[The Abyssal Academy - First Floor Corridors]
The first floor of the academy echoed with the deafening sound of dwarven-style hammers, grinding stone, and the crackle of localized dark magic. The scent of ozone and wet mortar hung heavy in the air. The two thousand indebted students were working with a frantic, rabid desperation, motivated entirely by their 10% commission.
Victor Thorne stood at the entrance of the Grand Foyer, looking over a sprawling architectural blueprint held by Seraphina. His midnight-blue suit was pristine, immune to the dust clouds kicked up by the Orc laborers.
"They are working at 140% efficiency, Principal Thorne," Seraphina said, tapping her silver pen against her clipboard. "The fear of compounding interest is a far better motivator than the whip."
"Obviously," Victor said smoothly, turning to his right.
Princess Ignis and Elara stood beside him. Ignis watched the construction with her arms crossed, her demonic tail twitching. Elara, the Paladin intern, looked physically ill. She held a clipboard against her chest like a shield.
"Elara," Victor's voice cut through the noise of the construction. "You are the Lead Consultant on Paladin psychology. When the Vanguard breaches a fortress, what is their primary operational tactic?"
Elara tightened her jaw. She didn't want to answer, but the glowing golden chain of her 400,000 Gold debt contract flared, sending a warning pulse of heat through her wrist.
"The Phalanx," Elara whispered, staring at the floor. "They lock their enchanted shields together to form an impenetrable wall. They absorb magical attacks while their clerics heal them from the back lines. They... they are unbreakable."
Ignis scoffed. "So we just drop a massive boulder on them. Crush the shield wall."
Victor sighed, shaking his head in profound disappointment.
"Ignis, if you drop a boulder on them, you dent the blessed steel," Victor adjusted his cuffs. "Damaged assets lose resale value. We don't want to break the shield wall. We want to charge them a fee for maintaining it."
Victor turned toward the center of the foyer, where Professor Morbus, the disgraced Alchemist, was directing a team of vampires.
"Professor," Victor called out. "What is the status of the environmental hazards?"
"Principal Thorne!" Morbus bowed obsequiously, terrified of being sent back to the potion sweatshops. "We have engineered the 'Corrosive Swamp' trap as requested. It is highly lethal—"
"I explicitly ordered non-lethal," Victor's Tycoon Aura flared, suffocating the room and forcing Morbus to his knees.
"A-Apologies!" Morbus stammered. "It is a highly annoying acidic mist! It will not melt flesh, but it will instantly rust blessed steel and holy armor. It causes extreme discomfort and lowers durability!"
"Excellent," Victor tapped his gold-nibbed pen against the blueprint. "Elara. If a Paladin's armor begins to rust, what is their immediate reaction?"
Elara's eyes widened in dawning horror. "They... they will consume 'Tears of the Goddess' potions to cleanse the corruption and protect their gear. But they only carry three per soldier!"
"Exactly," Victor smiled a cold, ruthless smile. "We let them walk through the mist. We let them panic and consume their own expensive potions. Once their inventory is depleted, they will reach the end of the hallway."
Victor pointed his pen at a massive, freshly built iron tollbooth currently being manned by a goblin in a high-vis vest.
"And waiting for them," Victor said, his eyes gleaming with capitalist intent, "will be our official Academy Vending Machines. Selling generic anti-rust potions at a five hundred percent markup. If they don't buy it, their armor crumbles, and the Chimera repossesses them. We are going to drain their wallets before they even draw their swords."