Far to the north, beyond the reach of ordered kingdoms, lay Lawless. The Wild Zone.
Snow fell endlessly, yet the nation burned with light. Neon signs flickered across steel structures, cables humming overhead, drones slicing through the air like silent predators. Security robots marched in rigid patrol lines, their lenses glowing as they scanned every movement, every breath that didn't belong.
Chaos… organized just enough to survive.
In a shadowed alley, two figures in hoodies stood beneath a broken light.
"The Door gave us a king-level mission," the man muttered, voice shaking despite the cold. "We're dead. All of us."
The girl beside him snapped, her hand striking his head sharply.
"Then stop whining," she said coldly. "Train. Get stronger. At least die trying to win."
Her eyes burned with something fiercer than fear.
"If you're going to be useless, don't drag me with you."
Elsewhere, boots pressed into snow.
Gareth moved forward, silent, his red cloak cutting through the white storm behind him. His eyes traced the ground with precision, following disturbed snow, broken patterns, signs invisible to most.
"Three groups," one lieutenant muttered.
"Recent," the other added.
Gareth crouched, brushing snow aside, revealing faint imprints beneath.
His gaze sharpened.
"They're close."
He stood.
Wind howled.
"Move."
Far from the frozen chaos of Lawless, the academy remained untouched.
Viictoria's voice cut through the classroom with crisp authority.
"Fallless Energy examinations begin soon. Your performance will determine your placement within the academy physical hierarchy."
The room shifted instantly, tension replacing idle noise.
Grenzabell sat near the middle row, elbows resting on the desk, eyes half-lowered. He listened, but only partially, like the words were passing through him instead of into him.
His pen moved absently on the page.
Not notes.
Just shapes.
Doors.
A silhouette.
A faint outline of a man in a red cloak.
Victoria's gaze locked onto him.
He wasn't even pretending to focus.
She continued speaking, but her thoughts drifted for a moment.
He said he'd be my best student…
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
And he can't even stay present.
Grenzabell blinked slowly, barely reacting even as the class grew louder around him.
Victoria's frustration sharpened.
At least pretend you're here.
Grenzabell stepped into Victoria's office just as the door closed behind him.
Before he could even speak, her hand came down sharply against the side of his head.
A clean, frustrated slap.
"Concentrate in class, goddammit," she snapped.
He flinched slightly, more from surprise than pain, then rubbed his head while blinking at her.
"…Yes, ma'am."
Victoria exhaled through her nose, clearly irritated but not stopping.
"Anyways," she muttered, turning back to her desk, "I hate beating weak fools… but here it is."
She pulled out a thick folder and dropped it onto the table.
It landed with a dull weight.
"A simple guide to our current understanding of the Doors."
Grenzabell's expression shifted slightly as he looked at it, the word catching his attention more than the slap ever did.
Under the shade of a wide tree, the book lay open between them, pages heavy with inked knowledge that felt older than the academy itself.
Grenzabell read without blinking, eyes scanning line after line with increasing intensity, while Dawncer leaned closer, arms folded, irritation already building.
"You understanding this at all, Grenz you bastard?" Dawncer muttered.
Grenzabell didn't answer. He just kept turning pages.
Silence stretched.
Then they reached a section that made him pause.
Ranks.
His eyes narrowed.
The lowest classification.
Superhuman.
Grenzabell froze for a second, then suddenly raised his voice.
"Hey, Thyssara!" he called out toward a nearby bench under another tree. "Is it true the weakest rank is Superhuman?"
Thyssara didn't even look up from where she was sitting.
"Yeah," she replied flatly. "That's true."
Grenzabell blinked.
"…That's the weakest?"
A beat.
"How do you even become one?"
Dawncer exhaled, clearly already memorizing the page as he spoke.
"According to the class teacher, it's simple. You gather Fallless energy and spread it evenly through your body. Every part of it."
He tapped the page lightly.
"The intensity and density depend on how much Fallless energy you have."
Fally, sitting nearby, leaned in slightly and added, "It's true. It's basically tier one, two, and three. That's all."
Grenzabell stared at the words again.
The idea didn't feel simple to him.
It felt like a door had just been opened… but the world on the other side was much bigger than expected.
Across the academy, classrooms burned with intensity as teachers delivered their final words before the Fallless examinations.
Chalk snapped. Desks trembled. Eyes sharpened.
"This exam is brutal," one teacher barked, pacing the front. "Far beyond what you think you're ready for."
Silence.
Then his voice dropped, colder.
"But you're not here to survive. You're here to win."
Another slammed a hand on the desk.
"No kindness. No hesitation. No playing the saint."
A pause.
"Be ruthless. Ruthless enough to take what others won't dare reach for."
Murmurs rose, then hardened into focus.
"Snatch your dreams," a different teacher shouted. "Because no one will hand them to you!"
A girl clenched her fists.
"It's good to be the good guy," a voice echoed from another class. "But sometimes… that's exactly what gets you killed."
The room froze.
"The Hero of Peace learned that," the teacher continued. "Sealed. Forgotten. Because he wasn't ruthless enough."
Breath held.
"You represent The Permecia Institution," he said, voice rising. "There is no space here for weaklings."
He turned, eyes blazing.
"Win… because the world only remembers those who take it."
For a second, silence.
Then ,
Roars.
Each class erupted, voices shaking the walls, determination crashing like a storm as the final bell rang.
The academy exhaled.
And the hunt began.
Grenzabell left the building without really deciding to. The pressure of the upcoming examinations sat heavy in his chest, like something pressing inward from all sides, making even breathing feel slightly delayed.
He walked aimlessly through the academy grounds, hands in his pockets, eyes unfocused.
"I need air…" he muttered to himself.
The path curved behind one of the older training halls, where wind gathered in quieter pockets. That's where he noticed it.
A notebook.
Half-buried near the roots of a tree, edges worn like it had been carried too many places and dropped too many times.
He hesitated, then picked it up.
The cover read:
Songs of the Fallen.
Grenzabell blinked.
"…What is this?"
He opened it.
The first pages told of something called the Hero of Peace.
His brow tightened slightly as he read.
A slave.
Then a saviour.
Then a knight.
Then a lieutenant.
Then a commander.
Then something beyond all of it.
A hero.
Each stage described in simple, almost quiet language, but the weight behind it grew with every line. Someone who climbed through suffering, not by escaping it, but by walking through it without turning away from others in the process.
Even enemies… even monsters… even the people who feared him… respected him in the end.
And then ,
A final line.
He died smiling.
Grenzabell turned the page slowly.
There was only a sketch.
No body. No armor. No face.
Just a faint drawing of a man's smile.
Calm.
Unbroken.
Grenzabell stared at it for a long moment.
"…So this is what a hero is," he murmured.
Helping others. Saving them. Treating them fairly. Standing for truth and justice.
His fingers tightened slightly on the notebook.
Sounds like a burden.
A heavy one.
But not a weak one.
Not at all.
Hours had passed under the training grounds, yet Grenzabell still stood empty.
No glow.
No resonance.
Nothing.
Around him, other students were already shifting into rhythm with Fallless energy. Soft blue light clung to their skin like breath made visible, stabilizing and flowing as their bodies aligned with something deeper than thought.
Perfect resonance.
Grenzabell watched it all, jaw tight.
Thyssara stood nearby, already in control of her own flow, calm and efficient.
"A third class superhuman is before us, I guess," Grenzabell muttered as he walked up to her. His voice carried frustration more than humor. "I'm working hard, but I still can't manifest it. Thyssara, help me."
He stayed close.
Too close.
Minutes stretched.
Then hours.
He kept asking.
Kept watching others succeed while he didn't.
Eventually, Thyssara's focus broke.
She let out a long sigh and sat down directly in front of him.
"Alright," she said, tired. "Sit."
Grenzabell dropped down immediately, leaning forward like his answer depended on her next breath.
"Breathe," she said simply.
He obeyed.
Inhale.
Exhale.
His eyes stayed locked on her.
"Now listen," Thyssara added, pointing lightly at his chest. "I don't actually know how to do it either."
Grenzabell froze.
"…What?"
"It's just a feeling," she said.
A beat of silence.
Then something in Grenzabell snapped.
"So I've been struggling for hours for a feeling?" he blurted, grabbing at her in frustration.
Thyssara reacted instantly, twisting his arm and forcing him down into a controlled hold.
"Calm down," she said sharply.
"I AM CALM—"
"You're not."
A pause.
Then she released him.
Grenzabell coughed once, glaring at her, but didn't try again.
Thyssara pointed across the field.
Victoria Yun Gloom stood near the edge of the training grounds, observing silently.
"Go ask her," Thyssara said. "She's the best explainer here."
Grenzabell immediately shook his head.
"I'm scared of her," he admitted bluntly. "We don't really… vibe."
Before he could stop her, Thyssara raised her hand.
"Teacher!" she called out. "Grenzabell is calling for you!"
"Hey , Shut up!" Grenzabell hissed, trying to cover her mouth.
But it was too late.
A blur of motion.
Victoria appeared in front of them instantly, coat shifting slightly from the speed of her movement.
Her eyes locked onto Grenzabell.
"You still haven't used your energy," she said coldly. "You're becoming a problem."
A pause.
"The exams are next week."
Her gaze sharpened.
"I guess I'll have to teach you… ruthlessly."
Grenzabell sat beside Victoria on the training platform, unusually still, his hands resting in front of him as instructed. The air around him trembled faintly with attempted Fallless flow, like water pressing against glass but refusing to pass through.
"I'm trying…" he said quietly. "I can feel it, but it won't enter."
Victoria watched him for a moment, then reached out and lightly patted his head, her expression unreadable but softer than before.
Grenzabell didn't look up. "I'm… sorry," he murmured, almost ashamed of how little control he had.
Victoria's gaze narrowed slightly as she observed him more closely.
"It might be two things," she said at last. "Either you're already too full of it… or your body simply can't use it."
Grenzabell froze.
"…Can't use it?" he repeated.
The words hit harder than he expected.
His shoulders lowered slightly, disappointment sinking in like weight.
Victoria stood abruptly.
"Enough talking. On the ground."
She pointed sharply.
"Six hundred push-ups. Now."
Grenzabell hesitated, then dropped down without protest.
Victoria crossed her arms, watching him closely as he began. Her eyes moved slowly over him, from posture to breath to rhythm, as if analyzing every detail while still teaching the class beyond him.
In her mind, she recalled his earlier promise.
I'll be your best student of all time.
A faint, almost mocking laugh escaped her lips.
"Ridiculous dream," she muttered under her breath.
But her expression shifted slightly afterward, quieter.
…If I can make this brat use Fallless properly… maybe I'll prove to everyone she's not such a failure of a teacher after all.
Her eyes dimmed for a second as older thoughts surfaced.
Years of disappointment.
Classes that never lived up to expectation.
Students who broke, disappeared, or simply stopped trying.
Same every year…
A tired sigh left her.
Then her gaze shifted across the training grounds.
Thyssara, steady and precise.
Dawncer, strong and instinctive.
Her eyes lingered just a moment longer.
Those two… they have talent.
Impressive talent.
The only ones she could realistically bet on.
Victoria looked back at Grenzabell, still doing push-ups despite everything.
"…Don't slow down," she said flatly.
But something in her stare had changed slightly.
Not belief.
Not yet.
But attention.
Grenzabell hit the ground hard at the sixtieth push-up, breathing uneven, arms shaking under him as frustration finally overtook effort.
"It's impossible," he muttered, voice cracking slightly. "I can't do it."
Victoria didn't even hesitate.
Her hand came down fast, striking the side of his head with controlled force.
"Get up," she said coldly. "Continue. Remember nothings impossible goddamnit!"
Grenzabell flinched, stunned more by her certainty than the pain. Slowly, he pushed himself back into position, gritting his teeth as he resumed.
Hours passed.
The training grounds emptied one by one as other students left for their dorms, their voices fading into the distance until only silence remained.
Still, Grenzabell continued.
Push.
Breathe.
Push.
Breathe.
His arms trembled violently near the end, body barely responding, but he refused to stop again.
When he finally reached six hundred, his strength gave out completely. He collapsed onto the ground, chest rising sharply as he tried to catch air.
"…Ma'am," he gasped weakly, staring up at the sky. "I'm done… can I rest?"
Victoria stood above him, watching in silence for a moment that felt longer than it was.
Then she gave a small, almost reluctant nod.
"Rest," she said flatly.
Her expression didn't soften, still cold, still sharp, but her eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than before.
As Grenzabell lay there exhausted, Victoria turned slightly, her thoughts quieter than her voice.
Maybe… I can still be a good person.
The idea didn't feel certain.
But it didn't disappear either.