My System Is a Fallen God: I Level Up Endlessly

The grand mahogany doors clicked shut. The chaotic noise of the outer plaza faded into a muffled hum, replaced by the sharp echo of footsteps against polished marble.

Saile stood inside the Holy Vanguard Academy.

The entry corridor opened into a vast, sunlit atrium. High vaulted ceilings arched overhead, supported by pale stone pillars. The air tasted sterile, thick with the scent of burning frankincense and the sharp, metallic tang of condensed magic.

"Look at the stonework, kid," Naicul whispered.

The God’s voice lacked its usual cynical purr. It sounded hollow. It scraped against the inside of Saile’s skull like a rusted blade dragging across a tombstone.

Saile raised his gaze. Veins of pure, glittering gold were woven directly into the marble pillars, forming intricate sunbursts. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, artificial glow over the freshmen gathering below.

"They stripped that metal from my high altars," Naicul stated coldly. "When Naissac thrust his dagger into my back, he didn’t just steal my throne. He tore my temples down to the bedrock. He melted my relics to build a nursery for his lapdogs."

Saile felt a sudden, biting ache behind his ribs. It was not his own pain. The ancient entity living in his chest was looking at a desecrated graveyard disguised as a monument.

"We will take it back," Saile promised silently.

"No," Naicul corrected, the wrath returning to his tone. "We will burn it down."

Saile lowered his eyes and joined the flow of students being herded toward the center of the atrium.

The outer registration had merely been a filter to keep the unawakened out of the city. Now, the true sorting began. At the heart of the room stood a raised circular dais. A colossal, multifaceted crystal orb floated three feet above a brass pedestal, rotating slowly.

This was the Grand Evaluation Crystal.

A dozen elite instructors stood around the dais. They wore crisp white uniforms

trimmed in gold, their chests decorated with military medals. They watched the incoming freshmen with sharp, judgmental eyes.

"Listen up!" a senior instructor barked. His voice amplified magically, washing over the crowded atrium. "The outer gates only test if you possess a spark. The Grand Crystal measures your true soul. It determines your class placement. Step up when called."

The courtyard was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Thousands of teenagers formed

disorganized clusters. These were not the starving, hardened fighters of the desert. They were the sheltered prodigies of the Central Continent.

Boys in tailored silk doublets laughed among themselves, casually conjuring spheres of blue fire to show off. Girls wearing enchanted mythril armor whispered behind silk fans, casting disdainful glances at anyone lacking a noble crest.

They flaunted their elemental talents like expensive jewelry.

Saile watched them with clinical detachment. They possessed vast mana pools, but their stances were sloppy. They rested their weight on their heels. Their eyes

darted around seeking attention rather than scanning for threats.

They played with magic. Saile killed with it.

If he drew the wrapped odachi resting against his back, he could sever the nearest fire-user’s spine before the boy even realized the wind had shifted.

"Caelum Vance," the instructor called out.

The tall, dark-haired noble who had shoved Saile in the outer courtyard swaggered up the steps. He offered a charming, practiced smile to the instructors and placed his hand flat against the floating crystal.

The orb erupted. A blinding, searing blue light flooded the atrium. The air grew hot, carrying the harsh scent of burning ozone.

A golden screen materialized above the pedestal.

[Talent: A-Rank - Cerulean Flame]

A ripple of impressed murmurs swept through the crowd. The instructors nodded in approval.

"Class A," the senior instructor declared. "Proceed to the upper wing."

Caelum smirked, casting a smug look over his shoulder at the waiting crowd before walking away.

The line crawled forward. Saile kept his head down, shuffling his ragged boots against the pristine floor. He watched dozens of nobles register their affinities. Torrents of wind, crashing water, and brilliant light flashed

through the crystal in varying degrees of intensity.

Every flash was a reminder of the raw power concentrated in this building.

Finally, the crowd thinned. Only a handful of students remained.

"Next," the instructor sighed, rubbing his temples.

Saile walked up the stone steps. His cheap linen tunic clung to his sweaty skin. The thick, lumpy canvas bundle on his back drew immediate, disgusted stares from the instructors on the dais.

"Name," the instructor demanded, his tone dripping with open condescension.

"Gabriel," Saile answered softly, injecting a nervous tremor into his voice.

"Just Gabriel?" the instructor sneered. "No house? No lineage?"

"I am an orphan, sir," Saile replied, keeping his bright blue eyes fixed submissively on the floor.

A few chuckles echoed from the nobles lingering near the staircases.

"The global mandate drags the mud into our halls," a girl whispered loudly.

The instructor waved a dismissive hand. "Touch the crystal, boy. Let us see where you belong."

Saile stared at the floating orb.

This was the crucible. The Grand Crystal probed deeper than the cheap stones at the outer gate. It was designed to pull mana directly from the core and display its absolute nature. If he slipped for a single fraction of a second, the Endless Devourer would shatter the stone and bathe the entire atrium in black lightning.

The Inquisitors would draw their swords. He would be fighting for his life against hundreds of elites.

"Cage it," Naicul ordered.

Saile closed his eyes. He visualized the freezing, violent ocean of his EX-Rank core. He mentally dragged heavy iron doors across the abyss, locking the dark magic away in the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul.

He gripped the magic by the throat. He strangled his own Diamond-Tier power until it was nothing but a suffocated ember.

He pushed a microscopic, heavily diluted drop of energy up through his chest.

The silver illusion choker burned furiously against his skin. It took the tiny drop of dark mana and ground it down. It stripped away the killing intent, the gravity, and the frost, leaving nothing but raw, stinging friction.

Saile placed his calloused palm against the cold glass.

The crystal sat entirely dormant. The silence stretched for a long, agonizing heartbeat.

Saile clamped down harder on his core, refusing to let the Endless Devourer react to the magical probe. The internal pressure felt like a knife twisting between his ribs.

Then, a faint spark flickered to life.

It was not the warm yellow glow he had projected at the gates. Stripped of almost all its mana to avoid detection, the magic registered as a muddy, dull gray light. It swirled lazily inside the orb like a dying breath trapped in a glass jar.

It gave off no heat. It produced no elemental aura.

The golden system screen materialized weakly above the pedestal.

[Talent: F-Rank - Null]

The atrium went dead silent.

Even the senior instructor stared at the glowing text in sheer disbelief. An F-Rank Null meant the boy possessed no elemental affinity whatsoever. He had a core, but it was empty. It was the lowest possible designation a human could receive.

Then, the laughter started.

It began as a few scattered snickers from the viewing balconies. It quickly swelled into a roaring, cruel wave of mockery from the gathered nobles.

"A Null!" a boy in silver armor wheezed, pointing down at the dais. "He walked all the way from the border to show us a dying spark!"

"He belongs in the stables!" another noble mocked. "Careful, trash, if you blink too hard you might exhaust your mana pool!"

Saile stood perfectly still. He pulled his hand away from the cold glass.

He did not flush with embarrassment. His heart rate did not elevate. He simply looked out at the laughing crowd with plain, bored blue eyes.

If they knew the truth, their cruel laughter would turn into frantic, desperate screams. If he dropped the choker right now, the sheer gravity of his presence would crush their ribs into the polished marble.

"Silence!" the senior instructor barked.

The laughter died down to a low simmer. The instructor looked at Saile with profound, undisguised pity.

"The outer gate let you in because you possess a core," the instructor stated coldly. "But you have no elemental output, Gabriel. You are a Null."

The man picked up a rusted iron token from a small wooden box on the desk. He shoved it across the table.

"The mandate states we must accept you," the instructor said, his lip curling. "You are assigned to Class F. The trash bracket. Take this to the lower dormitories. Stay out of the training rings if you value your life."

"Thank you, sir," Saile whispered.

He took the rusted iron token and slipped it into his pocket.

He turned his back on the mocking crowd and walked toward the dark corridor leading to the lower wing. He left the bright, sunlit atrium behind, stepping into the shadows of the academy.

The silver choker remained firmly in place. The Epic-grade sword rested quietly against his spine.

"They welcomed us with open arms," Naicul chuckled. The sound vibrated with dark, ruthless anticipation.

Saile walked deeper into the stone halls. A cold smile finally broke across his face, hidden perfectly behind his innocent disguise.

The most dangerous entity in the world had just been handed the keys to the Pope’s kingdom.

The hunt for the Divine Fragment had officially begun.

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