The Crimson Tyrant's Forbidden Source

Aztec

Chapter 13: Aztec

Eva felt a cold knot form in her stomach as she pulled her eyes away from the screen. She wasn't entirely sure what she had just witnessed.

By the time she reached the cafeteria, the room was a roaring engine of noise. Nobody was looking at their food. Freshmen and seniors alike were huddled over tables, their voices raised in a frantic blend of disbelief and panic. The Vice Dean's life was effectively over; soon enough, his wife's family and the enforcers of the great houses would likely have him hunted down like an animal.

Navigating the chaos in a daze, Eva moved mechanically. She grabbed a tray, picking out sautéed vegetables, a piece of meat, a slice of light toast, and a random juice box before sliding into a secluded booth near the back. Nora dropped into the seat opposite her a second later. Her face was completely drained of color, her knuckles turning stark white as she gripped her mug.

"Eva... tell me you saw it," Nora whispered, her voice shaking as she leaned across the table. "The Vice Dean... he’s completely lost it. Saying those things about the five families? About his wife? What was he thinking? Was he possessed?"

"He probably wasn't thinking at all," Eva said, her voice quiet but steady as she tried to organize her own thoughts amidst the mounting din. "In a place like this, ambition is both a catalyst and a poison. It’s a double edged sword."

Before Nora could reply, the air around their table suddenly grew thick. The ambient rustle of the cafeteria seemed to drop away, replaced by a strange, heavy pressure.

"Mind if we sit? After all, it seems like everyone is a bit on edge today."

Eva looked up, her heart taking a sudden, sharp leap against her ribs. Walking toward their booth was Julian. He had traded his formal banquet attire for a casual shirt, but it was his expression that made her freeze. He was smiling. It wasn't a polite, political mask; it was a wide, bright, almost joyful expression that carried a deeply unsettling, chaotic warmth. It was the face of a man who had shattered someone else's life as if it were just another casual event of the day.

Julian glanced back at Lozac, who followed him like an inseparable shadow, and pulled him toward the empty seat next to him. Looking around the cafeteria, where every eye was now locked onto their table, Julian turned to the motionless figure beside him. "Why did it suddenly get so quiet in here? It's probably your face that scared them. I told you not to always walk around with that poker face. Sigh."

Amidst the hushed room, the sharp clacking of heels announced the elegant, measured approach of Serena. Seeing Serena take a seat, Lyra immediately abandoned her own social circle across the room and slid into the remaining vacant space, her eyes darting between Julian and Eva with intense, burning curiosity.

Julian set his tray down with effortless grace, his eyes locking directly onto Eva. Up close, his presence was suffocating, completely erasing the image of the compliant boy she had seen on the screen.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," Julian said, his voice light, cheerful, and completely at odds with the terror paralyzing the rest of the campus. He extended a hand across the table, his smile tilting into something sharp and feline. "I am Julian. It's a pleasure to meet one of the freshmen who ranked within the top one hundred. Don't worry, I already know the others."

Eva stared at his hand, then up into that smiling, psychotic gaze. Her fingers tightened out of sight beneath the table. The weekend had barely begun, and the monster had just sat down for breakfast.

Before she could even extend her hand to return the gesture, Julian’s gaze shifted across the room. A sinister smile flickered across his face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He stood up abruptly and walked toward the center of the cafeteria where the third-year students were gathered, with Lozac tracking his movements a step behind.

In less than two minutes, they reached the epicenter of the room. The surrounding tables cleared out almost instantly. While a few brave seniors tried to initiate small talk, Julian ignored them entirely. He sat directly on the edge of the table, looking down at a boy seated on the far left whose face bore a distinctive, star shaped tattoo near his right eye.

"Good morning, Alan. Or should I call you Aztec? I heard that is what you go by now," Julian said smoothly. "I heard from my brother that it's been quite a chore getting in touch with you; almost as if you were actively avoiding his summons."

The boy looked up, the eye framed by the tattoo shimmering with a faint, silver light. "I don't owe your brother anything," Alan spoke coldly, "much less you."

Julian threw his head back and laughed wildly, the sound echoing sharply throughout the cafeteria while his silver hair glistened under the morning sun.

Eva turned to Nora. "Who is that?" she whispered.

Nora shook her head in ignorance, obviously left out of the loop, but Lyra immediately chimed in from across the booth.

"That's Alan Vern," Lyra explained quietly, taking a quick sip of her juice. "He's an illegitimate child of the Vern family. He was originally admitted into the academy with a barely passing score, but he was suddenly taken under the wing of Julian's older brother, who was a third-year student at the time. During Alan's second year, a rare anomaly occurred: an external secret realm overlapped with the academy's own designated realm. When their class entered to acquire suitable origins for their Second Awakening, the majority of them were slaughtered. Very few walked out, though the survivors were significantly stronger than average. Alan didn't return with them. Then, early last year, he suddenly materialized in the central courtyard, spat out by a vortex that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He had that tattoo, changed his name that very day, and his standing skyrocketed from rank 562 straight to 20th on the Almighty Rankings."

As Lyra finished speaking, Eva’s gaze snapped back to the center of the room.

Julian’s laughter had ceased. "Give it to me. Now," he said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

Alan stopped eating, meeting Julian's gaze dead on. "It's mine. Besides, I couldn't give it to you or him even if I wanted to. It has already become my soul bound origin." He let out a crazed, defiant laugh.

Julian sat on the table, watching the boy quietly for a moment before sighing. "Considering the mess this morning, I was planning on keeping a low profile for a bit. But since a mess has already been made, I guess I'll just have to keep going. It's truly sad; I actually despise messiness. You know I'm a bit of a germaphobe."

Almost instantly, Julian reached his hand forward. In a terrifying blur, his hand seemed to phase directly into Alan's skull.

A sickening, gut wrenching scream immediately resounded through the hall. Reacting to the horror, one of the nearby third-years lunged forward to intervene, reaching out to grab Julian's collar. Before his fingers could make contact, a hand intercepted the senior's wrist.

Eva watched in absolute shock as the senior's wrist and hand began to rapidly decay; not into liquid or anything gory, but dissolving straight into fine, black dust.

The third-year fell to his knees, staring at his vanishing limb in paralyzed horror. Above him stood Lozac, looking down at the senior as if he were looking at mere debris rather than a human being. For the first time since arriving at the academy, true fear gripped Eva’s chest. The sight of that featureless, silent shadow was something that would plague her nightmares for days to come.

The entire sequence had unfolded in less than a minute. Alan was still grunting and groaning in agony on the floor. Shifting her gaze away from Lozac, Eva looked back at Julian and noticed tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Whatever manual extraction technique he was executing, it was clearly a massive strain even for someone of his caliber.

With a sharp pull, Julian yanked his hand out of Alan’s head, his fingers slowly solidifying back into tangible reality. Clutching a metallic object that resembled a silver locket or a compact mirror, Julian immediately slipped it into his chest pocket and patted it, a look of profound relief washing over his features.

Below him, Alan lay leaned back against the chair his calm demeanor long gone, the light slowly draining from his eyes. He wasn't dead, but his gaze was entirely vacant; as if he had been reduced to a fool, or worse, had his very soul amputated.

The cafeteria fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

Then, a steady, middle aged voice shattered the quiet. The Dean strode into the hall, his face cloudy with absolute fury, his authority preceding him before he even crossed the threshold.

"What exactly is causing all this commotion?"