The Campus Guard is a Retired God of War

Chapter 2

The Shadow Beast’s roar was a physical force, a wave of noise and sulfurous heat that sent crystal chandeliers rattling. Its horns scraped the ceiling, shedding dust and plaster onto the terrified elites huddled below. It was a Tier-3 Abyssal Manifestation—a creature that once required a legion of Alistair’s best troops, armed with star-forged weaponry, to neutralize.

Now, Alistair Cain faced it with a steel dinner knife.

His action was simple. He didn't rush. He didn’t scream. As the monster lunged toward Elena—whose face was a mask of frozen terror—Alistair merely pushed his steel serving cart forward, directly into the path of the beast's powerful left claw.

But he wasn't relying on steel.

Alistair channeled a sliver of the suppressed Calamity Star energy, not into the knife, but into the gravitational field immediately surrounding the four stainless steel wheels of the cart.

The wheels, intended to hold trays of canapés, instantly compressed the floor beneath them. The sudden, immense weight created a localized sinkhole of pure force, acting like a sudden, immovable anchor.

The Shadow Beast, moving at full speed, hit this newly anchored cart. The impact didn't stop the beast, but it violently twisted its trajectory just enough that its lunge missed Elena by an inch. The Shadow Beast shrieked in confusion.

That was the diversion.

In the microsecond the beast was off-balance, Alistair moved. To the mortals, he was a blur of black and white catering uniform. To him, the world was moving at a sluggish pace.

He didn't need to pierce the beast's dense hide. He only needed to reach its single, weak point—the core of its dimensional manifestation, a tiny, glowing node behind its right shoulder.

The knife was not a weapon; it was an extension of his will. He executed the Slicing Technique of the Void Dragon—a move designed to cut through armored, light-speed starships. He held the knife backwards, his thumb resting on the blunt handle.

Snick.

The sound was too small for the room, no louder than a dry leaf snapping. The steel dinner knife, having become hyper-focused by Alistair’s gravity manipulation, passed through the Shadow Beast's energy core as easily as butter.

The Shadow Beast didn't feel pain. It just stopped. Its massive, horned body, its burning eyes, its shadow—all of it dissolved into a single plume of black, inert smoke that instantly dissipated.

Silence fell on the Grand Hall.

Alistair stood there, perfectly still, holding the dinner knife. He glanced at the blade, noted the slight scorch mark on the metal, and then calmly wiped it clean on one of the white tablecloths before dropping it back onto the serving cart.

Total engagement time: 1.8 seconds.

The silence was the second stage of the chaos.

Elder Zhang was the first to react, stumbling backward, his face slick with sweat. "What... what was that? Where did the monster go?"

Victor Lei, the head of Crimson Shield, was pale with shock. His two armed guards, having drawn their high-powered rifles, were still pointing them at the empty space where the beast had been.

"It... it retreated," Victor stammered, scrambling to regain his composure. "It was a tactical retreat. Highly intelligent."

"It did not retreat," Alistair said, his voice flat, still adjusting the tablecloth on the cart. "It was removed. Code 7 violation: unauthorized entry. I handled the situation."

Elder Zhang let out a hysterical laugh. "You handled it? You, the servant? You pushed a cart and threw a knife! The beast must have been startled by the noise, or perhaps it was Mr. Lei’s men who scared it off before it fully materialized!"

Elena, who had been seconds from death, was still leaning against a pillar, clutching her chest. She looked at Alistair, then at the empty space, trying to reconcile the image of the timid husband with the blur that saved her. "Alistair... you were so fast."

"I was running away from the mess," he lied smoothly, focusing on his duty as a caterer. "These tables won't set themselves, Professor Zhang."

Victor Lei saw his opportunity. His entire image as the city's protector had just been shattered by a man in a waiter’s uniform.

"This is unacceptable!" Victor boomed, stepping forward. "Crimson Shield was hired to ensure security! This man—this employee—is a liability! He created unnecessary panic! Elder Zhang, I demand he be detained!"

Elder Zhang, eager to appease his new business partner, immediately pointed at Alistair. "Security! Someone call the university police! This man is a menace!"

The actual university police—Alistair’s former coworkers—looked hesitant. Alistair was known as the lazy guard, but he was harmless.

Alistair sighed, feeling the gravity of the Earth itself shift slightly under the strain of his annoyance. He had no time for mortal theatrics. The Seal was screaming.

Before the campus police could move, a new voice cut through the clamor—a voice both ancient and deceptively frail.

"Detained? For doing his job?"

The Headmaster shuffled into the hall. He wasn't wearing an academic robe; he was wearing the tattered blue uniform of a janitor, complete with a mop bucket and a pair of worn-out sneakers. He was the only person Alistair had ever truly feared.

Elder Zhang paled. "Headmaster! What are you doing here? This man—"

The Headmaster ignored him completely, walking straight to Alistair. He leaned in conspiratorially, reeking of floor wax and ozone.

“Alistair, my boy. That slice was sloppy. You left a scorch mark. Do you know how hard it is to get cosmic residue out of antique carpet?” The Headmaster whispered, his ancient eyes piercing Alistair's facade.

Alistair bowed his head slightly. “Forgive me, Warden. The penance is wearing thin.”

“It’s about to get worse,” the Headmaster said, his voice dropping to a gravelly rasp only Alistair could hear. “That beast was Tier-3, true, but it was just a scout. They are coming for the Nexus. The ones who sent them… they smell like gold and blood. Not abyssal decay. Something new. Something organized.”

He jabbed a bony, gnarled finger toward Victor Lei. “He’s compromised. He brought the bait. You’re no longer a campus guard or a waiter. You are, as of this second, the Guardian of the Nexus. Get to the Library. Find the source of the tremor. And for the love of the cosmos, try not to break any more priceless artifacts.”

The Headmaster straightened, clearing his throat. He clapped Alistair on the shoulder.

“Elder Zhang! Mr. Lei! This young man, Alistair Cain, just saved your lives! He is a highly decorated security consultant, assigned to my special projects. I will not tolerate any further disrespect. In fact, Mr. Lei, I think you should leave. Your security firm has proven woefully inadequate.”

The Headmaster’s word was law at Horizon Imperial. Victor Lei turned from pale to crimson, his multi-million dollar contract dissolving before his eyes.

"This is an outrage!" Victor hissed, glaring at Alistair. "I will have your career, Cain! I will have the Zhang family's empire!"

"You can try," Alistair replied, a cold smirk finally touching his lips. "But I have never lost a war."

With the crisis deflected and the antagonist humiliated, Alistair was officially reinstated and promoted—though he still had to wear the catering uniform until his new security manager badge was printed. He left the Grand Hall and headed toward the main Library.

The Library stood silent and vast, the moonlight illuminating its ivy-covered stone. It was the heart of his penance.

Alistair entered the restricted stacks of the basement level. The air here was thicker, laced with ancient, suppressed magic. He located the central altar, which was disguised as a dusty card catalog, and saw the damage. The Seal wasn’t just fractured; a key component of the suppression array—a small jade tablet used to dampen dimensional ripples—was gone.

They knew what they were looking for. Not random scouting.

He checked the adjacent tunnels, used for maintenance, and found footprints—too precise, too deep to be human. They led directly away from the campus toward the industrial district of the city.

He pulled out his communicator—a cheap, outdated Nokia brick that was actually a direct line to the High Council (they insisted on analog communication while he was exiled).

“Warden,” Alistair transmitted. “The Nexus is breached. The tablet is gone. The corruption is spreading rapidly. The enemy knows the weak point.”

The Headmaster’s voice crackled back, sounding suddenly tired. “I know, Alistair. But that isn’t the worst of it. The security footage from the library caught something else just before the breach. It seems the tablet was stolen not by an Abyssal Cultist, but by one of the Zhang family's most respected—and most powerful—business rivals.”

Alistair stopped dead in the middle of the shadowy tunnel. “Who?”

The Headmaster’s reply came back, sharp and urgent: “They are known in this city as the Crimson Sect. They have never shown interest in ancient artifacts before. They only deal in flesh, wealth, and power. And they are hosting their initiation ceremony tonight. At the abandoned pier warehouse down by the docks.”

Alistair looked down the tunnel, towards the direction of the industrial docks. The corruption was spiking, forming a visible, black mist in the air. The Crimson Sect was not just stealing artifacts; they were using the Abyssal energy to fuel their own rise. He had to stop them before they achieved an irreversible, unholy breakthrough.

But then, the Headmaster added one final, chilling detail.

“Alistair, be warned. The rival who stole the tablet… he is not the leader. He is merely the delivery boy. The real leader of the Crimson Sect, the Grand Master himself, is scheduled to attend the ceremony tonight. And the records indicate he is someone you know, Alistair. Someone from your past life, here on Earth, you trusted completely.”