Divine Heritage: Only I Can Judge The gods-Chapter 27: Class Awakening (3)

"Archive Artifact."

Ark's shoulders slumped slightly, this was his fourth attempt at trying to summon his primary artifact and yet absolutely nothing had happened.

Dark thoughts slowly began to crawl in as the hall was slowly getting occupied by the sound of laughter.

That was when a small thought crept its way into his mind.

'Maybe if...'

Ark then brought his voice low, and whispered some words only he could hear.

"god-Console... Artifact."

Like a raging storm of shimmering sparks, golden light exploded out of his body, the light rays expanding and encompassing the entire area around him.

The curse bearers gasped, fearfully shifting to the edge of their seats, the professor and the well dressed man dashed backward, bringing up their hands in defense.

The golden sparks coiled around Ark, moving around his body and arms until they began to coalesce on his hands.

The golden particles then took form, emanating a brilliant glow just before something was deposited in his hands.

A large pole axe with a deathly sharp blade suddenly materialized. It had a shaft that glowed with metallic luster, golden highlights dotting every aspect of its frame and an axe head with archaic patterns etched on the blade.

Ark tried to hold on to the weapon but almost failed miserably, the butt of the weapon drove right into the floorboards, leaving a hole in them.

That was just how heavy the weapon was.

There was a deafening silence in the room as everyone stared at Ark. The words of those who had been mocking him died on their lips as they stared at him in awe.

It was not just because he had summoned a weapon rather— it was because of the colour of the glow.

Blue was the most common colour of aura that manifested during the summoning.

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Other colours were rarer and he managed to have gold, a colour that had never been seen up till today.

Just then, someone rose from the crowd and screamed in a loud voice.

"Yes!!!"

Everyone turned their attention to the girl. Standing up, with her hands outstretched was none other than Kiera.

Noticing that she was now the center of attention she cleared her throat. "Uhum..." and returned to her seat, a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Ark Lysander!" The professor screamed at the top of his voice with a slight degree of excitement.

"Knight!"

*

One by one, the other students proceeded to summon their primary artifact, there were a few other flamboyant summonings but apart from Ark's, only one stood above the rest.

Kiera's summoning...

"Kiera Stormwind."

Ark watched from his seat as she gracefully climbed up the podium and stared down at the rest of her pairs.

The professor repeated the same words he had said to everyone else but Kiera didn't seem to be listening, instead, something else seemed to be on her mind.

Ark had only caught her glancing at the observation boxes on occasion, but it was not enough to confirm anything.

Kiera did not say the usual words either, instead, she remained silent. She simply reached into the air and then it happened—

An encompassing purple shimmer enveloped the area around her, like a storm, it quickly spread all around her, threatening to overwhelm the stage.

Her manifestation was so large that it would have overwhelmed his own aura if placed side by side.

The stormy sparks then danced around her violently like a tornado, before converging in her hands.

There in her palms lay a purple grimoire with golden runic patterns on its cover.

Even from where Ark sat in the crowd, he could feel the ominous aura slowly seeping out of the book, everyone held their breaths and for a moment even the professor forgot what he was supposed to do next.

"K-Kiera Stormwind."

"Mage!"

*

High up in the observation box, a man sat crossed legged as he watched the activities going on below.

Seated in the room along with him were other high ranking dignitaries from both the government and different guilds, and yet, they all seemed to give a little distance between themselves and the man.

Everyone in the room held the man in reverence. He was a living legend after all, not only was he part of the first generation of curse bearers, he was also the head of the famed Stormwind Guild.

One of the backbones of the nation.

Every action the man made was worthy of concern, and everything he said had a tendency to be over defined. If he tapped his fingers on his armrest too much they would assume he was bored.

If he crossed his legs, they would feel he was getting uncomfortable, if he yawned they would panic.

It was not that he was an inherently violent individual, it was just that his cold outlook made others think up deranged fables about him.

It was so bad that they had arranged far too many staff ready to attend to his every need. But right now, he was focused on one thing below. His daughter...

When he finally got to see her manifestation, a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

'Of course she wouldn't let herself be outshined by anyone. She's my daughter after all.'

His eyes then roamed across the mass of teenagers and landed on a particular boy. Pitch black hair, golden eyes and adorned in filthy rags.

An emaciated boy that had most definitely originated from the slums...

This was the boy who had gotten a reaction from his daughter, from his beloved.

His smile turned to a scowl immediately, his fists tightening ever so slightly.

Suddenly, the air in the room felt a little heavy.

The staff all around him as well as the dignitaries panicked, ready to run out of their seats at a moment's notice.

They were powerful curse bearers as well, but no one wanted to be in the striking range of the Stormwind guild's head, not if you wanted to live.

Just as he watched the boy, something strange happened. The young man redirected his gaze from the stage and straight at the observation box.

Straight at him...

The boy tilted his head slightly, a curious look on his face before looking back to the stage.

A smirk appeared on the man's face as he watched the young man with renewed interest.

"He's one of them," he said to himself, his voice lower than a whisper.

'That boy... he might be more trouble than he's worth.'