Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 209: Rules-2

A duel between two students within the Star Academy did not necessarily have to involve blades clashing, abilities erupting, or weapons swinging for one another’s throats. Contrary to what outsiders might assume, the rules of the Academy had never specified that a duel must always take the form of direct combat.

The very definition of a duel here was broad, flexible, and adaptable to circumstance. Two students could just as easily settle their wagers by racing across a field, the winner being whoever crossed the finish line first. Or they might decide upon a contest of games, whether it be cards, strategy, or puzzles. Some preferred a trial of skill, such as archery, where precision decided victory.

The method did not matter; the Academy’s rules only required that both participants recognized the contest as a legitimate duel and willingly accepted the terms.

Of course, there was one unshakable condition: every duel had to be overseen by an instructor. The purpose of this was manifold.

Instructors served to ensure that reckless contests did not spiral into deadly accidents. They acted as mediators to enforce honor, guaranteeing that losers delivered whatever stakes they had wagered, most often points. Before any duel could begin, the officiating instructor would also verify that both students actually possessed the amount of points they intended to bet.

After all, it would be sheer folly to allow a student with only a hundred points in their balance to wager a thousand against another who legitimately held that much. Without this verification, dishonest challengers might gamble on a victory they had no means to pay for, hoping to escape punishment. The Academy’s rules were brutal in some ways, but they were never careless.

Another unique feature of the Star Academy was its absolute disregard for noble status. Within these walls, titles, bloodlines, and family names mattered not in the slightest. A duke’s child stood equal to a peasant’s child, and no one was compelled to bow, kneel, or offer deference to anyone, regardless of pedigree. In this place, merit alone spoke for a student’s worth.

For Asher, who hailed from nobility, this leveling of the playing field amused him rather than offended him. He had no interest in hollow respect born from fear or obligation. But, he was not naive. The Academy’s neutrality ended the moment its gates closed for breaks. Outside these walls, the weight of noble blood still mattered. Those foolish enough to disrespect noble children within the Academy would be wise to remember the dangers of reprisal once they returned home. Star Academy might be a sanctuary, but it was not eternal protection.

Indeed, even the Academy itself admitted as much. Within the rule book, Asher noted a clause stating that students were permitted to remain on campus during breaks if they so desired, but this did not grant them permanent residency within the Separate Dimension.

The Academy existed as a realm apart, and its sovereignty had its limits. When the three-year training period concluded, students would inevitably be expelled back into the outside world unless they were formally employed by the Sovereign of the Separate Dimension.

Another intriguing point in the rule book explained the Academy’s attempt at fairness for newcomers. Every first-year student, regardless of background or skill, began with a balance of 500 points. This baseline ensured a level playing field, at least initially.

However, there was one exception.

The top three ranked students of each year were awarded additional points, equivalent to what they would normally receive as their weekly stipend. Thus, Asher, as Rank 1, began his Academy life already holding a significant advantage.

Asher exhaled softly as he digested these rules. His gaze dropped once more to the bold, blocky word printed in glaring red ink upon the page: EXPULSION. The threat loomed like a shadow across every student’s mind, reminding them of the consequences of failure. The Academy was merciless in this regard.

Expulsion was not reserved for grave crimes alone. Even something as simple as speaking back to an instructor in a tone deemed disrespectful, no matter how subtle, resulted in immediate removal from the Academy. There were no warnings, no second chances, and no lesser punishments. The rules here were final, sharp, and absolute.

Another path to expulsion lay in negligence. If a student’s point balance ever dropped to zero and remained unchanged for a full week, they would be expelled without hesitation. Points, therefore, were more than just currency; they were lifelines, the measure of survival itself. Even one point could mean the difference between staying or being cast out.

Asher’s lips curved faintly as a thought crossed his mind: ’I wonder if anyone will challenge me soon.’

Who wouldn’t want the passive gain of fifteen hundred points every weekend, acquired simply by being Rank 1? That kind of effortless accumulation was too tempting to ignore.

Still, Asher was not worried. A challenge did not guarantee his acceptance. The rules gave him the right to refuse if he wished. Not that he intended to shy away from battles, he, too, needed the points of others, but he would not waste time entertaining those who sought to exploit the Academy’s loopholes.

If someone tried transferring their points away before a duel to minimize their losses, Asher would simply decline the fight... or, perhaps, he would accept only to make an example of them.

With a mere thought, Asher summoned his identity card from the space ring on his finger. A golden wisp of his Astra energy flowed into it, activating the card. The glowing digits displayed his balance: 2000 points.

Five hundred came as the universal starting amount, while the additional fifteen hundred had been his reward for standing at the top of the first-year rankings. After a brief glance, he dismissed the card, letting it vanish into the spatial ring.

’A better strategy for farming points right now would be to march straight into the second building, where the Rank 101 to 200 students are housed, and challenge them all in succession,’ he mused. The thought alone amused him, but he quickly dismissed it. Challenges could be refused, and the Academy granted every student that right. It would be a waste of time to pursue a tactic so easily nullified.

Turning to the final section of the rule book, Asher found a detailed map of the Academy’s sprawling grounds. The map marked the positions of classrooms, training fields, dormitories, halls, and even the various recreational areas. Just a few pages before the map, the class schedule for the year was neatly printed. Classes, he noted, were scheduled to begin the very next day.

A quiet chuckle escaped him. ’I’m certain some people won’t bother reading this rule book today,’ he thought. Many students would be too eager to explore their surroundings, too fascinated by the marvels of the Academy itself to sit and study dry regulations.

But ignorance had its cost. The booklet had mentioned fines for skipping compulsory classes, though it had never stated the exact deduction.

’If someone is fined six hundred points tomorrow despite starting with only five hundred, I wonder what will happen to them,’ he thought. ’It would be interesting to witness.’

’At least,’ Asher thought with some relief, ’the Academy had not enforced a uniform.’ He disliked the idea of being restricted to bland, standardized clothing. Freedom of appearance suited him better.

His eyes shifted toward the window, where his violet irises caught the brilliance of the sky’s endless blue.

”Tomorrow, my training begins in earnest,” he whispered to himself. He had wasted the past few days because of the Academy’s entrance examinations, and now the real work was about to begin. He sighed softly, his mind shifting to an all-too-familiar wish.

’System, I really need that auto-cultivation function,’ he thought wistfully.

As always, the system remained silent, its lack of response a testament to its refusal to indulge his shameless requests.