Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 208: Rules-1

The world’s noise seemed to vanish into nothingness as Asher’s eyes remained fixed on the Star Academy rule book. His attention was so unwavering that it felt as though the entire universe had been silenced, leaving only the quiet rustle of paper as he turned the pages.

Normally, with Asher’s ridiculous intelligence, absurd reading speed, and given how small and concise the booklet appeared, it should have taken him no more than three to five minutes to read it from cover to cover, even if he deliberately slowed himself down.

But today, Asher chose differently. He deliberately moved at a slower pace. He wasn’t in any hurry; there was no urgent mission, no pressing battle, and no immediate challenge demanding his attention. Instead, he decided to scrutinize every line, every word, every punctuation mark of the rule booklet. He wanted to understand it deeply, not just glance through it.

Minutes slipped by quietly as Asher sat in total silence, the only sound being the occasional soft flip of a page. His composure was statuesque, his body unmoving except for the motion of his fingers. No matter how deliberately slow he read, his sharp mind still absorbed and digested the contents effortlessly, and before long, he finished the booklet in its entirety.

Leaning back into the couch, Asher crossed his right leg over his left and folded his arms neatly across his chest. His eyes closed, and his mind entered deep reflection. He began to mentally sift through the rules, dissecting them with surgical precision, looking for weaknesses, inconsistencies, or loopholes that could be exploited.

The Star Academy rule book, however, was not a mere list of do’s and don’ts. It was far more elaborate. It didn’t just dictate rules of conduct, it delved into the Academy’s structure, its philosophy, its classes, its expectations, and the way its internal system operated. It was, in many ways, the manual of survival for anyone daring enough to walk through the gates of the Academy.

One of the most striking sections was the discussion of classes. The Star Academy offered a vast range of specialized courses, each taught by carefully selected instructors with mastery over their fields. Of these, the most universal and fundamental was the Astra Control class. This course stretched across all three years of Academy teaching, from the very first day of a student’s enrollment until their final year. It was the foundation upon which every student was expected to build their strength and control.

But Astra Control was not the only essential class. Alongside it stood the Weapon Mastery Class, also compulsory, and the equally significant hand to hand Combat Class.

Though the majority of students specialized in weapons, the Academy made it mandatory for everyone to learn to fight with or without them. Even those who entered as skilled martial artists were required to familiarize themselves with at least one or two weapons, while those naturally talented with weapons had to endure rigorous hand to hand training.

The Academy’s reasoning was sound. They weren’t attempting to strip students of their individuality or force them to abandon their chosen paths. Instead, their purpose was practicality: a warrior who lost their weapon on the battlefield and had no alternative was as good as dead.

Losing one’s blade, spear, or bow in the chaos of war was not uncommon, and in that moment, survival demanded adaptability. The Academy sought to instill that adaptability into every student.

Interestingly, even though these three core classes were compulsory, attendance was not forcibly enforced. The Academy would never physically drag a student into the classroom. Freedom of choice was a core principle of the institution. However, there was a price to pay for negligence. Students who skipped these classes suffered a penalty in the form of point deductions, a system that ensured responsibility without removing autonomy.

Beyond these compulsory courses, the Academy offered a host of optional classes. These were no less valuable, though attendance was not monitored with the same strict consequences. Students who chose to skip them would not be fined, but they were still expected to show steady growth and improvement in their overall training.

Among these optional yet crucial classes were those that delved into subtler, more clandestine forms of skill. Stealth and Infiltration Training. Tracking and Counter-Tracking. Surveillance and Eavesdropping. Trap Detection and Disarming.

The Star Academy did not expect its students to emerge as professional assassins or shadowy spies, nor did it intend to transform them into faceless ninjas of legend. Rather, the goal was to ensure that every student possessed at least a rudimentary understanding of these arts.

Even the basics of stealth and counter-tracking could mean the difference between life and death during a mission. And for those gifted with abilities that directly complemented these disciplines, mastery could elevate them into formidable forces feared across the Empire.

Asher’s mind lingered on these classes. He recognized their value immediately. For him, missing even a single session was not an option. He intended to attend everything, absorb everything, and sharpen himself into a weapon sharper than the rest.

From classes, his thoughts shifted naturally to the lifeblood of the Academy itself: Academy Points.

Academy Points were more than a reward system, they were currency, leverage, and survival rolled into one. Without points, life in the Academy would become nearly impossible. There were many ways to earn them, some honorable, others questionable.

The most straightforward path was through missions. Tasks and objectives could be accepted from the Logistics and Missions Operations Hall, and upon successful completion, students were awarded points proportionate to the mission’s difficulty. Another common method was combat. Students could challenge one another to duels, wagering points as stakes. Victory meant profit.

Of course, less honorable routes existed as well. Bullying, coercion, or outright theft, forcing weaker students to surrender their points, were tactics not only allowed but also, in some ways, silently encouraged. The Academy did not interfere in such matters, for it was survival of the fittest and how the world worked.

Points could also be earned through ranking. Every weekend, the Academy awarded points to the top three ranked students of each year. The rewards were substantial.

Asher, currently the undisputed Rank 1 of the first years, was set to receive a staggering 1,500 points every single weekend. Rank 2 would receive 1,000 points, while Rank 3 would receive 500. But from Rank 4 to Rank 10? Nothing. The Academy was merciless in its stance. If they wanted free points, they could challenge the top three for them.

The Academy’s duel system had its own rules, each designed to balance fairness with brutality. For instance, if Rank 2 challenged Rank 1 for points and won, they would claim only the staked amount, not the rank itself. Conversely, if Rank 2 challenged Rank 1 specifically for their rank and lost, the punishment was severe: half of their total accumulated points at the time of the duel would be instantly transferred to Rank 1.

But, as Asher studied the details, he noticed something peculiar. A loophole. Perhaps intentional, perhaps overlooked.

What if Rank 2 transferred their points to someone else just before the duel? That way, even if they lost, they would have nothing significant to forfeit. It was a simple trick, but it revealed that trust became a new currency. Could one entrust their hard-earned points to another without fear of betrayal?

Another notable rule governed rest. After any official duel, both combatants were granted two days of recovery. This restriction prevented opportunistic challengers from exploiting weakened fighters. For example, if Rank 1 and Rank 2 fought, Rank 3 could not immediately swoop in and challenge either of them. It enforced a rhythm of battle and ensured that victory came with a chance to breathe.

Ultimately, the Academy cared little about how positions were claimed or who held them. What mattered was simple: when the weekend arrived, the students standing in the top three received their due points. Nothing else mattered.