Chapter 32: Chaos

The group's chatter slowed as they neared Proffesor Alan's cabin.

One of the girls wrinkled her nose. "What is that smell?"

At first, it was faint—like rust on wet metal. But with each step, the scent thickened into something heavier, coppery, and wrong. The two boys exchanged a look, frowns replacing their earlier smirks.

"That's… blood," one of them muttered, voice low.

In an instant, their prideful stroll turned into a brisk walk, then a near-jog. By the time they reached Alan's door, the odor was suffocating.

One girl gagged and clamped a hand over her mouth. "Open it!" she demanded, her voice shaking now.

The tallest boy stepped forward and pushed the door open—only to freeze.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the gasps came.

Blood. Everywhere. Splattered across walls, soaking into the carpet, dripping from the desk. The air was thick with decay, and deeper inside, the door to a hidden passage stood wide open, leading into a place far darker.

"P-professors! Someone—get the professors!" one of the boys barked, his earlier swagger completely gone.

They scattered, pounding on doors down the hall, shouting for help.

Within moments, lights flared as professors emerged from their cabins, confusion turning to grim alarm as the smell hit them. Several pushed past the students, stepping cautiously into the cabin.

"What in the hell—" one muttered before his voice trailed off into silence.

By the time they reached the passage and saw what lay inside, one of the older professors had already summoned Vice Principal Orien.

He arrived with his coat half-thrown over his shoulders, his expression cold and unreadable—until he looked inside. His eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the stunned murmurs.

"Seal this place. Now."

____________________________________

Vice Principal Orien stepped into the room, boots crunching over shards of broken glass and the scattered remains of tools. His eyes scanned everything—every blood smear, every overturned stool, every unnatural angle of the mutilated bodies.

Near the far wall lay Professor Alan's corpse, skin split and charred in places, the body already beginning to rot despite being freshly dead. Orien's gaze lingered on the faint black residue seeping from his veins—the unmistakable signature of demonic essence.

A soft groan pulled his attention. In the corner, half-hidden behind a toppled shelf, lay an unconscious boy, pale and trembling, mana signatures unstable. Orien knelt, pressing two fingers to the boy's neck. Alive, but barely.

His eyes flicked back to Alan's corpse. Demonic essence… in a D-rank. That alone was enough to explain the grotesque internal injuries and rapid decay. But how had it gotten here?

He noticed something glinting near Alan's limp hand—a small storage vial, cracked and leaking traces of the black substance. Orien picked it up with gloved fingers, his mind already racing.

If a single D-rank could hide this much corruption in the heart of the academy… what if there were others?

He signaled to a technician professor nearby. "Check him," Orien ordered, nodding toward Alan. "I want everything logged—body condition, mana patterns, cause of death."

The technician moved in and hesitated. "Sir… there's an aetherpad here."

Orien took it without a word, wiping the blood from its surface before pressing Alan's dead finger to the sensor. The lock clicked open. His eyes scanned the files, and with each passing second, his expression grew darker.

Notes. Detailed accounts of luring students here with easy project offers, trapping them, and using them to test or harvest for personal gain. And further down—a chilling log about "refining" demonic essence to bypass rank restrictions.

Orien's jaw tightened. He closed the pad with a snap.

If even a handful of demon-tainted humans had found their way inside Nexus Academy, the entire institution was at risk. And if this was only one…

"Double security for the upcoming first-year mission," he said, voice sharp and carrying authority that cut through the murmurs. "No one leaves or enters without triple verification."

The professors glanced at one another in uneasy silence.

"And I want every dorm, lab, and private chamber inspected within the next two days," Orien continued. "No exceptions. If there's rot in this academy, I will find it."

His gaze swept back to the hidden passage, now heavy with the stench of death.

And in the privacy of his own mind, Orien thought: This changes everything.

____________________________________

The moment Nex stepped inside his dorm room and the door clicked shut behind him, the unnatural stillness of Void Trance shattered.

It was like being slammed back into his own body after hours underwater—his thoughts flooded in, heavy, jagged, and suffocating.

The first thing that hit him was the smell—not the room's faint scent of polished wood and clean linen, but the phantom stench of blood and burnt flesh that clung to his memory. His stomach twisted. He leaned against the wall, one hand gripping his side as if that could stop the sick churn rising in his chest.

Images of Alan's lifeless eyes flashed before him. The sound of his final gurgled breath replayed in the silence. Nex's jaw clenched until it hurt.

He told himself the truth—if I hadn't done it, Alan would've killed more students… this was the only way.

And yet… that didn't stop the crawling disgust that coiled in his gut.

A faint hum stirred in the back of his mind—Void Vault. It activated on its own, instinctively swallowing the overflowing emotions before they could spiral out of control. His breathing steadied, but the hollow weight in his chest remained.

Without thinking, he crossed the room, pulled out his headphones from the desk drawer, and slipped them over his ears. The music was low, muted—just enough to dull the edge of silence.

He stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cool, brushing against his skin, carrying the distant scent of the academy gardens. From here, he could see the faint glow of mana lamps shifting as groups of guards and professors moved in and out of the Rankers' Wing, their expressions tight and voices low. A scene of controlled panic.

They were swarming Alan's area now. Some carried containment seals, others carted away evidence. Nex watched it all in silence, the beat in his ears steady, grounding.

A flicker of grim satisfaction tugged at his lips. It worked. The seed of chaos had been planted, and Orien's reaction would ensure no one suspected him. Safety—at least for now—was secured.

Still, he felt no joy in it. Only a strange emptiness.

He stepped back inside, shutting the balcony door behind him. His reflection in the dark glass caught his eye—expression calm, clothes neat, but eyes… older.

He reached into his spatial pocket, pulling out the bloody uniform and just slammed it in the washing machine. The motions were mechanical—removing his battle-worn set, folding it, slipping into fresh clothes. By the time he finished, he looked every bit the diligent Ranker student.

And yet, under the fabric, under the steady mask, something in him had shifted.

As he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, he let out a quiet breath. This is the path I chose… there's no turning back now.

That night, sleep never came.

Nex lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the faint rhythmic pulse of music still bleeding from his headphones. Outside, the academy had gone quiet, yet not entirely—there were still muffled footsteps in the distance, the occasional murmur of guards patrolling, and the rustle of mana lamps shifting faintly in the wind.

His eyes refused to close for long. Every time they did, shadows crawled at the edges of his mind, reshaping into the mangled images from Alan's hidden chamber. The metallic scent of blood would seem to seep back into the air, so vivid it made him swallow hard, as if he could still taste it.

He turned over, dragging the thin blanket tighter around himself, but it didn't help. The dorm room felt too open, too still—like the silence itself was watching him.

Through the gap in his curtains, he caught the distant shimmer of the academy's central mana tower. Its light pulsed faintly, almost in rhythm with the music in his ears, a constant reminder that the academy was alive and breathing… unaware of what had just happened beneath its polished surface.

Nex's gaze lingered there, unfocused. He thought of the girl, her friends, those two cocky boys—all of them walking straight toward Alan's cabin without a shred of caution just another day for them. If he hadn't acted, some another student would have been nothing but another set of remains hanging in that nightmare of a room.

The thought didn't comfort him—it only pressed heavier against his chest.

He exhaled slowly, the sound lost in the hum of his headphones. This is the path… he reminded himself again, but tonight, the words didn't settle like they usually did.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Void Vault stirred, sealing away the sharpest edges of his emotions. The nausea faded. The pounding in his skull dulled. But even with the storm tucked away, the emptiness remained.

His eyes stayed open long into the night, tracking the slow movement of the moon outside his window. The shadows shifted across his ceiling. The music played on.

And Nex simply lay there—still, silent, waiting for morning.