The classroom was warm despite the early month of October and the beginning of the undergrad year.
Elias Clarke, a 27-year-old recessive omega, was unfortunately forced to fill in for one of the main professors during their first class of the year.
Professor Aylen was on medical leave, which everyone in the department understood to be code for heat leave, even though no one said it out loud. Elias had not planned to begin the semester in front of a hundred wide-eyed first-years, but someone had to explain the fundamentals before they began running simulations they barely understood.
He adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose and tapped the edge of the console. The projector blinked on, filling the whiteboard behind him with the standard triangle.
Alpha. Omega. Beta.
Three points. Three labels.
Everything in this country, including legacy, wealth, status, and divinity, is still being explained by the shape of that triangle.
Elias adjusted his notes and cleared his throat. "This is not an ethics class. Or a historical lecture. Just a reminder of the fundamentals you're expected to know before we begin modeling divine interface systems next week."
A few students sat up straighter at that, suddenly aware this wasn't going to be a free hour. He didn't care. He wasn't here to make friends with them. Just to keep the syllabus from falling apart.
"Alpha," he began, tone neutral, "is a gene that presents in a small portion of the population. Less than ten percent are classified as alphas, and of those, nearly six percent fall under the recessive subtype. High aggression potential, early presentation, and, statistically speaking, a higher likelihood of compatibility with divine energy."
A few heads turned toward the back of the room, where a taller student leaned too casually in his seat, jaw tense, clearly aware of the attention.
Elias ignored it.
"They are considered the most likely candidates for godhood. Structured, dominant, and historically tied to power. Entire bloodlines are built around the idea of producing another alpha who might ascend."
He tapped the slide forward.
"The last god known to descend from earth was more than three hundred years ago, from the Numen family."
The next image flickered onto the screen, a stylized painting, crimson and gold, dramatic even by historical standards. The figure wore layered robes of red velvet, his hands outstretched in benediction or warning. His head was a bleached skull. The crown on his brow was fashioned from six others, each grinning in silent witness.
A few students shifted in their seats.
"He is remembered as the God of Destruction," Elias continued evenly. "As you may know, there are different theories for ascension, divine inheritance, ritual offerings, and bloodline awakening. All of them remain unproven. All of them are considered equally impossible."
He gestured to the slide without looking.
"He ascended after killing another god. Then he killed five more. Not for power nor for revenge. Just because he could."
A pause. He let the silence stretch this time.
"He was an alpha."
There was no need to explain further. Everyone in the room knew the story. It was in the textbooks, the state exams, and the whispered fear at the back of every divine research grant.
Elias clicked again, and the slide gave way to another one.
"Omegas."
The word hovered on the screen, simple and clinical. Several students looked up again, some out of curiosity and others out of reflex. A name like omega came with too much weight to ignore, no matter how many charts tried to flatten it into biology.
"Omegas rank just beneath alphas in divine compatibility," Elias said, voice steady. "While alphas typically ascend through structured genetic thresholds, omegas are less predictable. Their presentations vary. Their divine resonance is erratic, and compatibility fluctuates but not consistently."
He paused, letting that sit.
"They are considered unstable. Not weak, not lesser. Just… more likely to burn through a system rather than integrate with it."
The screen changed again, this time to a graph showing resonance curves. A jagged red line cut across a field of softer beta readings.
"There are no confirmed omega gods in the last five hundred years," Elias said, "but three of the most volatile divine ruptures on record began with omega trials."
Someone in the back muttered something under their breath. Elias didn't ask. He didn't care.
"There is a reason most divine infrastructure is tested by betas before any dominant participants are allowed near it. There is a reason this department requires clearance before omega-led research is even reviewed."
He clicked once more.
Recessives.
The word appeared alone, without a diagram, without a graph.
"They don't appear on most charts," Elias said. "They don't spike divine resonance. Most don't even present, and those who do have an easier time with their secondary gender than the dominant ones."
He folded his hands neatly in front of him.
"They're considered safe."
He paused for a second to allow the silence to settle before continuing, his voice even.
"And betas… they, like most of you, are normal people. They live their lives, choose a god to serve while on earth, and follow them in the afterlife."
He didn't bother softening it. There was no point. That was the reality they were all taught: statistically speaking, the majority of them would never ascend, spark, or tear the world apart in search of something divine. And for the most part, that was comforting.
No one responded. A few students looked down. One beta girl in the front row blinked slowly, as if the quiet truth of it had just caught up to her.
Elias clicked off the slide. The screen dimmed.
"That's all," Elias said, gathering his tablet. "You will begin interface modeling next week."
Students filed out, some quick, others slower, waiting for friends, still whispering about the painting of the God of Destruction. A few paused to glance back at the screen, now dark, as if it might flash something else.
Elias stayed behind, letting the room empty before he moved. He didn't like walking out with crowds.
He packed slowly, the hum of the lights above a little too loud now. His tablet buzzed once in his bag. He ignored it. Then again, sharper this time, like a tap instead of a nudge.
He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Elias froze.