The God Of Destruction's Academy Life

Chapter 25: Chapter 25. His Hand

Lyra had braced for anything. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

Her soul. Her body. A debt she could never repay. Some impossible task that would push her to the edges of everything she was capable of. She had made peace with all of it in the span of a few seconds, quietly and completely.

What she heard instead stopped her cold.

"I want you to call me by my name. Not my lord."

"...What?"

"You heard me correctly." He leaned back slightly, utterly unbothered. "That’s my price. Honestly, it’s been grating on me for a while now. The others haven’t moved past their fear of me yet, I understand that, it’s natural. But you, Lyra." A faint teasing note entered his voice. "You’re my friend. Are you not?"

Lyra’s mind had essentially stopped functioning. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

What is he saying right now?

Not one single outcome she had mentally prepared for looked anything like this.

"Yes," she managed. "I am your friend."

He smiled. A genuine one, warm in a way that sat oddly against everything she associated with the God of Destruction.

"Good. Then from now on, just call me Necrotize. Understood?"

She nodded, somewhat mechanically.

"As you wish, my lor..." She caught herself. "...Lord Necrotize."

"Just Necrotize."

"..."

"...Nec... rotize."

"There it is."

Lyra sat very still, quietly processing what had just occurred.

She had been prepared to offer her soul. She had been prepared for servitude, for sacrifice, for something that would fundamentally alter the course of her life in some dramatic and irreversible way. Those were the kinds of prices that made sense for what she was asking.

Asking to be called by his name, by the God of Destruction’s name, casually, without title or deference, was somehow worse. The soul option she could have managed. This was going to cause her no end of trouble, and some part of her already knew it with quiet certainty.

But she had made her decision. She would do anything to master lightning.

Anything, apparently, including this.

She straightened and tried again, deliberately this time.

"So... Necrotize." The word felt strange in her mouth, like wearing something that didn’t quite fit yet. "How do I use your essence?"

Necrotize considered her question for a moment before answering.

"Before learning how to use my essence, you need to understand what it actually is." He paused. "And I’ll warn you now, it is extraordinarily difficult to cultivate."

Lyra had already assumed as much. It wouldn’t be the essence of destruction if it came easily.

He seemed to appreciate that she didn’t flinch. He continued.

"What my essence is called among mortals in certain other worlds is... Qi."

"Qi..." She repeated the word quietly, turning it over. She had never encountered it in any text, any lesson, any conversation she could recall.

"Yes. Qi. It contains exponentially more destructive power than any other essence in existence, and it cannot be learned the way you learn to handle mana. Refining it is an entirely different discipline. Most people dedicate their entire lives to it and never surpass fifty percent purity." He let that land before continuing. "Because of this, each stage of purity carries its own name."

Lyra was completely still, absorbing every word.

"When one refines Qi to five to ten percent purity, it is called Spiritual Qi, the entry stage, the very beginning. Ten to thirty percent is True Qi. Thirty to eighty percent is Immortal Qi. Eighty to ninety-five percent is Divine Qi." Another pause, deliberate this time. "And when one achieves one hundred percent purity, that is called..."

He said the final word quietly.

"Dao."

The word echoed in Lyra’s mind before she had consciously registered it. She turned it over once, then again, and something strange happened. A heat moved through her that had nothing to do with temperature. Something deep and wordless, like a door she had never known existed suddenly vibrating in its frame. The ache that had lived in her chest for as long as she could remember began, inexplicably, to loosen.

She didn’t know what it meant. She couldn’t explain what she was feeling.

But it was calling her. Whatever it was, it already knew her name.

"Dao," she said aloud, without meaning to.

Necrotize watched in quiet fascination as it moved through her.

Her body is already responding. A thought passed through him, unhurried. After all, this is the path she was always meant to walk. Her body simply recognises it.

He considered, briefly, whether to tell her about her unique constitution. He decided against it. Pride, if it took root too early, would damage everything that came after. He had seen it happen before. He wasn’t going to let it happen here.

There’ll be time for that later. When she’s ready.

After a moment, the distant look faded from Lyra’s eyes. She turned to face him.

"Necrotize." The name came a little more naturally this time. "Please, teach me how to use Qi."

He looked at her, eyes narrowing slowly. Something moved behind them, an idea forming, accompanied by a smile that carried more mystery than warmth.

"There are many paths to learning Qi. But in your case, there’s a complication." He tilted his head slightly. "You’ve already built a mana circle."

Lyra felt a flicker of unease. She opened her mouth.

"However," he continued, "there is a way around it."

"What is it?" she asked, leaning forward instinctively.

What happened next did not belong in any version of reality she had ever imagined.

Something drove through her chest.

Sharp. Absolute. Precise.

A cold spread from the point of entry and clenched around her heart with the certainty of something that had always been inevitable. Blood came, from her nose, her ears, the corners of her eyes. She looked down slowly, her mind not yet willing to process what her body already understood.

A hand.

Emerging from her chest.

His hand.

She turned her head toward him. Necrotize sat beside her exactly as he had been, unhurried, composed, that same quiet smile resting on his face as though nothing of particular consequence was occurring.

"Why..." The word came out barely above a breath. She couldn’t find the strength for anything more.

"You have to die," he said. Plainly. Gently, almost.

He closed his fist.

Her heart ceased.

He withdrew his hand and she folded forward, sliding from the bench without a sound. Still. Utterly still. The breeze continued to move through the garden. A butterfly crossed the path in front of them, indifferent.

Lyra was dead.

And Necrotize watched with that same unhurried smile, as though he were simply waiting for the next part to begin.