School Rules Violation
Belial Enterprise Eastern Sales Team 3. The office buzzed with the tension of a storm about to break. The cryptic theme handed down from above: "education and indoctrination". And the unprecedented condition of an internal team bidding war. Team members were frantically racking their brains, piecing together proposals.
Among them, the one drawing the most attention was, naturally, Zartus. He'd received word from the butler that his dungeon conquest attempt against Aiden had failed, leaving him with a faint sense of disappointment toward his father. Or perhaps it was his way of shaking off the fear of Aiden, who had crafted a dungeon even his father couldn't conquer. But now, opportunity knocked.
Kukuku… Education, huh. It all boils down to breaking them with fear, doesn't it?
Zartus scrolled through the holographic catalog floating above the dungeon editor, cherry-picking only the priciest items. With ample points backed by his family, he could splurge freely. Of course, it only mattered if he won this competition—but Zartus had no doubts about his victory.
"Search. A-rank Torture Tool Set. Mind Domination Magic Circle. And add the upper-rank demon for instructor role… 'Witch of the Whip'."
Every item he selected was brutally expensive and vicious. Overwhelming agony and terror to shatter invaders' minds into submission. A straightforward, demonic approach—pure Zartus.
"Perfect. Despair Prison, prison-themed. Even the higher-ups will be awed by this sheer intimidation."
Zartus glanced sideways. There sat Aiden, the sole obstacle and thorn in his side for this contest. But Aiden's monitor displayed a purchase list that utterly defied Zartus's expectations.
Worn Wooden Desk and Chair Set (50 units): 50 points
Human Body Model (Dissectible Internals): 10 points
Large Mirror (Slightly Cracked): 5 points
Grand Piano (Untuned, 3 Keys Broken): 30 points
Blackboard and Chalk Set: 5 points
…
"……?"
Zartus hadn't meant to peek, but his brow furrowed anyway. What the hell was all that? No torture tools, no powerful monsters. Just garbage you'd scrounge from a junkyard.
Even that crap's in the catalog?
He snorted and called out to Aiden. "Hey, Aiden. Education theme, my ass—you planning to open a junk shop? If you're short on budget, just say so. I could've spotted you some from my pocket."
The other team members snickered. Aiden's list looked pathetically shabby, unworthy of a company project.
Aiden didn't even glance up, replying indifferently. "Mind your own business. Focus on your own work."
"Hah! Cocky bastard. Let's see if that trash can satisfy the bosses."
Zartus scoffed and turned back to his lavish proposal. Victory was already in the bag, or so he thought.
A few days later. In Belial Enterprise's basement level 10, the Dungeon Simulation Center, judging seats were set up to evaluate Eastern Sales Team 3's creations. The HQ executive who commissioned the project, Executive Director Gremory. Eastern Branch Manager Amon. And Team Leader Liliane of Eastern Sales Team 3.
Under their piercing gazes, team members swallowed dryly, awaiting their turns. The test subjects for this demo: ogre prisoners.
"First, Junior Verna."
Minotaur employee Verna stepped forward, tense. "M-my dungeon is 'Pain Labyrinth'. I've placed traps and lesser demons throughout the complex maze…"
With her signal, an ogre prisoner was released into the maze. But the result was a disaster. The ogre smashed straight through the walls with brute force. Lesser demons crumpled under one punch.
"Graaah!"
In under five minutes, it reached the dungeon core.
"Hm. Too conventional a design, perhaps."
Gremory's cold words. "Fail."
Verna paled and retreated, head bowed. The atmosphere turned brutal.
"Next. Proceed."
Other members showcased their dungeons one by one. All failed or fell short of Gremory's approval.
"Tch. I had high hopes after hearing you'd been making waves…"
Amon and Liliane's faces darkened. Only two remained: Aiden and Zartus.
"Next, Junior Zartus."
Zartus strode forward confidently, impeccable in his suit, smirking arrogantly. "Greetings. My dungeon is 'Despair Prison'."
He explained. "Torture chambers guarded by upper-rank demons, transformed into a realm ruled by overwhelming fear and violence."
Three ogre prisoners charged in, snarling. But this time was different.
Snap—!
The Witch of the Whip, an upper-rank demon, lashed out with her flaming whip, shredding ogre flesh. Binding magic circles activated from the floor, chaining their feet. The ogres screamed and thrashed but knelt before the superior firepower.
"Grooo…"
They lost the will to fight, prostrating in submission.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Amon whispered to Gremory.
"Hm. Definitely intimidating. True to demonic nature. Costly budget, but the results speak for themselves."
Gremory rested his chin, watching approvingly. Zartus shot Aiden a triumphant glance.
See that? That's a real dungeon. Leagues beyond your junkyard.
"Well done. Next."
"Finally, Junior Aiden."
It had come. Aiden rose calmly, hands in pockets, no materials in hand. He stood before the judges with a blank expression.
"Junior Aiden, your dungeon?"
"Private Girls' High School."
"A school? An all-girls high school, no less?"
The judges' expressions turned odd. After Zartus's brutal prison, it sounded downright lame.
"Intriguing." Gremory was mildly curious but professional. "But a plain school will disappoint."
He nodded, and ogre prisoners were deployed.
The ogres entered the dungeon.
"Gruk. School theme?"
A dark, rainy night ambiance. Atmospheric, but nothing dangerous in sight. Ahead loomed a creepy, dilapidated single-story building. The school.
"Boring. Smash and go."
The ogre leader snorted and led the charge. To them, the structure was no obstacle—just a sandcastle to one-shot.
"Yeah. Survive this, and we're free!"
Demonic criminals weren't jailed or starved. More efficient: sold to dungeon companies as test dummies for new dungeons. Survive enough tests, earn pardon and freedom. That was demon realm law.
These ogres were veterans who'd endured hellish dungeons before.
"Kuhaha! A school? What a joke!"
One kicked the entrance door.
Bam—!
Shattered glass revealed a dim hallway. Dusty shoe lockers. A massive mirror on the wall.
The ogres chuckled, stepping inside. Then—
Ding—dong—daeng—dong—
An eerie chime echoed through the school. From the hallway's shadows, someone emerged.
Click-clack, click-clack.
A girl in neat uniform, armband on. But her face was pallid blue, eyes pure white. Sharp kitchen knife in hand.
"What the—? Some monster bitch?"
As one ogre approached sneering—
Her soulless voice echoed in the empty hall.
"What? Males?"
While the ogres faltered, her eyes glowed red.
She vanished from sight.
Squelch—!
A gruesome rupture. The lead ogre staggered.
"Gr, graaak?!"
He collapsed screaming. His legs severed cleanly below the knees. Blood fountained from the stumps.
"M-my legs… my legs!!"
"……!"
The others froze in horror. Legs lost in a place they'd entered dreaming of freedom.
"You bitch!"
Another swung at her—but futile.
Literally. His fist whistled through empty air, missing her entirely. Yet she could slice their legs.
Slash—!
Two ogres now crawled, legless. She turned to the leader.
"……!"
Lightning insight struck the leader. Rules were absolute. Males lose legs. So inversely…?
His eyes gleamed with madness. Survive. Gain freedom. He'd discard anything—even male pride!
"No! I'm not a male student! Gruk!"
He clutched his groin with massive hands.
"I'm… a girl!!"
Crunch—rrrip!
Horrific, jaunty rupture echoed. Lips bitten in agony, he hurled "it" to the floor. Blood gushed, but he thrust his mangled lower half forward proudly.
"See! Nothing there! Nothing!"
Pure insanity. Desperate thrash for survival, beyond all reason.
Her gaze lingered on his bloody crotch. Silence fell.
"Gulp."
The leader swallowed, tense. Would this mad logic hold?