Azrael pushed the first gate open.

The doors did not resist, swinging open without friction.

The class behind it was quiet, almost too quiet for a room meant to hold the most powerful young demons in the clan.

A teacher stood at the front, calm and still.

Behind him was a blank screen.

Before him sat the six students Azrael had seen the day before, each one settled into their chairs.

Each chair was made extravagantly, comfortable enough to make a person believe they were lying in a bed.

The tables were wide enough to seat three people with room to spare.

The teacher turned to look at the door.

His eyes met Azrael’s like a predator sizing up something new.

The students followed suit, glancing toward the entrance.

"Hi," Azrael said, walking toward one of the empty chairs.

The teacher looked away, then turned back to the screen.

"Since we are all here, let us start the class."

The screen in front of him switched with a single swipe of his palm.

"Today’s class, you are learning how to control your essence efficiently."

As he said this, sheets of paper appeared on everyone’s table.

The screen lit up, displaying a timer.

[29:59]

Then beneath it, a single sentence appeared.

[The greatest clan in the world is the Malvorin clan.]

"You are all to write this sentence using essence within thirty minutes."

The teacher did not wait for questions. He disappeared like a phantom, and the clock began to count.

Azrael looked around in utter shock.

’What just happened?’ He wondered, glancing at the other students.

They were focused.

Too focused on the sheets before them.

’This is a classroom and he did not teach us anything, he just gave us an activity,’ Azrael thought.

He looked down at the sheet.

Slowly, he raised his hand.

Essence began to flow through his index finger, creating a pale glow over the tip.

He began to write.

It did not take long. Azrael wrote the sentence in less than a minute.

"Was it meant to be this simple?" He wondered.

He looked up at the screen.

[26:47]

He shrugged and looked back at his desk.

The sentence was gone.

The only thing before him was an empty sheet.

"Huh?" He muttered.

His brows furrowed in pure confusion.

He looked around again.

The other students were still writing, even though they had started before him.

Essence wrapped his finger again and he repeated the process.

This time he tried to be as careful as possible, taking as long as five minutes to complete the entire sentence.

He waited a few seconds, eyes fixed on the paper.

Then he exhaled, relieved to see the letters still holding their shape.

But his gaze faltered a moment later.

Like dust scattered by wind, the letters began to disintegrate into the air as motes of white light.

Azrael blinked. "Is this how it is?" He whispered.

A smirk formed on his lips.

"Then let us see who tires out first."

Azrael’s finger began to trace along the paper again.

Time passed in a flash.

"Time’s up," the teacher’s voice came again.

Everyone looked up almost simultaneously.

Their faces were tired, eyes heavy.

"Who wrote the sentence?" The teacher asked calmly.

For a moment, no one raised their hand.

The teacher smiled gently, then faced the screen.

"I did," Azrael said, raising his hand.

The teacher turned at once, his gaze fixed on Azrael.

"Bring your paper here," the teacher instructed, his face unreadable.

Azrael picked the paper by the edge and walked toward the teacher.

"Hmm," the teacher nodded. "You may return," he said after collecting it.

Azrael had an overconfident grin on his face as he glanced at Zuriel on his way back.

The teacher set the paper on the table before speaking again.

"I am Sylvester, your instructor for the Knowledge on Essence class."

The words came out smooth and unhurried, as if he had said them thousands of times before.

His head tilted slowly as he looked at each student one after the other, pausing on Azrael longer than usual.

Azrael brushed it off.

"Essence is the foundation this world is built on. From giving life to all creatures, to powering skills."

He sighed as he said those words.

The screen behind him switched, displaying seven orb like objects.

"Today, we are discussing how we demons access essence. Cores."

He slowed slightly, checking that everyone was following before continuing.

"These cores are divided into seven tiers, namely: Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Diamond, Mythic, and Infernal."

One of the cores zoomed out from the display.

It was bronze, the lowest tier.

"Each core comes with a hard cap that no one can ever surpass, no matter how much they try."

He glanced back at the screen and took slow strides toward it.

"The bronze core, for instance, can never surpass tier five in cultivation. And it can absorb no more than three skill fruits, all of which must be bronze tier."

The other cores faded and the bronze one shifted to the center.

Sylvester looked around before continuing.

"But all seven demon lineages produce at least gold cores and above, so let us talk about those."

The core on the screen switched to a golden one.

"Gold cores can reach tier ten, with exceptional ones pushing toward tier eleven. But that is very rare, only one in a million. They can absorb seven fruits of gold tier and below."

His eyes flicked toward the students, then back at the screen.

"Platinum cores can absorb ten fruits, Diamond twelve, and Mythic fifteen."

He did not state which fruit tiers each core could absorb. He trusted them to fill in those brackets themselves.

The students had already done so before he finished the sentence.

But another question hung in all their minds.

Everyone raised their hand at once.

"I cannot tell you about the Infernal core since no one has ever possessed one except the Demon Progenitor," Sylvester said, still facing the screen.