After registering ourselves at Chamberlain Hall, it was finally time to head to our dorms. None of us even realized it was already 1 a.m.—we were still riding high on the excitement of passing the exam.
The male and female dormitories stood side by side, slightly removed from the main facilities. Their placement gave the area a quiet, detached feel, as if deliberately separating the new students from the heart of campus life.
Even though these buildings were designated solely for first-year students, their scale was impressive—each dorm could house up to five hundred students. Despite that, the rooms were designed for individuals, and they didn't skimp on space.
My room was well-equipped: a single bed rested in the center, framed by the soft glow of overhead lighting—one natural, the other ultraviolet. A window with foldable curtains faced the forested east side, allowing a peaceful view at dawn. Beside the bed stood a tall closet, and on the opposite side, a sturdy desk with a built-in reading lamp. Everything was arranged neatly, minimalist yet functional, and a sliding door on the left led to a private bathroom.
The academy also offered me a standard room AI to help manage daily tasks. But I had other plans. I let Wally quietly dismantle the AI's mind and overwrite its control. Now, Wally operated as the new intelligence behind my room's systems, perfectly integrated yet invisible. He did it cleanly leaving no trace behind, no logs, no alerts, no evidence that I had tampered with anything at all.
It wasn't that I didn't trust the academy—but caution, after all, had always served me better than blind faith.
After putting my things in place, I collapsed onto the bed without even bothering to change clothes. The mattress welcomed me like an old friend, soft yet firm enough to cradle every aching muscle. It had been three full days since I'd had anything resembling proper sleep, and now that the adrenaline was gone, the exhaustion hit me like a crashing wave.
"…I should've scheduled the meeting for tomorrow," I muttered, staring at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. "Can't you go in my place?"
Moriarty appeared in his soul form near the foot of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "If you give me full control tomorrow, it's a deal."
"Alright," I agreed without hesitation—and promptly passed out the next second.
"…Dude, change your clothes!" Moriarty shouted after a moment, but I had already sunk too deep into unconsciousness to hear, let alone reply.
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Dream Realm
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***
Ryuk's perspective:
When Moriarty stepped into his Dream Realm, he found himself standing atop a fluffy, white, cotton-like surface that stretched endlessly in every direction. The ground beneath his feet gave a gentle bounce with each step, as though the clouds themselves were playfully resisting his weight. Above him, the sky shimmered in soft gradients—blues and purples shifting into shades of gold and rose, like spilled watercolor bleeding across silk.
"It seems the others haven't fallen asleep yet… Oh well," Moriarty murmured, before hopping around the area in loose, joyful circles. As this was his first time adapting to the Dream Path, he felt no impatience at their delay. Instead, he felt something strange—liberating.
He didn't mind being the first to arrive. In fact, he welcomed it. This moment felt like the purest happiness he'd ever experienced. Here, in this realm, he was unbound—free from the vessel's constraints, free from formality, free from the weight of expectation.
With a casual flick of his hand, he summoned a chair made of cloudstuff and dropped into it. But to his surprise, it felt just like a regular chair—firm, plain, uninspired. The fluffiness he expected had vanished the moment he sat down.
He frowned.
With a huff, he disassembled the chair and conjured something grander: a throne formed from rolling clouds, its armrests coiling like spirals of mist, its backrest arcing like a crescent moon. It was better—more fitting—but something still felt… off.
How could he sit at the same level as his subordinates?
Even if he thought of them as friends, he couldn't deny the truth of structure. Leadership required distance, even in dreams. So, he raised his throne atop a small platform that lifted him gently above the sea of clouds. Then, with a wave, he created several smaller platforms below him—each one spaced evenly in a wide semicircle, each fitted with a single plush seat.
These would be for his commanders.
And at cloud level, he shaped over a hundred simpler seats, soft and low to the ground, where the rest of his subordinates would gather when they finally arrived.
Hierarchy within the haze. Authority within the dream.
Moriarty leaned back in his throne, watching the world respond to his whim.
Yes… this was much better.
He didn't have to wait long. All of them appeared at the same time, blinking into existence with subtle flashes of dreamlight. For a moment, quiet confusion flickered across their faces—they glanced around, taking in the surreal surroundings—but then, one by one, they found their seats and settled down in silence.
Moriarty was pleased to see that everyone instinctively understood where they belonged. But something felt… off.
No one looked up at him.
No one spoke a word.
"Are you all uncomfortable?" Moriarty asked, tilting his head, genuinely confused.
"No… it's just…" John's voice was strained, his breath shallow. "Young master… your bloodlust is leaking out."
Moriarty blinked. "Oh. Why didn't you say that sooner?"
With a casual wave of his hand, he suppressed it.
In his joy, Moriarty had completely forgotten to turn it off.
Bloodlust wasn't visible. It wasn't a sound or a light. It was something far deeper—built into the soul itself. It grew each time one killed someone of equal or greater strength. Difficult to develop, useless to most, and nearly impossible to erase. For ordinary people, bloodlust was an instinctual residue. But for those like Moriarty—who had killed more than most could count—it became a crushing weight, a storm compressed into silence.
To those trained to sense it, it was unmistakable. To those untrained or weak in spirit, it was paralyzing.
He had learned the hard way that bloodlust wasn't just a feeling—it was a force. Not everyone could detect it, but those with sharpened instincts or experience in battle felt it like a vice around their lungs. And when it came from someone like Moriarty—someone who had taken more lives than most could imagine—it became unbearable. Suffocating.
Without control, he couldn't even stand near others without reducing them to trembling wrecks. That's why Grey had drilled it into him and Ray—master your bloodlust, or let it master every room you enter.
No wonder his subordinates had gone quiet. They hadn't been disrespectful. They simply couldn't breathe.
"Well, now that that's out of the way—congratulations to all of you who passed the exam!" Moriarty announced, his tone vibrant with excitement. "However, we shall also hold a moment of silence for our presumably fallen comrade, Cooper Stone."
At once, everyone present in the Realm bowed their heads. The clouds beneath them grew still, as if the Dream Realm itself mourned. Silence fell—not heavy, but respectful—allowing a breath of grief to pass for one who might never return.
"…But this will not be a setback for Eden," Moriarty continued firmly, lifting their spirits again. "Our goals remain unchanged. Grunthar will carry on Cooper's legacy as the newest member of Eden."
Grunthar stood from his seat, his broad shoulders straightening with pride. A wisp of cloud broke away from the sky above and drifted down, touching gently against his chest. The moment it made contact, it pulsed once with light before sinking into him and taking root within his soul.
"From today, you are one of us," Moriarty said with a smile, giving a slight nod before allowing him to sit again. "Now then, onto the next topic. Risa—how are the preparations for the expedition of the C-rank missions?"
"All preparations are complete," Risa replied with her usual calm. "We will set out in five days and arrive before classes resume."
The academy's currency differed from the one used outside. Services and items were traded not for coins, but for contribution points—earned through the missions listed in the Mission Hall.
By doing this, Eden ensured a steady stream of resources. The more missions they completed, the more points they earned—enabling the others to focus on training and advancement without worrying about necessities.
"Good. And you, Reinhardt?" Moriarty asked, turning his gaze toward him.
"We'll need a little more time before we can depart for the B-rank mission," Reinhardt replied with a grin. "But once we set off—five days from now—we'll complete it within two."
It wasn't a surprise that Reinhardt felt uneasy about his mission. Not only was it leagues more difficult than Risa's, but it would also be his first time working alongside the new member. He likely wanted to give his team time to adjust—to test their coordination before facing a real threat.
"Very well. Inform me if you need more time," Moriarty said with a small smile, rising from his throne. "And if no one has anything else to add, send Wally your room numbers."
As he stood, the rest of the assembly followed suit. The dream realm seemed to respond, the cloud platforms softly rising and dissolving as each member vacated their seat.
"…And although I know most of you will try to climb the ranks as quickly as you can," Moriarty added, casting a knowing glance around. "Don't stray from your studies. I didn't pull strings to get you all out of school just so you could ruin your academy life."
He turned toward the fading horizon and raised a hand.
"For the Emperor."