Chapter 11: The Predator in the Hall of Saints
The grand gates of the Imperial Zenith
Academy stood like the ivory jaws of a sleeping titan. Carved from enchanted white marble and reinforced with runes that had shimmered for a millennium, they represented the pinnacle of human achievement. To the commoners, these gates were a gateway to a dream; to the nobles, they were a birthright. But to Cyan Valerian, they were merely the entrance to a new hunting ground—a confined space where the "heroes" of this world gathered to be broken.
The air inside the academy was different. It was thick, saturated with the scent of old parchment, expensive floral perfumes, and the suffocating, invisible weight of aristocratic arrogance. As Cyan stepped onto the polished stone tiles of the central courtyard, his footsteps were light, almost ghost-like. He wore the standard black and silver uniform of the academy, but on his frame, the fabric seemed to absorb the light around it, turning a simple student's attire into a shroud of mourning for the enemies he had yet to encounter.
Behind him, following with a measured, rhythmic grace, was Isabella Oakhart. The once-untouchable Fire Duchess, known for her scorching pride and emerald-eyed disdain, now walked three paces behind him. Her head was slightly bowed, a gesture of submission that would have sent shockwaves through the Empire if witnessed by the public. To the casual observer, she looked like a loyal protector. To the System, she was a masterpiece of corruption, her loyalty locked at a terrifying 95%.
"The registration hall is ahead, Master," Isabella whispered, her voice a low silk that only reached Cyan's ears. "The High Council and the representatives of the Saintess are already there. They expect the new high-tier candidates to kneel before the Altar of Truth. Your presence will... complicate their traditions."
Cyan did not stop. He paused briefly by a magnificent fountain at the center of the courtyard. It depicted the God of Light, a weeping deity carved from crystal. With a cold, mocking smile, Cyan dipped his fingers into the holy water. The liquid hissed faintly, a reaction invisible to the naked eye but clear to Cyan's heightened senses.
"Traditions are just chains that the weak use to feel secure, Isabella," Cyan replied, his voice a calm melody of danger. "I am not here to follow their script. The System has already flagged the 'Protagonists' of this generation. They believe they are the centers of the universe. I am here to teach them that every sun eventually sets, and the darkness that follows belongs to me."
[System Notification: Main Target 'Prince Kaelen Von Heist' detected. Hostility Rank: High. Role: Chosen Son of Light. Potential for Corruption: 88%.]
Cyan's heterochromatic eyes flickered. His blue eye remained as cold and clear as a winter sky, reflecting the daylight, while his left eye—the purple eye of the Absolute Corruption System—pulsed with a predatory, violet hunger.
As they entered the Grand Hall, a space vast enough to house an army, the chaotic chatter of hundreds of noble students died down instantly. It wasn't because they recognized Cyan—to them, he was a nameless transfer student with no visible house sigil. It was because of the woman walking in his shadow.
"Is that... Duchess Isabella? Why is she here?"
"Look at her... she's walking behind him. Who is that boy?"
"Wait, look at his eyes. I've never seen a mana signature like that."
At the far end of the hall, seated on a raised dais of gold and lapis lazuli, was Servina, the Puppet Saintess. She sat like a living statue of purity, her golden hair braided with white lilies, her presence a beacon that supposedly warded off evil. But the moment Cyan's foot crossed the threshold of the hall, Servina's entire body stiffened.
The Purple Thorn Crown—the metaphysical brand Cyan had seared into her soul—pulsed with sudden, agonizing heat. To the world, she was the voice of the gods. To Cyan, she was a doll whose strings he had already begun to pull. She felt a wave of primal dread wash over her, an instinctive urge to throw herself at his feet and beg for the cold comfort of his shadow. Her hands, hidden beneath silken sleeves, began to tremble uncontrollably.
Cyan walked straight through the center of the hall, ignoring the hundreds of stares. He headed directly for the dais, his path blocked by two Holy Knights in gleaming silver armor. They crossed their halberds with a sharp clang.
"State your name and lineage, student," one of the knights barked, his hand white-knuckled on his sword hilt. "None shall approach the Saintess without an invitation from the Church."
Cyan stopped. He didn't look at the knight. He looked past him, locking his gaze with Servina. The silence in the hall became so heavy it felt as if the air itself had turned to lead.
"Lineage?" Cyan chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering over a gravestone. "I have no lineage to speak of. I am the beginning and the end of my own bloodline. As for my name... your Saintess knows it better than her own prayers. Don't you, Servina?"
A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Addressing the Saintess by her first name, without a holy title, was the ultimate blasphemy—an offense punishable by death. The knights drew their blades, the steel singing as it left the scabbards.
"Blasphemer! Kneel and repent, or lose your head!" the knight roared.
But before the blades could descend, Servina stood up abruptly. Her face was as pale as the marble walls, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of terror and forced adoration.
"Stand down!" she commanded, her voice cracking under the pressure of the hidden brand. "Let him pass. He is... an honored guest of the faith."
The knights froze. The students whispered in a frenzy of confusion. Cyan stepped forward, his shoulder brushing against the knight's armor as he ascended the steps. He stopped inches away from the Saintess, leaning in until he could smell the incense on her robes.
"You're doing well, my little puppet," he whispered, his voice a ghost's touch against her ear. "But the show is just beginning."
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors at the side of the hall swung open with a violent force. A tall youth with hair the color of spun gold and eyes that burned with a righteous fire entered. This was Prince Kaelen, the Empire's golden boy and the academy's top-ranked student.
"I heard there was a disturbance," Kaelen said, his voice deep and commanding, carrying the natural authority of a future Emperor. He walked toward Cyan, his hand resting on the pommel of a sword that radiated holy light. "Who is this commoner who dares to distress the Saintess? Isabella, I am disappointed. I heard you had fallen, but to become a lapdog for a nobody? That is a disgrace to the Oakhart name."
Isabella stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a dangerous crimson light, but Cyan raised a hand, signaling her to stay back.
"A nobody?" Cyan turned to face the Prince, his expression one of utter boredom. "It's fascinating how those who stand on mountains of gold think they are closer to the stars. In reality, you're just higher up on the list of things I intend to crush."
Kaelen laughed, a sound of genuine amusement. "Crush me? With what power? You lack the aura of a noble, and your mana pool feels... empty. You are a void, boy. And voids are meant to be filled with light."
Kaelen drew his sword halfway, the room suddenly brightening as if a second sun had risen. The pressure in the room made the weaker students drop to their knees. But Cyan didn't flinch. Instead, he reached into the air, and a rift of violet darkness tore open beside him.
From the rift stepped Lilith, her black dragon-patterned kimono flowing around her like ink in water. She held a single blood-red rose in her hand, her silver hair shimmering under the hall's magical chandeliers. The aura she released was so dense, so filled with ancient, primordial malice, that Kaelen's holy light began to flicker and dim.
"Master," Lilith said, her voice dripping with poisonous elegance as she ignored the Prince entirely. "The preparations in the capital are complete. The shadows are moved into position. I brought you a gift to celebrate your first day in this... pathetic nest of birds."
She handed the rose to Cyan. As he took it, the petals turned black, crumbling into a fine dust that swirled around him like a protective cloak.
"Who... who are you people?" Kaelen demanded, his bravado wavering as he felt the sheer power emanating from Lilith.
Cyan stepped toward the Prince, the darkness around him swallowing the golden light of the hall. He stopped when their chests were nearly touching.
"I am the King of Sin, Kaelen," Cyan whispered, his purple eye glowing with an intensity that seemed to drain the very color from the room. "And this academy is no longer your home. It is my throne room. Go tell your father, the Emperor, that the debt of the Valerians is about to be collected... in blood."
With a flick of his wrist, Cyan released a pulse of pure corruption. The marble floor beneath Kaelen's feet cracked in a spiderweb pattern, turning black as the stone itself decayed. The Prince was thrown back several feet, his holy sword vibrating with a shrill, pained sound.
Cyan turned his back on the future Emperor, walking toward the exit of the hall with Isabella and Lilith flanking him like dark goddesses.
"Isabella," Cyan said as they reached the doors.
"Yes, Master?"
"Make sure the girl with the spear—Clara—is ready. Tonight, we begin the 'cleansing' of the student council. I want this academy to scream before the sun rises."
"As you command," she replied, her smile wide and predatory.
As the doors of the Grand Hall slammed shut, the students were left in a state of absolute terror. The hierarchy they had known for centuries had been shattered in a single afternoon. The Saintess was compromised, the Prince was humiliated, and a monster had just moved into the dormitory.
The age of light was over. The reign of the Absolute Corruption System had truly begun.