Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 203: Logistics And Mission Operations Hall

While Asher was lost in thought, quietly assessing the towering buildings and the intricate scenery around him, the other first-year students were doing the same, though not with the same peace of mind he possessed.

Unlike Asher, their minds were anything but calm. The image of thirty-four of their fellow classmates being expelled mere moments ago still lingered like a phantom in their thoughts. They hadn’t even witnessed the inside of the Academy before those students were gone, cast out and left behind at the very gates they had all dreamed of crossing.

To them, this place already felt like a battlefield, and they feared that every step they took, every word they spoke, might become another hidden test waiting to eliminate them.

So while they admired the breathtaking architecture and the vibrant streams of that shimmered faintly in the air, they also carried a subtle edge of panic in their hearts, careful not to make any missteps that could mark them as the next to be discarded.

”C-Can I ask a question?” a boy from the back of the group suddenly spoke up, his voice wavering like a candle flame caught in a breeze.

At his words, dozens of eyes snapped toward him with sharp disbelief, some even with pity. To them, he might as well have signed his own expulsion slip. Who would dare to speak out now, so soon after such a brutal demonstration?

”There is no need to be afraid,” Stephanie said, her voice composed and faintly amused as she continued walking without even glancing back. ”You will not be expelled simply for asking a question. This institution is called the Star Academy, not the Savage Academy.”

The boy exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping in relief as though silently thanking his stars that his gamble had not cost him his place.

”What is your question?” asked Thalric, his tone as cool and dispassionate as still water, and just as he did, he too did not bother to look back at the speaker.

”The Star Academy accepts two hundred students each year,” the boy said, his voice steadier now, ”and just over fifteen percent of them have already been eliminated. What happens to the now-empty seats?”

His question struck a chord among the rest of the group. Several pairs of eyes subtly brightened, as if he had given voice to a thought they too had harbored but dared not speak aloud.

”The first thirty-four students ranked below the two-hundredth place on the Battle Exam ranking will be selected as replacements,” Stephanie replied easily, as if reciting an immutable law. ”It is as simple as that.”

”Those expelled students were given an opportunity,” Thalric added, his voice like tempered steel, ”and they discarded it the very first chance they got. They have no one to blame but themselves. Likewise, the new students who take their places will have fate to thank for granting them such a chance.”

At his words, the group fell silent again. No one argued, and no one dared to complain. There was truth in what their seniors had said, cold, sharp, and undeniable.

’Sigh... the unluckiest person is probably whoever placed two-hundred and thirty-fifth in the rankings,’ Asher mused quietly to himself as they walked. ’Just one place away. Perhaps fate or destiny has a different path carved for them entirely.’

Eventually, they arrived before an imposing building adorned with polished stone and gilded carvings of ancient symbols. Thalric’s voice rose once more, steady and measured.

”This,” he declared, ”is the Logistics and Mission Operations Hall. Within this building, you will receive your identity cards, these serve not only as proof of your status but also as your points cards. You may purchase virtually anything here, from combat techniques to weapons, from clothing to soap, almost anything, so long as it is within reason. This is also where you will accept Academy missions.”

The students stared up at the building in awe, their eyes wide, some even holding their breaths as if they feared the sheer grandeur of the place might swallow them whole.

Before any of them could ask the obvious question, Stephanie spoke, her tone clear and precise.

”Points,” she said, ”are the sole currency within the Star Academy. Every transaction is done with points. Your points will be linked directly to your identity cards. As for how to acquire them, you may complete missions from this Hall, challenge other classmates or even upper classmen and claim their points through victory, or earn them by maintaining a position within the top three of your class rankings.”

Her words, though calmly spoken, struck the students like a hammer blow. The meaning was simple but staggering: they could now fight one another for survival, for progress, for resources. The realization sent a ripple of anxiety through their ranks, though none voiced it aloud.

With that, Thalric and Stephanie ascended the marble steps and passed through the tall doors into the building. The first-years followed cautiously behind, the soft echoes of their footsteps swallowed by the towering structure.

Inside the Logistics and Mission Operations Hall, a warm golden glow danced across the walls, cast from dozens of ornate lamps of varying designs. Students, older and visibly more seasoned, moved briskly throughout the chamber, some exchanging identity cards with clerks, others discussing mission details in hushed voices. There was an organized chaos about the place, like a bustling marketplace wrapped in discipline.

’Is there... a mission board here somewhere?’ Asher wondered, his sharp gaze sweeping across the vast chamber in search of anything remotely resembling what he had envisioned. His eyes darted from the marble counters to the intricate crystal terminals embedded in the walls, yet he saw nothing that matched his expectations.

’It seems there isn’t,’ he finally decided, and gently pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

As the large group of first-years entered, several heads turned their way. Conversations paused. Curious, scrutinizing eyes watched them, some with amusement, others with barely hidden contempt.

”Ohhh... It’s that time of year again,” one older student murmured, his lips curling in faint amusement.

”I wonder how many of them will survive even a week without being expelled,” another said, his tone dry as dust.

”They’re fewer than two hundred this time,” a third noted quietly, a calm smile tugging at his lips. ”Seems some were already expelled before they even made it this far. Pity... though perhaps a blessing in disguise.”

”I bet three hundred points that at least ten more of these first-years will be expelled within the week,” a fourth student said with a sly grin, leaning lazily against a pillar. ”Who’s willing to take that bet?”

”Make it five hundred,” another replied, a glint of challenge flashing in her eyes, ”and you have yourself a deal. But,” She paused, letting her gaze sweep deliberately across the nervous faces of the new arrivals. ”I bet less than ten students would be expelled.”

Laughter rippled softly among the older students, not cruel but laced with the unmistakable edge of superiority.

And just like that, the rise and fall of the newly accepted first-year students became a source of income for the second- and third-year students of the Star Academy.

The first-years could only watch and listen, their lips twitching in frustration.

What could they do? Challenge people who were older, and far stronger, than them?