Chapter 16: The History of Lies
"History," I muttered, adjusting my collar, "is not a record of what happened. It is merely a script written by the survivors to justify why they are holding the knife."
It was 7:00 AM on the first day of classes at Stellaris Academy.
Villa Number 1, the so-called "Forbidden Villa," was surprisingly cozy once you ignored the eldritch howling of the abyss outside the windows. Ria had spent the night scrubbing three centuries of grime off the floors, and the place now sparkled with the sterile perfection of a hospital operating room.
I sat at the grand mahogany dining table, eating a breakfast of Void Beast Remnant energy (filtered through a spirit array) and toast. Across from me, Anya was slumped face-first in a bowl of oatmeal.
"I don't want to go to school," Anya groaned, her voice muffled by the porridge. "I want to sleep. The pillow was soft."
"School is important, Anya," I said, wiping a spot of milk from her chin. "We need to learn about the world. Or rather, we need to learn what they think the world is."
Ria stepped out of the kitchen, holding a freshly ironed uniform. "Master, Young Miss's uniform has been reinforced with fire-resistant runes. It should withstand a casual sneeze, but I cannot guarantee structural integrity if she throws a tantrum."
"Good work," I stood up. "Let's go. We have a History lecture to disrupt."
The Hall of Sages.
The Stellaris Academy was divided into four major departments: Combat, Alchemy, Array Formations, and General Studies. All freshmen, regardless of their specialization, were required to attend the morning lecture on "History of the Realms."
The lecture hall was massive. It was a cavernous amphitheater built of white stone, capable of seating three thousand students. Floating candles hovered near the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, scholarly glow over the rows of desks.
When we walked in, the noise level dropped instantly.
Three thousand heads turned. They looked at the silver-haired maid carrying a satchel. They looked at the sleepy eight-year-old girl rubbing her eyes. And they looked at me—Rank 999, the boy who scored zero.
"That's him," a whisper echoed. "The Defiler."
"I heard he bribed the Headmaster to get into the Forbidden Villa."
"I heard he's already dead and that's just a ghost walking."
I ignored them and walked to the back row. Prince Valerian was sitting in the front row, surrounded by sycophants. He shot me a glare, pointing at his eye, which was still slightly bruised from the exam. I winked at him. He turned purple.
We sat down. Anya immediately folded her arms on the desk, put her head down, and went back to sleep. Ria stood silently against the back wall, blending into the shadows.
Bam.
The heavy oak doors at the front of the hall slammed shut.
A man walked onto the podium. He was tall, gaunt, and wore robes of severe grey. His face was pinched, as if he had smelled something sour and never got over it. This was Professor Sallow, a Senior Historian and a known hardliner for the Academy's doctrine.
"Silence," Sallow croaked. His voice wasn't loud, but it was amplified by a wind spell to grate on everyone's ears.
"I am Professor Sallow. In this class, you will learn the truth of our world. You will learn of the benevolence of the Heavenly Arbiters, and you will learn of the darkness that seeks to consume us."
He waved his hand. A massive illusion spell activated behind him, creating a 3D projection of the cosmos.
"For ten thousand years, the Multiverse has been protected by the Order of Providence," Sallow began, reciting the script I had heard a thousand times in my past lives. "They protect the Balance. But throughout history, there have been... aberrations. Evil beings who sought to destroy the Balance for their own selfish gain."
The projection changed. It showed a terrifying image of a man shrouded in shadows, slaughtering an army.
"The First Calamity," Sallow intoned. "The Demon Paragon. Three thousand years ago, this monster rose from the abyssal planes. He slaughtered millions. He bathed in the blood of innocents to fuel his demonic arts. He sought to plunge the world into eternal darkness."
I leaned back in my chair, stifling a yawn.
'Actually,' I thought, 'I killed millions of demons to stop them from invading the mortal realm. The "innocents" he talks about were cultists trying to summon a Void Lord. But sure, paint me as the bad guy.'
The projection changed again. It showed a man holding a sword that cut the sky.
"The Second Calamity. The Sword Emperor. A tyrant who believed that strength was the only law. He murdered the Council of Sages because they refused to bow to him. He cut the connection between the mortal world and the spirit realm, causing the Great Drought."
'I killed the Council of Sages because they were selling children to the Arbiters as batteries,' I corrected mentally. 'And I cut the connection to stop the Arbiters from draining the planet's Qi. The drought was a side effect, yes, but better dry than dead.'
Sallow continued, listing my past lives one by one, twisting every heroic deed into an act of villainy. He painted me as a monster, a tyrant, a madman.
Finally, the projection showed a man playing a zither. The Divine Musician—my 9th Life.
"And the most recent evil," Sallow spat, his face twisting in disgust. "The Divine Musician. A siren who used forbidden sonic arts to brainwash entire kingdoms. He forced armies to lay down their weapons so he could rule over a world of mindless slaves. Thankfully, the Arbiters descended and silenced his wicked song forever."
My hand tightened around my quill. The wood snapped.
Brainwash? Mindless slaves?
I played music to end wars. I healed the sick with melody. I united the kingdoms in peace without shedding a drop of blood. And that was why they killed me. Because peace is bad for the business of the Order.
"Professor," I spoke up.
My voice cut through the lecture hall. Three thousand students turned around. Professor Sallow paused mid-rant, squinting at the back row.
"Who spoke?" Sallow demanded. "Stand up."
I stood up. "Student Rudra Ye. Rank 999."
Sallow sneered. "Ah. The vandal. Do you have a question, Rank 999? Or are you just eager to fail my class?"
"I have a correction," I said calmly.
The class gasped. Correcting a professor on the first day? That was suicide.
"You stated that the Sword Emperor caused the Great Drought by severing the Spirit Realm connection," I said, my voice echoing clearly. "But according to the Chronicles of the Northern Ice Sect—a text that predates the Academy by five hundred years—the drought actually began before the Sword Emperor drew his blade. In fact, the severance of the realm stopped the drought by preventing the spiritual leakage."
Sallow's eyes narrowed. "That is... apocryphal nonsense. Banned literature."
"Is it?" I tilted my head. "And regarding the Demon Paragon. You said he bathed in the blood of innocents. Yet, the excavation records of the Blood Plains show that the skeletons found there belong exclusively to the Horned Demon Race. Unless you consider demons invading our world to be 'innocents,' your narrative has a significant plot hole."
Sallow's face turned red. "How dare you! You are a freshman! What do you know of history?"
"I know that history is written by the victors," I said, my eyes turning cold. "And I know that the 'Benevolent Arbiters' you worship seem to appear conveniently whenever a mortal becomes strong enough to challenge their authority. It sounds less like protection and more like... pest control."
Silence. Absolute, terrified silence.
I had just accused the gods of the world of being tyrants.
Valerian looked at me with his mouth open. Even the sleeping students woke up.
"Heresy!" Sallow shrieked. He slammed his hand onto the podium. "This is treason! The Order of Providence saved us! The Nine Sovereigns were monsters! They were insane, bloodthirsty, chaotic—"
WHAM.
Sallow was so angry he grabbed a heavy history textbook and threw it. Not at me—he couldn't throw that far.
He threw it at the nearest student he could punish.
He threw it at the sleeping girl next to me.
Anya.
The heavy, leather-bound book flew through the air and slammed onto Anya's desk, right next to her ear.
BANG!
"WAKE UP!" Sallow screamed.
Anya jolted awake.
She didn't wake up like a normal child. She woke up like a startled soldier in a trench. Her survival instincts kicked in before her brain did.
"Ambush!" Anya yelled sleepily.
WHOOSH.
Her Phoenix Bloodline flared. She didn't mean to do it. It was a hiccup of Qi. A sneeze of raw power.
A wave of crimson Nirvana Fire erupted from her small body.
It hit the desk.
The solid oak desk didn't burn. It sublimated. It turned instantly from wood to ash, then to gas.
The fire spread. It melted the stone floor. It vaporized the chair of the student sitting in front of her (thankfully, the student scrambled away just in time, leaving his pants singed).
The heat wave washed over the lecture hall. The floating candles exploded. The illusion projection of the cosmos flickered and died.
Professor Sallow stood on the podium, his eyebrows singed off by the sudden blast of hot air. He stared at the back of the room, where a small, red-haired girl was sitting in a circle of molten slag, rubbing her eyes confusedly.
"Did I miss lunch?" Anya asked, looking around at the terrified class.
I sighed. I reached over and patted the fire on her shoulder, extinguishing it with my bare hand.
"No, Anya," I said. "Professor Sallow was just demonstrating the... volatile nature of the Demon Paragon. A practical example."
I looked at the Professor, whose face was pale white.
"Correct, Professor?" I asked, my voice carrying a hidden threat. 'Admit it was a demonstration, or I will let her sneeze again.'
Sallow looked at the molten floor. He looked at me. He realized that the "C-Rank" trash and the "little girl" were lethal.
"Y-Yes," Sallow stammered, adjusting his singed robes. "A... practical demonstration. Excellent visual aid, Student Anya."
He cleared his throat nervously. "Class dismissed. Read Chapter 4. I... I need to go lie down."
He fled the room.
The students didn't move. They stared at us.
Valerian shrank down in his seat, trying to become invisible.
"Come on, Anya," I said, picking up her bag. "Let's go find that lunch you were dreaming about."
We walked out of the hall. Ria followed, stepping gracefully over the puddle of molten rock.
As we exited the building into the bright sunlight of the quad, a figure stepped out from behind a pillar to block our path.
It was a girl. She looked to be about seventeen, wearing the crimson uniform of the Student Council. She had long black hair, glasses, and an aura that felt sharp, like a drawn blade. She was holding a clipboard.
"Rudra Ye," she said. Her voice was calm, analytical.
I stopped. "Yes?"
"I am Lyra, President of the Student Council," she pushed her glasses up her nose. "You disrupted a lecture. You accused the Church of heresy. And your sister destroyed school property valued at four hundred Spirit Stones."
She looked at me, her dark eyes searching mine.
"That was the most interesting history class I have ever attended."
She marked something on her clipboard.
"Detention is waived. But the Student Council is watching you. We have been looking for someone who... dislikes the official narrative."
She turned and walked away, her crimson cape fluttering in the wind.
I watched her go.
"Ria," I murmured.
"Master?"
"Background check. She smells like a revolutionary."
"On it."
I smiled. The Academy was full of secrets. And it seemed I wasn't the only one who wanted to burn the history books.
"Big Brother," Anya tugged my hand. "I really am hungry now. That fire made me empty."
"Fine," I laughed. "Let's go to the Alchemy Pavilion. I have a feeling the cafeteria food won't be enough for you today."