God-Level Dominance

Chapter 008

Mia stood frozen, her eyes darting between Harold’s trembling hands and Riley’s bored face. She felt like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her throat.

"You’re lying," Mia whispered, her voice cracking. "Harold, you’re playing a joke. It’s a sick, twisted joke. Give me that."

She didn't wait for him to hand it over. She lunged forward, snatching the device from Harold’s grip with such force that his broken arm let out a sharp, painful hiss. Her thumbs flew across the screen, her eyes scanning the official academy header, the red-wax seal of the Mayor’s office, and the words that felt like a death sentence to her pride.

‘Registered Resident: Riley (NFA).’

‘Status: VIP Scholarship / Direct Royal Recommendation.’

The phone slipped from her fingers. It didn’t break—it was a high-end device built to withstand essence flares—but the dull thud it made against the thick rug sounded like a gavel hitting a desk. Mia’s knees buckled slightly. Her fair skin, usually so radiant, looked like grey ash.

"No," she breathed, her head shaking in a frantic, rhythmic motion. "No, there has to be a mistake. A system glitch. A typo! Maybe there’s another Riley. A noble Riley from the northern provinces. This... this thing standing in front of us is a scavenger! He was eating dirt in a restricted zone three hours ago!"

"Mia, the facial recognition matched," Harold said, his voice dropping into a tone of forced calm. He looked exhausted. "The system doesn't make mistakes like that. Especially not when the Royal Seal is involved. We need to go."

"Go?" Mia shrieked, her arrogance returning like a reflex, a desperate shield against the truth. "Go where, Harold? This is our father’s recovery suite! We paid for this! We spent weeks securing the permits! You’re telling me we’re going to walk out because some slum pig found a way to hack the registrar?"

She turned back to Riley, her eyes burning with a murderous light. "I don't care what that screen says. I don't care who you bribed or what kind of identity theft you’re pulling. You are not staying here. You belong in a cage, not in silk sheets. If you don't leave right now, I’ll scream so loud every guard in this academy will be in this room in ten seconds. I’ll tell them you tried to assault me."

Riley didn't move. He didn't even look bothered. He leaned against the marble pillar, his arms crossed over his chest. "You should be careful with your voice, good ma," he said, his tone flat. "Screaming like that isn't good for your blood pressure. And honestly, it’s getting a bit repetitive. If I’m a pig, you’re the one currently squealing."

"You... you dare!" Mia’s hand flew to her belt, searching for a weapon she had left on the table.

"Enough!" Harold shouted. It was the first time he had truly raised his voice, and the authority in it made even Mia flinch. "Whether he owns the place or there’s a mistake, the authority has spoken. If the security team comes and sees us defying a Royal Seal order, our entire family will be blacklisted before sunset. We leave. We sort it out with the Dean later."

"But Father—" Mia started, her voice breaking.

As if on cue, a wet, hacking sound erupted from the inner alcove of the suite. It was a deep, rattling cough that sounded like stones being ground together in a bucket of water.

Mia’s rage vanished instantly, replaced by a frantic, raw terror. She rushed toward the bed where an elderly man lay beneath layers of essence-infused blankets. The man’s face was a sickly shade of purple, and as he coughed, a spray of dark, clotted blood stained the white pillows.

"Father!" Mia cried, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe his chin. "Doctor! Do something! Why is he getting worse?"

The doctor, who had been trying to hide in the shadows of the room, rushed forward. His hands were shaking as he checked the man’s pulse. "The... the toxin is spreading faster than I anticipated. The armored beast’s venom has a secondary necrotic effect. I’ve done everything the standard protocols allow."

"Then use the non-standard ones!" Harold demanded, standing over the bed. "We are paying you a fortune! Fix him!"

"I can't!" the doctor wailed, his face red with a mix of shame and fear. "His essence veins are collapsing. Only the Academy Dean has the specialized healing core required to purge a God-tier toxin. We just have to wait for him to arrive. If we move him now, his heart will stop."

Harold turned back to Riley, his eyes no longer filled with arrogance, but with a desperate, pleading light. "Please," Harold said, his voice low. "Look at him. He’s dying. I don't care about the room anymore. I don't care about the insult. Just let us stay until the Dean arrives. If you have any spark of humanity in you, don't throw a dying man into the hallway."

Mia looked up from her father’s side, her eyes red-rimmed. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to beg, but the way she gripped the bedsheets showed how close she was to breaking.

Riley walked over. He didn't walk with the hurried pace of a doctor or the frantic energy of a relative. He walked with the slow, deliberate stride of someone inspecting a piece of broken machinery. He stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the old man’s purple face and the way his chest struggled to rise.

"Really sick?" Riley muttered to himself.

"Of course he's sick, you idiot!" Mia snapped, though her voice lacked its usual bite. "He’s been poisoned by a God-tier beast! His organs are shutting down!"

Riley tilted his head, his gaze shifting to the doctor’s medical kit, then back to the dying man. A small, mocking smile played at the corners of his lips.

"He isn't dying from the toxin," Riley said, his voice echoing clearly in the silent room. "He’s dying because your doctor is a hack who’s been feeding him the wrong essence stabilizers for the last three hours. He just needs a few basic medicines and he’d be standing up by dinner."

The room went cold almost instantly. 

The doctor’s face went from purple to a bright, angry red. He stood up, his chest puffing out. "What did you just say? You... you slum-born brat! I studied for twelve years at the Royal Infirmary! I am a certified Grade-A Healer! How dare you suggest that I am the cause of his condition?"

"Twelve years?" Riley asked, raising a brow. "You should ask for a refund on your tuition. You're treating him for a 'paralytic' venom when this beast uses a 'circulatory' suppressant. Every drop of medicine you’ve given him has just been thickening his blood like grease."

"Harold, throw him out!" the doctor screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Riley. "He’s trying to kill your father with his lies! He’s a scavenger! He knows nothing of the medical arts!"

But Harold didn't move. He looked at Riley, then at his father, who was gasping for air like a fish out of water. He remembered the beast zone. He remembered the clean kill. And he remembered how Riley had looked at Mia’s neck and told her exactly where the purple veins had been.

"A few medicines?" Harold asked, his voice a whisper. "Which ones?"

"Don't listen to him, Harold!" Mia cried, though she looked at Riley with a flicker of something that wasn't quite hate anymore. It was confusion.

Riley ignored them both. He looked at the doctor, who was now clutching his medical bag like a shield.

"If you give him another dose of that blue liquid in your hand," Riley said, "his heart will explode in exactly four minutes. But hey, what do I know? I’m just a slum rat, right?"