Chapter 88: First Arrival at Saint Freya
"Well, this is a bit tricky."
Theresa Apocalypse, the Principal of St. Freya Academy, rubbed her temples, feeling a familiar headache brewing. The two sheets of paper in her hands felt heavier than they should. It was Rovel's profile, and this was the first time she had ever seriously considered enrolling a Descender.
It wasn't that she held any personal prejudice against them. The problem was her grandfather, Otto. He had issued a clear and unwavering directive: without his express permission, no Schicksal branch was to recruit Descenders as students unless it was an absolute last resort.
The penalty for disobedience? An immediate and total cut to St. Freya Academy's funding.
This wasn't a rule aimed solely at her Far East Branch; it was a red line drawn for every Schicksal institution across the globe. It was the primary reason why, despite the influx of these strange new people, not a single one had yet set foot inside a Schicksal academy. Most lacked the qualifications, to be sure, but Otto's decree was the real wall.
Currently, the Overseer's attitude toward the Descenders was frustratingly ambiguous. He was observing, waiting, gauging the "potential" they held. From his lofty perspective, aside from their baffling ability to resurrect from death, they were utterly unremarkable.
Worse, the widespread criminal incidents perpetrated by Descenders in the first few days after their arrival had left a sour taste in his mouth. At the very least, these newcomers had significantly increased his workload, which in turn had cut into the precious time he had to play his favorite game, "Kallen Fantasy."
Of course, that was a petty, personal grievance, a small selfishness on Otto's part, not the core of his reasoning.
The true complication had arrived on the fourth day. A Descender, a Death Soldier who went by the name "Owen," had emerged, displaying a startling degree of intelligence. No, that wasn't quite right. His intelligence was no different from that of a normal person; he was simply... more bloodthirsty.
Since then, more of these intelligent Death Soldiers had begun appearing all over the world. It suggested a terrifying possibility: for a Descender, becoming a Death Soldier might not be a true failure. They could retain their minds and use their new, monstrous forms to continue growing stronger, rather than devolving into the mindless zombies that now roamed the wilds. If they were allowed to grow to a certain point... could they evolve into something new entirely?
To Otto, the Descenders were a paradox. They were a new opportunity—a chance to find a novel path, perhaps even the one that would finally lead to Kallen's resurrection.
But they were also a new, uncontrollable variable.
They were a vast, chaotic group. While they currently fought amongst themselves as often as they fought the Honkai, what if they were to unite? A unified army with the power of infinite resurrection, allowed to grow unchecked, would inevitably become a cataclysmic threat.
That was the heart of Otto's concern. Until he devised a perfect method of control, he had no intention of relaxing his restrictions—especially not for his beloved granddaughter, Theresa. What if one of those reckless Descenders hurt her? Or worse, what if they got the idea to kidnap her? The thought was intolerable.
He would, however, permit certain loopholes. The Descenders knew little of their world's inner workings, which allowed Otto to carefully manage the scale of their involvement, suppressing their growth rate as much as possible. An existence that could achieve almost limitless power through simple training... the concept was, upon reflection, quite terrifying.
The Fourth Calamity? Heh. A fitting moniker. Let them come, then. Let's see what chaos they could bring to his stagnant world.
'As long as Grandpa doesn't find out, it should be fine,' Theresa reasoned with herself, her mind made up.
After a moment more of deliberation, she picked up a heavy rubber stamp and pressed it firmly onto Rovel's profile. The red ink bloomed, spelling out a single word: ENROLLMENT.
In truth, Rovel's admission was secondary. The real issue was the three girls who now followed him everywhere.
Kiana Kaslana. Cecilia's daughter. Her own niece. She had promised Siegfried she would look after the girl.
Raiden Mei. The nascent Herrscher of Thunder and the heiress to ME Corp. Such a dangerous and unstable element couldn't be allowed to simply wander off, and she had formed a close bond with Rovel.
And Bronya Zaychik. A poor, disabled girl... who just happened to be accompanied by a hulking suit of quantum armor at all times. Otherwise, perfectly normal.
During their harrowing escape from the Descender encirclement, the four of them had forged a powerful connection. If she rejected Rovel, Raiden Mei would undoubtedly leave with him. Kiana might be persuaded to stay if she dangled news of Siegfried as bait, but Bronya... that poor child was resolute. She refused to be separated from Rovel, likely a symptom of post-traumatic stress that had caused her to imprint on him as a figure of safety.
Helpless, Theresa knew she had only one choice. She had to let Rovel in. As for Otto... hmm. If her grandpa found out, she would just have to try and cute her way out of it!
"That's that!" Theresa declared to the empty room. She neatly stacked the documents, then hopped down from her oversized chair. Scurrying to the door, she peeked out into the hallway, ensuring no one was coming to disturb her.
Satisfied, she carefully closed the door, engaged the lock, and then, with the stealth of a master spy, retrieved a Homu manga from its hiding place beneath her desk. A grin of pure delight spread across her face as she dove into its colorful pages.
"Let me introduce you..."
The door to the Principal's office swung open without a single knock. Himeko strode in with the casual air of someone entering her own living room.
"Ah!" Theresa yelped, startled. In her panic, her hands clenched, and the precious Homu manga in her grasp was instantly torn to shreds. With a frantic motion, she shoved the ruined paper under her seat cushion.
"Himeko! Why didn't you knock!" Theresa shouted, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation.
"What does it matter?" Himeko drawled, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Besides, Principal, you're so petite and cute, and that desk is so high. As long as you keep your head down, nobody can see what you're doing anyway."
Theresa's passion for Homu was the worst-kept secret at St. Freya Academy. Only she seemed to believe she was being discreet. The reason for her secrecy was simple: it would damage the Principal's dignity!
...Not that Theresa had much dignity to speak of in the first place.
"Less chatter! Let them in," Theresa snapped, shooting Himeko a fierce glare. She'd deal with her insubordinate Valkyrie later.
Himeko shrugged and stepped aside, gesturing for the four newcomers to enter. "This is the Principal of our academy, Theresa."
"Eh? Where's the Principal?" Kiana's voice piped up as she poked her head into the room, her blue eyes scanning the spacious office. She had clearly heard Himeko talking to someone.
An irk mark pulsed visibly on Theresa's temple. She suppressed a sigh, climbed onto her office chair, and planted her hands firmly on her hips, looking down at the white-haired girl.
Only then did Kiana's gaze drop low enough to spot her.
"Aunt Himeko, are you telling me this little brat is the Principal?" Kiana asked, her face a perfect mask of disbelief.
With a single sentence, she had managed to mortally offend two people.
"Little... brat...?" Theresa's mouth twitched. She raised a hand, and with a silent command, the Oath of Judah, which had been hanging on the wall, shot from its mount. Golden chains uncoiled in mid-air, lashing out and wrapping around Kiana before she could even react.
The girl was bound tight, the chains of the divine key accentuating her youthful, athletic figure. She tried to struggle, but found she couldn't summon an ounce of strength.
Standing behind the group, Rovel let out a low, appreciative whistle. He hadn't realized Theresa was such an artist. He wondered where she'd learned such a stylish way to restrain someone.
"Call me Sister Himeko," Himeko growled, her face darkening as she grabbed Kiana's cheeks and pulled them in opposite directions.
"Shishter Himeko, I wash wong!" Kiana begged for mercy, her words slurring together.
Standing triumphantly atop her chair, Theresa puffed out her chest. "I am not only the Principal of this academy," she declared, her voice ringing with authority. "I am also your Aunt!"
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