Professor Ava Whitlock pushed open the door to her private office without breaking stride. The room was pure Ava—elegant, warmly lit, and quietly commanding. Soft golden sunlight poured through tall arched windows, catching on rows of ancient tomes and faintly glowing artifacts that lined the built-in shelves.
At the center stood a heavy mahogany desk, its surface polished to a mirror sheen, and behind it a high-backed leather chair that looked more like a throne than furniture.
Lucas and Alex followed her in. The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound. Neither brother spoke. Their eyes were already locked onto the glowing holographic windows that had materialized in front of them the instant they stepped inside.
[System Notification]A New Class Quest has been made available to you.
The message hovered in the air, identical for both brothers. Then the full quest panels unfolded.
Lucas Vanderbilt – Class Quest: Throne of TemptationA sovereign does not beg. A sovereign does not deceive with petty tricks. He compels. He dominates. He is chosen… or he takes the choice.
Objective: Dominate the absolute submission of a target whose will rivals or surpasses your own.
Target Conditions: Must be equal or higher than your rank.
Restrictions: No illusions. No mind-control abilities. No forced coercion through powers.
Rewards: A bloodline exclusive to you. The higher the target's level and strength of will, the higher the grade of the bloodline and additional bonuses.
Lucas's lips curved into a slow, hungry smile. Perfect timing. No time limit either… He was already excited for the reward.
Across from him, Alex's face drained of color as his own quest window appeared.
Alex Vanderbilt – Class Quest: The Weight of Gentle AuthorityPower that protects… must be chosen, not imposed. A true sovereign of light does not command obedience—he becomes someone others choose to stand behind.
Objective: Earn the unwavering trust of a target who has every reason to reject you.
Target Conditions: Must be equal or higher than your rank.
Restrictions: No intimidation. No manipulation. No forcing outcomes.
Time Limit: 14 days
Success Criteria: The target must voluntarily rely on you, trust you in a critical moment, and choose you… without being asked.
Reward: Bloodline will be unlocked.
Alex's hands tightened into fists at his sides. The quest felt like a cruel mirror held up to every insecurity he carried. Trust. Protection. Being chosen.
Ava turned to face them, her voluptuous figure framed by the soft backlight. She noticed the distant, intense stares on both brothers' faces—the way their eyes tracked something only they could see.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, voice warm but probing. "You both look… distracted."
Lucas recovered first. He dismissed his system window with a casual flick of his wrist and flashed Ava a charming, almost boyish smile.
"Everything's fine, Professor. Just adjusting to university life."
Alex said nothing. He simply closed his own window, jaw tight with quiet determination and dread. The contrast between the brothers was stark—one already plotting how to shatter someone's will, the other desperately trying to earn it.
Ava studied them for a long moment, golden-amber eyes narrowing slightly. She could feel the heavy tension crackling between them, but she chose not to press.
"Very well," she said, gesturing toward the two chairs in front of her desk. "I called you both here because the university has taken special notice of your dual Mythic awakenings. There are… certain expectations. And certain dangers."
She leaned back against the edge of her desk, the motion pulling her robe a fraction tighter across her chest.
"But first, the academy board has placed both of you under the Godborn Protocols. You'll receive additional support beyond what normal Apex students get. Any external threats will be handled by the university."
Ava's tone hardened. "The academy will only protect you from outsiders. Inside these walls, you survive on your own. No special treatment. It would be a shame if something happened to either of you… But if you can't defend yourselves here, you'll become toys for those waiting outside."
Lucas offered a faint, knowing smile. Alex listened in silence.
Ava continued, "You're both free to join any faction you choose. And soon, the traditional ceremony for personal disciples will begin. It's an old custom—professors select a handful of promising students to guide personally."
Lucas raised an eyebrow. "What are the benefits… for us and for the professors?"
Ava's full lips curved into a warm smile. "For you: personal guidance, access to restricted facilities, and protection from final-year students. You'll still have to handle same-year and second-year students yourselves. For the professors… we receive twenty percent of the merits you earn each month, plus academy bonuses. And if one of us manages to recruit a Mythic like either of you… our influence on the Faculty Council would skyrocket."
Lucas nodded. Even though he had skimmed the rules earlier, he hadn't realized just how desperate the professors were to claim a Mythic-class student.
Ava leaned forward, gaze flicking between the brothers. Alex remained mostly passive. Lucas, shameless as ever, asked every question that came to mind without embarrassment.
She smiled inwardly. If I can recruit even one of them… maybe Mother will finally acknowledge me.
For a brief second, genuine hope softened Ava's expression.
"Since I've completed the task assigned to me, you may both leave."
Alex nodded and stood, heading straight for the door.
Just as Lucas turned to follow, Ava's voice called out softly.
"Lucas… a moment, please."
He paused, slightly confused. "Yes, Professor Ava?"
Ava hesitated. Clear desperation flickered in her golden-amber eyes, mixed with fragile hope. It's impossible with Alex—he'll never leave Professor Seraphina's side. But Lucas…
Before she could speak, the Imp of Whispers' voice slithered into Lucas's mind like smoke.
"Master… this human reeks of desperation. She longs for recognition and an anchor in her life."
Lucas's smile turned slow and dangerous. Did she now… Interesting.
Ava Whitlock stood behind her desk, fingers tightening around the mahogany edge as she fought the flush of embarrassment rising in her chest.
Lucas remained perfectly still, expression calm and unreadable. Inside, a dark smirk bloomed. Thanks to the Imp, he already knew exactly what she wanted—validation, status, a chance to prove herself. He kept his face neutral and let her squirm.
Ava drew a deep breath. Her voice came out softer, meeker than she intended.
"Student Lucas… as I mentioned earlier, at the upcoming discipline ceremony, almost every professor will try to recruit you. It feels shameful to say this so directly, but… I believe I should use the chance I have right now."
She paused, cheeks faintly pink.
"I hope you will consider becoming my personal disciple. I may not be as strong as some of the others, but I can offer detailed guidance on your Mythic class and how to progress faster than anyone else. I'm sure someone from the Vanderbilt family doesn't need much protection, so… I hope you'll think about my proposal."
Her voice trailed off. She didn't truly expect him to accept. She was still relatively new to the academy, only Early A-rank, and her support-oriented class made her seem like a weak choice next to powerhouses like Seraphina Hale.
He's probably scoffing at me right now. Legitimate son or not, he's still a Vanderbilt.
Just as her thoughts spiraled, Lucas finally spoke, voice calm and measured.
"I will consider your proposal, Professor. I'll give you my answer at the ceremony."
Ava's eyes widened. Even though he hadn't accepted on the spot, the simple promise of consideration brought a genuine, hopeful smile to her face.
"Alright… You can go now."
Lucas gave a small nod and stepped into the corridor. The moment the door closed behind him, the charming mask dropped. Cold calculation replaced it.
He tapped his communication bracelet and fired off a quick message to Henry, vice-leader of the Obsidian Circle:
Gather everything you can on Professor Ava Whitlock. I need it by tonight.
Hands in his pockets, Lucas made his way toward the skill section of the Grand Pavilion. The moment he stepped deeper into the bustling area, the whispers swelled around him—mockery, envy, and open lust.
"Look at that guy… damn, he's like a perfectly sculpted statue."
"I could lose myself in those blue eyes…"
"Cocky bastard walks around like he already owns the place."
Most voices belonged to second-years.
"I heard Mark made a scene with that Vanderbilt kid at the cafeteria yesterday…"
"Yeah, I was there. That manic actually called his mother a slut. The whole place went dead silent."
"Damn… guess he's really gunning for the inner circle of the Brotherhood. Takes balls to say that to a Vanderbilt."
"But it felt good, right? Kid struts around like he's hot shit just 'cause he got a Mythic class."
"Pfft. He's still a newbie. Nothing compared to Dragon Tamer or Senior Chen. Those guys can solo a pack of C-rank monsters."
Lucas didn't react. His expression stayed calm and indifferent as he entered the Skills Pavilion.
The interior was grand yet practical—tall shelves of glowing crystal cases stretched toward a vaulted ceiling. Each case held hovering skill scrolls, skill orbs, and holographic displays showing names, grades, and short descriptions. Part-time students in faction uniforms manned the counters, eager for commissions.
Before Lucas could start browsing, an enthusiastic senior girl with a swaying ponytail hurried toward him, eyes lighting up.
"Junior! We meet again!"
Lucas raised an eyebrow, then recognized her—the same girl from the potions pavilion two days earlier. She had shown him prices with bright enthusiasm, only for him to walk out empty-handed.
Thought she'd be fuming. Not bad—she hides it well.
He offered her a charming smile. "Well, I don't mind meeting a radiant senior like you again."
Tracy stuttered, "H-Huh…?"
Lucas stepped forward. Tracy froze for half a second, then gulped. Oh my… how can someone be this charming?
She quickly recovered, professional smile snapping back into place. Commission was commission.
"So, what type of skills are you looking for today?" she asked, eyes sparkling with renewed hope.
Lucas glanced at her. "How about you show me the rare skills section?"
Tracy's smile brightened instantly. Rare-grade skills started at twenty thousand merits—her commission would be excellent.
She led him to a well-lit alcove lined with floating crystal cases. The skills were neatly categorized: elemental attacks, movement techniques, defense, support, and utility.
Lucas examined them carefully. Nothing quite clicked. At his current low rank, he couldn't afford to waste merits on skills that would become obsolete later. He needed something that matched his fighting style and complemented his abyssal-class elements.
Tracy stood beside him, her initial excitement slowly fading into quiet despair as he kept shaking his head.
Just then, a sultry, confident voice drifted from behind them.
"Well, well… it seems nothing here can catch our young master's eye."
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