"This is getting out of hand, and we must do something to suppress the situation," a white-gold student told eight of his peers who each sat around a rectangular table. One month. It'd been one month since Kilian the Unfortunate became Kilian von Skoll, with all the perks the name afforded.

At first, considering the perceived weakness of the von Skoll, the descendants of those houses about to turncoat chose to first befriend him, then strike him down when he expected it the least. But never did they expect that Kilian would get so drunk on power so fast. Overnight, he became the academy's number one celebrity, throwing such lavish parties that on the following mornings, dozens of classes were found empty of both students and professors.

Worse, as if drawn by an irresistible magnet, ladies now flocked around him days and night, and rumors that the Chairs of Fire, Lightning, and Wind, regularly visited his chambers for private lessons abounded. Many couldn't understand why Kilian received such excessive treatments. Although the Imperial Academy was the von Skolls' territory, even the Crown Prince didn't act this extravagantly.

But as if to further slap their faces, the elder council granted Kilian imperial prince status, forcing all but a few to bow in his presence. Unrestrained, he opened three gambling houses, driving hundreds of spendthrift students to a life of heavy gambling and ruin. On the scene, several lost more than half their net worth to Kilian's gambling houses.

A mess! The entire academy had turned into a royal mess! Meanwhile, the imperial forces struggled to restrain Rupert's armies, with rumors that he'd soon reach the Imperial City spreading in the fence-sitters' circles.

"This is a perfect example of how low the von Skolls have fallen. See how far they're willing to go to cajole their new toy? I heard that the purple-gold robes were supposed to learn new Fourth Circle Spells to prepare for the hunt, but their instructor was too high from the previous night to teach them anything worthwhile."

"This is not even the worst. The bastard started a new trend. Trying to curry his favor, hundreds of females and dozens of males are now wearing their hair in dreadlocks. We can't even tell upstarts from nobles anymore!"

"Right, I even caught my sister doing the same as she prepared for one of his parties! Damn it, she's engaged!" If not for the academy being von Skoll territory, many of the wronged students would have taken arms against Kilian. Some desperados did try, never to be heard of again.

"Trying to cause the man trouble in the academy doesn't make any sense. Even without the professors' backing, in one-third of the students' eyes, he's a myth, a god, their source of unending ecstasy. We must endure.

The Sura Hunting Game starts in less than three days and will last 45 days. I know from trustworthy sources that the academy changed the organization, and plans to send all students, regardless of abilities. The professors are coming too. They will make an announcement in tomorrow's gathering," said the group's leader, and his peers' eyes widened at the words.

But while some plotted Kilian's destruction, he stood in the academy's most lavish party hall, looking down at hundreds of carousing students from his private floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my birthday celebration. Cheers," Kilian began. In his right hand, he held a lilac-colored glass of alcohol, while around his neck, a black snake coiled—Inyoka in his one-head form. Flanked by the six aistis, Kilian extended his glass at the students who all wore dreadlocks akin to his.

In their hands, they held the same lilac liquor, and met Kilian's toast with unrestrained hollers. Word was that whoever attended Kilian's parties three times would turn into a rabid fan. The unique narcotics had a lot to do with it.

"As you know, this is our last gathering before the Sura Hunting Game. So now more than ever, you must live up to the creed and…" Kilian's voice trailed, and taking the hint, his followers finished the words, "Party till we drop!"

Their screams shook the banquet hall, and satisfied, Kilian gave an approving nod. "Today's challenge is simple. Whoever can down 13 zilac glasses before midnight can join me upstairs. You know the drill, don't try cheating, I will know," Kilian declared, downed his glass, and turned heels.

Zilac was a unique beverage concocted by Kilian in Ostria and served only to the Celestial Garden's VIPs. On potency, it approached the fehl high, but beyond the intoxicating effect—for 48 hours—it'd help magi increase their Dra Reserves at twice the pace.

The effects stacked up to four times the Dra Gathering Speed for four days. But because of how addictive it was, Kilian rarely used it, and when he did, had an antidote ready. But while drinks, elixirs, and pills that enhanced Dra Gathering Speed were common in aristocratic circles. Products that also produced such a delightful experience didn't circulate on the legal market. Yet, zilac was only one of the many exotic drugs available in Kilian's parties.

To foster trust and let his students drown in self-indulgence, Kilian provided antidotes to curb the side effects. Now, a cult of personality built around him.

"Ha! The first time I saw you, I knew you'd become a fascist. You had all the traits. But now you're not just a fascist, you're greedy as hell too! Let me catch the gals!" Now in human form, Urag thrashed against invisible chains, flanked by Jezebel and Lena who sat in a private booth.

A stocky dwarf with slick back, vintage-styled brown hair, and a textbook dwarf beard—when he first emerged from Kilian's soul—Urag never expected that his devil of a new boss would restrain his freedom and prevent him from spreading the lust! Trapped by Kilian's autocratic regime, Urag sought Jezebel's help, but so far, had no success.

"Come on, did I not let you plow some noblewomen?"

"Genderbent assassins!"

"Okay, how about the time when we counterattacked the assassins' leaders? Didn't I let you take their girls?"

"You creamed them from top, bottom, front and rear, and they refused to let me in!"

"Wait, I gave you three goddesses to take care of you."

"Fleshcrafted from corpses!"

"Alright how about…"

Every time Kilian mentioned an event, Urag countered with grief. Realizing that he really didn't give his father-in-law much of a treat, Kilian cleared his throat.

"Hum, hum. This is all for your own good. Until you learn to think without your dick, I can't let you roam freely," Kilian reasoned, and unable to endure more abuse Urag spun toward Jezebel and sobbed at her feet.

"Jez, how can you let him bully me like this? You must beat him for dad!" Urag pleaded, making the absent-minded Jezebel snap out of her torpor.

"Mhm? Sorry dad we're bonded, can't help you," she directly replied, and fell back in her thoughts, leaving a downcast Urag to sigh in helplessness. When he first emerged from Kilian's soul and realized that his daughter stood in his harem, Urag spoke such striking words that Kilian marked them on a stone tablet.

"Ha! You think this can startle me? What a joke! Daughters are meant to be banged! If it's not you it's someone else, so go and stuff that coochie! Ladies and gentle cucks, Lord Urag is back!"