Chapter 12: The Night of Red Shadows
The moon hung over the Imperial Zenith Academy like a pale, severed eye, casting long, distorted shadows across the silent stone walkways. The atmosphere in the dormitories was suffocating; the students, usually boisterous and filled with the arrogance of their noble blood, had retreated into their rooms behind locked doors and reinforced enchantments. The news of the "King of Sin" had spread like a contagion. The image of the Golden Prince Kaelen being pushed back by a mere commoner's whisper was a crack in the foundation of their world.
In the shadows of the North Tower, far from the prying eyes of the night watch, Cyan Valerian stood on a balcony, his purple eye glowing with a faint, rhythmic pulse. Beside him stood Isabella and Lilith, their presence as still and cold as the night air.
"The Student Council is meeting in the inner sanctum of the library," Isabella reported, her voice devoid of any emotion. "They are discussing your 'expulsion' for blasphemy. Prince Kaelen is not there; he is reportedly in the infirmary, his mana channels being cleansed of your corruption. But the Vice-President, Marquess Julian, is leading the session. He intends to sign the warrant for your arrest tonight."
Cyan smirked, a jagged, mirthless expression. "A warrant? How quaint. They still believe that ink and parchment have power over the void."
He turned his gaze toward a figure kneeling in the darkest corner of the balcony. It was Clara, the Fallen Spearman. She was clad in tattered, dark steel armor that seemed to drink the moonlight. Her broken spear, a weapon that had once defended a fallen kingdom, rested against her shoulder.
"Clara," Cyan's voice was a low command.
"I am here, Master," she replied, her voice sounding like the grinding of tectonic plates.
"Tonight is your debut. The Student Council is composed of the 'best' the Empire has to offer. They pride themselves on their technique and their lineage. Show them the weight of a warrior who has survived the end of the world. Do not kill them—not yet. I want them broken, their spirits shattered so completely that they will crave the chains I offer."
Clara stood up, the metal of her armor groaning. She didn't speak, but the aura of desolation she released was enough to make the nearby plants wither and turn to ash.
The library's inner sanctum was a room of opulence and history. Surrounded by shelves containing forbidden grimoires and the records of the Empire's founders, the six members of the Student Council sat around a circular table of obsidian.
"This is an insult to every noble house!" Marquess Julian slammed his fist onto the table. He was a young man with sharp features and a manicured beard, his mana signature vibrating with the element of wind. "A commoner transfer student enters the Hall of Saints, insults the Saintess, and strikes a Prince? If we do not act now, the hierarchy will collapse by morning!"
"But Julian, you saw the woman who accompanied him," a girl with glasses whispered, her hands trembling as she held a quill. "The silver-haired one... her aura was... it wasn't human. It felt like standing before a Primordial Calamity."
"She is just a high-tier mercenary or a rogue mage," Julian snapped. "The Church will handle her. Our job is to eliminate the source. Sign the warrant. We will send the Enforcer Squad to his room at midnight."
CRACK.
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the sanctum. The council members jumped to their feet, drawing their ceremonial rapiers and staves.
"The Enforcer Squad is currently indisposed, Marquess," a voice drifted from the shattered window.
A dark blur descended from the ceiling, hitting the center of the obsidian table with the force of a falling star. The table split in half, sending shards of obsidian flying like shrapnel. As the dust cleared, the council members saw a woman standing in the wreckage. Her armor was scorched, her cape was a rag of shadows, and she held a spear that looked like it had been dragged through the fires of hell.
"Who are you?!" Julian roared, his body enveloped in a whirlwind of sharp air currents. "Do you have any idea where you are? This is the Sanctum of the Zenith!"
Clara raised her broken spear, the tip glowing with a dull, sickly grey light. "I am the shadow of a forgotten era. And you... you are just dust beneath my Master's feet."
Julian didn't wait. He thrust his hand forward, a blade of compressed wind screaming toward Clara's throat. It was a spell that could decapitate an armored knight in a single strike.
Clara didn't move. She didn't dodge. She simply swung her spear in a slow, horizontal arc.
The moment the spear-tip made contact with the wind blade, the spell didn't just break—it decayed. The wind lost its momentum, turning into a foul-smelling breeze before dissipating into nothingness.
"Impossible!" Julian gasped. "My magic... it was erased?"
"Not erased," Clara said, her voice echoing with the screams of a thousand dead soldiers. "Corrupted."
She vanished. One moment she was in the center of the room; the next, she was standing behind Julian. She didn't use the blade of her spear. She used the blunt end, striking him in the back of his knees. The sound of bone cracking was sickeningly loud in the silent room.
Julian fell to his knees, his face contorting in agony. The other council members tried to cast their spells, but Clara was a whirlwind of dark steel. Every strike was precise, brutal, and calculated to inflict maximum pain without ending a life. Within minutes, the "elite" of the academy were scattered across the floor, their weapons broken and their mana channels clogged with the grey mist of Clara's aura.
The library doors creaked open. Cyan Valerian walked in, his hands in his pockets, looking as if he were taking a midnight stroll. Isabella followed, her eyes glowing with delight as she looked at the defeated nobles.
"Excellent work, Clara," Cyan said, stepping over the moaning body of the Vice-President.
He stopped in front of Julian, who was struggling to breathe. Cyan knelt down, grabbing Julian by his hair and forcing him to look into his eyes.
"You wanted to sign a warrant for my arrest, Marquess?" Cyan asked, his voice a chilling whisper.
"Go... to hell..." Julian spat, though his voice was barely a croak.
Cyan didn't get angry. He simply touched Julian's forehead with his index finger.
[System Skill Activated: Soul-Sealing Corruption.]
A violet sigil flared on Julian's skin, sinking deep into his skull. The Marquess's eyes rolled back, and his body went rigid. The System was not just corrupting his mana; it was rewriting his loyalty.
"You are mistaken, Julian," Cyan said, letting go of his hair. "Hell is not where I am going. Hell is what I am bringing here. And you... you are my first Disciple of the Abyss within these walls."
After a few seconds of agonizing silence, Julian's eyes opened. They were no longer clear and filled with noble pride. They were clouded, with a faint violet ring around the pupil. He bowed his head until it touched the cold floor.
"Forgive my insolence... my King," Julian whispered, his voice sounding hollow, like a puppet mimicking a man.
The other council members watched in horror as their leader, the proud Marquess Julian, surrendered his soul to the "commoner."
"Isabella," Cyan turned to the Duchess. "Seal the library. No one leaves until they have all received the 'gift' of the System. By tomorrow morning, the Student Council will not be my enemies. They will be my instruments."
"And the Prince?" Lilith asked, appearing from the shadows of the bookshelves.
"Let Kaelen enjoy his rest," Cyan said, walking toward the window and looking out at the sprawling academy grounds. "A King needs subjects, but a God needs a sacrifice. Kaelen will be the perfect sacrifice when the time is right. For now... we have a school to rule."
As the screams of the remaining council members began to echo through the reinforced walls of the library, Cyan looked up at the moon. The Absolute Corruption System flashed a message in his vision.
[Quest Update: Control of the Academy - Progress 15%. Hidden Rewards Unlocked: 'Sovereign's Presence' Level 2.]
Cyan felt a surge of cold power flowing through his veins. The game was no longer about survival. It was about dominance. And the Zenith Academy was just the beginning of the corruption that would eventually swallow the entire Empire.