The students were taken aback by the sentence.
But Smilingdeath acted like he'd said nothing strange. With a lazy wave of his hand, he continued.
"Alright, quiet down, freshers. I've got better things to do, so let's get this over with."
He didn't need to say it twice.
The crowd fell silent—still as a blade's edge.
"First, let's talk about the rankings."
He pointed upward.
The golden screen still hovered in the sky, the Top Ten names glowing bright.
"You've seen the names. You've seen the points. But I'm betting most of you don't know what any of it means."
His grin widened.
"Let me break it down for the slow ones."
With a flick of his wrist, a second screen flared beside the rankings:
---
[RANKING TITLES: EXPLANATION]
Destroyer – Highest number of criminal kills.
King Slayer – Took down an elite-level criminal.
Slayer – Killed at least one criminal.
Monster Slayer – Killed a high number of monsters.
Monster King Slayer – Took down a boss-class monster.
Mob Cleaner – Highest monster kill count overall.
---
"These titles aren't just for show," Smilingdeath said. "They come with perks. The rarer your title, the bigger the benefits."
He raised a finger.
"Better living quarters. Free gear. Coin bonuses. You get the idea."
Another flick.
A new screen replaced the last:
---
[COINS AND POINTS: USAGE]
Used to buy resources (weapons, elixirs, materials).
Can be traded, stolen, or gambled.
Can be used for promotion.
---
"That last part's important," he said, voice deepening slightly.
"You don't have to wait a year to rank up."
A pause.
"Get enough points, and you can challenge your way into the Second Year. The Third. Even straight to Graduation."
Silence dropped like a blade.
"But if you promote…" His voice dropped lower. "You live at that level."
"No special treatment. No safety net. If you want to be an upperclassman—"
He spread his arms.
"Then prove it."
A beat passed before the silver-haired girl stepped forward, her tone cool and precise.
"Point promotion is allowed. But don't go crying when a Third Year cracks your spine for breathing too loud."
The students glanced at each other—some afraid, others curious. Reality was setting in.
This wasn't just a brutal school.
It was a different world.
At the back, Sion stood with Dara.
"Wait," he muttered. "Something about this still doesn't add up."
"Yeah," Dara nodded. "The 'no rules' thing… how far does it really go?"
"And when exactly does the Academy step in?" Sion added.
They shared a sigh.
"This school's gonna be a mess," Dara said.
Up front, Smilingdeath's voice carried again.
"Any other topics about how this place works—figure them out yourself."
He turned to his right.
A figure approached.
A student—same uniform as Smilingdeath, but with a white fur coat draped over her shoulders.
She reached the platform, then gently floated up, landing beside him with practiced grace. She knelt briefly.
"Greetings, President," she said respectfully.
He nodded once, then turned to the crowd.
"This is your upperclassman. With the beginning of this semester, a Third year."
He gestured lazily.
"She'll be leading you to the housing district on the outer edge."
"You've got one chance to ask her anything useful before she heads back to the Inner Core."
He turned to leave. The silver-haired girl and the silent boy followed.
With a flick of her hand, a silver portal shimmered into existence.
She and the boy stepped in.
Just as Smilingdeath was about to follow, he paused.
He turned back to the crowd, and for the first time—his smile was gone.
"This might be the last time you see me while you're here," he said.
"So here's a free piece of advice."
His voice cut the air clean.
"There are no rules."
Weight settled on every word.
"Any rules you see here—those are unspoken. They're just the habits that stop this place from burning too fast."
He scanned the crowd.
"But make no mistake."
"If you're strong enough?"
He stepped into the portal.
"You can do anything."
And just as he vanished—
His voice echoed one last time.
"Anything."
The platform settled into silence as Smilingdeath and the others vanished through the silver portal, leaving behind only one figure.
The girl in the white fur coat stepped forward. Her boots clicked softly against the platform as she turned to face the crowd.
"Freshers," she said, her voice steady and calm.
"I am Lina. Third year. And your temporary guide."
There was no flair in her tone. No theatrical smile. Just clarity—and command.
"You'll be living in the Outer Edge. It's the designated territory for first-years. Everything you'll need to survive is located there—training zones, instructors, blacksmiths, clinics, shops."
She paused.
"And danger, of course."
The crowd shifted slightly.
"Your student badge," she continued, "is your access point."
She raised her own badge—a dark metallic crest embedded with the Academy's sigil.
"Each badge is linked to the Academy's network. It stores your points, coin balance, inventory permissions, housing status—everything."
She let the information settle for a second.
"No one else can access your badge unless you grant them permission."
A beat.
"Or you die."
The last line hung heavy in the air.
"Now," she said, adjusting her coat. "Brace yourselves."
No further warning.
A massive beam of light rained from the sky, covering the crowd in golden illumination.
The world twisted.
Then snapped back into form.
When the students regained their senses, they stood in a new space—a wide circular plaza of stone, ringed by statues of past Academy legends. The sky above was still the same, but the atmosphere felt denser. Wilder.
Before them rose three titanic buildings—each one more like a palace than a hostel. Identical in structure and design: blackstone walls, arched silver doorways, glowing windows, crested banners fluttering high above.
But each bore a distinct name, etched in bold glowing letters above the gate:
The Destroyer's Abode
Beast King's House
Home of the Infernal
They looked like noble houses, not school buildings—built for royalty, forged for war.
Lina's voice returned, projected from somewhere above.
"These are your hostels."
"They look the same. But they are not."
"The names you see reflect the top three ranked students—each of whom now represents a house. Not by choice, but by power."
A pause.
"You will be randomly assigned to one of them… unless you're in the top three. They've already been given separate housing options—and the option to lead."
She let that sit, then added:
"Don't like your assignment? Move out. Build your own place. That's allowed too."
"But remember—if you claim land, you defend it. You build it. You bleed for it."
Then, a quiet chuckle.
"Welcome to the Ground of Chaos."