Like that, the days passed in a flash, and it had been six days since Michael arrived at the academy.

Unlike the first day when the school was nearly empty, it was now much livelier.

Michael saw more people who looked as fresh as he did—clearly new students—and others like Lira, who carried themselves with the composed air of those already familiar with academy life.

In the past six days, Michael had learned far more about the academy than he ever expected.

He had assumed it was just a front, something that acted more like an organization than a real school.

He was, more or less, wrong.

The academy actually did teach, but in a way that was far less rigid than what he was used to.

There was no fixed structure—no system that divided people the way science and art once did.

Instead, the academy operated on a ten-year cycle.

Students didn't advance through exams but by the passing of time.

That meant even if Michael did absolutely nothing for ten years, he would still become a tenth-year student.

Whether anyone could actually graduate like that, however, was another question entirely.

One thing he did understand was the true purpose of the academy—and how its students were meant to graduate.

Thanks to Lira, who had been with him almost constantly over the past six days, Michael had gained not only insight into the academy but also into the wider world beyond it.

The academy's main purpose for all its students was simple: to prepare them to fight.

But their enemies weren't just monsters.

They were alien races—creatures from beyond their world.

And among them was one that stood as a common enemy to all races alike.

One whose name Michael already recognized.

Demons.

According to Lira, these beings resided within the ninety-nine layers of Hell.

The ninety-nine layers of Hell.

Even the name sounded mythical, but Lira's tone had been deadly serious when she spoke of it.

She explained that Hell wasn't a realm of fire and eternal torment like ancient tales described. It was a real place—another dimension like the Netherworld and the Void. The deeper one went, the stranger the laws of nature became.

And at the heart of that world lived the demons—some who were ancient sentient beings who existed before recorded history.

They were unlike any monster. Monsters could die, could be slain or destroyed down to their essence. Demons, however, couldn't. They could be killed, yes—but only temporarily. Their physical form could be destroyed, their spirit shattered, but as long as Hell existed, they would eventually return, reborn from the layers themselves.

Some theorized they weren't truly living beings but fragments of Hell's will, given shape by negative energy.

Whatever the truth, one fact remained: they could not be erased.

If it were just that, humanity and the other races might have tolerated them—sealed them off, and ignore their existence. But the demons weren't passive. They acted like parasites, clawing through the barrier between realms to reach living worlds. Once they found one, they would feed.

They drained mana from the planet, absorbing its essence to strengthen themselves, leaving only lifeless wastelands behind. Entire civilizations had fallen that way.

It was this relentless hunger that had earned them another name across the galaxies:

The Destroyers of Life.

They didn't invade for conquest or dominance; they invaded to consume. A single demon incursion could end centuries of civilization. They did not need to kill their victims—simply existing near them for too long was enough to siphon vitality and spiritual energy.

"People think demons are evil," Lira had said. "But they're not evil in the human sense. They're just... natural disasters with intent."

According to Lira, the ninety-nine layers of Hell mirrored the complexity of the cosmos. The higher layers birthed lesser demons.

The mid-layers birthed true Demon Lords.

Vardok, the Devourer of Suns. Lyris, Queen of Shadows. Zevran, Sloth King.

And below them all, beyond the reach of comprehension, dwelled the oldest of them—the Archdemons. Some claimed they gods.

This was the main purpose of the academies. Whether it was the Cultivation Academies for knights and mages, or the ones that catered to Awakeners like Michael, their existence all served a single, unified goal—preparation for conflict.

Not all battles were fought against monsters or demons, but every student was raised in the shadow of one truth: the universe was not at peace.

Hell and its denizens were a threat that existed beyond measure, but they were not the only danger the world of Aurora faced. In fact, Lira had said plainly that if the demons were to ever breach the veil completely, all of creation would unite against them. But until that day came, Aurora's most pressing threat came not from them—but from others.

The other races.

Hell was distant, and though feared, its influence was limited as it wasn't easy for demons to leave hell.

The same could not be said of the countless intelligent races that drifted among the stars—civilizations born on other worlds. Some were peaceful, others were opportunistic, and a few were predators in every sense of the word.

Lira had said that it was arrogance for any race to believe itself alone.

Aurora was just one among many mana-bearing worlds, and each had evolved differently.

The moment contact was made, so too was competition born.

And so, even though the academies were created in part to prepare against a demonic resurgence, that was only half the reason they existed. The other half—the truer, more immediate reason—was to strengthen Aurora's people so they would not be enslaved, devoured, or erased by the other races.

"Demons destroy," Lira had said once, "but the other races… they conquer."

If the demons desired to consume life itself, then the others desired to control it.

Michael had been silent when she explained this. He could understand the reasoning. The world was vast, power was scarce, and resources were finite.

*****

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