The gates of the Royal Academy of Light were forged from white iron and enchanted with a perpetual radiance designed to "inspire hope" in the hearts of the students. To Dorian, it was merely an expensive exercise in vanity, a blinding mask for an institution that had forgotten the weight of the dirt it stood upon. He walked through the entrance with the same stiff, rhythmic gait he had used when marching his legions through the burning capitals of his enemies a movement that suggested the world should yield rather than be negotiated with.
Elena walked a half step behind him, her expression a fragile mix of physical exhaustion and a burgeoning, misplaced pride. Julian followed, clutching the heavy satchel of Benedict's corrupted research as if it were a shield against the eyes of the crowd.
"Look! It's them!"
The whispers began as a low hum, a collection of second year students in their blue and gold capes stopping to stare. They didn't see the raw, red skin of Dorian's forearms or the hollow, metallic ache in his marrow. They saw the "Hero of Oakhaven," a story they could tell themselves to make their own sheltered lives feel significant.
"Is it true? I heard he atomized a High Priest with a single prayer!"
Dorian didn't even turn his head. Their awe was a cloying, suffocating thing a currency he was forced to collect but found utterly worthless. He ignored the flustered receptionist in the administration building and took the elevator to the penthouse, his sapphire eyes fixed on the rising floor numbers.
*Ding!*
**[Daily Interest Deducted: 10 Faith Points.]**
**[Current FP: (9,997,870 points deducted)]**
The debt was a parasite, rhythmic and persistent. Every ten points felt like a drop of blood leaving his body, a reminder that his soul was currently owned by a set of celestial auditors.
The elevator doors opened to the personal domain of Aris, the Academy's Professor of Arcane Theory. Her office was a chaotic sprawl of overflowing bookshelves and humming mana circuits. She was hunched over her desk, her silver hair escaping its bun in messy, frantic wisps.
"Unless you've found a way to stabilize the third order resonance of a Spirit Stone, get out," she snapped, not looking up.
"I found something more valuable," Dorian said. "I found the reason your High Priests have a habit of turning into monsters."
Aris froze. She slowly turned around, her sharp, grey eyes scanning Dorian's scorched robes before landing on the satchel. "Dorian. You're alive. I assumed the Ghouls would have better taste than to swallow your arrogance."
"I am a difficult meal to digest," Dorian said, sitting on the edge of her desk and ignoring the scattered parchments. He tossed the satchel to her. "Benedict wasn't just 'studying' the woods. He was harvesting them. He was using a corrupted heart to turn the forest into a mana battery for necrotic energy. He was trying to engineer immortality."
Aris scanned the scrolls, her face turning a sickly shade of white. "This... this is an invitation to the Abyss. The Academy's records are going to have a very large, very embarrassing hole where Benedict used to be."
"Then I suggest you fill it with a truth that won't blow up in your face," Dorian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, level rasp. "I'm giving you a weapon, Aris. Don't waste it on politics. The 'Awakening' is two months away, and if the Academy is still using outdated prayers against what's coming, you won't need a Board of Directors you'll need a mass grave."
*Ding!*
**[Good Deed Detected: Entrusting Forbidden Knowledge to a Competent Ally.]**
**[Faith Points Received: +150]**
**[Bonus: Aris's respect has increased. +25 FP.]**
**[Current FP: (9,997,695 points deducted)]**
Dorian stood, his body screaming with the effort of maintaining his composure. "Elena and Julian are at the infirmary. Ensure they are treated as heroes, not as witnesses. If I see them in the common dormitory tomorrow, I will consider it a personal insult."
He walked out before she could respond, navigating the corridors until he reached his private, sparse room. He locked the door and slumped against it, his breath coming in a long, shaky exhale. The purification had scoured his mana circuits, leaving a residual, icy burn.
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, jagged piece of blackened crystal a shard of the heart he had destroyed. The System hadn't detected it. It was a concentrated piece of 'Sin,' a fragment of the abyss he had kept as an insurance policy.
"Even a Saint needs a shadow," he whispered to the silence.
He needed to reach Rank 2. The Grand Tournament was in two weeks, and the 'Sun Crest Elixir' was the only way to jumpstart his resonance. He would win. Not for the glory, but because anything else was a luxury he couldn't afford.
***
**Author's Note:** Dorian has returned from the woods, but the corruption he found has only deepened his resolve. If you enjoyed the clash between Dorian and the "False Glory" of the Academy, support the novel with your **Power Stones**! Your votes fuel the Emperor's return to power. Can he win the Sun Crest Elixir in **Chapter 18**? Let us know in the comments!