CHAPTER 204: ACADEMY INITIATION.

Nicholas took a seat on one of the hovering armchairs like it was his own living room, his posture smooth and confident, legs crossed with aristocratic grace.

It was as if he were sipping wine on a palace balcony instead of sitting in the private villa of the most dangerously unpredictable newcomer in the Ambassadors Academy.

Creed leaned back across from him on the other couch, one arm draped along the top, relaxed but focused.

The girls had vanished into the background for now; Lilith sharpening her nails with methodical precision, Tierra flipping through one of Creed’s weapon catalogues with genuine interest, and Meredith trying to balance an orange on her hex for reasons that defied all logic.

It gave the room a strange quiet, like the eye of a storm, perfect for what Nicholas was about to drop next.

"There’s something you should know," he began smoothly, his voice low but direct, each word carefully measured.

"And I’m only telling you this because it’s better you hear it from me than get blindsided like an idiot stumbling into a dragon’s nest. There’s an... initiation."

Creed blinked, his expression shifting from casual interest to alert attention. "Initiation? Like a welcoming party with cake and awkward icebreakers?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth but not reaching his eyes.

"Yeah, if by ’welcoming party’ you mean an ambush led by a pack of violent seniors who treat you like a training dummy made of flesh and regret."

Creed straightened slightly, his relaxed demeanor evaporating like morning mist. "Wait, what exactly are we talking about here?"

Nicholas nodded, settling deeper into his chair as if preparing for a lengthy explanation.

"It’s tradition, carved into this place’s culture like names on a gravestone. Happens every year, right after orientation when everyone’s still feeling optimistic and arrogant about their futures.

"The moment the fresh batch of elites finish their first tour and think they understand how this place works, the seniors descend like sharks during feeding time.

They pick the top hundred ranked students from the entrance exams, surround them in groups, and absolutely wreck them.

"Not enough to kill anyone, of course since the academy has paperwork to consider, but just enough to make a statement that echoes through the rest of your academic career."

Creed squinted, his mind trying to process this information while part of him wondered if this was some elaborate prank designed to test his gullibility.

"You’re telling me that in the number one academy on the planet, one that supposedly leads the Hope Alliance and preaches about honor and excellence, people are still pulling this kind of garbage?

"Like high school hallway bullying but with more energy explosions and considerably higher stakes?"

Nicholas smirked, but there was something darker lurking beneath the expression, like shadows moving beneath ice.

"Oh, it’s way worse than hallway bullying, my friend. This place might look polished on the outside with it’s floating villas that cost more than most families’ annual budgets, high tech classrooms that shimmer like captured starlight, and instructors who wear robes worth more than small companies’ gross domestic products.

"But underneath all that shine and sophistication is a warzone disguised as an educational institution.

"That’s the truth they don’t put in the brochures. The academy doesn’t just allow this kind of stuff, they encourage it like a gardener encourages roses to bloom."

"What?" Creed’s voice carried a note of disbelief mixed with growing anger.

"Yep. They call it a ’motivational incentive for character development,’" Nicholas said, using air quotes with exaggerated theatrical flair that would have made court jesters proud.

"See, most of the students here are children from top-tier bastions; Tier 1, 2, and 3 powers that control vast territories and resources.

"Some of these guys have bloodlines that trace back to legendary heroes, royal status that comes with actual crowns and scepters, or control over entire regions that span countless miles.

"They were raised from birth to believe they’re untouchable, that the world exists to serve their whims and desires.

"The academy lets them clash like this early on so those inflated egos get a reality check that stings worse than a slap from a frost giant.

"It’s a way of sorting out who’s actually strong enough to back up their arrogance... and who just thinks they are because mommy and daddy told them so."

Creed frowned, his mind working through the implications like a chess master studying a particularly complex board position.

"So it’s not about honor or tradition or any of that noble garbage. It’s about dominance and establishing a pecking order."

"Exactly," Nicholas said, his tone carrying the satisfaction of a teacher whose student had just grasped a barely difficult concept.

"It’s a statement written in bruises and broken pride. A tier system inside the academy itself that operates parallel to the official rankings.

"And trust me, the seniors are obsessed with keeping that hierarchy intact like guardian spirits protecting a sacred temple.

"They want to stomp down every spark before it becomes a fire that might threaten their comfortable positions. You—" he pointed directly at Creed with the precision of an archer targeting a bullseye,

"—you’re already a bonfire with a crown sitting on top of it. They’re going to come for you first, hardest, and with the most creative methods of humiliation they can devise."

Creed leaned forward, his tone taking on a darker edge that suggested violence was being carefully considered.

"And the instructors? What’s their position on students getting beaten senseless in the name of character development?"

Nicholas gave a lazy shrug that somehow managed to convey volumes about institutional corruption and willful blindness.

"They turn a blind eye that would make statues look observant. Officially, of course, they maintain plausible deniability.

"Publicly, they’ll deliver passionate speeches about how ’bullying is not tolerated in this institution of higher learning and moral development.’

"But behind closed doors, when the cameras aren’t rolling and the official reports aren’t being filed?

"They know these clashes push students to grow stronger, faster, and more ruthlessly than any structured curriculum could manage.

"The only rules that actually get enforced are: no killing—death creates paperwork and bad publicity—no permanent maiming that can’t be healed with advanced magical medicine, and no destroying official academy property that comes out of the budget."

He paused, then added with a crooked grin that suggested personal experience with loopholes, "Unofficial property like your face, your dignity, or your will to live? Fair game for creative interpretation."

Creed let out a slow breath, his mind already shifting into tactical mode, calculating angles and possibilities like a general planning a siege.

A part of him was genuinely annoyed at this systematic abuse disguised as tradition, but another part, the ruthless competitive part that had driven him to excel in every challenge he’d ever faced?

That part was buzzing with anticipation like a predator scenting prey. This wasn’t just about random seniors trying to act tough and maintain some outdated hazing ritual.

It was deeper, more complex, more interesting. A test disguised as brutality. A game disguised as tradition.

And games, no matter how brutal or complex, could be won by those clever enough to understand the real rules.

"You said top hundred, right?" Creed asked, folding his fingers together in a gesture that suggested wheels turning behind his eyes.

"They’re only coming after the top hundred from the entrance rankings, not just random targets of opportunity?"

Nicholas nodded with the certainty of someone who had done extensive research on the subject.

"Yeah, exactly. Usually they operate in pairs or small groups for maximum intimidation factor.

They’ll come under the cover of night like dramatic vigilantes from some penny novel, masked up to hide their identities, and try to catch you off guard when you’re relaxed and vulnerable.

"Some even bring restraints or use disabling arts so you can’t fight back properly and have to just take whatever they dish out.

"It’s all about humiliation, about making you understand your place in the hierarchy through pain and public embarrassment."

"And you came here to warn me?" Creed’s voice carried genuine curiosity mixed with healthy suspicion. "Out of the goodness of your heart and concern for my wellbeing?"

Nicholas smirked, but this time there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes; strategy, ambition, and the kind of long-term thinking that separated true players from mere participants.

"Partially, I’ll admit. I do like you, Creed, in the way one apex predator likes another one who hasn’t bitten them yet and might prove to be interesting company.

"But more than that, considerably more than simple friendly concern..." He paused, leaned in closer like a conspirator sharing state secrets.

"I wanted to propose something that could benefit both of us in ways that go far beyond just surviving some traditional hazing."

Creed arched a brow with the practiced skepticism of someone who had learned to be wary of seemingly generous offers.

"Go on. I’m listening, but I reserve the right to be appropriately suspicious."

Nicholas’s eyes gleamed now with the kind of inner fire that suggested big plans and bigger ambitions.

"This year’s initiation doesn’t have to follow the same script as every other year. I say we let them come, but instead of just getting humiliated and accepting our place in their hierarchy, we flip the entire script and rewrite the rules in our favor."

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the weight of possibility hang in the air.

"But here’s where it gets interesting, we don’t just defend ourselves or even just win. We turn this whole thing into an opportunity to gain access to benefits that normally take years or at least months to achieve."

Creed stared at him for a long moment, his mind racing through possibilities and implications. "Explain. And be specific about what you mean by benefits."

Nicholas settled back, clearly relishing the opportunity to lay out his carefully constructed plan. "Here’s what most people don’t understand about this place, the real power doesn’t only come from being the strongest fighter or having the highest path comprehension scores.

"It comes from having access to resources and information that other students can’t get. And that access is controlled through a system of honorary positions that seem boring and bureaucratic on the surface but carry hidden privileges that create massive advantages."

"Such as?" Creed prompted, his interest clearly piqued.

"Take Marcus Delacroix, for example," Nicholas said, pulling out a small tablet that projected a image of a senior student that was tall, well-dressed, with the kind of soft features that suggested a life of privilege rather than hardship.

"Second-year student, moderately talented in combat but nothing spectacular, family has money but not enormous political influence.

"On paper, he’s completely unremarkable. But here’s the key detail that makes him valuable to us; he holds the honorary position of Academy Student Union Secretary."

Creed looked unimpressed. "That sounds about as threatening as a butterfly with a clipboard."

Nicholas grinned with the satisfaction of someone about to reveal a hidden ace. "That’s exactly what it’s supposed to sound like. Boring bureaucratic nonsense that nobody pays attention to.

"But here’s what that position actually gives him access to; he has a badge that allows entry to the Path Resonator building during off-hours when regular students are locked out."

"Now tell me why I should care about this building?" Creed asked.