Chapter 7: Violence Isn't Free

"The medical reports are in," Dean Nox says, her voice smooth as she elegantly sips from her porcelain teacup. "Congratulations. Neither of you is carrying any infectious diseases. Here are your uniforms and Academy badges."

She slides two sleek, black metallic boxes across the table.

"The Mythos Academy operates strictly on a credit system," she continues, crossing her long legs.

"Housing, food, training equipment, even the oxygen in the premium training rooms—everything costs Points. As a purebred 100% Single Bloodline Awakener, you, Rea, are awarded a starting balance of five hundred Points. Arlo, as a split bloodline, you receive two hundred."

I tap my phone, linking my new Academy badge to my bank account. I check the exchange rate and immediately scowl. One Academy Point equals roughly eighteen outside credits. The school is practically robbing us.

Dean Nox lowers her teacup, her dark eyes flashing with amusement. "However, the deliberate destruction of Academy property cannot go unpunished. Gate repairs are expensive."

She pauses, letting the suspense hang in the air. Arlo bites his pale lip, looking like he's about to pass out again. I just frown, bracing my wallet for the impact.

"I am fining you both," Dean Nox says softly. "Two Points each."

Arlo exhales a massive breath, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Oh, thank the gods."

I, however, am staring at my phone screen in absolute horror. My beautiful, perfect starting balance of 500 has just updated. [Balance: 498 Points.]

Arlo notices my dark aura and leans in. "Rea? It's okay. Two points is basically nothing."

"It's not about the value, Arlo," I whisper, my eye twitching. "It's about the symmetry. 500 is a beautiful number. 498 is an abomination. It looks ugly. It makes me physically uncomfortable."

I have an overwhelming urge to find a two-point mission immediately just to round it back up.

"If you want to earn Points, complete missions," Dean Nox says, clearly enjoying my suffering. "But you are freshmen. For your first year, you are restricted to the campus. Your primary focus is training and survival."

She stands up, smoothing down her immaculate shadow-woven dress.

"I do not teach freshmen. But if you manage to survive and prove yourselves exceptional by your senior year...you might earn a spot in my class. Now, go to the dormitories. The Head Warden will assign your rooms. You can pick up the rest of your supplies from your teacher tomorrow."

---

The Academy dormitories are massive, towering skyscrapers that look more like luxury hotels than student housing.

Rooms are double-occupancy, and the administration assigns them based on Awakeners' Alignments. Keeping similar alignments together reduces the chances of students murdering each other in their sleep.

I show my badge to the Head Warden.

"Room 306," she grunts. She looks at Arlo. "Room 206."

"Wait, we're in the same building?" Arlo asks, blushing slightly. "Boys and girls are mixed?"

"Obviously," the Warden snorts. "This isn't a monastery, kid."

It makes sense. In this world, Awakeners are just hormone-crazed batteries leaking divine energy. If you bottle that up, people go insane and start destroying things.

The Academy clearly realized that letting students treat the dorm hallways like a cheap motel is way cheaper than paying for property damage and therapy. As long as they aren't blowing up the campus, the school is fully supportive of their sex lives.

And clearly, some students are extremely dedicated to their extracurricular activities.

Even though it's technically mid-day training hours and the dorms should be a ghost town, my enhanced hearing picks up something the second Arlo and I step out of the elevator on the third floor.

Arlo stiffens beside me, his face turning the color of a tomato. "Do you...hear that?" he whispers.

"Yep."

We turn the corner of the hallway and stop. Directly in front of room 306, a couple is tangled together in a passionate, aggressive embrace.

The woman has her back pressed against my door.

She is stunning, with curves that could cause traffic accidents. Two obsidian, curved horns sprout from her dark hair, and a long, slender tail with a plump, heart-shaped tip wraps around her partner's thigh. A Succubus Awakener.

Her partner is practically a mountain. He stands at least seven feet tall, his sleeveless shirt exposing bulging muscles covered in glowing, deep-blue lightning tattoos. His spiky blond hair crackles with actual static electricity.

The Succubus pulls back from his lips, her eyes hooded. She notices us standing there and purrs. "Well, well. Who's the cute little sister wandering the halls?"

Her voice is smoky, raspy, and practically dripping with an X-rated aura. Just hearing it makes Arlo take a step back, clutching his chest.

I offer a polite, business-like smile. "Hi. You're blocking my door. Could you step aside, please?"

"Oh? A freshman?" The Succubus giggles, unwrapping her tail from the giant's leg.

She looks at the number on the door. "Room 306. Ah, you're bunking with the little Vampire. Good luck with that, sweetie."

She grabs the giant by his collar, pulling him down for another loud, messy kiss right in front of us, before dragging him down the hall toward another room.

Once they are out of earshot, Arlo exhales shakily. "That was...intense. I think that guy is the Thor Awakener. The God of Thunder."

I watch their retreating backs, a sudden memory unlocking in my brain.

Right. The Plot.

This world is rigged for a 'Gary Stu' protagonist. The script is painfully simple: every strong man here will eventually die as a stepping stone, and every pretty woman—including our taken Succubus—will be magically brainwashed into his harem.

What a tragic, predictable script, I muse. Good thing I don't care. I'm just here to make money.

---

Room 306 is spacious. It features a shared living room, a kitchenette, two private bathrooms, and two bedrooms.

I open my door. The room is immaculate—creamy white walls, a standard-issue bed with fresh sheets, and a desk. It doesn't need any cleaning.

"Well," I say, turning to face Arlo. I clap my hands together. "Our contract is officially concluded. You are safely enrolled."

Arlo nods calmly, his voice steady and polite. "Thank you for getting me this far, Rea. I'll head down to my room to unpack."

"Excellent. Goodbye, Darling. If you ever need protection, assassinations, or someone to run errands, feel free to contact me. Welcome to order again."

I shut the door in his face before he can get emotional.

Once the door clicks shut and I'm finally alone, I completely relax, letting out a long, heavy stretch.

It's a good thing he left when he did. If he had stayed any longer, I was afraid I might have snapped his pretty neck. Or done something highly immoral to him.

I sink into the sofa, staring down at my own twitching fingers. Is this the side effect of a Chaotic Evil Awakening?

No wonder everyone here is constantly screwing or fighting, I think, panting slightly as the urge recedes. If I don't find a way to vent this energy, I'm going to end up in an isolation cell.

If I don't find something to hit—or better yet, someone to pay me to hit them—I'm going to lose my mind. I need a distraction. Fast.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I log into the Academy Intranet to get a read on my new hunting ground.

I scroll through the main forum. It's basically a massive social media feed for superpowered teenagers. Pinned at the top is a brand-new administrative announcement:

[NOTIFICATION: July 12th, Year 705. Two new students have been admitted. They will officially join Class 1-1 tomorrow.]

Class 1-1. The elite class. The shark tank where every student has a Purity rating of 90% or higher. The comment section is already exploding. Most of the replies are from upperclassmen who are clearly slacking off during lectures.

I scroll past the gossip and focus on the user levels. The loudest voice in the thread belongs to a Level 5 user.

[God of War - Bore]: Which one of the newbies is the Death God? Stop hiding. Come out and fight me to the death!

I skim his history. He's a Year 4 Ares Awakener whose only hobby is putting people in comas. A pure, unadulterated meathead.

My lips curl into a smile. I change my display name to [Death God - Rea].

Usually, people call me 'Boss' back home, but 'Death God' has a nice ring to it. Very marketable.

Next is the bio. Prime real estate.

I start with the obvious: "Regularly accepting assassination requests. Pricing varies by target level. DM for inquiries."

But let's be realistic. Picking a fight with a Level 5 Ares meathead on my first day is a terrible business model. A smart entrepreneur always diversifies her portfolio.

I add a comma and keep typing:

"Also offering: Food delivery, bodyguard services, professional sparring (striking me costs extra), makeup, manicures, eyelash extensions, voice-acting, and debt collection. Honest service, fair prices. Welcome to order."

I hit save. Barely thirty seconds pass before my phone vibrates violently. The forum explodes.

[God of War - Bore]: @Death God - Rea? A freshman taking assassination requests? You do nails and collect debts? You've got a big mouth, newbie. Let's see if you can survive one punch from me first.

I chuckle, leaning back on the sofa. I tap out my reply, hitting send before tossing my phone onto the table.

[Death God - Rea]: Darling, violence isn't free. Check your DMs for the price list.