Academy Rules 19: 19// Street Logic vs.
Academy Rules Chapter 19 Roxy didn’t yield an inch.
She adjusted her posture, meeting his hard gaze with an icy, unshakeable calm.
“Mistakes always create opportunities…” She smirked softly.
“…that people who are always right never get to experience.” Damian let out a harsh, cynical scoff, his tone dripping with cold severity: “Your empty philosophy won’t save you…
Most humans who came here didn’t last a week.” Roxy cracked her knuckles slowly, one by one.
Her gaze locked onto his stern, burning eyes.
“Actually…” She paused, letting the silence stretch between them.
“…there is one thing I’ve been wondering about.” He raised a blonde eyebrow, his tone cold and questioning: “What?” Roxy looked around the wide courtyard, completely devoid of anyone like her, before bringing her eyes back to his face.
“Why haven’t I met another human here?” She leaned closer, resting her chin in her hand.
“Is there a rule against having more than one?” Damian answered instantly, his voice sharp and unhesitating: “Not all humans are foolish enough to come here…
They are afraid.” The corner of her mouth twitched into a mocking smile: “That’s funny.” “Not everyone is suicidal like you!” Damian snapped back, his voice rising in irritation.
In that fraction of a second, Roxy’s side-smile widened into a sharp, brilliant flash of pure cunning.
She raised her index finger, pointing directly at the tiny space separating them on the bench: “Look at you…” Her voice dropped into a smooth, teasing hum.
“…a Royal Alpha, yet you walked right over, sat right beside me, and can’t stop talking to me.” Damian blinked, caught completely off guard.
A subtle, frantic shift broke through his rigid posture.
He instinctively snapped his spine back, pulling away by several inches.
He wrapped his voice in a sudden, sharp defensive edge, trying desperately to cover his slip: “Because…
Because I simply came to give you advice!” The composure on Damian’s face fractured further.
A faint, barely perceptible flush crept over his cold cheeks as he struggled to reclaim his dominant, authoritative air.
At that exact second, a deep, booming voice thundered through his mind rigid, highly organized, and dripping with an unyielding sternness that tolerated zero protocol breaches.
His inner wolf—**Valerius**—was an entity that worshipped order above all else.
Sharp as a forged blade, Valerius viewed any deviation from the rules as an unforgivable crime.
He didn’t crave chaos like Zane’s wolf, nor did he seek primitive dominance like Asher’s.
To Valerius, the academy was a sacred chessboard, and every piece belonged strictly in its designated square.
Valerius roared in Damian’s consciousness, his tone sharp and urgent: *(Pull yourself together, Damian!
This human just made you stutter and break your strict protocol!
We represent law and order in this institution, and sitting here bickering with a human who dares to cross every red line damages the prestige of the Alpha Council!)* Valerius growled softly inside his head, his voice heavy with organized severity: *(Look at her!…
She is analyzing your hesitation with those gray eyes as if this is a game!
Put her back in her place immediately!
Humans belong at the bottom of the organizational chain, not engaged in debate with a Royal Alpha who embodies the system!
Correct this breach now!)* Damian swallowed hard.
The muscles in his jaw locked tight under the crushing weight of Valerius’s stern reprimand.
He reached down, adjusting his official uniform with mechanical precision.
He ran his fingers over the aligned gold buttons on his jacket, ensuring not a single crease remained out of place.
Then he stood up.
He drew himself up to his full height, rigid as a drawn sword, and laced his hands behind his back with an unfeeling, military coldness.
He looked down at Roxy from above, his voice hard, controlled, and dripping with tactical discipline: “Do not flatter yourself, human.” He adjusted his shoulders, staring down at her.
“My advice was purely an administrative measure to prevent any disorder that might disrupt the academy’s daily routine.” He squared his chest, his eyes locking onto hers like steel icy plates.
“The laws here are not subject to debate by humans.
They are executed to the letter.” Roxy rested her chin on her palm, watching his sudden transformation.
The dry smile never left her lips.
“Oh…
an administrative measure?” She tilted her head, her voice dripping with quiet mockery.
“I do love how you wrap your embarrassment in the rulebook, Damian.” Damian’s blue eyes snapped narrow.
Inside his head, **Valerius** bellowed with absolute fury: *(Order her to submit immediately!
She is mocking royal protocol!)* Damian leaned his upper body down just an inch toward her, his voice turning bone-dry, delivering an official, lethal warning: “We will see tonight at the welcoming banquet…” He held her stare, his breath cold.
“…if you still have the same gift for playing with words when you are forced to stand in the exact spot assigned to your rank.” Damian turned on his heel.
He marched away with precise, military strides, keeping a mathematically perfect pace as he left the courtyard.
As Valerius’s relentless directives continued to echo in his mind, Roxy remained seated under the willow tree, watching his retreating back with a sharp, mocking, and completely unbothered gray gaze.
The midday chill gathered rapidly over the grounds, heavy gray clouds solidifying in the sky above the academy’s stone spires.
Roxy dragged her fingers cold and indifferent over the reddened skin of her wrist, where the coarse ropes from the cleaning closet had left dark, chafed welts.
A sharp, decisive smile touched her lips.
“Ah, Roxy…” She muttered under her breath, her voice barely a whisper against the wind.
“…did you really expect all of this in a single day?” Her gray gaze snapped toward the West Wing as a sudden wave of commotion shattered the courtyard’s quiet.
Students began breaking into a fast jog, their boots pounding the stone pathways toward a single destination.
Excited whispers laced with raw dread rippled through the crowd: “The fighting started in the East Arena!” “Alpha Caden is in the ring again!” Roxy stood up with slow, deliberate control.
She brushed the dust from her dark skirt, entirely unhurried.
Stepping into the flow of students, she carved a calm path through the crowd as they surged like a river toward a massive circular amphitheater.
Reaching the top ledge of the stone bleachers, Roxy rested her palm against the freezing parapet.
In the dead center of the open-air pit stood Alpha Caden broad-shouldered, wild dark hair clinging to his forehead, and emerald-green eyes burning like live sparks.
He stood amid swirling dust, completely bare-chested save for protective leather wraps bound around his forearms.
At his feet lay an upper-tier student, groaning in agony from a vicious strike delivered moments prior.
Caden’s heavy chest heaved, slick with sweat that trickled down the carved muscles of his back.
He didn’t wear Zane’s playful arrogance or Damian’s rigid, military discipline.
Raw savagery bled from his pores a brute, primal strength that acknowledged nothing except the instinct to survive.