My System Is a Fallen God: I Level Up Endlessly

Saile left the sunlit coliseum behind, descending into the dark stone corridors of the Academy’s lower wing.

The polished marble floors faded into rough, unwashed granite. The air lost the scent of expensive perfume, replaced by the damp, metallic smell of a cellar. Banners of victory did not hang down here.

He held the rusted iron token in his pale hand. The number painted on the metal matched a rotting wooden door at the very end of the hall.

Class F. The trash bracket.

Saile pushed the door open. The hinges shrieked in protest, scraping against the stone.

The classroom was small and dimly lit by a few flickering candles. It lacked the plush velvet chairs and polished oak desks of the upper levels. The students sat on splintered wooden benches.

There were only twelve people in the room.

These were the rejects of the Holy Vanguard Academy. They were commoners who barely scraped by the entrance exams, or fallen nobles stripped of their family titles. They sat in defeated silence, staring at the floor.

Saile walked to a desk in the back corner. He dropped his wrapped, lumpy canvas bundle onto the floor and took a seat.

He swept his bright blue eyes over his new classmates. To a Church Inquisitor, they looked like garbage. To a Diamond-Tier Sovereign, they looked like untapped weapons.

A pale, skinny boy sat two rows ahead. A thick gray cloth was tied securely over the boy’s eyes, blinding him.

The blind student held a piece of chalk. He traced his fingers through the empty

air above his desk, muttering quietly.

Most people would assume he was crazy. But Saile’s Diamond-Tier senses picked up a faint, almost invisible hum of mana radiating from the boy’s fingertips.

The blind student was not drawing aimlessly. He was weaving complex, invisible runes into the air. He was mapping the ambient mana of the entire room, sensing the heartbeat and position of every single person present.

It was a localized radar. It was a spatial awareness talent that could render stealth magic completely useless.

A few seats away, a girl with chopped, messy red hair slouched against the wall. She was officially designated as a Beast Tamer. But she had no flaming lion or giant elemental wolf at her side.

The Church instructors considered a tamer without a giant beast to be a failure.

Saile looked closer. A tiny, translucent desert centipede crawled over the girl’s knuckles. She commanded it with absolute, effortless precision. She did not waste her mana on flashy, roaring monsters.

She controlled biological toxins. If she slipped that centipede into a noble’s wine glass, they would drop dead before the first sip settled in their stomach.

"They are blind," Saile noted in his mind.

"The False Saints only value what shines," Naicul replied, his ancient voice echoing with dark amusement. "They worship loud, bright destruction. They do not understand the quiet lethality of the shadows."

"We can use them," Saile decided.

He settled back into his wooden chair just as the classroom door banged open.

Professor Erif strode into the room. He wore immaculate red and gold robes that looked entirely out of place in the damp cellar. He smelled strongly of cheap wine and overpowering cologne.

Erif slammed a thick, leather-bound textbook onto his desk.

"Silence," the professor barked.

The twelve students straightened up, keeping their eyes lowered.

"You are Class F," Erif sneered, pacing the front of the room. "You are the bottom rung of the ladder. You are here because the global mandate requires us to educate the dregs. Do not expect special treatment. Most of you will be expelled or killed in the sparring rings before the winter solstice."

The blind runecrafter shrank in his seat. The beast-tamer girl glared at the chalkboard.

"Today, we study the foundation of our world," Erif announced. He picked up a piece of chalk and drew a crude, jagged circle on the board.

"The First Era. The age of the Demon God."

A sharp, violent pulse of cold energy stabbed Saile right behind the ribs.

Naicul stirred in the dark abyss of his core. The God’s presence swelled, listening closely to the professor’s words.

"A thousand years ago, the world was a primitive, bleeding wasteland," Erif lectured, puffing out his chest. "Mankind lived in mud and terror. Why? Because we were ruled by Naicul Elav."

The professor spat the name like poison.

"He was not a man. He was a savage, mindless beast," Erif continued. "He bathed

in the blood of the innocent. He fed on unawakened children to fuel his demonic

power. There was no culture. There was no art. Only slaughter."

The silver choker burned furiously against Saile’s throat.

Saile had to clamp down on his core with extreme mental force. The Endless Devourer writhed, trying to leak dark frost into the classroom.

"I built their roads," Naicul snarled in Saile’s mind. The God’s voice shook with pure, unadulterated rage. "I forged the first steel. I taught the mud-born insects how to harvest crops so they wouldn’t starve in the winter."

Saile kept his expression entirely blank. He folded his hands on his desk.

"Then, salvation arrived," Erif smiled, turning a page in his book. "The Immortal Saints, blessed by the Light, rose from the ashes. Pope Naissac, a pure vessel of holiness, gathered his righteous army. He single-handedly outsmarted the mindless beast and sealed him in the void."

"He stabbed me in the back while I was drinking wine at my own table!" Naicul roared. The mental shout made Saile’s teeth ache.

"The Pope brought civilization to this world," Erif finished, looking proudly at his students. "We owe him our lives, our laws, and our prosperity. The Demon God was merely a rabid dog put down by a divine master."

The professor paused, expecting the class to nod in religious awe.

Saile slowly raised his hand.

Professor Erif frowned, annoyed by the interruption. He checked a seating chart on his desk.

"Yes, Gabriel?" Erif sighed. "What could you possibly have to add?"

Saile stood up. His cheap linen shirt hung loosely on his frame. He projected the timid, nervous demeanor of a street orphan perfectly.

"I just have a question about the timeline, Professor," Saile asked softly.

"Speak quickly," Erif snapped.

Saile tilted his head, his fake blue eyes staring directly at the man.

"The holy scripture states that Pope Naissac was a pure vessel of light from birth," Saile began, measuring every syllable. "It also says the Demon God ruled the continent for a decade through sheer, mindless brutality."

"That is correct," Erif nodded, crossing his arms.

"Then I am confused," Saile said.

He let a brief, calculated pause fill the quiet classroom.

"Why do the original cathedral archives list Pope Naissac as Naicul’s Chief Strategist during that same decade?" Saile asked. "Did the Pope voluntarily serve a mindless, child-eating beast for ten years? Or was the ’beast’ actually running a civilized empire?"

The classroom went dead silent.

The blind runecrafter stopped moving his fingers. The beast-tamer girl snapped her head toward Saile, her eyes wide with shock.

Questioning the historical narrative of the Saints was absolute heresy. Doing it with flawless logic was a death sentence.

Professor Erif’s face drained of color. His jaw worked, but no words came out. He opened his textbook frantically, searching for a scripted counter-argument. There was none.

"If the Pope served a savage dog," Saile continued quietly, twisting the knife, "that makes him a traitor to humanity. If he served a civilized king, that makes the scripture a lie. Which one is it, Professor?"

"Heretical lies!" Erif finally sputtered. His face turned a deep, furious crimson.

The professor slammed his fist onto the wooden desk.

"Where did a filthy slum rat hear such treasonous garbage?" Erif demanded, his

voice shaking.

"I like to read," Saile replied simply. He sat back down in his chair.

"Naissac was a spy!" Erif shouted, sweating profusely. "He infiltrated the beast’s ranks to learn his weaknesses! That is established theology!"

The excuse was weak, and everyone in the room knew it. The logic was irreparably broken. The damage was already done.

The misfits of Class F looked at the blonde-haired boy in the back corner. They no longer saw a timid street orphan. They saw someone who did not fear the instructors. They saw someone who viewed the Church with the same quiet disgust that they did.

"You will stay after class and scrub the floors, Gabriel!" Erif barked, desperately trying to regain control of the room. "Another outburst like that and I will have you whipped by the Inquisitors!"

Saile did not argue. He simply nodded submissively.

"That was immensely satisfying," Naicul purred in his mind. The God’s rage had evaporated, replaced by a cold, vindictive joy. "You planted the seed of doubt. The rot will spread."

Saile looked out the small, barred window near his desk.

He was not just here to steal a relic. He was here to break the foundation of the Pope’s power. If he could shatter their history, the entire religion would crumble.

When the bell finally rang, the students quickly filed out of the damp cellar. Saile remained behind, taking a wet rag from the furious professor to clean the stone tiles.

He scrubbed the granite in silence. It was a minor humiliation, a small price to pay for the victory.

An hour later, Saile tossed the dirty rag into a bucket. He slung his wrapped sword over his shoulder and walked out into the empty stone hallway.

He navigated the twisting corridors, heading toward the Academy’s dining hall.

As he turned a corner, his Diamond-Tier instincts flared. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was watching him.

Saile did not stop walking. He kept his posture slouched. He let his blue eyes drift casually toward the upper balcony overlooking the hallway.

Standing in the shadows was a girl in pristine silver armor. She possessed flowing, waist-length white hair.

Her eyes were locked directly on him. They were not normal eyes. They glowed with a terrifying, piercing gold light that seemed to cut right through the physical world.

She was staring straight through his cheap linen shirt. She was looking right past his fake blonde hair.

A single drop of crimson blood leaked from the corner of her glowing golden eye, trailing slowly down her pale cheek.

Saile’s heart skipped a beat.

[System Alert: SSS-Rank Talent Detected!]

[Notice: Oppressive scrutiny bypassing Illusion Artifact.]

She could not see his true face. But her eyes were reading the endless, terrifying abyss of dark mana chained inside his soul.

The Holy Saintess had found him.

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