Chapter - 9 [ First-Tier Aura Grade ]

The buzz of the hall had quieted down. A tension filled the air, thick and heavy, as if everyone instinctively understood that something monumental was about to occur.

The hum of conversations, the whispers, and even the subtle shuffles of feet faded into silence.

All eyes turned toward the back of the crowd, their attention drawn as if by an invisible force.

Upstairs, the atmosphere was no less intense. The family heads and officials, seated in their prestigious section overlooking the hall, were silent as well.

Every gaze from above was directed toward the young man who now stood at the center of attention, commanding the focus of hundreds below.

Victor Kal.

Dressed in a formal black three-piece suit, styled in a western fashion with sharp, platinum buttons that reflected the light, he exuded elegance and confidence.

A classic clear watch adorned his wrist, understated yet refined, while his polished black point shoes gleamed with perfection.

Everything about him spoke of precision, discipline, and a taste for the finer things in life.

But his appearance wasn't what truly captivated those present. It was his presence.

His sharp, confident gaze swept across the room, and it carried with it an undeniable weight that made people involuntarily take a step back, not out of fear, but out of respect.

His handsome features were beyond charming, bordering on mesmerizing, but it was his aura—his composure, his demeanor—that left the strongest impression.

Victor Kal was the sole heir to the Kal family, a lineage that had cemented its position as one of the most influential families in the city.

With ownership of most of the malls and nearly all the apartment blocks in the urban sprawl, the Kal family had wealth and influence that few could rival.

Yet, despite his privileged background, Victor was not one to rest on his family's laurels.

From a young age, he had demonstrated excellence in nearly every field he touched.

Whether it was academics, sports, or even music, Victor shone brighter than anyone else.

Just recently, a song he had composed broke an astonishing 500 million views online, earning him both admiration and envy. He was, without question, someone destined for greatness.

If there was anyone in the room whom people believed would deliver an outstanding result, it was Victor.

The weight of expectations that rested on his shoulders would have crushed a lesser person, but he carried it with an ease that inspired both awe and envy.

In some ways, the crowd expected more from him than they did from his own parents, Rusto and Rosha Kal.

"And the final name. Victor Kal," the captain called, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Instantly, all eyes locked onto Victor. Even upstairs, the family heads leaned forward slightly in their seats, their expressions betraying a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

The captain's eyes followed the collective gaze of the crowd, landing on Victor, who stood tall and poised.

"Do well," a soft voice whispered.

Ariana Phoenix. She stood a little to the side, her dark hair with its distinctive reddish hue catching the light.

Her eyes remained fixed on Victor's face, a glimmer of respect evident in her gaze.

She hadn't known him for long, but in the brief encounters they'd shared—like at her friend's birthday party—she had come to see him as someone extraordinary.

Unlike others their age, Victor exuded a maturity far beyond his years. He didn't seem like a teenager. He seemed like an adult—someone capable, independent, and self-assured.

Her whispered words weren't just encouragement; they were an acknowledgment of the confidence she had in him.

Peter, standing nearby, smirked. "You think you can cross me?" he asked, his tone playful but edged with a hint of challenge.

Though his words carried an air of camaraderie, there was no mistaking the competitive undercurrent.

Victor's sharp gaze shifted to Peter, his expression calm and composed. "Let's see," he replied simply, his voice steady and self-assured. There was no need for bravado; his actions would speak for themselves.

As Victor moved forward, the crowd instinctively parted to make way for him.

The gesture wasn't planned, but it happened naturally, as if his presence commanded it.

Whether it was his undeniable charm or the weight of his status, the effect was the same—people made room for him.

'I want to see… which grade I get. This might make a big impact on my life,' Victor thought as he approached the grading machine.

Each step he took felt deliberate, his mind already focused on the task ahead.

Upstairs, his parents, Rusto and Rosha Kal, watched him closely. Rusto's usually stoic expression betrayed a flicker of pride, while Rosha's supportive gaze never left her son. Beside them, Charles Phoenix, the elder of the Phoenix family, observed with quiet interest.

Pablo and Gill, along with the other officials and family heads, sat silently, their eyes fixed on Victor.

Down below, the younger generation watched with bated breath. Ariana, Peter, Morgan, Queer, and countless others stood in the crowd, each of them unable to tear their eyes away.

"Whenever you are ready," the captain said, nodding toward Victor with a faint smile. The captain could feel the shift in the room's atmosphere—tranquil, yet charged with an undercurrent of tension.

Victor exhaled deeply, a controlled release of breath that seemed to steady him further.

His mind was calm, his focus razor-sharp. Without hesitation, he placed his hands on the handprints of the grading machine.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden burst, a red mist erupted from Victor's figure, engulfing him completely.

His Aura wasn't bright or dazzling like some others, but it carried an oppressive weight that made everyone in the hall feel as though the air had thickened.

It wasn't just power—it was authority, a suffocating presence that demanded acknowledgment.

The grading machine trembled under the force of his Aura. Numbers and symbols flickered across its surface, appearing and disappearing in rapid succession.

The crowd watched in stunned silence, their breaths held as they awaited the result.

Finally, the machine stilled. For a moment, the hall was deathly quiet, as if time itself had paused. Then, a voice—clear, mechanical, and undeniably authoritative—rang out.

[Congratulations! 95% purity. First-Tier Aura Grade.]

The words hung in the air, echoing in the stunned silence that followed. For a few heartbeats, no one moved, no one spoke. The enormity of what they had just witnessed took time to sink in.

Then, the dam broke.

"Fuck! No way!" someone shouted.

"Bloody hell! Am I hallucinating?" another voice exclaimed.

"95% purity! First-Tier!" The crowd erupted into chaos, their shock and disbelief spilling over into excited murmurs and exclamations.

Upstairs, Charles Phoenix allowed a rare smile to touch his lips. "Impressive," he murmured, his tone carrying genuine admiration.

Rusto and Rosha exchanged a glance. Though neither spoke, the pride in their eyes was unmistakable.

Down below, Ariana's lips parted slightly, her eyes wide with amazement. She had expected Victor to perform well, but this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Victor, still standing at the grading machine, let the noise wash over him. His expression remained calm, though a faint glimmer of satisfaction flickered in his eyes. He had done it.

---

"Congratulations on getting admitted to Heaven. If I can make it there, please take care of me."

Morgan bowed elegantly to Victor, her movements smooth and refined, a smile gracing her lips as she congratulated him.

There was a trace of envy hidden beneath her sweet tone, though it was almost imperceptible.

She wanted to believe her words, but the lingering frustration from her own grading results weighed heavily on her.

Victor bowed in return, his response cool and composed. "Thank you. I hope you do make it to Heaven."

His voice, though polite, lacked the enthusiasm it might have had under normal circumstances.

The constant shower of praise and the flood of congratulations from those around him had left him feeling... tired. For the first time in his life, he found himself exhausted by the attention.

It wasn't that he disliked praise—far from it. But the weight of it all, the expectations, and the sense of being constantly scrutinized... It felt overwhelming.

He glanced at the crowd of faces, many of them unfamiliar, but all looking at him with a sense of awe, admiration, or envy.

His place in Heaven was secured, and for many, that was an accomplishment beyond comprehension.

Yet, despite the celebration, a small part of him wished he hadn't come to this event in the first place. The pressure was suffocating, and the relentless congratulations felt almost... hollow.

Ariana, noticing the slight shift in Victor's demeanor, turned toward Morgan with a reassuring smile.

"Morgan, don't be disappointed with your grade," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern. "I know you're excellent in your studies and have practical knowledge about Auras. You have a high chance of making it to Heaven."

Peter, who had been quietly observing the situation, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you've got this, Morgan. Don't lose hope. We all go through tough moments. Just keep pushing forward."

Morgan, her expression softened but still tinged with dejection, lowered her head. The weight of her failure lingered like an invisible chain around her shoulders.

"I really lost my mind earlier. I just... I didn't think it through. It just came out."

She was embarrassed by her earlier outburst, but she couldn't help the surge of frustration that had built up in her.

She had worked so hard, and yet, her results were far from what she had expected. Still, she couldn't let herself be consumed by disappointment—not when her friends were offering her encouragement.

Victor's thoughts were elsewhere, but as the moment passed, something stirred in his mind—a memory.

One that made him speak in a tone so low that only the three around him could hear.

"I understand what you're feeling," he said, his voice steady but laced with an unfamiliar warmth.

"But don't give up. Keep fighting, no matter how hard it gets. You will find a way to reach your dream, just like I did."

Morgan, initially taken aback by his words, looked at him with wide eyes. The intensity in Victor's gaze was something she hadn't expected from him.

She could see the sincerity in his expression, something that seemed to come from a place of deep understanding.

She clenched her fist in determination, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "I-I… okay! I will do my best," she said, her voice firmer now, as if she had found a new resolve.

Peter, who had been silently observing the interaction, raised an eyebrow. "Damn. When did you become so supportive of others?" His voice carried a touch of mockery, but it was lighthearted, the teasing not meant to be taken seriously.

Victor, entirely unaware of Peter's wandering thoughts, turned silent again. He had never been one for small talk, preferring to let others take the lead in conversations.

But the sudden shift in the atmosphere—Morgan's determination, Peter's teasing—had given him a momentary respite from the flood of congratulatory voices.

And then, as if on cue, the grading machine was swiftly moved away, and in its place, a large set of tables were wheeled in, covered with pristine white cloths.

The tantalizing scent of freshly prepared food filled the air, and Victor's stomach growled loudly, reminding him of how little he had eaten that day.

The tables were laden with an array of dishes—each plate more elaborate than the last. There were meats, fresh fruits, savory sides, and sweet desserts.

The colors of the food were vibrant, almost too beautiful to eat, as if they had been carefully arranged to perfection.

The feast was an overwhelming sight, enough to make even the most disciplined of individuals feel the stirrings of hunger.

Peter, ever the impulsive one, didn't hesitate for a second. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for the feast.

"I feel the roar of my stomach! Time to battle!" he exclaimed with a grin, his voice full of unrestrained enthusiasm.

With that, he darted toward the food table, his hands already grabbing the largest plates he could find, eager to fill them with as much food as possible.

Victor couldn't help but chuckle under his breath, watching Peter's antics. He, too, was feeling the hunger gnawing at him now.

With a slight sigh, he stood and, with Ariana and Morgan at his side, made his way toward the food.

As they approached the tables, the atmosphere lightened. The serious conversations and the weight of expectations seemed to fade into the background as the three of them joined Peter in the feast.

Laughter filled the air, and for a moment, all the complexities of the world and the pressures of Heaven seemed far away.

With the first bite of food, Victor felt a small sense of relief. It wasn't just about satisfying hunger—it was about taking a moment for himself, to enjoy something simple.

And in that moment, he realized something important: sometimes, it was the smallest things, like a good meal, that made the most difference.