Chapter 81: 81. Impact of bold words

Somewhere in the abyss…

A demonic castle had risen from the Abyss like a wound that never closed.

Its jagged towers rose from the base itself, and beneath those towers, rivers of molten matter flowed endlessly.

The blackened stone of the castle walls was veined with faint pulses of crimson light, each throb resembling a heartbeat, slow and deliberate, as though the structure itself were alive.

Inside the castle, the corridors stretched unnaturally tall and narrow, amplifying every sound into something threatening.

The air was heavy with demonic essence.

At its core a throne hall had stood; an obsidian throne stood elevated quite a few feet from the ground.

On the throne a demonic figure sat with eyes that shone with shades of the abyss itself.

He leaned forward slightly, one clawed hand resting against the arm of the throne while the other hovered near a floating black orb.

The orb emitted an unnatural shine; its surface was smooth and reflective, yet darker than the surrounding shadows.

Demon Lord Amon was watching the orientation broadcast of the world academy.

Within the orb, a blue-haired figure stood behind a podium and looked straight ahead as if looking at the viewer itself.

The sound from the orb did not remain contained. It resonated through the empty throne hall, carrying every word clearly, as though the Abyss itself was listening.

….

“Fortunately, I am not a chicken.”

“The demons are chickens in front of me, and they will soon learn what it feels like to stand on the chopping board.”

“The people who will walk beside me will be my knives.

I will sharpen them, I will temper them, and I will swing them…until Abyss Itself shivers under my name.”

“I am a commoner, a human, the butcher of space mage Vorin.

And now the 1st-year Archon of the World Academy.

This is William Kaiser signing off…”

….

As the speech concluded, the orb’s light dimmed slightly. Amon leaned back against the obsidian throne.

For a moment, the throne hall was silent.

Then laughter erupted.

“Heheheheheheheh!!!!!!!!!!!”

The sound was shrill and unrestrained, echoing violently through the hall as if striking every wall at once.

Amon’s shoulders shook as the laughter continued, growing louder and more erratic by the second.

“Interesting… Interestingggggg!!!!” he hissed between fits of laughter.

A wild expression spread across his face. His eyes widened unnaturally, veins standing out around them as if they might burst at any moment.

His lips stretched into a sharply curved smile that looked painful rather than joyful. He leaned forward again and brought his face closer to the orb.

One clawed hand rubbed slowly across the orb’s surface, leaving faint ripples of distorted light in its wake.

“So much fun it will beee!!” A ghastly voice spilled from his mouth, warped with amusement.

“To break you!!!”

“Hahahahahaha!!!!”

The sound carried deep into the castle’s corridors and beyond, seeping into the Abyss itself.

Demon Lord Amon had found a new source of entertainment, and the excitement coursing through him indicated how serious he was about his new toy.

•••••••••••••

After the calamity that struck the academy during the trials had ended, the entire world erupted.

Even though there was no formal, centralized source of media, the World Academy trials had always been broadcast across cities using a combination of broadcasting magic and specialized artifacts.

The academy maintained a vast and reliable network that allowed it to showcase its achievements, its authority, and its role in shaping the future across the world.

This time, however, the broadcast became something else entirely.

People across countless cities had witnessed the sudden assault of cultists, the collapse of order, and the outbreak of chaos before the transmission abruptly cut off.

Instead of pride, the broadcast became a source of shock and humiliation. Rumors spread faster than any official clarification could follow, filling the gaps left by the silence.

In the aftermath, the World Academy took full responsibility for the attack. The death count was not hidden, partly because it could not be.

Too many witnesses existed, and too many families demanded answers. The academy’s reputation took a visible hit, but it did not collapse.

As the only organized academy operating on a global scale, its influence and importance were too deeply rooted to be undone by a single disaster.

Details regarding William killing Vorin, along with several other sensitive truths, were deliberately concealed.

These decisions were made under strict orders from the principal. Despite the harsh rhetoric delivered to new students, the academy, in truth, nurtured and protected its own.

Its unspoken purpose had always been to shield the new generation until they matured, giving them the time and space necessary to grow into true powerhouses.

The academy also symbolized the combined effort of every race standing against demonic invasions. It represented unity, strength, and the resilience of the natives of Aris.

For this reason, the academy chose to broadcast the orientation of this year to the world.

It was meant to send a clear message that they were standing firm despite the setback.

Kevin’s speech reflected this intention; he deliberately edited fifty percent of his speech to talk about punishing those responsible for the latest assault, namely the demons and the cults, and making them pay the price.

Yet that message was overshadowed by a speech.

William’s speech shook the world.

The first-year Archon had called everyone chicken. He told them they were born to be butchered and might as well enjoy life before it happened.

Then he directly challenged the demons themselves, his tone unwavering and daring. The message carried more weight than any carefully structured statement the academy had delivered.

William’s popularity surged as his speech circulated rapidly in written articles and transcribed pieces.

Bards repeated his words inside taverns, mimicking his tone with varying degrees of success. His name spread quickly, becoming a subject of conversation wherever people gathered.

Many despised him, calling him arrogant and excessively self-confident. Others defended him, describing him as bold and brutal but honest.

And then there were those whose eyes carried a different kind of light.

For them, William’s words had struck somewhere deeper than anger or admiration.

•••••••••••••

Kevin walked through a special corridor buried deep within the heavily restricted sections of the academy.

He turned and entered a very specific room, one that was guarded far more heavily than most.

Two guards stood outside wearing the standard black uniforms; their auras were as sharp and oppressive as the academy’s elite staff.

They glanced at him but did not stop him.

As Kevin entered, an intimidating sight unfolded before him.

A long table stretched across the room, its surface buried beneath stacks of documents and reports. Several seats lined its length.

everything positioned on an elevated platform. Professors sat in those seats; their expressions were grim. Among them was the phoenix. Professor Morgan, who had been assigned to address the youth during the trial

At the center, occupying the largest seat, sat Andrea. Her expression was unreadable.

Beside her stood another chair, equally imposing, occupied by a male dragon-kin.

White horns curved back from his head, and his pupils reflected a pale, white glow.

His expression was not anything that could be called peaceful, and his features bore a striking resemblance to Andrea’s.

A long katana with faint shades of purple rested against the arm of his seat. His hands were locked together, supporting his chin, with his elbows resting against the chair’s sides.

Ancient black tattoos ran across his muscular forearms, etched deep.

Kevin’s brows rose immediately. He straightened and snapped into a sharp salute.

“Colonel Kevin, reporting for duty, sir!!”

The dragon-kin stirred, his eyes focusing on Kevin. “At ease. Take a seat.”

He gestured toward the chair beside him, and Kevin complied without hesitation.

As Kevin settled, the dragon spoke in a low voice that could be heard only by him.

“In my countless years as one of the three generals of the Celestial Army,” he said slowly, “this is the first time a student’s words have boiled my blood with both anger and shame.”

He turned his gaze toward Kevin. “And to think those words came from a fifteen-year-old brat makes it even more ridiculous.”

Their eyes met.

In that moment, Kevin understood one thing clearly.

Something truly insane was waiting for William Kaiser.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep