The Academy's grand hall was unsettlingly silent as NOX and Tirius walked in, their footsteps echoing against the polished marble floor. At the far end of the chamber, seated casually on an ornate chair, was the Academy's Dean.
The old man was exactly as NOX remembered—ageless yet ancient, his white beard flowing like a river of wisdom and, more notably, unbearable smugness. His dull grey eyes shimmered with amusement as he lazily rested his chin on his knuckles, wearing the expression of a man secretly entertained at everyone else's expense.
NOX's lips twitched in irritation. He knew this old bastard had been watching them the entire time and had deliberately chosen not to intervene.
With a quiet sigh, he thought to himself, 'Good to see you alive, old man.'
Janus Vorin was one of the few people who had extended a hand to NOX when the world refused to let him breathe. NOX could still vividly recall the day Janus had sacrificed himself to save him.
That day, NOX had been on the brink of death, his body bloodied as he was hunted by hundreds of Astral Rulers. After witnessing his sister's death, he had fully succumbed to madness, convinced he was strong enough to challenge the Human Supreme Society. But when he arrived for vengeance, he found himself ambushed—hundreds of Astral Rulers, sent by the Upper Realm, lay in wait.
Just as his death seemed inevitable, Janus appeared—whether by coincidence or design, NOX never knew. The old man stood against the Astral Rulers, buying NOX the time to escape.
Later, NOX heard the news—Janus had fallen to a Devil's ambush. But he knew it was a lie. The Society had killed him and, as always, avoided responsibility by blaming the Devils. It was their standard practice—whenever they executed an influential figure, they shifted the blame to avoid admitting the truth.
NOX still remembered the power Janus had displayed that day, standing alone against hundreds of Astral Rulers. The old man had given his life for a single chance—a chance that had ultimately led to NOX's return to this very moment.
Janus gazed at NOX, his grey eyes assessing him as if he were a research subject. A seeker of knowledge, he was clearly intrigued by NOX's ability to wield skills and increase his stats without mana. His curiosity burned, eager to study the anomaly before him.
Cough!
At that moment, Tirius cleared his throat, pulling the dean from his thoughts. His expression was alight with excitement—finally, he had the opportunity to confront this old man and avenge his lost teenage years.
"Old man, you've got some explaining to do. What is the Academy's management doing when one of its students—an Empyrean heir—was nearly abducted by the Society? Has the Academy already fallen under their control?" Tirius demanded, slamming his hand against the dean's desk.
He was determined not to fall for the old bastard's tricks this time. This was his chance to make the dean suffer, and he wouldn't waste it.
Crossing his arms with a smug grin, he added, "Old man, you owe me a formal apology. Not just for my nephew's humiliation—but for my youth."
A playful smile tugged at Janus's lips beneath his white beard. "Oh my, if it isn't the dead Tirius Ashborn. I almost didn't recognize you—you look so… pale. And what brings you to my humble office?"
Tirius remained silent, refusing to take the bait. He wouldn't fall for the old bastard's tricks again.
"My nephew, heir of the Dark Heaven Clan, suffered a near-death crisis. You, old man, must apologize to me for this," Tirius demanded again. He was determined to get an apology—if he missed this chance to find closure for the bitterness of his lost teenage years, today's failure would haunt his future lazy days.
"Empyrean heir?" Janus tilted his head in feigned confusion. "Since when did such an important figure join my Academy?"
His demeanor shifted instantly to one of false seriousness as he declared, "If what you claim is true, then I must provide you with a satisfactory explanation."
Tirius nodded, pleased with the now seemingly reasonable old man.
'Perhaps old age has made him senile—he didn't even put up much of a fight,' Tirius mused. But as long as he got his long-awaited apology, that was enough to make his next millennia of laziness all the more enjoyable.
NOX, on the other hand, remained silent. He understood exactly what this old bastard was scheming. All he could do now was hope his uncle wouldn't explode and challenge Janus to a fight.
The last thing he wanted was to see his uncle beaten and then be forced to endure months of his guardian's whining and revenge plots.
"Give me his admission badge. Let me verify his identity," Janus requested smoothly, his tone laced with amusement. Clearly, he was enjoying himself.
Tirius, still lost in his own fantasies, imagined countless scenarios of the old man apologizing. His grin widened with each passing thought. Without hesitation, he said, "Nephew, throw your admission badge at this old dog's face! Who would dare impersonate an Empyrean—"
His words stopped abruptly, his expression freezing. A realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
NOX had joined the Academy as an orphan, not as an Empyrean heir.
In Empyrean Clans, young heirs typically enrolled under false identities. Their clans wanted them to experience the world without their status, ensuring they understood how people treated them without privilege while also tempering their character.
This was a mandatory training all heirs were required to undergo.
NOX and Lucas were no exception. Both had joined under false identities.
Now, this sly old fox was demanding proof that an Empyrean heir had officially enrolled in Astraeus Academy—proof that NOX had no way of providing.
Tirius' daydreams shattered. His face turned red with embarrassment as he realized he had once again fallen for the old man's shrewd trick.
His aura flared violently as he roared, "Old dog, you must apologize to me for all the trauma you put me through! If not… I will fight you to the death today, you old bag of bones!"
No matter what, today he would get an apology—even if he had to beat it out of this insufferable old bastard.
Janus watched Tirius, whose face was flushed with embarrassment and fury, his smug grin widening behind his white beard. Seeing his former student still uphold the lessons he had so lovingly imparted filled him with deep satisfaction.
The old man nearly shed a nonexistent tear.
What more could a teacher ask for?
At this moment, he felt truly fulfilled. To have a filial student like Tirius was the highest honor a teacher could receive.
Noticing his uncle was moments away from getting himself beaten, NOX interjected. "Old man, you really are as smug as they say."
There were few people in this world NOX genuinely cared about, and this sly old man was one of them—not just because he had saved his life, but because he had once been his and his sister's teacher in a past life.
Back then, NOX had resented him for not saving his sister, for letting her die in the slums. But with time, he had realized the truth. He had only been searching for someone—anyone—to blame besides himself.
He was not the kind of person who despised others simply for failing to help him. His hatred was reserved for those who had truly harmed him and his family.
The old man had taught them well. NOX still remembered the care in his eyes, the lessons that had shaped them. Eventually, he had stopped blaming him, understanding that everyone had their own struggles, their own battles to fight.
Hating someone simply for not coming to your aid was both childish and unreasonable.
Janus turned his smug gaze to NOX and remarked, "You really are one interesting specimen, aren't you?"