Athanasia: My Hacker System

"No, he is a friend," John said.

He stepped forward and touched the edge of Lanmar’s glaive as if it were a mere wooden stick. "Withdraw that little weapon. Store it away. We don’t need to scare my teacher to death."

"..."

Nikolas was so startled, so utterly terrified, that he couldn’t even find the air to speak. His eyes darted frantically between the giant, the swirling blue portal, and the slowly approaching John.

Seeing John, the one he had truly believed was just a talented little cub, playing such a high-level hand drove an instant, genuine fear into his very soul.

"Stay away from me!" Nikolas summed up the last of his courage and roared, his hands shaking as he unsheathed his long spear. "Take one more step, and I will treat you as an enemy!"

"I’m that Paragon we kept speaking about back there," John calmly said, dropping another bomb on Nikolas’s head that nearly caused the man’s heart to stop.

"I’m the legendary figure who fought against different races, saved thousands of entrapped humans, crushed the trial, and established the first-ever human zone in the new world. I’m not your enemy, Teacher. I’m your biggest ally, your friend, and above all, I am still your student."

John ended his words by dragging a heavy, ornate chair from a nearby decorative table with a big oval mirror on top of it. He casually sat down, crossing his legs and watching his terrified teacher with amusement.

He didn’t say another word for a full five minutes. He let the silence hang heavy, allowing Nikolas to run everything through his head.

The tales everyone had dismissed as lies, the deeds the students claimed the Paragon had performed, the terrifying strength that was supposedly a myth... Everything John and his friends had said back at the Headmaster’s place was replaying like a fast-forwarded tape in Nikolas’s mind.

After those five minutes, the teacher transitioned from deep shock to a slow, agonising acceptance of the facts. The giant sitting in front of him wasn’t an illusion; he was real. He represented a race that no human had ever seen, or even dreamt of, that didn’t even exist in their rich heritage of myths.

"Why are you telling me this?" Nikolas finally asked, his voice raspy. After getting over the initial shock and analysing the entire situation, he focused on the core of the issue.

"Going directly to the point. I love that attitude of yours, Teacher," John smiled calmly. "As you can tell, I hold an immense power that I worked incredibly hard to obtain. But... I can’t protect it all alone. I can’t let it grow, mature, and expand on my own. I need help. I need your help."

John purposefully paused after every sentence, giving his teacher the necessary time to grasp the real intentions behind this reveal. Nikolas was anything but slow-witted. He saw the chessboard clearly.

"You want to turn the academy into your lair? Your recruitment centre?" Nikolas asked slowly, his eyes narrowing. Yet he wasn’t waiting for an answer, as he could easily tell this was John’s aim from the start.

"That’s impossible! The academy is filled to the brim with spies and eyes from different Paragon factions. One leak and the word will spread like wildfire. And something tells me you aren’t prepared yet to announce your presence to the world."

"That’s indeed right," John nodded, yet the confident smile never wavered from his face. He knew his bet on his teacher was right, a sentiment echoed by the silent, resolute expressions of his friends standing behind him.

When John had first proposed the idea of turning the academy into their hidden base of operations, the team had identified a mountain of obstacles.

The most glaring one among them was their lack of understanding regarding the teachers’ secret loyalties. Athanasia was a web of intrigue, and many staff members were undoubtedly pawns or sleepers for different Paragon factions.

To navigate this minefield, they needed an insider, someone they could trust implicitly, who possessed the authority to filter the teachers and students into distinct groups based on their true affiliations.

The recruitment pool was small; they agreed to only consider their own class teachers, the ones they had only dealt with. John had proposed two candidates: the scarred examiner who had shown him a sliver of kindness during his induction, and Nikolas.

The choice had been unanimous. Everyone picked Nikolas. He wasn’t just the head of their class; he had proven his capability and grit during the competition. Most importantly, he lacked the political stench of the Paragon-aligned elite.

"I know that you are neutral, Teacher," John said, his voice dropping into a more intimate, serious tone. "You don’t belong to any Paragon faction, right?"

"I hate Paragons," Nikolas spat. The sheer venom in his voice was startling, even to John.

"They are arrogant bastards born with silver spoons in their mouths. They think they can tilt the world to their own will and dictate the lives of everyone beneath them. They are ruthless, predatory, and entirely unworthy of my respect."

"Oh, that’s even better than I expected," John paused, then let out a sharp, genuine laugh. "That makes this much easier. Join my side, Teacher. Join me and help save humanity from the tyranny of those arrogant bastards you loathe so much."

The implications were staggering, and they weren’t lost on the seasoned veteran. Nikolas could see it in John’s eyes, the fire of a revolutionary. John wasn’t just looking to survive; he wanted to dismantle the existing power structure of the world. He wanted to crush the Paragons.

"And why should I?" Nikolas asked, keeping his composure despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "Will you kill me if I say no?"

He motioned toward Lanmar with the tip of his spear, his grip tightening. "Do you think this giant piece of flesh is enough to take me down? If so, you are greatly mistaken about my strength."

"Well..." John didn’t answer directly. Instead, he simply waved his hand.

In the blink of an eye, the rest of the huge guest hall was suddenly filled with an arsenal of heavy weaponry. Dozens of different cannons, materialised on the plush carpets, their muzzles aimed toward one direction: Nikolas.