"I advocate for public execution," she announced, her melodious voice carrying to every corner of the vast chamber, sweet poison wrapped in velvet.
Gasps rippled through the hall like wind through autumn leaves. A first-year with freckled cheeks and wide, horrified eyes swayed once before crumpling to the marble floor in a dead faint.
No one moved to help her.
Vyne's mechanical eye whirred frantically, the copper iris contracting and expanding as it struggled to process the emotional readings flooding its circuits.
"He insulted our Thunder Beast," Aria continued, rising with liquid grace from her gilded seat, silk skirts whispering secrets around her ankles.
Her blood-red lips curved into something too sharp to be called a smile. "But let us be fair about this, shall we?"
Her perfectly manicured nails—painted the exact shade of freshly spilled blood—tapped thoughtfully against her porcelain chin.
"Dante—"
A growl erupted from Dante sat in his throne, primal and furious.
The sound rattled the stained glass windows and sent tremors through the ancient stone floor.
Dante's form tensed, muscles bunching beneath his tailored uniform as his nails—that were now turned claws—splintered the blackwood armrest of his throne.
Tiny lightning bolts crackled between his clenched teeth.
Aria's smile didn't falter, though a muscle in her jaw twitched ever so slightly. "Apologies," she purred, dipping into a perfect curtsy. "Supreme Alpha King Dante." She rose and locked eyes with Blazar, her gaze holding all the warmth of a midwinter blizzard.
"—was provoked. That insolent new teacher triggered his rage. The royal guards were mere moments from administering sedation when this... street rat—" she pointed one crimson nail at Blazar, the gesture somehow both elegant and vulgar "—decided to play hero."
Blazar felt the weight of three hundred pairs of eyes boring into her skin. The pressure was almost physical, as if the collective attention might crush her bones to dust.
She fought the urge to squirm under their scrutiny, keeping her spine rigid and her face carefully blank despite the cold sweat trickling between her down her back.
"But here's the truth you'll die knowing," Aria continued, gliding forward with predatory intent.
She leaned close enough that Blazar could smell her perfume. Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper that somehow carried to every straining ear in the vast hall:
"Kings don't make mistakes. They are the law. And you?" She traced one nail down Blazar's cheek, not quite breaking skin. "You're not even a footnote."
Silence.
Absolute.
Deafening.
Blazar's fingers curled into fists so tight her knuckles bleached white, nails carving crescent moons into her palms. The pain anchored her, kept her from doing something suicidal—like spitting in Aria's perfect face.
Then—
"Interesting proposal."
Every head swiveled in unison, the movement so synchronized it might have been comical under different circumstances.
Vesper had risen from his throne of twisted black metal and crimson velvet, stretching with feline languor. His blood-red hair caught the torchlight like living flame as he yawned, revealing teeth too sharp for comfort.
His academy shirt hung open at the throat, deliberately disheveled in a way that screamed of practiced carelessness.
"But I vote no." He settled back into his throne, one leg thrown casually over the armrest, his grin widening until it seemed to split his face in half.
The hall seemed to hold its collective breath as Vesper's declaration hung in the air like a challenge.
His smile only sharpened, fangs glinting wickedly in the light that streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting jewel-toned shadows across his alabaster skin.
"I hereby declare Orion Spade under my circle's protection." He examined his black-painted nails with affected boredom. "He is my responsibility now."
The declaration fell like a thunderbolt. Gasps erupted, followed by a storm of whispers that swelled into a cacophony of disbelief and speculation.
A faculty woman with steel-gray hair clutched her colleague's arm so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Her face had drained of all color.
"Why would King Vesper save him?" she hissed, voice trembling with shock. "This... this rarely happens. And if its Vesper I feel sorry for this boy, what does he want from him?"
Her companion—a man with a scholar's stoop and eyes that had seen too much—shook his head slowly, voice low with disbelief. "This never happens. Not for some nobody noble from a nameless line." A bitter laugh escaped his thin lips. "Shit, they wouldn't lift a finger for their own blood relatives most days."
Blazar's gaze cut to Vesper like a blade. Of course. Just when she'd made peace with an end—just when the weight of her miserable existence had finally felt light enough to discard—he intervened. Her jaw clenched as she exhaled, slow and measured, shaking her head slightly.
The irony was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.
Aria Bright's golden fan snapped shut again with a sound like cracking bone. Her perfect composure slipped for an instant, revealing something savage beneath her cultured veneer.
"You're one king against four," she said, voice dripping with regal condescension. Her golden eyes flashed with barely contained fury. "That doesn't change anything."
The principal adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles with a single finger. The lenses flashed white for an instant, obscuring eyes rumored to see through deception as easily as through glass.
"You underestimate what even a single king's favor means, Princess," he said, his tone mild but carrying an undercurrent of steel. Years of navigating the treacherous waters of academy politics had taught him when to bend and when to stand firm.
Vesper twirled a lock of his bloody red hair around one long finger, the gesture deceptively casual. "That's right. Tell her, old man." His voice carried the lazy confidence of someone who had never faced consequences.
"He broke the law, Vesper!" Aria's porcelain cheeks flushed crimson with indignation, twin spots of color stark against her pale skin. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying the depth of her emotion.
Vesper's grin didn't waver, but his voice dropped to a honeyed warning that sent chills down the spines of everyone present. "Ah-ah. Don't call me Vesper like I'm your little brother, you spoiled brat." He leaned forward, all pretense of boredom vanishing in an instant. "It's Overlord Vesper, for you. Your obsession with Dante is rotting what's left of your brain."
Before Aria could respond, another voice cut through the room like winter's first frost—soft yet somehow more commanding than any shout could be.
All heads turned as Kaelric rose from his throne of blue ice that somehow never melted, his white coat undisturbed by the stifling air of the overcrowded hall.
"Let's not be hasty." His glacial gaze swept the assembly, touching each face like a kiss of cold death. "The boy merely reacted. Execution is a waste of a useful tool—and, more importantly, my time." His eyes, the pale blue of deepest glacier ice, locked onto Blazar's defiant scowl. "Let Midnight Blade... discipline him."
The word discipline slithered down her spine like a frozen finger tracing each vertebra.
Memories flashed unbidden—the slave brand searing her back when she was barely seven, the sizzle of hot iron on flesh, the wet crack of whips in the slave pits, the hollow eyes of those taken for "correction."
The disciplinary pits where no one came back whole, or if they did, something vital was forever missing from behind their eyes. Her stomach turned, bile rising in her throat. Not again. Never again.
"I'd rather die than join his circle," she muttered under her breath, the words escaping before she could catch them. A nearby guard shot her a warning glance, but it was too late.
The hall erupted into chaos.
"Two kings?!" a student with golden braids shrieked, her voice cracking with disbelief.
"He must be using blackmail!" another hissed, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Or sorcery!" called a third, fingers forming a protective sigil.
"Or fucked them!" a voice jeered from the back, followed by nervous, scandalized laughter that died quickly under the weight of royal attention.
Vesper clapped his hands in theatrical delight, the sound piercing through the cacophony. "Ohhh, Kaelric wants a new pet!" His eyes gleamed with mischief and something darker, more calculating. Like he wants to strangle Kaelric.
Kaelric remained impassive, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. Only the faintest narrowing of his eyes suggested he'd even heard the jibe.
The air crackled with restless energy as Dante's voice boomed through the hall, his fury so potent it sent static dancing along the marble floors and raising the hair on every arm. "Nobody gets to kill 'Onion' unless it's me!"
The deliberate butchering of Blazar's name dripped with contempt, his claws gouging deep furrows into his throne's armrest. Splinters of precious wood scattered across the dais. "That little bastard will die by my hands."
A single, incredulous laugh cut through the tension. All heads swiveled to Blazar, who was clutching her stomach, shoulders shaking with unexpected mirth. Her self-preservation instinct had apparently taken a holiday.
"'Onion'?" she wheezed, turning to the principal with tears gathering in her eyes. "He said 'Onion' instead of Orion! Can you imagine being terrified of someone who can't even pronounce names right?" Her laughter had an edge of hysteria to it now, the kind that comes when death seems certain and fear transmutes itself into reckless abandon.
The principal's spectacles flashed ominously as his eye twitched—a silent 'are you laughing at your own execution?' glare that could have frozen lava.
Blazar's grin vanished immediately, replaced by a carefully blank expression as she returned to studying the intricate patterns of the floor tiles.
Despite her best efforts, her shoulders still occasionally shook with suppressed laughter.
Blazar's lips twisted into a bloody smirk as she considered her options. Great. My choices: torture, slavery, or being eaten. Academy life fucking sucks.
She'd escaped death once already today—how many lives did she have left? Not enough, if the murderous look in Dante's eyes was anything to go by.
Then—a whisper of fabric. The soft click of a bootheel against stone. A collective intake of breath.
Every eye in the hall snapped to Ryuzaki as he uncrossed his legs with deliberate grace, his white coat pooling around him like liquid silver. Until now, he had watched the proceedings in silence, content to observe from his throne of white jade and silver filigree.
When the Fox King smiled, it carried the quiet menace of a predator revealing its fangs—beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. The academy's most elegant and prideful sovereign had finally decided to enter the fray, and nobody—not even the other kings—knew which way his favor would fall.