Chapter 7: The Asylum in the Basement
06:00 Hours.
The Restricted Sector — The "Dungeon Block".
Most students at Starfall Academy attended classes in the soaring marble towers bathed in sunlight. They studied theory, practiced polite duels, and sipped herbal tea.
Class S was... different.
Valdorian stood at the top of a spiral stone staircase that seemed to descend into the abyss. The air coming up from below smelled of damp earth, rust, and something that smelled suspiciously like goblin blood.
"Well," Valdorian yawned, adjusting his backpack. "At least it's quiet."
He walked down. Down past the basements. Down past the storage vaults. Down to where the mana density became thick, chaotic, and suffocating.
He reached a heavy iron door reinforced with glowing red runes. A sign hung crookedly on it: CLASS S. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. (IF YOU DIE, PLEASE DISPOSE OF YOUR OWN BODY).
Valdorian pushed the door open. It creaked like a dying banshee.
The room inside was cavernous. It wasn't a classroom; it was an indoor combat pit. The walls were lined with cages containing growling beasts, weapon racks filled with illegal serrated blades, and alchemy tables bubbling with toxic fumes.
There were only five desks. And five students.
They all stopped what they were doing and looked at Valdorian.
In the corner, a girl with purple skin and snakes for hair (Medusa Lineage) was sharpening a scythe.
By the window (which was just a magical painting of a stormy sea), a boy completely wrapped in bandages was mixing a beaker of green sludge.
A massive, two-meter-tall brute with grey rock-like skin (Earth Giant Bloodline) was bench-pressing a live Wyvern.
And sitting on the teacher's desk, smoking a pipe, was a young man with crimson eyes and dragon scales on his neck.
"Fresh meat," the Dragon-boy grinned, revealing sharpened teeth. "The Principal sent us a new toy? And look... he has no mana. Is he a snack?"
The Rock-Giant laughed, a sound like boulders grinding together. "He looks squishy. Can I break him, Drax?"
Valdorian ignored them. He walked into the room, looking for a spot.
"Excuse me," Valdorian said politely to the Bandage-Boy. "Is that desk taken? The one in the darkest corner?"
The Bandage-Boy hissed. "That's where the last student died. The bloodstain hasn't dried."
"Perfect," Valdorian nodded. "Less glare."
He walked toward the corner desk.
"Stop right there, trash."
Drax, the Dragon-boy, hopped off the teacher's desk. He moved with terrifying speed, blocking Valdorian's path. His aura flared—Core Formation (Late Stage). This guy was stronger than the Senior, Garret. He was a monster who belonged in the Elite Class but was likely here because of behavioral issues (i.e., violence).
"This is Class S," Drax sneered, leaning into Valdorian's face. "The 'S' stands for Survival. We don't allow weaklings to breathe our air. If you want a desk, you have to pay the toll."
"Toll?" Valdorian blinked. "I have a sandwich."
"I don't want your food," Drax scoffed. He pointed at the black sword tied to Valdorian's waist. "That sword. It looks... interesting. Give it to me."
Valdorian patted the hilt of Nihility. "You don't want this. It's very heavy."
"I can lift a carriage with one hand," Drax laughed. He reached out and grabbed the hilt of the sword. "Hand it over, cripple!"
Valdorian sighed. "Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Valdorian unclipped the scabbard from his belt.
At the exact moment Drax grabbed it, Valdorian let go.
Simultaneously, Valdorian's mind connected with the Cross-Guard fragment he had absorbed.
[Ability Activation: Gravitational Anchor]
[Weight Setting: 5,000 Kilograms.]
Drax yanked the sword, expecting it to weigh a few pounds.
Instead, he was holding a mountain.
BOOM.
Gravity won instantly. The sword slammed straight down, taking Drax's arms with it.
"ARGH!"
Drax was pulled face-first into the stone floor. The impact shook the entire room. The sword pinned his hands to the ground. He strained, his dragon scales flaring, his muscles bulging as he tried to lift it.
He couldn't move it a millimeter. It was immovable.
"What... is... this?!" Drax wheezed, his face smashed against the dirty tiles. "It's... crushed... my fingers!"
The Rock-Giant dropped his Wyvern in shock. The Snake-Girl stopped sharpening her scythe.
Valdorian crouched down next to Drax.
"I told you," Valdorian whispered kindly. "It's heavy. It carries a lot of sentimental value."
"Get... it... off!" Drax roared, panic setting in. He felt like a planet had landed on him.
Valdorian reached out and grabbed the handle.
[Weight Setting: 1 Kilogram.]
He lifted the sword effortlessly with his pinky finger.
Drax gasped, pulling his bruised hands back, scrambling away like a frightened crab. He looked at the sword, then at Valdorian's skinny arm.
"How?" Drax stammered. "I couldn't move it! But you..."
"Core strength," Valdorian said, clipping the sword back to his belt. "You rely too much on mana. Do more planks."
He walked past the terrified Dragon-boy and sat at the corner desk with the bloodstain. He put his feet up.
"Wake me up when class starts."
The room was silent. The "monsters" of Class S stared at the new kid. He had just humiliated their strongest fighter with a sheath.
CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.
Slow applause echoed from the shadows of the entrance.
Walking in was a man who looked like he had been stitched together from spare parts. He wore a stained lab coat, had a mechanical eye, and smelled of formaldehyde.
Instructor Silas. The "Mad Doctor" of the Academy.
"Marvelous," Silas cackled, his mechanical eye whirring as it zoomed in on Valdorian. "Simply marvelous. No mana fluctuation. No artifact activation. Just... physics anomaly? Or perhaps a biological mutation?"
Silas walked to the front of the room.
"Welcome to Class S, maggots and monsters," Silas grinned, revealing metal teeth. "I saw the little display. Drax, you lose 10 points for being pathetic. New Kid, you gain 10 points for being interesting."
Valdorian raised a hand without opening his eyes. "Can I trade the points for a pillow?"
"No," Silas slammed a heavy book on his desk. "Because today, we are not doing theory. Today, we have a field trip."
The students groaned. Field trips in Class S usually involved being used as live bait.
"The Principal has assigned us a special task," Silas's mechanical eye glowed red. "The Ruined Catacombs beneath the city have reported an infestation. Corpse-Eaters. Rank 2 and 3."
The Snake-Girl licked her lips. "Feeding time?"
"Correction," Silas pointed a scalpel at Valdorian. "Testing time. The Principal wants to see if our new anomaly can survive in the dark. So, here is the rule for the mission."
Silas smiled cruelly.
"Valdorian goes in first. Alone. Unarmed. If he survives for ten minutes, the rest of you can go in and help."
Drax rubbed his bruised hands and smirked. "He's dead. Corpse-Eaters swarm. Weight tricks won't save him from a hundred ghouls."
Valdorian opened one eye.
"Ten minutes?" he asked.
"Scared?" Drax mocked.
"No," Valdorian stood up, stretching his back until it popped. "I'm just asking if I can keep the loot. Corpse-Eater fangs sell for good money, right?"
Silas paused. He had expected fear. He saw... capitalism.
"You can keep what you kill," Silas said slowly.
"Deal," Valdorian grabbed his backpack. "Let's go. I need to buy a new scabbard. This one has drool on it."
One Hour Later.
The Ruined Catacombs - Entrance.
The entrance to the Catacombs was a hole in the ground in the poorest district, guarded by nervous soldiers. The smell of rot was overwhelming.
"Alright, hero," Drax shoved Valdorian toward the dark hole. "Ladies first."
Valdorian adjusted his uniform. "See you in ten minutes. Don't miss me too much."
He jumped into the hole.
Darkness swallowed him.
Inside the Catacombs.
It was pitch black. The only light came from the glowing red eyes of the creatures in the shadows.
Scritch. Scratch.
Hundreds of claws on stone.
Valdorian landed in a pile of bones. He stood up and dusted himself off.
"Graveyard shift," he muttered. "My favorite."
Immediately, the horde attacked.
Dozens of Corpse-Eaters—pale, hairless humanoids with razor-sharp teeth—lunged from the walls. They were fast, savage, and hungry.
Valdorian didn't draw his sword. He didn't need to.
In the dark, with no witnesses, the lazy expression fell from his face.
His eyes changed. The pupils vanished, replaced by the swirling void of the Sovereign.
[Passive Effect: Predator's Awe]
[Target: Lesser Undead.]
Valdorian didn't lift a finger. He simply looked at the swarm.
He released a fraction of his intent. Not mana. Just the sheer, crushing weight of his soul—a soul that had once ruled the afterlife of a trillion beings.
STOP.
The command wasn't spoken. It was projected.
The wave of Corpse-Eaters froze in mid-air. The ones crawling on the ceiling fell off, shivering.
They were mindless beasts, but even beasts knew when they were standing in front of the Apex.
The largest Corpse-Eater (a Rank 3 Alpha) crawled forward, whimpering. It lay belly-up at Valdorian's feet, exposing its neck in submission.
Valdorian sighed, the starry look fading from his eyes as he sealed his intent back up.
"I don't have time to potty train you all," Valdorian grumbled.
He walked past the trembling monsters.
"You," he pointed at the Alpha. "Pull out your own fangs and put them in this bag. The rest of you... play dead. If I hear a single noise, I'll feed you to my sword."
The scene that followed would have traumatized any observer.
A horde of terrifying ghouls silently lining up, ripping out their own valuable teeth, and placing them gently into the backpack of a bored-looking teenager.
Outside the Catacombs.
"Nine minutes," Drax checked his pocket watch. "He's definitely dead. I bet they ate the bones too."
"A shame," Instructor Silas scribbled in his notebook. "I wanted to dissect his brain."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the tunnel.
Valdorian walked out. He looked exactly the same as when he went in. Not a drop of blood on him.
He was dragging a heavy sack behind him. Clink. Clink.
"You... you're alive?" The Snake-Girl gasped.
"It was peaceful," Valdorian said, tossing the sack to Silas. "Here's the quota. Can we go back now? I missed lunch."
Silas opened the sack. He stared. It was filled to the brim with high-quality Alpha Fangs.
"How?" Silas looked at Valdorian's clean clothes. "Did you... negotiate with them?"
"Something like that," Valdorian yawned. "They were very giving."
Drax stared at Valdorian, his dragon instincts screaming a warning he couldn't understand. Run, his blood whispered. Run away from the boy with the heavy bag.
Valdorian patted Drax on the shoulder as he walked past.
"By the way, Drax. You owe me a new scabbard. Don't forget."
Valdorian walked toward the academy transport, whistling a tune.
Inside the Catacombs, deep in the dark, hundreds of Corpse-Eaters were still huddled in a corner, hugging each other, too terrified to move.