Duality: Faith And Chaos Converge.

Within the vast interior of a massive temple, a group of teenagers, all between sixteen and seventeen years old, stood in tense silence.

No one whispered. No nervous laughter. No boasting or attempts to show off.

All were silent.

They had to be.

Before them loomed nine colossal statues, each carved from ancient stone, towering over the temple like celestial judges. Though the gods they represented neither moved nor spoke, their presence alone commanded absolute reverence. No one dared to act out—not just because of their divinity, but because of the sheer weight of what was about to happen.

Today was the Blessing Ritual.

The day that would determine their future.

Some hoped. Some feared. All anticipated.

Among them stood a young man dressed in a pristine white suit, his white hair gleaming under the sacred light of the temple. His posture was relaxed, but his expression remained eerily detached. His blue eyes—vast and deep like the ocean—held no excitement, no fear.

Then—

"What the hell? How am I still alive?"

Kyoji's mind spiraled into chaos.

He was here. But he shouldn't be here.

Just moments ago, he had been in his lab. He had died.

The explosion. The unbearable heat. The steel rod that pierced his heart. The moment his vision went black—it was all still there, vivid and real in his memory.

Yet now, he stood in this temple, a place that was both familiar and foreign.

His gaze darted around the grand hall, taking in the towering statues, the ancient carvings on the walls, and the hundreds of teenagers standing in suffocating silence.

He knew this place.

He knew it too well.

His heart, usually frozen like an unshakable glacier, cracked—just a little.

This was the past.

The day of the Blessing Ritual.

The day the gods turned their backs on him.

The day that led him down a path of exile, suffering, and ultimately—his death.

Kyoji inhaled sharply, his fists clenching at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He needed to be sure. He needed to confirm this wasn't an illusion, some cruel trick played by his dying mind.

His gaze shifted to the faces of the teenagers around him. Some were familiar—faces he had long since forgotten in the relentless flow of time. The young, unshaped versions of those who would later rise to power, fall into obscurity, or perish on the battlefield.

And then there were the statues—the nine gods who had once gazed down at him with silent judgment. Unseen. Unheard. But ever-present.

His thoughts raced.

Was this real?

Had he really… gone back in time?

His breathing grew shallow. His stomach twisted in ways he hadn't felt in years.

This was real.

Somehow, someway, he had returned to ten years ago—to the most critical moment of his life.

This...

"Hey, Kyoji, are you okay? Your breathing suddenly changed."

A voice beside him jolted him from his thoughts.

Kyoji turned to see Ethan Callahan, a fifteen-year-old boy with messy blonde hair and striking green eyes.

There was something about Ethan's face—calm and friendly—that put people at ease.

In his previous life, this was someone who had come close to being a true friend.

Kyoji never really understood emotions. He didn't know if what they had was friendship or something else, but they had been close. Very close.

"I'm fine. Just… remembered something," Kyoji replied.

Ethan blinked. "Oh."

He looked away for a moment, hesitating. Then, unable to resist, he turned back.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

Kyoji furrowed his brows.

Nervous?

Should he be?

This was supposed to be a defining moment in his life. He should have felt something—even if just a little. But now? Now that he already knew the outcome, was there anything left to feel?

The answer was obvious.

But before he could respond—

[Next, candidate 127—Kyoji Ren.]

A robotic female voice echoed from the stage ahead.

Kyoji exhaled slowly, his face tightening into a frown.

'Guess this is it,' he thought.

"Good luck, Kyoji," Ethan said with a grin.

Kyoji hummed in response, neither accepting nor rejecting the sentiment, before stepping away from the crowd.

All eyes turned to him as he walked toward the altar, where the nine gods loomed above.

Their towering statues watched him.

Their features were impossible to define—not because they lacked them, but because of the energy that surrounded them. A power that warped the mind, making it impossible to grasp their facial structures, genders, or expressions.

"Kyoji Ren?"

A stern-looking man with a shaved head and a crisp military uniform asked. His sharp eyes scanned Kyoji with an intensity that left no room for nonsense. This was Major Gareth, the military official overseeing the Blessing Ritual.

Beside him stood a man in a well-fitted black suit. His dark hair was neatly combed, his handsome face calm yet unreadable. There was an aura of sharp intellect around him, and his eyes held the weight of experience.

This was Mr. Sawyer, a representative from Silverrock Academy, one of the institutions responsible for training newly chosen individuals.

To his left stood Miss Anna, the representative of Celvaris Academy, Silverrock's rival. She wore a sleek gray suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to her tall frame. Her pants flared slightly at the ankles, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a strict ponytail.

Looking at these three figures and what they represented, there was no need to be reminded of the weight of this moment.

"Yes," Kyoji responded.

"Good. Step onto the altar. You already know what to do, so I won't waste my breath explaining it," Major Gareth said, his voice firm but controlled.

Kyoji nodded once before walking toward the altar.

It was positioned at the very center of the nine towering statues of the gods.

At the top of the altar, there was a carved indentation resembling a bowl, and beside it lay a black obsidian-like knife. A smooth, round orb, about the size of a human head, sat near the edge, its surface dull and lifeless for now.

Kyoji stared at the setup for a moment before exhaling softly.

He already knew what came next.

The silence of the gods.

The orb remaining dark.

The walk of shame back to his seat.

If he had a choice, he wouldn't have bothered stepping up at all. But fate had already played its hand—history was about to repeat itself.

With a resigned sigh, he picked up the obsidian knife, gripping it firmly in his right hand before drawing it across his left palm.

The blade was impossibly sharp, cutting through his skin with ease. A sharp sting shot up his arm, followed by the warm sensation of blood trickling from the wound.

Kyoji let the blood drip into the bowl-shaped carving on the altar.

The moment his blood touched the surface, a faint sizzling sound echoed in the air, the liquid vanishing as if absorbed by the altar itself.

Then—

[Blood of candidate detected. Initiating Divinity Alignment Protocol. Please wait…]

The same female robotic voice from earlier rang through the temple.

Silence fell over the hall, heavier than before.

Thousands of eyes locked onto Kyoji.

Major Gareth's expression remained unreadable. Mr. Sawyer's gaze sharpened. Miss Anna crossed her arms, watching intently.

Kyoji sighed internally.

He knew what came next.

Fifteen seconds of waiting.

Fifteen seconds of false hope in the gods.

One… two… three… four…

As expected—nothing.

Five seconds.

Then—

Something unexpected happened.

The orb flickered.

A faint, weak light pulsed across its surface, shifting through multiple colors.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.

"What's going on?"

"Is that supposed to happen?"

"No way. Look at Major Gareth's face. Even he's confused."

"Hold on. Did anyone notice? The gods... none of the statues reacted."

That realization hit the crowd like a thunderclap.

For a moment, no one spoke.

They had been too focused on the orb's flickering to notice the most important detail—the gods had given no response to Kyoji's offering.

Normally, during a Blessing Ritual, at least one god would acknowledge a candidate. Their approval was what allowed someone to receive a talent and become chosen.

No divine reaction meant no approval.

No approval meant failure.

Yet the orb… was glowing.

That had never happened before.

"Maybe… maybe the orb is malfunctioning?" someone muttered hesitantly.

A ridiculous thought. Yet, for once, no one dismissed it outright.

On any other day, questioning anything related to the gods would be considered blasphemy. After all, they were humanity's saviors, the ones who had gifted people with power to survive in this harsh world.

But now?

Now, no one knew what to believe.