salary, and even your right to marry certain lineages, a failed awakening was a death sentence for the ego. To be an unawakened civilian in Forest City was to be a second-class citizen, forever reliant on the protection of the very people you once considered your peers.

It was a cold, Darwinian reality. The Spirit Revival hadn't just brought magic back to the world; it had brought a more efficient way to categorize the "haves" and the "have-nots."

“I’ll break it!” the boy suddenly screamed, his sanity finally snapping like a brittle twig. “If it won't give me my power, then it’s a piece of junk! I’ll smash this thing to pieces!”

He raised his fists, ready to bring them down on the priceless national artifact. The students in the front row gasped, leaning back in terror. But before his knuckles could even graze the surface, May Lewis acted.

She didn't move her feet. She didn't even raise her voice. With a simple, fluid flick of her wrist, a concentrated ripple of Spirit Power—invisible yet heavy as lead—surged across the lectern. The air itself seemed to solidify, hitting the boy in the chest like a padded ram. He was lifted off his feet and sent skidding across the polished floor, coming to a halt at the base of the first row of desks.

May Lewis stepped around the lectern, her lavender dress swaying with the predatory grace of a high-tier combatant. She looked down at the sobbing boy, her obsidian eyes glowing with a faint, reprimanding light.

“Enough,” she said, her voice cutting through the boy’s hysteria like a cold blade. “The crystal is not the source of your failure. It is merely the messenger. Every year, I see students like you—people who believe that their worth is tied entirely to a random genetic mutation. You think that without an ability, your life is over? That you have no purpose?”

She turned her gaze to the rest of the class, her voice rising to fill every corner of the room. “Look at yourselves. You are the youth of the The Grand Dominion. You live in a city protected by a multi-layered Defense Matrix. You have access to the best education the Spirit Martial Academy can provide. Do you have any idea how many people in the outer districts—those who live in the shadow of the Netherlands—would kill for just one day of the 'ordinary' life you’re currently grieving?”

She stepped closer to the fallen boy, her expression softening into something more philosophical. “There are people who spend their entire lives working in the Spirit Ore mines, breathing in dust that slowly crystallizes their lungs, just so you can have the electricity to power your tablets. They will never awaken. They will never see the inside of a Nirvana Spirit Tower. Does that mean their lives have no meaning? Does that mean their love, their struggle, and their joy are worth less than an S-rank lightning bolt?”

The boy looked up at her, his face a mess of tears and snot, but the madness in his eyes began to recede, replaced by a deep, hollow realization.

“A metahuman is a tool for the survival of the species,” May Lewis continued, her tone regaining its professional edge. “But a human being is the reason we survive at all. If you cannot be a sword, then be the hand that sharpens it. Be an architect, a medic, a scholar, or a farmer. The Metahuman World would collapse in a week without the civilians who hold the infrastructure together. Accept the hand you’ve been dealt, and play it for all it’s worth. That is the only true way to defeat fate.”

The boy bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with a final, quiet sob. “I... I understand, Professor. I’m sorry. I lost my way.”

A few of his classmates hurried over to help him up, their faces filled with a mixture of pity and relief that it wasn't them. The tension in the room remained high, but the frantic, hysterical energy had been replaced by a somber, focused weight.

“Awakening will continue,” May Lewis announced, returning to the lectern and smoothing her dress. “Next. Jack Lewis.”

In the middle of the room, Jack Lewis stood up. Unlike the previous students, there was no fear on his face. Instead, there was an arrogant, twitchy excitement. He adjusted his collar, his eyes darting toward the back of the room to ensure Leo Shaw was watching.

To Jack Lewis, this was more than a ceremony. It was his liberation. He grew up in the "Grey Zones" of Forest City, the son of workers who spent their days cleaning the luxury vehicles of the Nouveau Riche. He had spent his entire life smelling the expensive cologne of the Shaw family and the bitter tang of his own poverty. He hated Leo Shaw—not because of anything Leo had done, but because of what Leo was.

He imagined himself as the protagonist of a rags-to-riches story. In his mind, the heavens were about to correct the balance of the world. He would awaken a power so magnificent that the Headmaster would personally offer him a full scholarship, and May Lewis... well, he’d seen the way the "Ice Queen" looked at Leo. He was convinced that once he showed his true potential, she would realize that a "commoner king" was worth ten "spoiled scions."

As he walked up the aisle, his gaze lingered on May Lewis’s silhouette. He took in the curve of her waist and the elegant slope of her shoulders, his thoughts turning increasingly dark and possessive. Just you wait, Professor, he thought, a lecherous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Once I’m an A-rank, I won't be looking at you from the bottom of the class anymore. We’ll see how 'icy' you are when I’m the star of the academy.

His gaze was intense enough that May Lewis’s sixth sense—refined through years of combat in the West Martial Military District—triggered a warning. She looked at Jack as he reached the lectern, and her eyes narrowed. She didn't just see a student; she saw the "murky" quality of his aura. His desire was palpable, a greasy, unwelcome sensation against her own refined Spirit Power.

“Jack Lewis,” she said, her voice dropping twenty degrees in temperature. “Place your hand on the crystal. And I suggest you focus your mind on your potential, rather than whatever gutter-thoughts are currently occupying your brain. If I sense your focus wandering again, I will personally ensure your training curriculum includes a year of manual labor in the West Martial Military District's latrines.”

Jack flinched, his face turning a bright, embarrassed red. He stammered an apology and quickly pressed his hand onto the Awakening Crystal.

The ball of light inside the cube began to vibrate with a low, deep-frequency hum. It wasn't the brilliant sapphire of Yuna Lynch’s awakening, nor the violent, reality-shattering violet of Leo’s latent power. Instead, it was a heavy, muddy shade of teal and bronze.

A sudden, dense energy erupted from Jack’s body. His skin began to shimmer with a dull, stony texture, and his muscles bulged unnaturally. His torso broadened, and his back hunched slightly as a layer of organic, shell-like armor began to manifest over his spine. It looked as if he were being encased in the carapace of a prehistoric creature.

Holographic text flickered into existence above the lectern.

[Tier: A-Rank]

[Ability: Rock Turtle Possession]

Jack’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. An A-rank! He had done it! He had surpassed ninety percent of the population. He felt a surge of pure, intoxicating power—the feeling of his physical strength doubling, his skin becoming as hard as Spirit Ore. In his mind, he was already standing on a mountain of gold, with Yuna Lynch on one arm and May Lewis on the other.

“Hahaha! I did it!” Jack roared, his voice sounding deeper and more gravelly due to the transformation. “A-rank! Who’s the 'trash' now, Shaw? I’m a high-tier talent! I’m going to be a High Ascendant!”

He turned around, ready to bask in the admiration of his peers. But instead of awe, he was met with a wave of muffled snickering that quickly erupted into full-blown laughter.

Jack blinked, his turtle-like brow furrowing. “What? What’s so funny? I’m an A-rank! You should be bowing to me!”

A boy in the front row pointed a shaking finger at Jack’s head. “Jack... look at the light. Look at your head!”

Jack looked up, or rather, he caught his reflection in the polished side of the lectern. Because his ability was a "Possession" type of the earth element, his aura was particularly concentrated at his crown—the strongest part of a turtle’s shell. A bright, neon-green glow was radiating from the top of his head, shaped exactly like a polished, emerald dome. It pulsed with a steady, rhythmic light, making him look less like a warrior and more like a human-sized radioactive turtle.

In the culture of The Grand Dominion, a "green head" was a universal symbol of being a fool—or worse, a man whose lover had been unfaithful. But even without the cultural subtext, the visual was objectively ridiculous. He looked like a garden gnome that had been dipped in toxic waste.

“It’s a... it’s a green shell!” a girl shrieked, doubled over in laughter.

“He’s the Emerald Turtle!” another student shouted. “Look at it glow! He could be used as a lighthouse in a storm!”

Even May Lewis had to turn her head away for a second, her shoulders shaking with a suppressed, uncharacteristic amusement. She quickly regained her composure, though her voice still carried a trace of a smirk.

“Jack Lewis, your awakening is... successful. The Rock Turtle Possession is a formidable defensive ability, particularly favored by frontline infantry in the West Martial Military District. Though I suggest you invest in a very large helmet to mask the, ah, distinctive visual profile of your resonance.”

Jack’s face went from red to a dark, bruised purple. The intoxicating joy of his A-rank status was instantly curdled by the humiliation. He could feel the green light pulsing on his forehead, a beacon of mockery that shattered his "commoner king" fantasy. He looked at the laughing faces of his classmates, and then at Leo Shaw, who was still leaning back in his chair, a faint, bored smile on his lips.

To Jack, Leo’s silence was the greatest insult of all. It was the silence of a man who didn't even find the joke worth laughing at.

“Shut up! All of you, shut up!” Jack snarled, his Rock Turtle Possession making his voice sound like grinding stones. He deactivated the ability, the green glow fading slowly, though the memory of it seemed to hang in the air like a bad smell.

He stomped back to his seat, his heart filled with a new, even more venomous hatred. He didn't care about the laughter anymore. He had the power. He had the strength of an A-rank. He calculated that with his new defense, he could withstand a strike from a Steel-Fang Tiger or a Tier 2 Mutated Beast. He was certain that Leo Shaw—who was still just a pampered rich kid—wouldn't be able to even scratch his shell.

Laugh all you want, Jack thought, his eyes burning with a dark, vengeful light. Tomorrow, we start the combat trials. When I’m standing over your broken body in the Academy Arena, we’ll see who’s laughing then. I’ll c***k your skull like an egg, and then I’ll take everything that’s yours.

He didn't notice the way May Lewis was looking at him. As an experienced metahuman, she could sense the "corruption" in his spirit—the way his new power was already feeding his darkest impulses. In the Metahuman World, talent was a multiplier; if a man was a snake at heart, awakening an A-rank ability only made him a more dangerous snake.

“The ceremony continues,” May Lewis announced, her voice cold once again. “Next. Yuna Lynch.”

Leo watched as Yuna stood up. He could see her hands trembling, her pale skin looking even more delicate against the backdrop of the classroom’s stone walls. He reached out as she passed his desk, his fingers brushing against her arm for a split second.

“Don’t worry about the turtle,” Leo whispered, his voice a low, baritone vibration that only she could hear. “Go show them what a real S-rank looks like.”

Yuna looked at him, the fear in her eyes replaced by a sudden, fierce determination. She nodded and walked toward the lectern, her movements fluid and silent.

As she placed her hand on the Awakening Crystal, the air in the room didn't just vibrate—it began to hum with a high-pitched, crystalline resonance that made the previous awakenings look like static on a radio.

The game was shifting. The "clowns" had had their turn. Now, the true sovereigns were stepping onto the stage.