Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 300: Demons [1]
Vaulted ceilings stretched thirty feet overhead, supported by marble columns carved with intricate depictions of the kingdom’s founding battles.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through tall, arched windows of the chamber, casting long rectangles of gold across polished floors.
The walls were lined with tapestries, each one depicting a different era of Grey family rule.
At the center sat an oval table of dark mahogany. Around it, figures of considerable power had gathered.
King Zardric Grey occupied the head of the table.
Mid-fifties, with steel-grey hair swept back from a broad forehead and a neatly trimmed beard that framed a strong jaw. His eyes were sharp blue, like winter ice and missed nothing.
He wore formal robes of deep crimson and gold with the Grey family crest embroidered over his heart in silver thread. No crown today. This was a working meeting, not a public appearance.
To his right sat Queen Vesperine Grey.
Where her husband showed his years, she seemed to defy them. Mid-thirties, with Auburn hair that fell in waves past her shoulders and emerald eyes.
Beautiful in a way that was almost unsettling, too perfect, too composed, like a porcelain doll given life and purpose.
Her gown was midnight blue, cut to emphasize elegance, with minimal jewelry save for the royal ring on her left hand.
She sat with perfect posture, her hands folded on the table, listening to the ongoing discussion with an expression of polite interest that revealed nothing.
Across from them, Ferran White, Headmaster of Phoenix Academy commanded his own sphere of attention.
Late sixties, with silver hair and a beard that reached mid-chest. His robes were deep forest green trimmed with gold. His eyes were grey, sharp despite his age, constantly assessing, constantly calculating.
Other figures occupied the remaining seats.
Duke Garran Rithvale.
Marquess Erena Thornwood, a woman in her forties.
Archbishop Severus Lightbringer, elderly, with pure white hair. His robes were pristine white and gold, marking him as the highest religious authority in the kingdom.
Steelvein, head of the Merchant Council, younger than the others at perhaps forty, with calculating brown eyes and fingers decorated with expensive rings.
The discussion had been ongoing for nearly two hours, covering administrative matters that required high-level coordination: trade agreements with neighboring kingdoms, adjustments to military deployment schedules, allocation of resources, Academy funding proposals.
"And the eastern border patrols have reported increased activity from rogue bands," Duke Rithvale was saying, his voice carrying that clipped military precision. "Nothing organized yet, but the pattern suggests someone is testing our response times."
He paused mid-sentence.
Queen Vesperine’s head tilted slightly, her eyes losing focus. Not daydreaming. Sensing.
Headmaster White’s hands stilled on the document he’d been reviewing. His grey eyes sharpened, looking at something beyond the physical room.
Archbishop Lightbringer’s expression shifted, concern flickering across weathered features.
King Zardric noticed immediately. He’d ruled too long not to recognize when his advisors sensed something wrong.
"What is it?" His voice was calm but carried absolute command.
The Queen’s eyes refocused, but something had changed in them. Urgency. Alarm carefully controlled.
"Something..." She paused, choosing her words with precision. "Something vast just... manifested. Somewhere within the capital region."
"I felt it too," Headmaster said, already rising from his chair
The temperature in the room seemed to drop despite the afternoon warmth.
Duke Rithvale was on his feet instantly. "How bad?"
"I don’t know. The distance makes it difficult to, " The Headmaster cut off, his expression growing grimmer. "It’s not alone. There are dozens of smaller signatures. Possibly hundreds."
Then...
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
The sharp sound of knuckles hitting wood interjected them.
Every head turned toward the chamber doors.
King Zardric’s voice cut through the sudden tension.
"Enter."
The doors opened, and a royal attendant practically stumbled through. His uniform was disheveled, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool interior temperature.
He dropped to one knee immediately, but his voice shook when he spoke.
"Your Majesty... Headmaster, " He gasped, trying to force the words out. "Emergency message from Phoenix Academy. They’re... they’ve been—"
"Speak," the King commanded, his tone brooking no delay.
The attendant swallowed hard. "The Academy is under attack, Your Majesty. Large-scale assault. Casualties are, " His voice broke slightly. "They’re requesting immediate military assistance. The message says hundreds of corrupted creatures, have breached the defensive formations. Students are trapped." He stopped, looking like he might be sick. "The death toll is already in the hundreds and rising."
Silence.
Absolute, crushing silence.
Then chaos erupted.
Headmaster’s hands slammed on the table hard enough to crack the wood. "How long ago did the attack begin?"
"Fifteen minutes, sir. Maybe less. The message only just reached us through emergency relay—"
"Fifteen minutes?!" White was already moving toward the door. "I need transport. Now. Emergency teleportation array if available, fastest mount if not—"
"Already being prepared, Headmaster," Marquess said, her military training taking over. She was addressing the attendant with rapid-fire commands. "Alert the Palace Guard. Full mobilization. I want three companies ready to deploy in five minutes. Send runners to the city garrison, get me every available combat-capable soldier within the capital. Emergency priority."
Duke Rithvale’s face had gone pale.
"My daughter is there. Verelia is—"
"All our children are there," the Queen said quietly, but her voice carried steel. Her eyes found the King’s. "Phoenix Academy holds the future of every noble house, every merchant family, every influential bloodline in the kingdom and outside."
If enough students died, it could trigger succession crises, power vacuums, even war.
King Zardric stood. When he moved, everyone else fell silent.
His voice was quiet. Controlled. But underneath was fury.
"Marquess Thornwood, you have operational command. Take everything we have. Headmaster, you go with the first wave. Duke Rithvale, coordinate with military command, I want every available men mobilized within ten minutes."
******
The central hall had become a fortress of desperate hope.
Originally designed as the Academy’s main assembly area, capable of holding a thousand people for ceremonies and gatherings, now housed nearly hundreds of students and two dozen faculty members who’d managed to fight or flee their way to relative safety.
The massive double doors had been barricaded with overturned tables, stone benches, and anything else heavy enough to slow an assault.
Professor Velrun and two other senior faculty maintained a rotating barrier of combined earth and ice essence across the entrance.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with fear and exhaustion. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢
Students huddled in groups, some tending wounds, others simply staring into space with the hollow eyes of those who’d seen too much, too fast. The floor was slick with blood, most of it from injuries being treated, some from those who hadn’t made it this far.
First-years clustered together near the back, many crying quietly. Second and third-years tried to maintain composure, but their hands trembled when they thought no one was looking. Fourth-years, sat with weapons drawn, essence flickering weakly around exhausted forms.
Livia sat against the western wall, her knees drawn to her chest, her grey eyes unfocused. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She’d tried to make them stop, clenched her fists, pressed them against her legs, focused all her willpower, but they kept trembling anyway.
"Hey." Caleb’s voice cut through her spiral.
She looked up to find her brother crouched beside her, his eyes were sharp with concern.
Blood splattered his uniform, and burns marked his arms, but he was here. Alive.
"You’re shaking," he said quietly.
"I can’t, " Her voice broke. "I-I they just kept coming, Caleb, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t protect anyone, I—"
"Stop." He reached out and gripped her shoulder. "You’re alive. That’s what matters."
"But the others—"
"Are not your responsibility." His tone left no room for argument. "Only you matter."
Around them, other conversations carried on in hushed tones.
"Heard the eastern dormitory collapsed completely."
"Professor Kael didn’t make it, someone said they saw—!"
"My sister was in the arena stands, I don’t know if she’s..."
"Just children, we’re just children, why would anyone—"
A Bronze Shield third-year was helping a wounded second-year apply pressure to a gash across his thigh. An Iron Talon fourth-year sat with her back to the wall, eyes closed, trying to meditate enough to restore some essence reserves.
Jasmine, was quietly crying while her dark-haired friend, Lily, tried to comfort her.
Professor Velrun’s voice cut through the murmurs, commanding attention. "Listen up! I know you’re scared. I know you’re exhausted. But we’re holding. The barriers are stable. Help is coming. The capital will have received emergency signals by now. We just need to hold until—"
He stopped.
Everyone stopped.
The temperature in the hall shifted.
Several students gasped, sudden nausea sweeping through them. Others doubled over, clutching their chests as if the pressure was physical.
"What—" someone started.
THUD!
Something landed outside the main doors.
Then another.
THUD!
And another.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
Multiple sources. Moving with purpose toward the barricaded entrance.
Professor Velrun’s expression went from concerned to terrified in the space between heartbeats. "Everyone back! Get away from the doors."
"NOW!"
Students scrambled, pushing toward the rear of the hall, weapons raised, essence flickering desperately.
The footsteps stopped.
Silence.
One second. Two. Three!
CRASH!
The barricaded doors exploded.
Debris flew inward, some students raised barriers, others dove for cover. A chunk of stone whistled past Livia’s head and cratered the wall behind her.
Smoke and dust billowed through the hall, and within it, shapes moved.
Tall.
Then they stepped forward, silhouettes revealing slowly.
Their limbs bent at wrong angles. Joints twisted where they shouldn’t. And too many eyes, glowing.
One of them tilted its head and made a sound, which wasn’t a growl.
"No"
Sword clatter from the hand of a fourth year as he stumbled back.
"D-De... DEMONS!"
