"Corrupted Grace"

The rumble of the train feels like a heartbeat under my feet, steady, relentless, a constant reminder of how far I've come from everything I used to know. Kuoh. A new town, a new school. I glance down at the slip of paper in my hand, smudged from being crumpled too many times. "Kuoh Academy," it reads in neat handwriting. It's supposed to be one of those prestigious private schools. Lucky me. I'm a charity case who somehow landed here.

Outside, the scenery rushes by—green hills and small houses, the occasional shrine perched on a distant hill. It's picturesque in a way that feels too clean, too perfect, like a picture postcard. I lean back against the seat, my reflection in the window catching my eye. Black hair, too long for school regulations. Dark circles under my eyes from restless nights. I look as out of place here as I feel.

The train pulls into the station with a squeal of brakes. The doors hiss open, and I step onto the platform. The air is cooler here, crisp with the faint scent of pine. Slinging my worn duffel bag over my shoulder, I follow the flow of students heading toward the academy.

It's not hard to spot the school—pristine white walls and elegant gates that seem to scream, "You don't belong here." My stomach knots. I've always been good at blending in, keeping my head down, but this place is different. It feels like every step I take is drawing attention I don't want.

I pass through the gates, and the noise hits me—students chatting, laughing, calling out to each other. I spot a few glances in my direction, whispers exchanged behind hands. Great. I'm the new guy, the outsider.

The classroom is no better. The teacher introduces me—"Damian Raine, transfer student. Please make him feel welcome."—and I feel every pair of eyes drilling into me. I mumble a quick introduction and take the seat in the back corner, my usual sanctuary.

As the day drags on, I try to focus on the lessons, but my mind keeps wandering. It's not the schoolwork—I've always been good at that. It's... something else. A faint pressure at the back of my mind, like an itch I can't scratch. It started a few days ago, just before I left my old school. At first, I thought it was stress, but now it's stronger, more insistent.

By lunchtime, I've had enough. The whispers, the stares, the constant hum of that pressure in my head—it's too much. I grab my bag and head to the rooftop, the one place I figure I can get some peace.

The door creaks as I push it open, and the cool breeze hits me. The rooftop is empty, just as I hoped. I walk to the edge and lean against the railing, letting the wind whip through my hair. For a moment, I feel... lighter.

And then it hits me.

Pain. Blinding, searing pain. It starts in my chest and radiates outward, like my veins are on fire. I stagger back, clutching at my shirt, but there's no relief. The pressure in my head explodes, a tidal wave of noise and light that makes me want to scream.

I collapse to my knees, gasping for air. My vision blurs, and for a moment, I think I'm dying. But then I hear it.

A voice.

"Do you accept?"

The words are clear, cutting through the chaos in my mind. They're not spoken aloud—I can feel them, resonating inside me.

"Accept... what?" I manage to choke out.

"The power. The corruption. Do you accept?"

I don't know what it means. I don't know what's happening to me. But the pain is unbearable, and if this is the way out, I'll take it.

"Yes!" I shout, my voice raw.

The world goes white.

When I come to, I'm lying flat on my back, staring up at the sky. The pain is gone, replaced by a strange numbness. I sit up slowly, my head spinning.

That's when I see it.

My hand is glowing. A faint, sickly green light, swirling around my fingers like smoke. I stare at it, too shocked to move. The light shifts, coalescing into a shape—a staff, dark and twisted, with runes etched into its surface. It feels... wrong, like something that shouldn't exist.

"What the hell..." I whisper.

"Interesting."

The voice startles me, and I spin around to see a man standing at the edge of the rooftop. He's tall, with sharp features and silver hair that catches the sunlight. His eyes are cold, calculating, and they're fixed on me.

"You're not supposed to have that," he says, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous.

"Who are you?" I demand, scrambling to my feet. The staff in my hand pulses, and I feel a surge of energy course through me.

The man smiles, but it's not a friendly smile. "Let's just say I'm here to clean up a mess. And you, kid, are the mess."

Before I can respond, he moves. Fast. Too fast. One moment he's across the rooftop, the next he's in front of me, his hand reaching for my throat.

Instinct takes over. The staff in my hand flares to life, and a barrier of green light erupts between us. The man's hand slams into it, and he's thrown back, skidding to a stop near the edge of the roof.

He looks at me, his eyes narrowing. "So, the [Corrupted Priest] has chosen you. This just got interesting."

I don't have time to process his words before he's coming at me again, faster this time. But I'm ready. The staff feels like an extension of myself, moving with me as I block his attacks, each clash sending shockwaves through the air.

The fight is a blur of motion and light, and I don't know how I'm holding my own against someone who moves like a damn superhero. All I know is that I can't lose. Not here. Not now.

Finally, I see an opening. I swing the staff with all my strength, and the man is forced to retreat, leaping back to avoid the blow.

He lands gracefully, dusting off his jacket like we've just finished a friendly spar. "Not bad, kid," he says. "But you're in over your head. If you survive the next few days, we'll talk."

With that, he vanishes, leaving me alone on the rooftop, clutching the staff and gasping for air.

My legs give out, and I sink to the ground, staring at the weapon in my hands. The runes glow faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I whisper.

The only answer is the faint hum of the staff.