HELL UNIVERSITY

Crashing the Boardroom

The morning sun gave way to a cold, torrential rain that battered the stained-glass windows of the Central Academy.

Inside the Grand Archives building, the air smelled of old parchment, silver polish, and heavy tension. The Executive Boardroom—a massive, circular chamber reserved for high-ranking faculty and elite faction heads—was packed to capacity.

At the head of the dark mahogany table sat Professor Victor Hale. He adjusted his silver-framed glasses, his sharp gaze scanning the room. Flanking him were three senior vampire elders from the Vance and Hawthorne cadet branches, as well as two werewolf Alpha representatives.

In the back row, Julian Vance sat with his arms crossed, his face still pale from the humiliation he had suffered in the dining hall just hours earlier.

"Order," Professor Hale called out, his voice echoing smoothly across the vaulted stone ceiling. He tapped a silver signet ring against the table. "We are convened today to address the ongoing security breaches in the South Catacombs, as well as the reallocation of restricted facilities to ensure student safety."

Hale gestured to a stack of glowing parchment documents in front of him.

"As head of the Academy Security Oversight, I have drafted an emergency decree," Hale continued, his tone brimming with calm authority. "Effective immediately, all independent research labs beneath the South Catacombs will be confiscated by the Disciplinary Council. Furthermore, due to rising security concerns, all low-tier students lacking high blood-density classification will be placed under mandatory curfew and restricted access."

A murmur swept through the room. It was a blatant power grab—a systematic attempt to strip low-tier supernaturals of their autonomy while giving Hale’s inner circle unfettered access to the subterranean tunnels beneath the university.

"Are there any objections from the faculty?" Hale asked, a faint, confident smile playing at the corner of his lips. He picked up his fountain pen, preparing to sign the decree into law. "Seeing none, we shall proceed—"

BOOM!

The heavy, oak doors of the boardroom burst open with a resounding crash.

The security guards stationed at the entrance didn't even have time to draw their batons before two figures glided into the room.

Leading the way was Rowan Hawthorne. He wore his dark grey uniform blazer neatly buttoned, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Half a step behind him walked Declan Mercer, carrying a heavy leather satchel.

The entire boardroom went dead silent.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Elder Vance roared, slamming his fists onto the table. "Rowan Hawthorne! You dare disrupt a high council session?"

Julian Vance leaned forward in his chair, his eyes wide with a mix of fury and instinctual fear.

Hale slowly lowered his pen, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he looked at Rowan. "Mr. Hawthorne. You are interrupting official academy governance. Step out immediately, or face expulsion."

"Expulsion for bringing crucial evidence to the board, Professor?" Rowan’s voice was remarkably calm, yet it carried an underlying weight that made several elders uncomfortable.

Rowan walked down the central aisle, completely ignoring the security guards who hovered nervously near the doorway, hesitant to approach him after rumors of what happened in the refectory.

[Notice: Antagonist Target Located: Professor Victor Hale.]

[Target Profile: High Commander of the Hunter Network (Disguised).]

[Active Objective: Expose Hunter Scheme & Secure South Catacomb Rights.]

[Reward: 100 Monarch EXP, Unlocks Monarch Eye (Level 1).]

Rowan stopped directly across from Hale at the head of the table. He turned his head slightly. "Declan."

Declan stepped forward. Though his hands were slightly clammy, he pulled a thick, leather-bound ledger out of his satchel and set it heavily onto the mahogany table.

"What is that rubbish?" Elder Vance scoffed.

"That," Rowan said smoothly, "is Professor Hale’s personal requisition log for the East Quad security grid over the past three months."

Hale’s expression remained composed, but the knuckles of his right hand tightened imperceptibly around his pen. "Mr. Mercer is a student research assistant under my employment. Using my private research notes without authorization is a severe breach of academic ethics."

"It would be," Rowan agreed, "if these were research notes. But they aren't."

Rowan tapped the ledger. "Declan, read entry forty-two."

Declan cleared his throat, gathering his courage as he looked at the gathered faculty and elders. "Entry forty-two, dated three nights ago: 'Deactivation of ward shields in Sector 4 of the East Catacombs between midnight and 3:00 AM. Supply delivery: three crates of silver-alloy bolts and tactical suppression gear.'"

The room erupted into quiet gasps.

"Silver-alloy bolts?" an elder werewolf growled, his eyes flashing yellow as he glared at Hale. "Silver is strictly contraband on campus grounds without Alpha Council approval!"

"Nonsense," Hale said smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. "Those were standardized containment tools for wild subterranean beast specimens. Authorized under standard security protocols."

"Is that why three masked operatives wearing tactical armor tried to execute Declan in the East Quad last night using those exact silver bolts?" Rowan asked, his voice cutting through the noise like a razor.

Hale’s eyes flashed with a cold, dangerous light. "Allegations from a low-density student carry no weight without proof, Mr. Hawthorne. Where are these supposed operatives?"

"They were incinerated by their own failsafe collars before they could be interrogated," Rowan replied. "A very neat trick. A hunter trick."

"Insolence!" Elder Vance shouted. "Are you accusing a respected faculty head of conspiring with hunters?"

"I am accusing him of incompetence at best, and treason at worst," Rowan stated plainly.

Rowan took a step closer to the table, leaning forward slightly. Inside his mind, the system interface flared with golden light:

[Skill Activated: Absolute Blood Pressure (Level 2)]

Rowan didn't release a violent aura. Instead, he concentrated a localized pulse of Monarch pressure directly onto Hale.

To the rest of the room, nothing seemed to happen. But to Professor Hale, the ambient air suddenly felt like liquid mercury. His chest constricted violently, his pulse spiking as his heart struggled to push blood through his arteries. The glass of water on Hale's desk began to vibrate, tiny ripples forming on its surface.

Hale’s breath hitched. Sweat formed along his hairline as he fought to maintain his composed facade, staring at Rowan in sudden, genuine shock.

He's controlling my vascular pressure... without casting a single rune, Hale realized, his mind racing. This isn't a low-density baseline... this is a Monarch-level bloodline technique!

"Professor Hale," Rowan murmured softly, his voice resonating only in Hale's ears through blood-mana transmission. "If you sign that decree to seize the catacombs today, I will release this entire ledger—along with the mana signatures I extracted from your operatives last night—to the Global Vampire High Council. Let us see how long your hunter network lasts under an ancient blood audit."

Hale’s teeth gritted behind his tight smile. He was a master tactician, a high commander of the hunter network, but in this room, cornered by a teenager who wielded a terrifying, forgotten power, he knew he had lost this engagement.

If the Global High Council audited his logistics, his entire subterranean operation would be exposed before the First Hybrid's seal was fully primed.

Hale took a slow, controlled breath, utilizing his internal hunter energy to stabilize his heart rate against Rowan's pressure.

He slowly laid down his pen.

"Upon... reconsideration," Hale spoke aloud, his voice slightly raspy, "Mr. Hawthorne raises a valid point regarding security logistics."

The elders looked at Hale in utter bewilderment. "Professor Hale?"

Hale forced a polite smile, adjusting his glasses. "It appears there may have been a clerical oversight regarding the East Quad security logs. Until a full internal investigation is conducted by my office, the decree to seize the South Catacomb research labs is... suspended."

Julian Vance gasped. "What?! Professor, you can't be serious! He's bluffing!"

"Silence, Julian!" Hale snapped, his tone sharp enough to make the young noble flinch back into his chair.

Hale turned his gaze back to Rowan. "The Hawthorne family lab will remain under Mr. Hawthorne’s sole jurisdiction. You may take your leave, Rowan."

Rowan withdrew his Monarch skill. Instantly, the oppressive weight lifted from Hale's chest, allowing the professor to draw a deep, ragged breath.

[Quest Complete: Expose Hunter Scheme & Secure Rights.]

[Reward Granted: +100 Monarch EXP]

[Level Up! Ancestral Blood Monarch System: Rank 1 (5% Awakened)]

[New Skill Unlocked: Monarch Eye (Level 1)]

Golden text flashed in Rowan's vision, but his face remained completely calm. He nodded once toward the board.

"Thank you for your fairness, Professor," Rowan said, his tone laced with subtle irony. "Come on, Declan."

Declan picked up his satchel, giving the stunned board of elders one last look before following Rowan out of the boardroom.

As the heavy doors closed behind them, the atmosphere in the hallway was quiet save for the heavy patter of rain against the stone arches.

Declan let out a long breath he seemed to have been holding for ten minutes. "Rowan... back there... I thought Hale was going to have us thrown into the dungeon."

"Hale is a coward when his secrets are threatened," Rowan replied, walking down the wide hallway. "He only fights when he holds all the cards. Today, we took his deck away."

"What do we do now?" Declan asked, his tone serious. "He's not going to stop, is he?"

"No," Rowan said, his eyes darkening as his new skill, Monarch Eye, subtly activated.

Through the thick stone walls of the academy, Rowan’s vision expanded, seeing faint strands of dark crimson and silver mana weaving deep down into the foundation of the earth beneath their feet. Deep in the subterranean catacombs, a massive, ancient core was pulsing softly—like a sleeping heart beginning to wake.

"He's going to accelerate his plans," Rowan said

softly. "Which means we need to go deeper into the catacombs tonight."