CHAPTER 61: CONFLICT IN RAGNAROK

"You can’t expect me to kill people just to get stronger," Aaron said flatly, his tone laced with irritation. His crimson eyes flicked toward the ceiling, as if hoping the invisible voice would drop the subject.

[And when exactly did I ask you to do that, stupid host?] The system’s voice carried that familiar mixture of exasperation and mockery. [I know you won’t, which is why I said you can simply wait it out. The older you grow, the stronger you’ll naturally become.]

Aaron rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the smugness in that voice.

[For a vampire queen, growth is swift—she can rise all the way to godhood before the pace slows. A primogenitor like you, however, can reach far beyond that—Sovereign, even Celestial. Of course, I’m speaking under the vampire scale of strength. As far as we’re concerned, she’s not even B-rank yet. She’s still C-rank. And that, host, is why bloodline matters immensely in the grand scheme of things.]

"So you’re saying... she’ll keep getting stronger as long as she can feed?" Aaron asked, his brows furrowing. He hesitated before adding, "Do you think she’ll really come for me?"

He hated admitting it, but the idea of her killing him would be... annoying. A bummer, even.

[She won’t. You can’t kill your sire, and likewise, she can’t betray you—no matter what she does. But host, the fact remains... someone you turned is already stronger than you.]

Aaron sighed, letting himself fall back onto the bed. "Yeah, yeah, don’t pressure me. I’ve got a long life ahead of me." His lips curled slightly. "Still, to think she defeated Geralt... I’ll have to meet her again, eventually. But before that—" he yawned and stretched his arms lazily, "—let’s get acquainted with the school."

The broadcast earlier had ended with Dream swooping in to save Geralt’s sorry hide. Aaron couldn’t help but feel pleased; he’d never liked the man, and watching him get humiliated was far more satisfying than he’d expected.

---

Across campus, frustration brewed.

"How can the school give the two best villas to Freshers?!" Ray’s voice cut through the air like a blade. The tall, broad-shouldered senior looked ready to flip the table. "Those were meant for us, the seniors! But no, the school just had to give them away!"

He wasn’t ranting to random classmates. This was the student council—an impromptu meeting called the moment word of the villas reached them. Traditionally, those luxurious residences went to the council president and vice president. This year, however, tradition had been thrown out the window.

"Have you asked the school for an explanation?" The president’s voice was calm, but there was a chill beneath it. His fingers tapped steadily against the table.

"I did," Ray replied, trying to keep his temper in check. "They ignored me."

"Who are these Freshers?" asked a petite girl with short green hair, lounging back in her chair as if the drama were nothing more than entertainment.

Graham, another council member, leaned forward. "Aaron Highborn and Alice Frost. First and second place in this year’s entrance exams."

A low hum went around the table.

"So," the president murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "the school dangled an incentive that wasn’t theirs to give... just to lure some talent here."

"This won’t do, President," said a golden-haired young woman—Alicia, the vice president. Her voice was crisp. "If the school won’t give it to us, then we’ll take it ourselves."

"Naturally." Edwin, the president, straightened in his seat, the rhythm of his tapping never faltering. "Any ideas on putting our arrogant juniors in their place?"

"The Freshers vs. Sophomores competition starts next week, once everyone’s settled," Graham suggested.

Edwin’s smirk widened. "Ah, the little game where Freshers can get rich by stealing half the points of any sophomore they defeat—while risking only a tenth of their own. Yes... that could work nicely, if we play our cards right."

He glanced at Alicia. "Michael—has he returned yet?"

"Yes, President."

"Good. Let’s pay him a visit." Edwin stood, his chair scraping back across the floor. "If anyone can crush those two, it’s him."

Michael—the tyrant king of last year’s event. The most feared name among both sophomores and juniors, remembered for the merciless way he had broken his opponents.

---

"Did you really have to do that?" Professor Lockwood’s voice was tight with restrained anger. His hands clenched at his sides as he stared down the man before him.

Professor Elias, the head of Ragnarok, looked almost bored. "What’s the fuss about? You don’t seem very pleased."

"Pleased?" Lockwood’s tone sharpened. "You’ve just painted targets on two Freshers’ backs. The council will not be happy about you giving them the villa. That residence has always gone to the student council president."

Elias tilted his head. "Has it? I don’t recall that being a formal rule. Just because they’ve been allowed to use it before doesn’t make it theirs."

Lockwood narrowed his eyes. "You want to antagonize them—give them strong enemies to keep them on their toes."

"I have no idea what you mean." Elias smiled faintly, though his eyes slid away from Lockwood’s. "They’re talented, so I gave them what they deserve—a fitting villa."

Lockwood didn’t look convinced. "You see them as the school’s hope, don’t you? You want explosive growth... and you think throwing them into the fire will do it."

Elias’s expression turned more serious. "Exactly. No one grows in peace. Soldiers are made in war. I’m simply giving them the battlefield they need."

"By pitting them against experienced seniors? They could be crushed before they bloom."

"Relax," Elias said with a dismissive wave. "They’re diamonds in the rough. And who’s to say they won’t be the bad news for their seniors? You saw their fight—they’re monsters."

Lockwood shook his head. "They fought each other. This is different. Now they’ll be up against opponents with years more experience."

"Then sit back and enjoy the show," Elias replied, a glint in his eye. "Aaron Highborn... people doubted his father once too. He was given the villa as a Fresher, just like this, and it only fueled him to crush everyone in his way. If the boy truly is Liam’s son, he’ll do the same."

Elias leaned back, recalling the past as if it were yesterday. The faintest smile played on his lips.