The academy called the first five floors safe.
That was how I knew they were dangerous.
Safe meant mapped. Safe meant regulated. Safe meant generations of instructors had survived long enough to turn terror into paperwork. Safe meant students stopped looking for teeth because someone official had drawn borders around the mouth.
The Abyssal Training Ground entrance waited beneath Astral Zenith's eastern island, hidden behind a marble gate carved with heroic reliefs. Knights raised blades. Mages held stars. Saints extended shining hands toward monsters dying in elegant poses. Children loved stories where danger looked conquered before they arrived.
Beneath the reliefs, an iron door breathed cold air into the hall.
That was the honest part.
