Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 261: Punishment

Suddenly, the chandeliers above dimmed, the brilliant lights that had illuminated the hall fading until the room was bathed in a mild, contemplative darkness. The students immediately understood what this meant: the conference was about to commence. A low murmur spread through the hall, quickly replaced by tense silence, as if the dimming had hushed even the bravest hearts.

Footsteps echoed against the polished floors, resonating throughout the vast hall. A man, tall and imposing, easily over six feet in height, approached the stage. His presence was calm yet magnetic, the kind of aura that demanded attention without a word. White hair framed his face, and a matching white beard lent him an air of age and authority. It was the Ninth Vice Principal, Berion.

He stepped up to the podium and gazed across the students, whose divisions into three distinct sections, first, second, and third years, were now starkly visible. Without hesitation, he began to speak.

”You have all witnessed the destruction that occurred a few days ago,” Berion’s voice carried, loud, brisk, and flat. There was no preamble, no customary greeting; he cut straight to the heart of the matter, as though time itself were a luxury he did not possess. ”This is to remind you that death and devastation can strike from anywhere, at any time. Many have regarded the Separate Dimension as the safest haven within the Zarethorne Empire, yet that illusion was shattered four days ago.” His eyes swept over the students, measuring their reactions with calculated precision.

”We observed many of you,” he continued. ”Those who made valiant efforts. Those who hid and did nothing. Those who, despite their weaknesses, fought bravely. And it is because of these efforts, or lack thereof, that you are gathered here today, to receive your rewards.” His gaze lingered over the crowd, sharp and unyielding.

”We, the Star Academy, only accept the finest. You must be combat-ready at any moment, whether in your sleep, in your private quarters, or even during the most mundane of personal tasks,” Berion’s tone hardened, his words cutting like steel. ”As for the students who hid while the Separate Dimension transformed into a battlefield, every point you have earned will be reset to zero.”

At that pronouncement, the room seemed to freeze. Time itself appeared to stall as the first-year students’ minds went blank, the weight of the statement settling over them like a heavy shroud. They all understood the gravity of ”zero.” It meant that within one week, they would need to earn at least a single point, or face expulsion. Some students smirked quietly; after all, having fought for their lives, why shouldn’t they begrudge another for hiding?

The second- and third-year students remained unshaken. They had not hidden, had long grown accustomed to the constant pressures and dangers of the Academy. Each day was a test of skill, endurance, and survival. Only the first-year students, still green and inexperienced, suffered under this new punishment.

And what recourse did they have? To protest or express outrage would be foolish, such dissent would lead to immediate expulsion, leaving them unable to use even a single facility within the Star Academy grounds.

Berion, however, allowed no pause for reflection. ”As for those who chose inaction, ninety percent of your points will be forfeited.”

A ripple of discontent passed through the upperclassmen. Some frowned, their expressions darkened as though drawn in charcoal. These were their hard-earned points, the tangible proof of effort and skill accumulated over numerous battles and missions. To lose almost all of it because they had chosen inaction during the apocalypse was infuriating. Many had watched from the sidelines, acting only when danger approached their immediate vicinity; the rest, they deemed, was unpaid labor.

Still, the majority of upperclassmen remained unperturbed. Many had already tested themselves during the apocalypse and understood that survival required restraint as much as action. To them, this decree was a formality, a reminder rather than a punishment.

Berion’s gaze swept the hall once more. ”Now, to the real rewards. Only those who actively saved others during the apocalypse will be recognized. Fighting escaped criminals, monsters, or Emovirae was part of your duty as students. Only genuine acts of selfless intervention merit reward.”

He began systematically, starting with the third-year students. Names were called, one after another, and students stepped forward with measured pride. They placed their cards on the glowing orb atop the podium, immediately receiving their reward points. Smiles appeared, some modest, others broad, yet each carried a quiet satisfaction.

Soon, the second-year students followed, their procession equally swift and orderly. Finally, Berion’s voice turned toward the first-years.

”William Canestane, one thousand points. Vaelric Lux Vanthelmor, one thousand five hundred points...” he called, continuing for seven names before pausing.

Asher’s eyes instinctively turned toward Vaelric, the Imperial Prince who had received a reward. Mild surprise colored his expression.

Vaelric had always carried himself with the belief that, as the heir to the Zarethorne Empire, it was his duty to protect his subjects, a principle that had driven him to act during the crisis.

”And Asher Wargrave, seven thousand points,” Berion’s voice rang out, carrying over the hall. Heads turned instantly. No student had received such a substantial reward that day. Without hesitation, Asher rose, his expression unreadable, and made his way toward the podium. With calm efficiency, he retrieved his card and pressed it against the orb, immediately receiving the seven thousand points.

”Since you are among the last names called, you may speak if you wish. If not, you may return to your seat,” Berion added, his black eyes fixed unwaveringly upon Asher.

Normally, Asher would have returned to his seat silently. But now, an opportunity presented itself to address a misconception. His lips parted, and he began to speak with deliberate clarity.

”It has come to my attention that some of my classmates view me as a hero or savior,” he said, his voice steady, carrying easily throughout the hall. ”While I appreciate the sentiment, I advise you to abandon such notions. I am not a hero, nor will I ever be. I would never risk my life for anyone else.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in.

”I acted four days ago purely because I chose to, not because anyone compelled me. Nothing more. So, if you expect me to appear in your time of need, to descend like an angel or a divine protector, you are gravely mistaken. Use your time wisely, train, prepare, and never place your life in the hands of another.”

With that, Asher concluded, expression unchanged, and stepped down from the podium. Without a backward glance, he returned to his seat, leaving silence and reflection in his wake.

______

AUTHOR’S NOTE: We are currently ranked 19th. We need a whooping 50 golden tickets to climb to the 18th rank. Which is kind of ridiculous should I say the least...