As the mind-bending results of Mithras' team spread like wildfire, making their way to the influential figures of the Purple Dawn, a certain blue-haired woman sat in front of a tall glass mirror, seeking all potential imperfections in her looks and attire.
"He's coming today. He will be here for the New Year Ceremony, if he's not already. Hateful...what am I supposed to say? How to receive him?" Headmistress Achai's thoughts were all over the place.
Regaining control of her body was no doubt a welcod change. But now that she was once more responsible for her actions, she had to answer the various cris that Sucuria made her commit. And there were many.
One could argue that since the Headmistress wasn't in control, she couldn't be held accountable for those cris. But life doesn't work like that. Life...is about accountability--especially since the wronged parties might not necessarily care about your circumstances.
Accountability is a fine devil, and with the Astalon among the victims of Sucuria's various evil plots, Suri was convinced she'd have to face Mithras' wrath eventually—a prospect as alluring as terrifying.
The current Mithras was an entity that even the likes of Akamana had to treat with courtesy. If he ca with grudges to settle, how was Suri, a Golden Palace templar, supposed to handle him? Would a cleavage squeeze be fine? Not likely! But as the Headmistress' wild thoughts trailed off...
'Lady Achai, she's here! The Grand Priestess is here! She...she says she is taking control of the Sid Departnt and wants you to focus on cleaning up Sucuria's ss. anwhile, she will be dealing with the Prince of Astalon!' A Guru intern contacted Suri out of the blue, warning her of Akamana's orders.
Suri was Elektra's subordinate, in no way obliged to follow Akamana's will. Sadly, this only works in theory. In practice, the Mainyu Archipelago didn't have three people who could defy Akamana's will without losing their heads, and Suri didn't belong to that exclusive list.
At the mont...at least.
'Very well. Grand Priestess, I'm looking forward to your performance. Though don't be surprised if you end up burning yourself...again.' Suri kept this thought to herself, following Akamana's directives regardless.
anwhile, Mithras and gang waltzed into a colossal amphitheater large enough to host over 20,000. No, what amphitheater? The crystalline do above, the stages and podiums below, from the decorations to the building's na and external appearance, it all felt like an amphitheater, but with the scope of it all made the onlookers feel as if they'd walked into a new-age colosseum.
It's therefore not surprising that the local students renad it...the Colosseum!
Thousands awaited inside already, more following at an alarming speed and filling the premium seats in droves.
The mont Mithras' crew walked in, however, all students paused and shifted, eyes locking on the procession of herculean and divine figures that surrounded the Prince of Astalon.
All recognized him without fail, a good chunk looking at him with awe and adoration while the rest choked on a diet of rage and envy.
How they felt about it didn't matter. Mithras was the savior, savior and lord of Springti City, making his status in the citizens' hearts akin to an idol or demigod. How could such a teoric rise to the top satisfy the aristocratic thugs in the crowd?
So jealousy is inevitable in scenarios like these. But in Springti City, where mob bosses in fancy suits ran the show, that jealousy reached epic and dishonorable proportions.
Mithras didn't mind, motioning for his crew to find their seats as he walked down the stairs with his girls, sitting near the center of the amphitheater. Consequently, the brothers and sisters of Mithras filled the chairs surrounding their boss, filling the arena's center with zero opposition:
A quick and silent takeover!
The initial commotion prompted by Mithras' arrival settled. Students of various backgrounds holding their breaths as they studied the young but already legendary Prince of Astalon, trying to figure out what made him so outstanding that he'd surpassed the behemoths of the continent at the tender age of 18.
Mithras' quick success was even more impressive to the aristocracy, whose definitions of "junior" and "senior" had nothing to do with that of ordinary folks. But as ti passed and the Colosseum reached maximum capacity, Mithras' eyes narrowed a little, the change instantly catching Ishtar's attention.
"What's wrong?" She asked, putting one hand on her brother's thigh.
"Nothing. Just didn't expect her to co flying right back," Mithras said in a calm and mysterious tone. Ishtar had no ti to probe deeper, because the mont next, the door opened for the final ti, closing in a flash of arcane runes as the Chair of the Sid-Weaving Departnt walked in.
Most students turned right away, looking over their shoulders as they tried to catch a glimpse of the newly appointed departnt chair.
Not only did this new chair co from another academy, but according to the locals, she didn't have the credentials to be teaching at the Jade-Faced Academy, much less as one of the Three Royal Chairs.
Ishtar, Nagini and Honoria all failed to control their shock, eyes stretching and jaw dropping as a srizing bombshell with a tall figure and a feline swagger waltzed to the podium, facing the audience with a graceful spin. Her lilac cat eyes swept the legions of students, instantly seizing the n's attention while causing the girls to shiver in insecurities.
The beguiling newcor ignored them eventually, her eyes stopping on Mithras--and Mithras alone.
"Greetings, girlies and gentlen. Say hello to your new favorite professor: Manu di Manu...Chair of the Sid-Weaving Departnt. I'd say I'm at your service, but unlike so rogues and scoundrels out there, I refuse to take the risk of starting a firework of jealousy in the audience. So...I will just give you the cold hard truth.
This will be a tough year kiddos...for you I an. From the Sanctuary Team whose mbers have gotten used to being treated like idols and demigods despite only being diocre motherfuckers, to the mob bosses playing with the dumb students' lives from the shadows, all the way down to the dumb students themselves, you're all in for a calendar year of pain and sufferings--sumr classes included.
There will be many surprises along the way, so more delightful than others. But I swear on all that is sacred...and the Lord Almighty, that if you do not drop out of your classes and forget school for the next 365 days...you're screwed," Akamana made her entrance, her eyes staying glued to Mithras and peering into his hues with an intensity that all noticed at a glance.
Mithras' face relaxed, his lips curling as he faced Akamana with a look of amusent.
"Legends are defined on the mountains of risk," Mithras said, his words resounding like a challenge to the new chair and head professor of the Academy.
Akamana liked that answer, her eyes flashing with untold mischief as she twirled with a mildly psychotic look.
"Be careful what you ask...or you might find yourself with much more than you bargained for," Akamana clapped back, the chill in her voice making the males in the audience forget her physical appeal to shiver at the implications of her words.
First impression: the new chair is a mad lass!
This was the thought going through the students' minds, Mithras' crew included. Only Mithras looked entertained, amused by how far Mana was willing to go to ss with him.
It was almost endearing...almost.
Two hours passed in a flash, with Mana going over the Academy's rules, expectations, key facilities and the like, sharing with the students all they needed to know to get started. The new blood listened with rapt attention. But even the returning crew stayed locked in, drinking Mana's words as if it was a world-class idol, not an academy professor, standing before them.
The Academy's professors were usually charismatic and commanding folks, but even a fool could tell that this one was special--bringing with her a baggage of chaos.
The New Year Introduction ended in a flash, and as the crowd moved on to indulge in the actual ceremony, Mithras stayed behind, alone facing Mana in the imnsity of the Colosseum. The gang awaited outside, naturally not about to ditch their boss for fun.
"Nice performance. Though a bit forced and clingy...I appreciate the intent," Mithras said, still comfy in his seat, and staring at Mana from a higher vantage point. The Grand Priestess didn't like that, walking up the stairs and sitting cross-legged on Mithras' table to face her cutie pie on the sa level.
"You know your complints always put a smile on my face. But on this occasion, I was being dead serious. Because cutie pie, though I can't help but ss with you. I'm not even close to the top ten reasons why this year is about to be real tough on you.
Let venture a guess...your Blood Potency is rising at a rate of about 1,000 years per day. Probably a bit more than that, right?" Akamana asked in a rhetorical tone, the accuracy of her probe taking Mithras by surprise.
"1,200. How did you find out?" It was indeed unexpected. Though the world saw Mithras decimate the first generation, only he could tell his body's actual absorption speed. So how did Mana figure it out so easily? And if she could...what about the elders and ancients of the Blood Aristocracy?
"Math. The answer is plain old math. When you consider how much you got from each Fylkir that day, plus the history tied to the Decimation Skill, it's not hard to picture how fast you will be growing. And if I can tell...of course the bloodsuckers can as well.
They will be restless...relentless in their drive to hunt you down and either seduce or destroy you before you annihilate them. It's a race for survival...so cutie pie...how dare you be so calm?
Your school year...is about to get fucked up by your old man's pack. If your old man doesn't ruin it first by himself. So to enjoy your student life in peace, it seems to ..." here, Akamana leaned in, her red lips pushing dangerously close to Mithras as she breathed into his face:
"Seems...that you need now more than ever."
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