Ashen Requiem
Chapter 54: Lise Aspeslagh

Chapter 54: Lise Aspeslagh

Dawn had crawled lazily over the island of Exodus, but the sun itself seemed unwilling to shine.

It was cold outside. Fog blanketed the entire island.

Dante had been sitting on his bed for a while now, shirtless, eyes lost in the void, eyelids still heavy, hair a tangled mess as if he had spent the night battling nightmares.

Eventually, he rose quietly and reached for the uniform neatly folded over the chair.

The deep navy-blue uniform of House Igris.

Over his chest, just above the heart, sat the badge personally handed to him by the Academy’s director, Archon Thymeris.

A brooch forged from a metallic alloy, depicting a flame encircled by three lines.

A symbol of gratitude. Or recognition. Maybe even a burden.

It was the honor awarded to the heroes of the convoy—those who had stood their ground while others fled.

An honor, sure. But one that painted a target on his back. An honor Dante could have done without.

He stared at the brooch one last time. There was no pride. Just the weight of a memory he’d rather forget.

He buttoned the last few fasteners of his coat, standing before the crooked mirror hanging halfway off the wardrobe door.

The fresh fabric clung to his skin—new, untouched by sweat or blood.

No need to show off. He wasn’t here to impress. Just to slip through unnoticed.

He inhaled softly, stepped toward the door—and paused, hand hovering over the knob.

He knew. He knew what waited on the other side.

When he opened it, it came as no surprise to find Shigeo’s tense face, hand still raised mid-knock.

— "Right on time."

— "You’re creepy," Shigeo muttered, lowering his hand. "That’s some inhuman timing."

— "Maybe I’m not human."

— "Cut it out. It’s way too early for existential jokes."

A faint laugh slipped from Dante. There was truth in the joke, and they both knew it in their own way.

---

Gardens were packed with students in uniforms, each bearing the colors of their respective houses.

Shigeo kept looking around, visibly impressed, bag slung over his shoulder.

—"Look at that. Solheim kids rocking embroidered capes again... And that guy ? He’s got a cane. A cane. Have you ever seen a fifteen-year-old with a damn cane ?"

— "Probably a noble."

— "Nah, look at them all... Meanwhile, we look like damn penguins in uniform."

Dante stayed silent. Watching students.

Some eyes lingered on his brooch, then quickly turned away.

They eventually reached a building at the far northern edge of campus.

No flag. No insignia. No pride.

— "Behold the corner of the damned," Shigeo smirked. "You’re gonna love it."

— "You have classes elsewhere, right ?"

— "Yeah. Building C6. Robotics, IT, energy engineering... you know, nerd stuff."

— "Good luck."

— "You’ll need it more—withher. Bye !"

— "Her ?"

But Shigeo was already gone, vanishing before Dante could press further.

Dante stepped through the doorway into the building.

Raw energy thrummed through the walls, artificially controlled by crystal anchors embedded in the stone—advanced flux-containment tech, expensive and controversial, only allowed in light bastions under strict supervision.

But there were no meteorite shards in sight. Yet it was clear : many mutant souls had passed through these halls.

Normally, such energy only existed in black academies, isolated in Corrupted Lands or No Man’s Lands.

Places where rules bent. Where learning meant bleeding. Where you needed a powerful mentor.

The rest ? They ended up in cults. Like the PriorsofCorruption.

They didn’t teach for free. Their price was your free will. Sometimes... even your soul.

Here at Genesis, advanced tech let them channel dark energy—to restrain it, make it "tolerable."

Dante stepped into the classroom. A few students were already seated. More trickled in.

The room was compact but optimized for night work : seats, balancing crystals fixed on every wall, and a raised platform for the instructor.

Circular layout. Amphitheater-style.

Half the seats were empty. Apparently, some felt no shame skipping the first day.

Dante slid into a middle row, wordless.

Some students threw him glances. Others bickered like middle schoolers.

First-years. Uniformed and anxious.

Faces half-lost in boredom, tension, or fake indifference.

And then... she walked in.

Swagger that screamed indifference, toes curling over the line into arrogance.

White hair. Red glasses perched on her nose.

Red lips. A body that made necks twist.

Long, sinuous, poured into a high-waisted black pair of pants and a slightly unbuttoned shirt.

Nothing vulgar—just enough hidden to leave imaginations wild.

She wore leather boots. A black leather jacket draped over her shoulders.

She was walking temptation—but looked like a rose : beautiful and laced with thorns.

Whispers exploded instantly.

— "Holy shit... who is that ?"

— "Did you see her curves ?"

— "Bro...Newton was all wrong."

— "Is she... smoking in class ? Who is this chick ?"

She stepped onto the platform. Took a drag. Blew the smoke out slowly, scanning the room like they were clearance items.

Then stomped her boot.

Hard.

— "Shut the hell up."

Her voice was coarse. Not from age, but from cigarettes and the habit of speaking with scorn.

Everyone went dead silent. Even the cocky ones. Even the rebels.

Her tone left no room for negotiation.

She pointed at a boy in the front row—a brunette who smirked like he thought he was about to get her number.

— "You. Come here."

He obeyed instantly.

She stared straight into his eyes... then pressed her still-lit cigarette onto his forehead.

The sound. The smoke. The muffled scream.

It all happened in a heartbeat.

— "Lesson one : If you’ve got a hard-on, keep it at home."

She turned, no more words. The boy was left stunned and partly broken.

A nervous laugh from the back. She raised a single finger without looking :

— "Next one who laughs gets a second asshole."

— "Alright. Now that I have your attention... Name’s Lise Aspeslagh, your theory teacher. Don’t call me ’Professor.’ ’Tits McGee.’ Just ’ma’am,’ or nothing. I don’t care about your names. I remember the faces of those who won’t survive the semester."

Whispers again, just barely :

— "That’s her... Lise."

— "Heard she got demoted here. Used to teach Dravon kids."

— "She’s not just crazy. She’sreal. That’stheproblem."

— "She smokes more than the chemistry lab, dude."

— "They say she breaks every student. Physically and mentally."

— "But her results ? Best in the department."

— "Yeah, and every single one of her students ends up in the infirmary."

— "Worse than Inquisitor bootcamp..."

Lise lazily flipped through a paper.

— "You’re here to learn how to use dark energy. But let’s be clear..."

She looked up.

— "Most of you are here because you can’t use white energy. Or worse... because you were tossed out."

— "I’m not here to nurture you. I’m not here to be soft. I’ll break you. Shatter you. Humiliate you. And if you survive... maybe you’ll get a taste of something bigger than yourselves."

Some students stiffened. Others were riveted.

— "You already know it, right ? Dark energy’s strong. But unstable. And so are you."

— "Here’s the deal : First mistake, I detonate you. Second ? You’re out. Third ? I kill you. Not necessarily in that order."

She pulled out a sheet.

— "Schedule. I will read it once. You remember, or you fail."

She read the schedule flatly :

— "Monday, theory. Tuesday, history. Wednesday, sport. Thursday, biology. Friday, field work. Weekend’s rest... if you can still walk."

She let the paper fall.

— "Copy it down. I’m not your secretary."

She scanned the class.

— "You’re all soft. Weak and pathetic."

Her gaze locked on Dante.

— "Except you. You’ve got a nasty aura. Careful not to turn into an asshole."

His eyebrow twitched. No smile. Just eye contact.

Heads turned toward him instantly.

Glances pierced him—jealousy, curiosity, hostility.

Whispers already swirled among some students.

— "Who the hell is that guy ?"

— "Convo survivor."

— "Bet he drops out within a week."

— "Lise got her eyes on him... I already hate him."

— "Figures. The universe insists on making me shine, even when I want to be discreet." Dante thought dryly.

The bell rang.

Lise slammed her binder shut, totally unbothered.

— "Tomorrow’s physical training with the sports instructors. You’re all skeletons. Let’s see who survives. All the exercises on page 6, due next Monday. No exceptions."

She grabbed her coat, exhaled smoke, and vanished.

Dante stood alone among the stares, the murmurs, the silent resentment burning his back.

He watched the door swing closed.

— "Welcome to the Academy..." He muttered under his breath.

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