Surviving in the Demon's Academy as a Human

Prominent noble families in Hell understand the precarious nature of life in the Demon Academy. Such an institution, teeming with power struggles and rampant rivalries, is not a place to send a young noble unguarded. To navigate the treacherous waters of academy life, noble houses dispatch their vassals alongside their heirs. These vassals, carefully chosen and rigorously trained, are meant to protect and assist their masters in times of conflict.

The academy, for its part, sees no issue with this practice. As long as vassals are enrolled as students, their presence is considered legitimate. This arrangement also aligns with the academy's pragmatic ethos: strength is everything, and if you lack it, bring someone who doesn't. Royal families, however, view this differently. The more hostages they can control under the guise of vassalage, the better they can manipulate outcomes to their advantage. This policy has led to a staggering population within the academy—over 50,000 students currently enrolled. Estimates suggest that 60% of these students hail from noble families, while the remaining 40% come from merchant dynasties, mercenary backgrounds, or Hell's burgeoning middle class.

Among the noble houses, the d'Raventhorns are a dominant force, and naturally, Zepharion Vexarias d'Raventhorn, heir candidate to this powerful lineage, has his own contingent of vassals. These individuals were selected not only for their combat prowess but also for their loyalty—a necessity given Zepharion's knack for attracting trouble. His escort team numbers 70 demons, all tasked with protecting and assisting him. Yet, Zepharion's rebellious nature often makes their mission impossible. His disdain for being constantly monitored—a consequence of the betrayals endemic to noble life—has led him to distance himself from his vassals. Only his harem remains close, a group he trusts more than his family's handpicked protectors.

Now, however, Zepharion's condition has thrown his vassals into chaos. In the aftermath of his humiliating transformation and apparent downfall, the vassals convene in a private chamber. The tension in the room is palpable; their collective failure looms over them like a storm cloud. At the head of the gathering stands Kaelron Drakvar, Zepharion's most loyal guard. A towering figure with a muscular build, Kaelron's tan skin glows faintly under the flickering hellfire sconces. His crimson hair is tied back tightly, and his orange eyes burn with stoic resolve. Thick, jagged horns protrude from his forehead, a mark of his demonic heritage. As the head of Zepharion's escort team, Kaelron bears the brunt of the blame for their failure.

The meeting is anything but orderly. Divided loyalties and fear of reprisal churn the atmosphere into a volatile mix. Among the group is Calytrix Vevaris, a striking young woman with golden-brown hair, cat-like ears, and a muscular frame. Her feline tail flicks restlessly as she speaks. Though she is part of Zepharion's harem, her role is far more insidious. Unbeknownst to Zepharion, Calytrix is a spy for the d'Raventhorn family, tasked with monitoring him and reporting directly to Kaelron. "We can't afford to let this stand," she declares, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room. "Our priority should be to capture Zepharion and eliminate that human bastard who humiliated him. If we can salvage even part of this mess, maybe—just maybe—the punishment won't be as severe."

Her words hang heavy in the air. Everyone knows the truth: no matter what they do, their failure is unforgivable. Execution looms large in their minds, though none dare voice it aloud. Kaelron finally speaks, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "This mission was my responsibility. I will take full blame. I will testify that it was my failure alone and ensure the rest of you are spared."

The room falls into a heavy silence. Kaelron's stoic expression reveals nothing, but Calytrix's sharp instincts tell her he's withholding something. She narrows her eyes, her tail swishing in agitation. "You're planning something else, aren't you?" she accuses.

Kaelron meets her gaze without flinching. "Yes," he admits. "I will do what must be done. Zepharion would not want to live like this—as a slave, branded and broken. If we cannot redeem him, then I will grant him the dignity of death. This is what he would have wanted."

A collective gasp ripples through the room. Calytrix's eyes widen, and then narrow as she steps forward. "You're a fool if you think killing him will solve anything. Do you think the family will forgive us just because we bring his corpse back? They'll kill us all anyway."

Kaelron's golden eyes flicker with a mixture of determination and regret. "At least this way, we honor him."

Before more arguments can erupt, Featheris Avior, a tall demon with long brown hair and feathers covering his body except for his face, steps forward. His calm demeanor contrasts sharply with the chaos around him. "How are we supposed to do that?" he asks. "Lilith is with that man. We'd be fools to underestimate her or her vassals."

Kaelron replies with unwavering confidence. "I'll march past them. I'll handle them myself."

Calytrix's tail lashes furiously. "Are you mad? Offending Lilith and her family will only make things worse. Do you want to jeopardize our house's relationship with the Maltrix dynasty? They control half the economy in Hell!"

Kaelron clenches his fists but doesn't argue. "Then I'll go alone. I'll tell them this is my personal vendetta with Zepharion."

Calytrix shakes her head vehemently. "They won't believe you. The Maltrix family won't take words at face value. They'll investigate, twist the story to suit their needs, and drag our house into a conflict we can't afford."

Kaelron falls silent, his earlier confidence wavering.

Featheris interjects again, his voice steady. "Then we need to be smarter about this. Investigate the relationship between Lilith and that human. Perhaps she wouldn't mind if the human were removed. If we negotiate carefully, we might even gain her approval."

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room. Calytrix sighs but nods reluctantly. "Negotiating with Lilith won't be easy. She'll demand compensation or a deal, and we need to be prepared for her arguments." She pauses, her mind racing. "We'll need funds. A lot of them. Start collecting debts, extorting wages—anything to gather the resources we need for leverage."

As they were about to end the meeting someone from the crowd voiced his opinions to everyone. He said "Why did Hell bless that human with powers? Isn't Hell favoring him over us?" The accusatory tone sends a ripple of unease through the room, various murmurs could be heard that is until Kaelron steps forward forcing all eyes to turn towards him. The loyal guard takes a deep breath and steps forward, his imposing frame towering over the gathering.

Kaelron steps forward, his voice calm but commanding. "You ask why Hell blessed that human, why the infernal powers would favor him over us. I'll tell you: Hell doesn't act out of favoritism. Hell rewards strength, cunning, and potential. That human—whatever he is—has proven himself capable of seizing power when the opportunity arises. It's not a mark of favor; it's a test. Hell doesn't play favorites, but it does test its chosen. And right now, we're the ones being tested."

He scans the room, his golden eyes meeting each gaze with unwavering resolve. "We failed to protect Zepharion. That's on us. But the question isn't why Hell blessed the human—it's what we're going to do about it. Will we cower in the face of this challenge, or will we prove that we're worthy of standing by Zepharion's side? Hell doesn't care about who starts the fight—it cares about who finishes it."

Kaelron's voice rises, his words igniting a spark of determination in the vassals. "If Hell has blessed that human, it's because it sees him as a rival to be overcome. This is our chance to show Hell that we are stronger, smarter, and more united. If we succeed, we prove our worth—not just to Zepharion but to Hell itself."

The room falls silent, the weight of Kaelron's words sinking in. For a moment, the fear and doubt that had gripped the vassals seem to ease, replaced by a flicker of hope and resolve.

The meeting concludes with a fragile sense of unity. But in Calytrix's mind, the plan is nothing more than a smokescreen. She has no intention of meeting the d'Raventhorn family again. If this all falls apart—and she's certain it will—she'll disappear, seeking refuge elsewhere. Let Kaelron sacrifice himself if he wants to. She won't be dragged down with him. The silence in the room speaks volumes: no one else dares voice their own plans for escape, but the thought is etched onto every face. For now, they will move forward, but trust among them is as thin as the thread they cling to.