Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 199: The Ageless Queen

The students continued to chatter among themselves, their voices rising and falling like waves crashing inside the grand hall. Two hundred people spoke at once, and the noise echoed endlessly off the polished walls.

Then, without warning, the brightness that filled the chamber flickered. The great chandelier dimmed, and the hall was plunged into sudden mild darkness. Only a single beam of light remained, focused on the stage, illuminating the solitary podium that stood there like a silent sentinel.

A hush swept across the room as the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from afar. Slow, deliberate, and calm, the steps carried a weight that drew every gaze toward their source. Recognition dawned instantly on their faces, for this presence was unmistakable. It was the same old man who had teleported them to the forest not long ago.

With measured ease, he strode forward. His white-and-black hair was tied neatly behind him, his expression unreadable. As he ascended the stage, his black eyes swept across the rows of students below.

All chatter ceased. Every murmur, every rustle of movement, even the rhythm of breath seemed to vanish. The man’s arrival drained the air of all sound.

”Welcome to the Star Academy,” the old man began, his voice calm yet carrying an authority that filled the entire hall with ease. ”From this moment forward, you are no longer merely candidates, you are now officially students of this institution.”

His words fell heavily, resonating with finality.

”Remember this: none of you paid a single coin to be here. Every resource, every ounce of training, and every opportunity you will receive has been sponsored directly by the Sovereign herself. That is not a privilege to take lightly. At the Star Academy, we do not tolerate even the slightest laziness or incompetence. While we do not expect each of you to match the progress of the great heirs of the dukedoms, we do expect growth. Whether great or small, progress is demanded of every student here. Stagnation,” he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, ”is the one thing we despise above all else.”

The weight of his words pressed down like an invisible mountain.

”In simple terms,” he continued, his voice firm, ”if you fail to make progress when tested, you will be expelled.”

The atmosphere thickened. Silence no longer felt like calm, it felt oppressive, suffocating, as though every student had suddenly been chained by invisible shackles. Faces hardened; brows furrowed.

For many, this was the moment reality struck. They had barely stepped through the Academy’s gates, and already they were told that failure would not be tolerated.

”But,” the old man said after a pause, his tone easing slightly, ”do not misunderstand me. The progress I speak of is not limited to advancement in your Life Ranks. Such breakthroughs take time, and no sane instructor would expect every student to rise by a major realm every year. What I mean are other forms of progress, improvements in skill, comprehension, control, and effort. I trust I do not need to explain further.”

Relief rippled through the hall. Shoulders slackened, and restrained sighs escaped lips. Advancement through Life Ranks was a grueling process that could take decades. If the Academy had demanded yearly breakthroughs, it would have been nothing short of impossible.

”Now then,” the man said, his tone returning to formality. ”Many of you know me only as ’The Old Man.’ Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Berion, the Ninth Vice Principal of the Star Academy.”

Gasps echoed softly. The name alone carried weight, but the title, Vice Principal, stunned many into silence. Berion, who appeared as though he could collapse at any moment from old age, had just introduced himself as one of the ruling figures of the Academy.

At the back, Asher’s thoughts stirred rapidly.

’Just as I thought,’ he mused to himself. But another question burned in his mind.

’If Berion is the ninth Vice Principal, then what of the Principal herself? She must have outlived eight others who once held the same lofty position. But even Berion is already so old. That can only mean a tenth Vice Principal may already be under consideration, but the Principal has remained unchanged all this time.’

The thought unsettled him.

’Assuming each Vice Principal lived out their natural lifespan of a thousand years, that would mean she has endured for over eight thousand years. Eight thousand years...’

The number itself felt absurd. Asher had already told himself he could perhaps reach a lifespan greater than a thousand years under Crymora’s laws, but even then, he had never dared imagine a life stretching across millennia, let alone eight thousand years.

’Perhaps I’m overthinking,’ he muttered inwardly. ’Someone who has lived that long could easily amass enough power to rule the world outright. Or worse, surpass the very ceiling of Crymora’s Life Ranks and step into something beyond, godhood, or a realm close to it.’

He let out an inward sigh, his mind tightening around the realization. ’This world is full of monsters. People who could erase me with nothing more than a glance. If I want to avoid being crushed like an insect, I need to train harder. Much harder.’

His thoughts lingered briefly on the boy who had lost his eyes to Instructor Jane, a brutal reminder that weakness was a crime no one could afford here.

Before Asher could sink further into contemplation, Berion’s voice rang out once again, breaking through his thoughts.

”Now,” Berion intoned, his voice echoing with quiet reverence, ”let us welcome the Principal of the Star Academy. Its founder. The one many of you revere as the Goddess of Space... Cindralis.”

A ripple of shock and awe spread through the chamber. All two hundred pairs of eyes widened, anticipation boiling over. Who among them had not heard the name Cindralis? Who here had not wondered what she looked like, or how immense her power truly was?

As though answering their unspoken prayers, the very fabric of space above the stage began to waver. It trembled gently, like ripples spreading across the surface of a calm lake. The distortion deepened into a swirling blue portal, and from its depths, a figure stepped forth.

The moment her heel touched the stage, the atmosphere shifted. The air froze, time seemed to hesitate, and reality itself bent to acknowledge her presence.

Her hair, black as the endless void, cascaded smoothly down her back like flowing silk. Her twin abyssal eyes glimmered with unfathomable depth, as though they could swallow even the sun whole.

Her figure was shaped with a timeless elegance, her waist slender like an hourglass untouched by time. Her skin was flawless, pure and luminous, unmarred by even the faintest imperfection, as though the very world refused to leave its mark upon her.

And yet, her aura did not flare. She did not need to unleash power to demonstrate her strength. There was no spectacle, no theatrics. She simply existed, and the world itself bowed under the weight of her being.

She was Cindralis, the one whom those at the pinnacle of the Zarethorne Empire whispered of with reverence and dread.

The Ageless Queen.