I cleared my throat, pretending not to notice the thousand pairs of eyes staring up at . The mic shimred faintly with mana, amplifying my voice across the hall.
"Right," I began casually. "First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming here today. I know it must’ve been hard to drag yourselves out of bed knowing you’d have to listen to talk about being better than you."
A few people laughed. The rest looked unsure if I was joking. Perfect.
I smiled, spreading my arms like I was addressing adoring fans. "Let start by saying this, I’m proud of all of you. Truly. You’ve worked so hard to get here. Fought monsters, studied until your brains lted, survived near-death exams... only to still be ranked below . Inspirational, really."
That earned a few chuckles, the nervous kind.
"I admire your spirit," I continued, voice smooth as silk. "The courage it takes to keep trying even when it’s painfully obvious that the gap between us isn’t sothing you can fix with hard work."
Soone in the back whispered, "Is he serious?"
I gestured vaguely toward the crowd. "And don’t think I’m saying this to discourage you! No, no. I want you to take pride in your roles. Every story needs background characters. Heroes like shine brighter because of how average everyone else looks standing nearby."
Sacha snorted from my shoulder. "Papa, you’re really making friends today."
"Oh, I know," I murmured under my breath, smiling wider.
"Now," I went on, "I’ve heard people say things like, ’Sebastian Nekros just got lucky.’" I laughed lightly. "You’re right. I did get lucky, lucky enough not to be you."
The crowd’s reaction was priceless. Half offended, half dumbfounded, entirely silent.
"Still," I said, clapping my hands together, "you all deserve recognition. It takes determination to fail this consistently and still show up. That’s heart. That’s endurance. That’s well, not talent, but sothing close enough that I’m sure your parents are proud."
A student near the front actually started clapping. I t his eyes, and he froze mid-applause like he’d just been caught committing a cri.
"Don’t stop on my account," I said pleasantly. "You need all the confidence you can get."
I started pacing slowly, cape flowing behind . "So of you might wonder what it takes to reach my level. The answer’s simple, you don’t. It’s not sothing you reach; it’s sothing you’re born with."
A silence so thick followed that you could cut it with a dull spoon.
"But that’s alright," I added cheerfully. "The world needs people like you too. Soone has to fill the seats, clean up the mana residue, cheer from the sidelines, and lose gracefully. You’re doing great."
Sacha muttered, "Papa, you’re evil."
I whispered back, "No, I’m inspirational."
I turned back to the crowd with a warm, perfectly rehearsed smile. "So, here’s to all of you, the drears, the triers, the ones who fall down, get back up, and fall down again in new and creative ways. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning and think, ’Wow, I’m really built different.’"
A few students chuckled awkwardly. So looked like they wanted to throw sothing.
"Don’t lose hope," I said kindly. "You might never reach my level, but at least you’ll always have a goal to chase. And that’s beautiful in its own tragic little way."
I gave a light bow. "Thank you. You’ve all been adequate."
And with that, I stepped back from the mic as the entire auditorium descended into a confused silence, half awe at my shalessness, half outrage, and all too stunned to know how to react.
Sacha sighed dramatically on my shoulder. "Papa, you might have just declared war on your entire year."
I grinned. "If they didn’t know who the Apex was before, they do now."
---
The Aetherium auditorium roared with murmurs below thousands of students shifting uneasily after what could only be described as the most backhanded "motivational" speech in academy history.
Up above, on the marble balconies that ringed the chamber, the instructors and faculty heads leaned over the rails, watching the Apex of the first years commit social arson with a smile.
The room was silent
Silent, except for the sizzling static of the live broadcast echoing from the dozen massive holo-screens.
Sebastian’s smug grin filled every single one of them.
"...and that’s beautiful in its own tragic little way," he said, bowing like a king addressing peasants.
A collective groan rippled across the staff room.
"Did he just, did he really just call the student body adequate?" one instructor whispered, jaw slack.
Another rubbed his face. "He called them background characters! BACKGROUND CHARACTERS!"
"I... I think I’m having a stroke," said the mana-theory professor, clutching his chest. "Did he thank them for being failures?"
Soone snorted. Soone else was laughing so hard they almost fell off their chair.
And in the middle of it all sat Belle Ardent, the Blind Saint herself, sipping her tea with a smug little smile behind her blindfold.
"Well," she said lightly, "he certainly knows how to make an impression."
"Impression?" barked one of the senior instructors. "He just insulted nine hundred and eighty students on a live broadcast!"
Belle tilted her head. "And yet... you’re still watching."
The instructor sputtered.
On another screen, the chat feed from the public broadcast scrolled at light speed —
@ApostleOfTheEnd:
OMG the Apex is insane 😂
@NotABackgroundCharacter:
Did he just call everyone background characters??
@JustASimp:
HE’S SO COOL I’M DYING 💀💀💀
@PraiseTheFool:
Arrogant. 10/10 delivery.
The PR departnt was probably having a collective panic attack, but the views counter was climbing so fast the numbers blurred.
"Belle, what in the actual void did that boy just do?" ca a deep voice, the principal’s from behind them.
Belle didn’t even flinch. "What you paid him to do, obviously."
"I didn’t pay him to start a riot!"
"Well, maybe you should have been clearer." Belle’s grin widened. "You said you wanted the Apex to inspire the students. He’s doing that. Half of them are inspired to be better. The other half are inspired to kill him. Either way, motivation achieved."
The principal pinched the bridge of his nose. "Belle—"
"Oh, also," she cut in sweetly, "you owe another hundred million Thalgar."
The principal’s jaw dropped. "For what this ti?!"
"For doubting that Sebastian could turn orientation into an international incident before lunch."
Around them, the staff erupted half in laughter, half in despair.
One of the combat instructors buried his face in his hands. "That boy’s going to give gray hair."
Belle chuckled softly. "Relax. He already gave so, but mine turned red. You’ll get used to it."
---
From the second-floor balcony, where the upperclassn had gathered, a sea of laughter and whispers rippled through the air.
The second and third years leaned over the railings, watching the stunned first-years below. Most of them wore the sa expression, half amusent, half disbelief.
"Is he serious?" soone muttered.
"Oh, completely," another replied, grinning. "That’s a Nekros for you."
Near the center railing stood Solane Veyra, her snow-white braid catching the light as she smirked down at the stage. Her crimson eyes shimred with mischief as she turned to the girl beside her.
"So," she said, dragging the word out playfully, "tell the truth, Alectra. You sure you’re really related to him?"
Alectra’s black hair glead faintly under the luminescent crystals lining the ceiling. Her golden eyes remained fixed on the stage below, where Sebastian was still basking in the chaos he’d created. The corners of her lips twitched, just slightly.
Solane leaned closer, whispering with a grin, "Because your brother’s speech and yours couldn’t have been any more different. You sound like soone who’s been trained for diplomacy; he sounds like soone who burned the training manual."
The air hung still for a heartbeat. Then, slowly, Alectra turned her head toward her.
Her expression was unreadable.
She looked at Solane.
And said...
A/N: Well, I hope that was fun to read. Anyway, I’m writing this to tell you that yes, I did take massive inspiration from Youngmaster’s POV to write this speech.
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