Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Hades, ever composed, simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he fell in step behind the old man. Together, they descded from the platform and began their journey through a series of dark, winding corridors.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the cold, stone walls, a rhythmic cadce that underscored the gravity of the momt.

After a while, the old man glanced over his shoulder at Hades, his voice breaking the silce. "You must be wondering what comes next," he said, his tone conversational yet edged with authority.

"Perhaps," Hades replied, his voice smooth and controlled. His eyes flickered with curiosity, but his face remained impassive.

The old man's smirk deeped as he turned his atttion back to the path ahead. "Patice, disciple. All will be revealed soon ough."

Their conversation lapsed into silce again until they arrived at the ctral office of the Necrovauld Academy. As they stepped inside, Hades couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in mild surprise. The interior was a stark contrast to the ominous exterior of the academy.

Dark, polished wood furniture filled the space, and shelves lined with ancit tomes gave the room a scholarly air. The staff moved with purpose, their professionalism evidt in every precise movemt and efficit task.

Noticing the flicker of surprise on Hades's face, the old man chuckled softly, a smirk curling his lips. "Surprised, are you?" he said, his voice tinged with amusemt. "This isn't quite what you expected from a so-called 'evil' academy, is it?"

Hades met the old man's gaze and allowed a small, knowing smile to form. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the truth in the old man's words.

The old man continued, his tone light but with an edge of irony. "You see, despite our reputation, we run a tight ship here. Our systems, our operations—they're all meticulously maintained. We may foster a certain... darkness, but we do so with a professional touch."

Pausing, the old man's expression grew more serious, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in slightly. "The staff here are seasoned professionals. If they were as reckless as some of our more... thusiastic disciples, this academy would've crumbled under the weight of its own chaos long ago."

Hades listed carefully, his mind absorbing the implications of what was being said. This place wasn't a free-for-all of mindless violce; it was a carefully controlled vironmt where power was the ultimate currcy, but order was still maintained.

"The real danger," the old man wt on, his voice lowering to a more serious tone, "comes from the disciples themselves. Yes, killing is permitted, but it's not without rules. You can't just go a slaughtering others for sport. There must be a reason—a vdetta, a quest for revge—something that justifies the act."

He paused, his eyes searching Hades's for understanding. "Chaos may reign here, but ev chaos has its limits. This isn't a place for sseless brutality. Every action has its consequces, and those who understand that will survive—and thrive."

Hades nodded, now fully understanding the balance that Necrovauld Academy maintained. It was a place where strgth was the ultimate currcy, but it was also governed by an underlying order that sured its continued existce.

With the explanation out of the way, the old man guided Hades to a registration desk, where a stern-looking staff member awaited. Hades provided the necessary information, and within minutes, his status as an inner disciple was officially recorded.

The old man held out a black, intricately designed card to Hades, his expression a mix of pride and authority. "This," he said, his voice carrying a weight of importance, "is your ID card. It's not just a symbol of your status—it also serves as the key to your residce. Room number 99. There are only 99 inner disciples in total, so consider yourself among the elite."

Hades took the card, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface. The craftsmanship was impeccable, every detail exuding an air of exclusivity. He looked up, meeting the old man's eyes with a glint of curiosity.

The old man continued, his tone growing more instructional. "As an inner disciple, you'll find that you have privileges others can only dream of. You have unrestricted access to the top six floors of the library—where the academy's most valuable and forbidd knowledge is kept. Consider it your personal treasure trove of power."

He paused, watching Hades's reaction closely, and th added with a hint of a smile, "But that's not all. You're also titled to use the smithy and the Cauldron Room for up to t hours each day, free of charge. These facilities are critical for those who wish to craft weapons, refine potions, or, in your case, push the boundaries of your skills."

Hades nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he absorbed the information. The privileges that came with his new status were indeed significant, and his mind was already racing with the possibilities.

He could vision how each of these resources would be used to further his plans, to sharp his power until it was unrivaled.

Satisfied that Hades understood the gravity of what he had be giv, the old man gave him a final nod, his tone shifting to one of solemn couragemt.

"Welcome to Necrovauld Academy, inner disciple. You've earned your place here, but remember—power is everything, and how you wield it will ultimately determine your true worth. Use your time wisely."

Hades returned the nod, his eyes gleaming with determination. "I will," he replied, his voice low but resolute.

The old man, his mission complete, turned on his heel and began to walk away. As he left, his parting words lingered in the air, a reminder of the path Hades now walked.

Hades stood there for a momt, taking in his new surings. The academy was vast, its halls filled with both pottial allies and emies. But with the privileges he had just be granted, he knew that the odds were now in his favor. And he intded to make every second count.