CHAPTER 1 — THE SUN THAT RISES

Section I — The Day the Mortal World Let Go

I. Dawn Over a World That Was Never Ordinary

Tokyo’s dawn broke like a divine proclamation.

The first rays of sunlight spilled across the Yamamoto estate, gilding the tiled roofs, the stone lanterns, the ancient cherry trees that had stood for centuries. The light moved with purpose, as if searching for someone — or perhaps acknowledging someone it already knew.

Akira Yamamoto stood alone on the veranda, watching the horizon ignite in gold.

To anyone else, dawn was a natural phenomenon. To him, it was a greeting.

The sunlight bent toward him, subtly but unmistakably, like a bow from the heavens. The warmth brushed his skin with a familiarity that no human could replicate.

Amaterasu’s blood… It never lets me forget.

He inhaled slowly, letting the warmth settle into his bones. It should have been comforting. It used to be. But today, the light felt heavier — not oppressive, but expectant.

As if the universe itself was waiting for him to move.

Behind him, the letter lay on a lacquered table. Its golden seal shimmered with divine script, the emblem of the Divine Academy pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

He hadn’t opened it. He didn’t need to.

The moment the seal arrived, the world had already shifted.

A soft ripple of air brushed his shoulder — not wind, but presence.

“You’re doing that thing again,” a voice said, cool and sharp. “Staring at the sunrise like it’s going to answer your problems.”

Akira didn’t turn. “Good morning, Zuina.”

Zuina Suzumi stepped beside him, arms crossed, posture straight, expression carved from stormclouds. Even in the soft morning light, she radiated a pressure that made the air feel charged.

If Akira was dawn, Zuina was the thunder that followed.

Her eyes flicked to the unopened letter. “You still haven’t read it.”

“I know what it says.”

“You’re avoiding it.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re avoiding it.”

Akira exhaled. “Maybe.”

Zuina’s gaze softened by a fraction — a microscopic shift, but for her, it was practically a hug.

“You know we don’t get to choose,” she said. “We’re Descendants. And not just any Descendants.”

Akira didn’t need the reminder.

He was the heir of Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess. Zuina was the heir of Susanoo, the Storm God.

Two of the most politically sensitive, spiritually potent, and historically dangerous bloodlines in Japan.

Their existence alone shifted national policy. Their safety was a matter of global concern. Their deaths would destabilize entire regions.

Akira finally turned to face her.

“Once we leave,” he said quietly, “we won’t come back the same.”

Zuina didn’t deny it. She didn’t soften it. She didn’t pretend it would be easy.

“That’s the point,” she said. “We’re not meant to stay ordinary.”

II. The Divine Authority of Japan

The Yamamoto estate was already alive with movement.

Not the gentle bustle of servants preparing breakfast. Not the quiet efficiency of a wealthy household.

This was something else entirely.

A full Divine Transfer Protocol.

The air shimmered with layered wards — anti-surveillance barriers, anti-divination seals, anti‑tracking fields. The walls pulsed with divine energy, each sigil glowing faintly as it synchronized with Akira’s presence.

Outside, Akira could feel them.

Hundreds of signatures. Powerful ones. Disciplined ones.

The Descendant Government Guard Service — DGGS.

Not Japan’s. Not America’s. Not any single nation’s.

This was the global DGGS, the elite multinational force formed by treaties older than most modern governments. Their sole purpose:

Protect the divine heirs. At any cost.

Akira and Zuina were not guarded like celebrities. Not like royalty. Not like presidents.

They were guarded like nuclear assets with souls.

If a civilian so much as stepped within the restricted perimeter — even by accident — the DGGS would act.

Not detain. Not warn. Not negotiate.

Act.

Zuina had once summarized it with her usual bluntness:

“If someone gets too close, they’ll erase them. No hesitation.”

Akira hated that part. Zuina tolerated it. The world demanded it.

Because Descendants weren’t just people. They were divine authority.

Living embodiments of gods. Political keystones. Mythic symbols.

And symbols had to be protected.

Even from the world they lived in.

III. The Farewell of Two Bloodlines

The courtyard was filled with both families — the Yamamotos and the Suzumis — two ancient bloodlines whose histories intertwined with the very foundation of Japan’s mythic identity.

Akira’s father, Hiroshi Yamamoto, stood tall and composed, his presence calm but commanding. His mother, Ayame, watched Akira with eyes full of pride and worry.

Zuina’s parents were more intense.

Daigo Suzumi, her father, had the aura of a storm barely contained. Reina Suzumi, her mother, was elegance sharpened into steel.

The moment Akira and Zuina stepped outside, the families turned toward them.

Ayame approached first, placing a gentle hand on Akira’s cheek.

“You’ve grown so much,” she whispered. “But you’re still my boy.”

Akira smiled faintly. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” she said. “But let me worry anyway.”

Daigo Suzumi clapped a heavy hand on Zuina’s shoulder. “Don’t cause trouble.”

Zuina scowled. “I don’t cause trouble.”

Reina snorted. “You are trouble.”

Zuina muttered something that sounded like a threat.

Akira hid a smile.

Despite the divine politics, despite the overwhelming weight of their destinies… this moment felt painfully human.

Two families. Two children. Two futures being sent into a world that would never let them be ordinary again.

IV. The Limo That Wasn’t a Limo

The gates opened.

And the mortal world vanished.

Waiting outside was a vehicle that could not be called a limousine. It was a mobile fortress, a divine-engineered colossus of obsidian metal and shimmering wards.

Its surface reflected no light. Its windows were reinforced with celestial alloys. Its interior was rumored to withstand direct divine attacks.

DGGS agents lined the path, forming a corridor of living weapons. Their uniforms bore the sigils of dozens of nations — Japan, the United States, China, Egypt, India, Brazil, South Africa, and more.

Because protecting Akira and Zuina wasn’t a national matter.

It was a global mandate.

Akira felt the weight of their attention — not hostile, but reverent. Zuina felt it too, though she pretended not to.

“You ready?” she asked.

“No,” Akira admitted.

“Good,” she said. “Means you’re thinking.”

The lead DGGS commander bowed deeply.

“Yamamoto-sama. Suzumi-sama. Your transport awaits.”

The door opened automatically.

Inside was luxury beyond luxury — velvet seats, divine stabilizers, soundproofing that could silence a thunder god, and a soft golden glow that responded to Akira’s presence.

Zuina slid in first. Akira followed.

The door was sealed.

The convoy moved.

And Tokyo began to fade behind them.

V. The Airport That Didn’t Exist

The VIP airport was not on any map.

It was not visible from the sky. It was not accessible by any mortal means. It was not even present unless activated.

A divine facility hidden between layers of reality — a pocket dimension anchored to Tokyo but existing just outside it.

As the convoy approached, the air rippled. A massive torii gate materialized, glowing with ancient power.

The vehicles passed through.

Reality shifted.

Suddenly, they were in a vast, open-air terminal made of marble and gold, with floating platforms, divine runways, and aircraft shaped like mythic beasts.

Akira had seen it once before, when he was younger.

It still stole his breath.

Zuina leaned forward slightly. “Forgot how big this place is.”

“It’s bigger than Narita,” Akira murmured.

“It’s bigger than some countries.”

He didn’t disagree.

Waiting for them was a colossal aircraft — a VIP plane reserved exclusively for Japanese divine bloodlines. Its wings shimmered with celestial energy, and its hull bore the crests of Amaterasu, Susanoo, Tsukuyomi, and the other kami.

A boarding ramp extended.

DGGS agents formed a protective corridor.

Their families stepped out behind them, waving.

Ayame called out, “Stay safe!”

Reina shouted, “Don’t start fights!”

Daigo added, “But if someone else starts one, end it!”

Zuina rolled her eyes.

Akira laughed softly.

They walked up the ramp together.

At the top, Akira paused and looked back.

Two families. Two legacies. Two lives they were leaving behind.

He raised a hand.

Zuina did the same.

Their families waved harder.

And then—

They stepped into the plane.

The door was sealed.

The engines hummed with divine power.

And the world of ordinary humans disappeared behind them.

VI. Toward Aetherion Island

The interior of the plane was enormous — more like a floating palace than an aircraft. Dozens of other students were already inside, each one carrying the aura of a divine lineage.

Descendants of Tsukuyomi. Descendants of Inari. Descendants of Raijin, Fujin, Izanami, Izanagi, Omoikane, and more.

Some glanced at Akira and Zuina with curiosity. Some with respect. Some with fear.

Because among Japanese Descendants, the heirs of Amaterasu and Susanoo were not just powerful.

They were central pillars of the divine hierarchy.

Akira felt the weight of their gazes.

Zuina ignored them completely.

“Let’s sit,” she said.

They found seats near the front — reserved, of course, for high-tier divine heirs.

Akira leaned back, exhaling slowly.

Zuina glanced at him. “Still nervous?”

“A little.”

“You’ll be fine.”

He looked at her.

Zuina wasn’t smiling. She rarely did.

But her voice was steady. Certain. Unshakeable.

And somehow, that was enough.

The plane began to move.

The divine engines roared.

The world outside blurred into light.

And Akira Yamamoto — the boy who carried the sun — closed his eyes as the journey to Aetherion Island, the 50,000‑square‑mile sanctuary of gods’ descendants, truly began.

Everything changes now, he thought.

And I have to be ready.

Section II — The Island That Should Not Exist

I. The Sky Above the Mortal World

The VIP aircraft did not fly like a normal plane.

It did not rumble. It did not shake. It did not cut through the air.

It glided, as if the sky itself parted to let it pass.

Akira sat near the front, watching the clouds drift beneath them like slow‑moving continents. The sunlight outside the window shimmered with a faint golden tint — not natural, but a reflection of the divine engines that powered the vessel.

The plane was a masterpiece of celestial engineering, built not by human hands but by a coalition of divine artisans from multiple pantheons. Its hull was reinforced with mythic alloys, its wings shaped by ancient wind spirits, its interior stabilized by divine harmonics.

It was less a machine and more a flying shrine.

Zuina sat beside him, arms crossed, gaze fixed forward. She looked calm, but Akira could feel the tension in her aura — a subtle crackle of electricity beneath her skin.

Storms never rested. They merely waited.

Akira leaned back, letting the hum of divine energy wash over him.

We’re really doing this, he thought.

We’re leaving Japan. Leaving home. Leaving everything we’ve known.

The weight of it pressed against his chest.

Zuina glanced at him. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

Akira blinked. “I wasn’t saying anything.”

“You don’t have to. Your aura shifts when you’re overthinking.”

He sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“To me? Yes.”

She didn’t say it unkindly. Zuina never softened her words, but she softened her tone — and that was enough.

II. The Children of the Kami

The plane was filled with other Descendants — all Japanese, all heirs of the kami, all bound for the same destination.

Some sat in groups, chatting quietly. Some meditated. Some stared out the windows with expressions of awe or fear.

Akira recognized a few of them by aura alone.

A boy with silver hair and calm eyes — a descendant of Tsukuyomi, the Moon God. A girl with a mischievous smile — a descendant of Inari, the deity of prosperity. Two brothers whose presence crackled with static — descendants of Raijin and Fujin, the gods of thunder and wind.

Each one carried a divine signature. Each one carried a legacy.

But none of them were guarded like Akira and Zuina.

Their seats were surrounded by subtle wards — invisible to the eye, but unmistakable to anyone with divine senses. The DGGS had placed them there before takeoff, layering protection upon protection.

Zuina noticed too.

“They’re treating us like we’re going to break,” she muttered.

Akira shook his head. “They’re treating us like we’re too important to lose.”

Zuina scoffed. “Same thing.”

He didn’t argue.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

III. The Pacific That Was Not Empty

Hours passed.

The plane crossed the Pacific Ocean, but the world below did not look like any map Akira had ever seen. The water shimmered with unnatural colors — blues too deep, greens too bright, streaks of gold and silver that moved like living currents.

Zuina leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The divine currents are strong today.”

Akira nodded. “Stronger than usual.”

The Pacific was not just an ocean. It was a boundary.

Aetherion Island did not exist on any mortal map because it did not exist in the mortal world. It floated in a liminal space — a divine territory anchored to the Pacific but not bound by it.

To reach it, one had to cross the Aetherion Veil, a barrier woven from the combined power of hundreds of pantheons.

The plane began to descend.

The air thickened.

The sunlight dimmed.

And Akira felt it — a pressure, ancient and immense, pressing against his skin like the weight of a thousand unseen eyes.

Zuina stiffened beside him.

“You feel that?” she asked.

Akira swallowed. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t welcoming either.

It was judging.

IV. The Aetherion Veil

The clouds parted.

And the world changed.

Aetherion Island emerged from the mist like a myth given form — a colossal landmass stretching farther than the eye could see, its mountains crowned with divine light, its forests shimmering with ethereal energy, its rivers glowing with celestial currents.

It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

It was alive.

Akira felt the sunlight shift, bending toward the island as if acknowledging a greater presence.

Zuina’s breath caught. “It’s bigger than I imagined.”

Akira nodded slowly. “Fifty thousand square miles… but it feels larger.”

Because it wasn’t just land. It was divine territory.

A place where the laws of physics bowed to the laws of gods. A place where myths walked freely. A place where Descendants trained, fought, lived, and sometimes died.

The plane approached the island’s perimeter.

And then—

A wall of light rose before them.

Not a physical wall. A barrier.

The Aetherion Veil.

A shimmering dome of divine energy that encased the entire island, pulsing with the combined power of hundreds of pantheons. It radiated authority so overwhelming that even Akira felt his breath hitch.

Zuina’s aura flared instinctively, lightning crackling beneath her skin.

“Easy,” Akira murmured.

“I know,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s just… strong.”

Strong was an understatement.

The Veil was a divine filter — a test. Only those recognized by the gods could pass.

The plane did not slow.

It flew straight toward the barrier.

Akira’s heart pounded.

Zuina’s fingers curled into fists.

The Veil loomed closer.

Closer.

Closer—

And then—

Light swallowed everything.

V. The Weight of Divinity

For a moment, Akira felt nothing.

No sound. No sight. No body.

Only pressure.

A crushing, suffocating, all‑encompassing pressure that pressed against his soul, probing, analyzing, evaluating.

It was not painful. It was not gentle.

It was absolute.

Zuina’s aura flared beside him, instinctively resisting. Akira reached out, placing a hand on her arm.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered.

She exhaled sharply. “I’m not fighting. I’m… stabilizing.”

Akira understood.

Storms did not bow easily.

The pressure intensified.

Akira felt the sunlight within him respond — a soft glow rising from his core, spreading through his veins, radiating outward.

The Veil recognized it.

The pressure eased.

Zuina’s storm aura settled.

And then—

The light faded.

The world returned.

The plane had passed through.

They were inside.

VI. Aetherion Island Revealed

The interior of the island was even more breathtaking than the exterior.

Forests of colossal trees whose leaves shimmered like crystal. Mountains that floated above the ground, tethered by chains of divine energy. Rivers that flowed upward, defying gravity. Cities built from marble, gold, and mythic stone. Temples that glowed with the presence of ancient gods. Training grounds large enough to hold armies. Dormitories that resembled palaces. Libraries that stretched into the clouds.

And at the center—

A structure so massive, so radiant, so impossibly grand that Akira felt his breath catch.

The Divine Academy.

A citadel of white stone and celestial metal, crowned with a spire that pierced the heavens. Its walls pulsed with divine energy, its gates guarded by colossal statues of gods from every pantheon.

Zuina stared, eyes wide.

Akira felt his heart race.

This was no school.

This was a mythic empire.

A place where the children of gods learned to wield their birthright. A place where power was currency. A place where legends were forged.

And they were about to enter it.

VII. The Weight of Destiny

As the plane descended toward the Academy’s private airfield, Akira felt a strange mix of emotions.

Awe. Fear. Excitement. Responsibility.

The sunlight outside the window brightened, responding to his heartbeat.

Zuina glanced at him. “You okay?”

Akira nodded slowly. “Just… taking it in.”

Zuina smirked. “Good. Because once we land, things get real.”

He didn’t doubt it.

Because Aetherion Island was not a sanctuary.

It was a crucible.

A place where the weak were broken. A place where the strong were challenged. A place where the heirs of gods were shaped into something greater — or consumed by their own power.

Akira closed his eyes.

This is it, he thought.

The beginning of everything.

The plane touched down.

The engines quieted.

The doors unlocked.

And Akira Yamamoto — heir of the sun — rose from his seat as the world of gods opened before him.

Section III — The Weight of a World Built for Gods

I. The Descent of the Divine

The plane’s engines dimmed, shifting from a celestial hum to a deep, resonant stillness. It was not the silence of a machine powering down — it was the silence of a shrine preparing for a ritual.

Akira felt it immediately.

Aetherion Island was not welcoming them. It was acknowledging them.

The air inside the cabin thickened, heavy with divine pressure. The other students — heirs of Tsukuyomi, Inari, Raijin, Fujin, and countless other kami — straightened instinctively, their auras tightening in response.

Zuina’s storm aura flickered around her like faint lightning. She didn’t show discomfort, but Akira could sense the tension in her posture.

“This island…” she murmured. “It’s alive.”

Akira nodded slowly. “It feels like it’s watching us.”

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Aetherion Island was a divine territory — a landmass infused with the combined power of hundreds of pantheons. Every tree, every stone, every gust of wind carried the imprint of ancient gods.

The plane’s doors unlocked with a soft chime.

A voice echoed through the cabin, calm but resonant with divine authority.

“Welcome, honored Descendants. Please disembark in an orderly manner. The Academy’s reception committee awaits.”

Zuina stood first.

Akira followed.

The moment the doors opened, a wave of divine energy washed over them — warm, heavy, ancient. It pressed against Akira’s skin like sunlight intensified a thousandfold.

Zuina inhaled sharply. “This pressure… it’s stronger than the Veil.”

Akira agreed.

The Aetherion Veil had judged them. The island itself was measuring them.

II. The First Step Into a Myth

The ramp extended from the plane, shimmering with divine stabilizers. Akira stepped onto it, and the world expanded before him in a way no mortal landscape ever could.

Aetherion Island stretched endlessly — forests of crystalline trees, rivers of glowing water, mountains floating in the sky, and cities carved from celestial stone.

But none of that compared to the structure directly ahead.

The Divine Academy.

Up close, it was overwhelming.

A citadel of white stone and radiant metal, its walls etched with divine script that shifted like living light. Towers rose into the heavens, each crowned with a different pantheon’s emblem. Bridges of energy connected floating platforms. Colossal statues of gods stood guard at the gates, their eyes glowing faintly as if alive.

Akira felt the sunlight within him respond — a soft pulse, like a heartbeat.

Zuina exhaled slowly. “It’s… massive.”

“It’s more than massive,” Akira whispered. “It’s impossible.”

The Academy was not built by human hands. It was shaped by divine will.

A place where the children of gods would learn to wield their birthright. A place where legends were forged. A place where power was everything.

Akira swallowed.

This is where I’m supposed to belong?

The thought felt unreal.

III. The Reception of the Kami’s Heirs

The airfield was enormous — a marble platform large enough to hold dozens of divine aircraft. Rows of attendants in ceremonial robes stood waiting, their heads bowed in reverence.

But they were not the main reception.

A formation of armored figures stood at the center — the Aetherion Guard, the Academy’s elite security force. Their armor shimmered with divine alloys, their weapons pulsed with celestial energy, and their auras were strong enough to rival high-tier Descendants.

Zuina raised an eyebrow. “They’re strong.”

Akira nodded. “Stronger than most of the DGGS.”

The Aetherion Guard was not bound by mortal politics. They answered only to the Academy.

And the Academy answered only to the gods.

As Akira and Zuina approached, the Guard shifted formation — not to block them, but to honor them.

The commander stepped forward, kneeling on one knee.

“Yamamoto Akira-sama. Suzumi Zuina-sama. Welcome to Aetherion Island. Your arrival has been anticipated.”

Zuina stiffened. “You don’t need to kneel.”

The commander raised his head slightly. “We kneel not for you, but for the divine authority you carry.”

Akira felt heat rise to his face.

He hated this part.

Zuina hated it more.

But they could not refuse it.

Not here.

Not in a place where divine hierarchy was absolute.

IV. The Other Descendants

The other Japanese Descendants disembarked behind them, forming small groups as they took in the island’s overwhelming presence.

The Tsukuyomi heir approached Akira with a respectful bow.

“Yamamoto-sama. Suzumi-sama. It is an honor to travel with you.”

Akira returned the bow. “We’re all students here. No need for formality.”

The boy smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But divine hierarchy does not disappear simply because we wish it to.”

Zuina muttered, “Great. Another one who talks like a priest.”

The Inari descendant giggled behind her hand.

The Raijin and Fujin brothers exchanged glances, their auras crackling with excitement.

“Think we’ll get to spar on the first day?” the Raijin heir asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” the Fujin heir replied. “They’ll probably make us take tests first.”

Zuina snorted. “If they make us take written exams, I’m leaving.”

Akira smiled despite himself.

Even surrounded by divine pressure, even standing on a mythic island, even facing a future filled with uncertainty — some things never changed.

V. The Divine Authority Approaches

A sudden shift in the air made every Descendant freeze.

The sunlight dimmed. The wind was still. The ground vibrated with a low, resonant hum.

Akira felt it first — a presence so overwhelming, so absolute, so impossibly vast that his breath caught in his throat.

Zuina’s eyes widened.

“That aura… Akira—”

“I know.”

It was not the aura of a student. Not the aura of a teacher. Not the aura of a god.

It was the aura of someone who carried the blood of the Top God.

The airfield attendants dropped to their knees. The Aetherion Guard lowered their heads. Even the other Descendants instinctively bowed.

Akira felt his heart pound.

Zuina’s storm aura flickered uncontrollably.

A figure approached from the far end of the airfield — tall, composed, radiating divine authority so intense that the very air bent around him.

The Headmaster.

The descendant of Jehovah.

The one man whose presence could make even the strongest Descendants feel like children.

Akira swallowed hard.

So this is the power of the highest lineage…

Zuina clenched her fists, her jaw tight.

“He’s… strong,” she whispered.

Strong was an understatement.

His aura was not just powerful — it was absolute.

A presence that commanded reverence. A presence that silenced storms. A presence that dimmed sunlight.

Akira felt the light within him flicker, not in fear, but in recognition.

The Headmaster stopped before them.

His gaze swept over the group.

Then he spoke.

“Welcome, children of the kami.”

His voice was calm.

But the world trembled.

VI. The Sun Meets the Highest Light

The Headmaster’s eyes settled on Akira.

For a moment, the world narrowed to a single point — sunlight meeting divine authority.

Akira felt exposed. Seen. Measured.

Not judged. Not threatened.

Simply… understood.

“You carry the light well,” the Headmaster said.

Akira bowed deeply. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

Zuina bowed beside him, though her aura crackled with restrained tension.

The Headmaster’s gaze shifted to her.

“And you, child of storms… your power is sharp. Dangerous. But controlled.”

Zuina stiffened. “I try.”

“You succeed.”

It was the closest thing to praise she had ever received from someone of higher authority.

The Headmaster stepped back, his aura receding slightly — enough for the others to breathe again.

“Welcome to Aetherion Island,” he said. “Your journey begins now.”

VII. The Path Forward

The Aetherion Guard formed a new formation, guiding the students toward the Academy’s entrance.

Zuina exhaled shakily. “I hate that man.”

Akira blinked. “What? Why?”

“He makes me feel like a toddler.”

Akira laughed softly. “He makes everyone feel like a toddler.”

Zuina grumbled. “Doesn’t make it better.”

Akira looked ahead — at the towering gates of the Divine Academy, at the divine light shimmering across the island, at the path that would shape their futures.

This is it, he thought.

The beginning of everything.

He stepped forward.

Zuina walked beside him.

And the gates of the Divine Academy opened.

Section IV — The Academy That Watches Back

I. The Gates That Breathe

The gates of the Divine Academy were not merely large. They were alive.

Two colossal doors of celestial metal towered above the students, each engraved with shifting divine script. The symbols glowed faintly, rearranging themselves as if reading the aura of every person who approached.

Akira felt the sunlight within him pulse in response. Zuina’s storm aura crackled faintly.

The gates opened slowly, not with mechanical force, but with the weight of divine will. The air trembled as the doors parted, revealing the interior grounds of the Academy.

Akira inhaled sharply.

Zuina whispered, “This place… it’s unreal.”

Unreal was an understatement.

The Divine Academy was a world within a world — a sprawling citadel of divine architecture, mythic landscapes, and structures that defied mortal logic.

Floating gardens suspended in midair, their flowers glowing with celestial light. Bridges woven from pure energy, shifting colors like living rainbows. Temples carved into mountains that floated above the ground. Training arenas are large enough to hold armies. Dormitories that resembled palaces. Libraries that stretched into the clouds, their pages turning themselves. Statues of gods that watched with eyes that seemed almost conscious.

And at the center of it all—

A massive tower of white stone and radiant metal, its spire piercing the heavens.

The Central Sanctum.

The heart of the Academy. The seat of divine authority. The place where the Headmaster resided.

Akira felt the sunlight within him resonate with the tower’s glow.

Zuina muttered, “Feels like it’s staring at us.”

Akira didn’t disagree.

II. The Orientation Procession

The Aetherion Guard led the students through the gates in a formal procession. Their armor glimmered with divine alloys, their movements precise and disciplined.

Other students — older ones — watched from balconies and walkways above.

Some curious. Some respectful. Some wary.

Akira felt their gazes like weight on his shoulders.

Zuina noticed too.

“They’re staring,” she muttered.

“They’re curious,” Akira replied.

“They’re judging.”

He didn’t argue.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

The heirs of Amaterasu and Susanoo were not just new students. They were political assets. Symbols. Potential threats.

And everyone knew it.

As they walked, Akira took in the surroundings — the divine architecture, the shimmering pathways, the floating structures. Everything radiated power.

Zuina’s eyes darted around, analyzing every detail.

“This place is built like a fortress,” she said quietly.

Akira nodded. “A fortress for gods’ children.”

Zuina snorted. “More like a cage.”

He didn’t disagree.

III. The Hierarchy Revealed

As the procession continued, Akira began to notice patterns.

Students wore different insignias on their uniforms — symbols representing their pantheons, their divine lineage, and their rank within the Academy.

Some insignias glowed faintly. Some pulsed with divine energy. Some were dark, but heavy with power.

Zuina noticed too.

“Look,” she murmured. “Those students… their insignias are gold.”

Akira followed her gaze.

A group of older students stood on a balcony above, their uniforms adorned with golden emblems shaped like crowns, wings, and halos.

Their auras were overwhelming — stronger than most adults Akira had met.

Zuina frowned. “Who are they?”

Akira swallowed. “Upper Division. The Elite Cohort.”

The Elite Cohort — the top 1% of the Academy. Descendants of the most powerful gods. Students who had already awakened their Ascendant Forms. Students who could level cities if they lost control.

One of them — a tall boy with silver hair and eyes like molten gold — looked directly at Akira.

Not with hostility. Not with curiosity.

With recognition.

As if he already knew who Akira was. As if he had been waiting.

Zuina stiffened. “I don’t like that look.”

Akira didn’t either.

IV. The Academy’s Factions

As they walked deeper into the Academy grounds, Akira began to sense the political undercurrents.

Groups of students clustered together, their auras resonating with similar divine signatures.

The Kami Division — descendants of Japanese gods. The Olympian Division — heirs of Greek deities. The Aesir Division — Norse bloodlines. The Netjer Division — Egyptian descendants. The Deva Division — Indian pantheon heirs. The Shen Division — Chinese divine bloodlines. And dozens more.

Each division had its own hierarchy. Its own politics. Its own rivalries.

Zuina’s eyes narrowed. “This place is a battlefield.”

Akira nodded. “A political one.”

Zuina smirked. “Doesn’t make it less dangerous.”

If anything, it made it more dangerous.

Because divine politics were sharper than blades.

V. The Weight of Expectation

As they approached the Central Sanctum, Akira felt the sunlight within him intensify.

Not painfully. Not aggressively.

But insistently.

As if urging him forward. As if reminding him of something he could not ignore.

Zuina noticed. “Your aura’s flaring.”

“I know.”

“You okay?”

Akira hesitated.

Was he okay?

He wasn’t sure.

He felt awe. He felt fear. He felt responsibility. He felt the weight of a thousand expectations pressing down on him.

I’m supposed to belong here, he thought.

But do I?

Zuina nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“Don’t overthink it,” she said. “You’re Akira Yamamoto. You’ll be fine.”

He smiled faintly.

Zuina wasn’t good at comforting people. But she was good at grounding him.

And that was enough.

VI. The First-Year Orientation Hall

The procession led them to a massive hall carved into the base of the Central Sanctum. The doors opened automatically, revealing an interior that defied logic.

The ceiling stretched into infinity, filled with constellations that shifted and moved. The walls were lined with statues of gods from every pantheon. The floor was a mosaic of divine symbols that glowed faintly beneath their feet.

Hundreds of first-year students filled the hall, their auras creating a storm of divine energy.

Akira felt the pressure immediately.

Zuina did too.

“This is… intense,” she muttered.

Akira nodded. “Everyone here is powerful.”

Zuina smirked. “Good. I like a challenge.”

Akira laughed softly.

Even in a hall filled with divine heirs, Zuina’s confidence never wavered.

VII. The Headmaster’s Presence

The lights dimmed.

The room fell silent.

A single beam of divine light descended from the ceiling, illuminating the center of the hall.

And then—

He appeared.

The Headmaster.

The descendant of Jehovah.

His presence was overwhelming — not because he tried to intimidate, but because his aura was simply too vast, too ancient, too absolute to ignore.

Akira felt his breath catch. Zuina’s storm aura flickered uncontrollably.

The Headmaster raised a hand.

Silence deepened.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice calm but resonant. “Children of the divine. Heirs of ancient power. Bearers of myth and destiny.”

His gaze swept across the hall.

When his eyes met Akira’s, the sunlight within Akira flared instinctively.

When his eyes met Zuina’s, the storm within her crackled.

The Headmaster smiled faintly.

“Your journey begins now.”

VIII. The Academy’s Warning

The Headmaster’s expression shifted — calm, but serious.

“Before you take your first steps into this Academy, you must understand one truth.”

The room held its breath.

“This island is not a sanctuary.”

His aura intensified.

“This Academy is not a school.”

The divine pressure grew heavier.

“This place is a crucible.”

Akira felt the weight of the words settle into his bones.

Zuina’s eyes narrowed.

The Headmaster continued.

“You will be tested. You will be challenged. You will be pushed beyond your limits.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And some of you will break.”

A ripple of fear moved through the hall.

Akira swallowed.

Zuina clenched her fists.

The Headmaster raised his hand again.

“But those who endure… Those who rise… Those who embrace their divine heritage…”

His aura flared, illuminating the entire hall.

“Will become legends.”

IX. The Path Ahead

The lights returned.

The divine pressure eased.

The Headmaster stepped back.

“Welcome to the Divine Academy,” he said. “May your journey be worthy of the gods who watch over you.”

The hall erupted into murmurs.

Akira exhaled slowly.

Zuina smirked. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Akira laughed softly. “You’re one to talk.”

Zuina shrugged. “Fair.”

They stood together, surrounded by hundreds of divine heirs, each one carrying a legacy, a destiny, a burden.

Akira looked at the towering walls, the shifting constellations, the divine symbols beneath his feet.

This is it, he thought.

The beginning of everything.

Zuina nudged him. “Ready?”

Akira nodded.

“Yeah.”

They stepped forward.

And the Divine Academy welcomed them.

Section V — The Divine Mandate Ceremony

I. The Hall Awakens Further

The divine mechanism that had awakened in Section IV did not fade. If anything, it grew stronger.

The constellations above the orientation hall pulsed with a deeper, more resonant glow. The air thickened with divine energy, vibrating like a taut string ready to snap.

Akira felt the sunlight within him stir uneasily. Zuina’s storm aura crackled like distant thunder.

The hall was not done with them.

Not even close.

Zuina muttered, “This place is going to give me a headache.”

Akira whispered, “It’s not meant to be comfortable.”

Zuina snorted. “Understatement.”

The hall vibrated again — a low, ancient hum that made the floor tremble beneath their feet.

Akira swallowed.

Something big is coming.

II. The Descent of the Mandate Rings

Light gathered at the center of the ceiling — swirling, twisting, condensing into a massive sphere of divine energy. The sphere cracked open, releasing a cascade of glowing rings that floated downward like halos.

Each ring was inscribed with divine script. Each ring pulsed with a different color. Each ring radiated a different aura.

Akira inhaled sharply. “Mandate Rings…”

Zuina frowned. “What are those?”

Akira explained quietly, “They’re divine classifications. They determine your training path, your privileges, your restrictions… everything.”

Zuina raised an eyebrow. “So basically, labels.”

Akira nodded. “Very powerful labels.”

Zuina scowled. “Great.”

The rings hovered above the students, waiting.

The hall whispered:

“THE MANDATES OF HEAVEN SHALL BE GIVEN.”

Akira’s heart pounded.

Zuina’s storm aura flared.

The rings began to move.

III. The Sorting of the Divine

The rings floated through the air, seeking their chosen Descendants. Each ring represented a divine path — a role shaped by lineage, potential, and destiny.

A ring of silver descended toward a descendant of Tsukuyomi. A ring of crimson descended toward a descendant of Raijin. A ring of jade descended toward a descendant of Inari.

Each ring settled above its chosen student, merging with their aura.

The hall whispered their titles:

“Moonward Scholar.” “Thunder Enforcer.” “Prosperity Weaver.”

Zuina muttered, “These names are getting dramatic.”

Akira smiled. “Everything here is dramatic.”

Zuina elbowed to him. “Shut up.”

The rings continued to sort.

But two rings remained untouched.

One glowed like the sun. One swirled like a storm.

Zuina stiffened. “Oh no.”

Akira exhaled. “Here we go.”

IV. The Storm’s Mandate

The storm ring descended first.

It hovered above Zuina, crackling with electric blue light. The air around her vibrated, reacting to her divine lineage.

Zuina’s jaw tightened. “Let’s get this over with.”

The ring pulsed.

The hall whispered:

“TEMPEST COMMANDER.”

Zuina blinked. “Commander?”

The hall repeated, louder:

“TEMPEST COMMANDER. THE ONE WHO COMMANDS THE STORM. THE ONE WHO ENFORCES DIVINE ORDER.”

Students murmured.

Akira felt a chill.

Zuina’s storm aura flared instinctively, responding to the title.

“Commander…” she muttered. “Sounds like a job.”

Akira smiled. “It suits you.”

Zuina elbowed to him. “Shut up.”

But she didn’t hide the faint spark of pride in her eyes.

V. The Sun’s Mandate

The final ring descended.

It glowed brighter than all the others — warm, radiant, and overwhelming. The hall dimmed in comparison, as if bowing to its light.

Akira felt the sunlight within him surge.

Zuina whispered, “Akira…”

The ring hovered above him.

The hall fell silent.

The ring pulsed.

And the hall whispered:

“SOLAR GUARDIAN.”

Akira froze.

Zuina’s eyes widened. “Guardian?”

The hall continued:

“SOLAR GUARDIAN. THE ONE WHO BEARS THE CELESTIAL FLAME. THE ONE WHO SHIELDS THE WEAK. THE ONE WHO RISES ABOVE ALL.”

Akira’s breath caught.

Zuina stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

Akira shook his head. “I… didn’t expect this.”

Zuina smirked. “Of course you didn’t. You never expect anything.”

Akira looked away, embarrassed.

The ring settled into his aura, merging with the sunlight inside him.

Warmth spread through his chest — not painful, but heavy.

Solar Guardian…

A title reserved for only the rarest heirs of Amaterasu.

A title that came with immense responsibility.

A title that could not be refused.

VI. The Pantheon Envoys React

The envoys watched the sorting with unreadable expressions.

But when Zuina received “Tempest Commander,” the Aesir envoy nodded approvingly.

When Akira received “Solar Guardian,” the Kami envoy smiled — a soft, knowing smile that made Akira’s heart skip.

The Olympian envoy whispered something to the Netjer envoy. The Deva envoy closed her eyes, sensing the shift in divine balance. The Shen envoy stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Zuina muttered, “They’re staring again.”

Akira sighed. “They’re evaluating.”

Zuina scowled. “Same thing.”

VII. The Headmaster’s Return

The hall was dimmed.

The air thickened.

And the Headmaster reappeared at the center of the room — not walking, but simply existing, as if he had always been there.

Akira felt the sunlight within him flicker.

Zuina’s storm aura recoiled.

The Headmaster’s gaze swept across the hall.

“Your mandates have been given,” he said. “Your paths have been chosen.”

His voice echoed like thunder wrapped in silk.

“Some of you will rise. Some of you will fall. All of you will be tested.”

The constellations above pulsed.

The rings glowed.

The hall trembled.

The Headmaster raised his hand.

“Your orientation is not yet complete.”

Zuina groaned softly. “Of course it’s not.”

Akira braced himself.

The Headmaster’s eyes glowed faintly.

“Prepare yourselves.”

The hall brightened.

The divine mechanism awakened again.

And the next trial began.

Section VI — The Trial of Resonance

I. The Hall Refuses to Rest

The Mandate Rings had settled. The divine titles had been given. The envoys had taken their measure.

But the hall did not release them.

If anything, the divine pressure intensified.

Akira felt it immediately — a tightening in the air, a shift in the light, a subtle vibration beneath his feet. The sunlight within him stirred uneasily, as if sensing something ancient awakening.

Zuina’s storm aura crackled. “Oh, come on. What now?”

Akira swallowed. “The Headmaster said orientation wasn’t finished.”

Zuina scowled. “He could’ve been lying.”

Akira smiled faintly. “He wasn’t.”

The constellations above pulsed again — brighter, sharper, more focused.

The hall whispered:

“THE FINAL TRIAL BEGINS.”

Zuina groaned. “Of course it does.”

II. The Resonance Pillars Rise

The floor trembled.

Lines of divine script lit up beneath their feet, racing outward in every direction. The mosaic shifted, rearranging itself into a massive circular pattern.

Then—

Pillars erupted from the ground.

Not violently — gracefully, as if rising from water. Each pillar was carved from celestial stone, inscribed with symbols from a different pantheon.

There were dozens of them. Hundreds. More than Akira could count.

Zuina’s eyes widened. “What are those?”

Akira inhaled slowly. “Resonance Pillars.”

Zuina frowned. “Explain.”

Akira’s voice dropped. “They measure compatibility.”

Zuina blinked. “Compatibility with what?”

Akira looked at the pillars — each one glowing faintly, waiting.

“With the Academy.”

Zuina stared. “The Academy tests if we belong here?”

Akira nodded. “Yes.”

Zuina crossed her arms. “And if we don’t?”

Akira didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

Zuina’s storm aura flared. “Great.”

III. The Envoys Step Forward

The Pantheon Envoys moved to the edges of the hall, forming a circle around the students. Their auras flared — not aggressively, but with unmistakable authority.

The Olympian envoy raised her hand. The Aesir envoy crossed his arms. The Netjer envoy bowed his head. The Deva envoy closed her eyes. The Shen envoy stood like a mountain. The Kami envoy smiled softly.

Zuina muttered, “They’re enjoying this.”

Akira whispered, “They’re observing.”

Zuina scowled. “Same thing.”

The Headmaster appeared at the center of the hall — not walking, not teleporting, simply existing, as if the world had rearranged itself around him.

Akira felt the sunlight within him flicker.

Zuina’s storm aura recoiled.

The Headmaster raised his hand.

“Children of the divine,” he said, “your Mandates have been given. But a title alone does not determine your worth.”

His aura intensified.

“The Academy must know your resonance.”

IV. The Trial Explained

The Headmaster gestured to the pillars.

“These Resonance Pillars measure your alignment with divine energy. They test your stability, your potential, your compatibility with the Academy’s power.”

Zuina frowned. “So… we touch them?”

The Headmaster smiled faintly. “In a manner of speaking.”

Akira swallowed. “What happens if someone fails?”

The Headmaster’s expression did not change.

“They leave.”

Zuina stiffened. “Leave how?”

The Headmaster did not answer.

The silence was answer enough.

Akira felt a chill.

Zuina clenched her fists. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

V. The First Attempts

A descendant of Inari stepped forward first. She placed her hand on a jade pillar. The pillar glowed softly, resonating with her aura.

The hall whispered:

“STABLE.”

The girl exhaled in relief.

A descendant of Raijin approached a crimson pillar. Lightning crackled around him. The pillar pulsed violently.

“VOLATILE.”

The boy stumbled back, shaken.

Zuina muttered, “Volatile? That’s not good.”

Akira nodded. “It means he needs training.”

Zuina smirked. “We all need training.”

Akira smiled. “True.”

One by one, students approached the pillars.

Some pillars glowed brightly. Some flickered. Some remained dark.

The hall whispered judgments:

“PROMISING.” “UNSTABLE.” “BALANCED.” “DORMANT.” “ASCENDING.”

Zuina rolled her eyes. “These labels are worse than the Mandates.”

Akira laughed softly. “At least they’re honest.”

Zuina smirked. “That’s the problem.”

VI. Zuina’s Resonance

Zuina stepped forward.

The storm pillar reacted instantly — lightning crackled along its surface, swirling like a cyclone trapped in stone.

Zuina placed her hand on it.

The pillar exploded with light.

Wind roared through the hall. Thunder shook the walls. The constellations flickered.

Students stumbled back.

Akira shielded his eyes.

Zuina stood firm.

The hall whispered:

“TEMPEST COMMANDER. RESOLUTE. UNBREAKABLE. RESONANCE: PERFECT.”

Zuina blinked. “Perfect?”

Akira smiled. “Congratulations.”

Zuina elbowed him. “Shut up.”

But she didn’t hide the pride in her eyes.

VII. Akira’s Resonance

Akira stepped forward.

The solar pillar glowed the moment he approached — warm, bright, overwhelming. The hall dimmed in comparison, as if bowing to its light.

Akira placed his hand on it.

Light erupted.

Not blinding — transcendent.

The hall filled with golden radiance. The constellations aligned. The pillars hummed in harmony. The envoys straightened. The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Zuina whispered, “Akira…”

The hall whispered:

“SOLAR GUARDIAN. CELESTIAL HEART. ASCENDANT POTENTIAL. RESonance: UNMEASURED.”

Akira froze.

Unmeasured.

Zuina stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

Akira shook his head. “I… didn’t know.”

Zuina smirked. “Of course you didn’t.”

Akira looked away, embarrassed.

The pillar dimmed.

The hall fell silent.

VIII. The Headmaster’s Judgment

The Headmaster stepped forward.

His aura pressed against the hall like a divine tide.

“Your Resonance has been recorded,” he said. “Your Mandates have been confirmed.”

His gaze swept across the students.

“Some of you show promise. Some of you show danger. Some of you show potential beyond measure.”

His eyes lingered on Akira.

Akira swallowed.

Zuina’s storm aura flared protectively.

The Headmaster raised his hand.

“Your orientation is complete.”

The constellations dimmed. The pillars sank into the floor. The divine pressure eased.

The hall exhaled.

The doors began to open.

Light poured in.

Zuina stretched. “Finally.”

Akira smiled. “Yeah.”

The Headmaster’s voice echoed one last time.

“Welcome to the Divine Academy.”