"We're ready."
The words were spoken softly, as softly as they needed to be.
The Welsch family moved with great care as they handed out the Rift Cards to the members of the three families who were students at the Lunarium.
Each card pulsed faintly with restrained mana, something alive and violent sealed within.
The Magical Beasts.
The beasts, different types of beasts, inside had already been laced with suppressants—not to calm them, but to control them.
Their instincts had been twisted, redirected, ensuring that they would not harm the ones who released them, only those outside that fragile exception.
All four families were present—the Aurelions, the Delyths, the Valemonts, and primarily the Welsch.
They stood together, watching from a distance with quiet anticipation, as if this were no more than a demonstration.
Below them, their heirs stood holding the Rift Cards, their expressions far less composed. These were the students of the Lunarium, the students who had learnt, who had grown, who had started to see beyond the expectations of their families.
And yet, for all that, they were here, obeying. Because ultimately, nothing had changed.
They were one of the few pure witches. Witches who were with men were born from witches. They were still bound and still regarded as tools for their elders.
The cards felt heavier than they should have in their hands.
Some of them avoided looking at one another. Some held on to the rail to stabilise themselves. The prospect of what they were about to do, set the beasts loose in the Lunarium, in the place where they studied, in the very place where their friends and fellow students were living, made them feel a little sick.
But above, their grandparents saw none of it, or chose not to.
To them, this was necessary. To them, this was justified.
As the call was being sounded, there was a great commotion from the north. A great roar sounded in the distance, then another, and then dozens. From the far north a horde of monsters had emerged, and they were on the rampage.
The surge of mana that soon followed were chaotic, uncontrolled, and unmistakably real. Due to how large the number was, the mana irradiating from them had been carried all the way to Nocturne.
These were not contained beasts.
These were not accidents.
Rowena Delyth's doing.
Circe's eyes flickered, the smallest smirk playing on her lips.
"You already started?"
Rowena didn't look at her. Her eyes remained fixed forward, watching the reaction ripple through the elders, through the field, through everything.
"Just a small push," she replied calmly. "If they're going to panic, better they do it in the wrong direction."
"I see. A simple distraction," one of the Fidelia Valemont murmured, catching on.
Rowena finally smiled.
"Call it insurance."
But the problem did not end there. News had already begun spreading among the great families—one of their own had lost control of their witch.
Not a minor rebellion, not defiance that could be corrected, but complete loss of control.
The witch had eliminated an entire line of witches vying for the position of Arch-Witch within their family.
That single incident had ignited something dangerous.
Fear.
Because power that could not be controlled was not seen as potential. It was seen as a threat.
And the Lunarium, whether they admitted it or not, was producing exactly that.
Calamities.
Those witches were strong in their own rights. But to lose from someone who just barely started learning magic? The youngest who was just thrown to the Lunarium for testing managed to do that much?
Protests had already begun forming within the Senate.
Complaints, demands, warnings—all directed toward Charlotte Sweeiz and what she had built.
The four families who were in the Welsch estate, waiting for the moment to release the beasts inside the Lunarium, could see it unfolding before them, and rather than hesitate, they found themselves smiling.
They had not even begun their part of the plan, and already the world was turning against the Lunarium.
That alone was enough to give them confidence.
When the order was finally given, the students moved.
They entered the Lunarium without resistance. There were no guards to stop them, no barriers to question their presence. Charlotte's name had been enough to create a level of trust so great, it was never questioned. It was trust that brought them to the outer plains where the moonflowers were swaying under the weak light, oblivious to the fate about to befall them.
One by one, the Rift Cards were activated.
Mana tore open the sealed space within them, and the beasts emerged.
At first, nothing happened. The creatures did not roar or charge. They simply moved, slow and uneven, their bodies carrying a strange stillness as if something essential had been hollowed out of them.
The students holding the cards felt a brief, fragile sense of relief.
The suppressants were working.
The beasts were not attacking them. But that relief did not last. One of the beasts turned. Its gaze locked onto a nearby student—someone who had not released it and was just minding her own business, practicing spells before she heads to class.
Its body twisted violently, as if something inside it snapped into place.
Then it moved.
Fast and unnatural for such a once graceful magical beast.
And it attacked.
Panic spread instantly. Students scattered as the beasts surged forward. Their movements were erratic but relentless. They did not tire. They did not hesitate. They did not react to pain in any meaningful way.
Barriers rose instinctively, layered and reinforced from everything the Lunarium had taught them. They were stronger than anything the Witching Hour had produced before, refined and structured.
Yet, against these beasts, they were only barely holding. Spells were cast in response. Students fought back with everything they had learned, their casting sharper, more controlled than before. Even the supernaturals had tried their best in attacking the beasts, countering them with their Birthrights.
Their attacks landed.
They hit cleanly, yes.
But the results were lacking.
The beasts pushed through and took damage that should have slowed them. They kept moving forward as if it barely mattered. Some students tried to run, others stood their ground, and some simply froze under the pressure. When the beasts attacked, they attacked hard.
Bodies were thrown, barriers shattered, and injuries spread across the plains. No one had died.
Not yet.
But that line felt dangerously close.
Outside, the families watched through the spell Display, casted by their descendants inside the Lunarium, observing the unfolding chaos with satisfaction.
Circe leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the scene.
"You did it, Rowena. It worked," she said, unable to hide her excitement.
Rowena Delyth simply smirked, clearly pleased with the results. The others shared similar expressions.
In their minds, the outcome was already decided. This incident alone would be enough. After this, no one would trust Charlotte. The Lunarium would fall under its own weight. They were certain of it.
Then the battlefield changed.
A sudden drop in temperature swept across the plains; it was sharp and immediate. Frost spread along the ground, creating patterns of ice crystals.
Aurora stood at the center, quiet yet overwhelming.
The crystal-blue coat draped over her shoulders shimmered faintly. The ice-crystal hairpin, which held Iskaryon above her ear, glimmered under the endless night of the dimension.
A beast lunged toward her. It never reached however as Its body froze mid-motion, encased in ice so precise it held even the smallest detail.
A moment later, it shattered cleanly, fragments dispersing into nothing.
Elsewhere, another shift occurred.
Theodore moved through the field with an almost unsettling efficiency.
There was no excess in his actions, no wasted movement. When a beast approached, it simply stopped existing moments later, brought down by his web of threads of blood, sharpened to the very utmost.
Unlike the others, his attacks did not just repel—they ended.
The difference became clear. Students could fight. They could hold. They could survive. But only a few could actually kill.
As Aurora and Theodore moved about the field, the tide of the battle began to turn.
The fear did not stop, but it slowed, becoming solid.
The remaining students began to gather their strength, their actions born of instinct and training.
"Elowen," Charlotte spoke, her voice smooth and unwavering.
The response was immediate. Elowen stepped forward, raising her hand as the porcelain dolls who were but chefs, janitors, and the likes all showed around her.
They moved in perfect synchronization, reinforcing barriers, pulling injured students out of danger, and restraining beasts long enough for others to act.
Franziska, encased in her Hexaegis Suit which she calls the pinnacle of science as it uses mana to power it, took to the air as its core thrummed with condensed mana. From above, she fired pulse rays of mana that struck down beasts before they could break through the coven.
Below, Ashia raised her hand and the battlefield shifted instantly—students moved faster, bodies strengthened, spells became stronger. Buff after buff layered over them without pause, pushing their bodies and casting far beyond their natural limits.
Hanami followed, conjuring weapon after weapon into existence—soul armaments that hovered beside students, intercepting attacks, striking when needed, while wolves of pure mana surged across the field, scooping up the injured and dragging them out of danger in tandem with Elowen's porcelain dolls.
Then came Fleur. The air warped. A miniature sun burned into existence above the battlefield, its heat controlled yet suffocating as it fed into a spiraling tornado that dragged beasts upward, only to be crushed by a deluge of water that followed. And through it all—lightning. Relentless. Precise. Striking down anything that survived the initial onslaught.
Dorothy stepped forward, her presence almost unnoticed. Illusions spread instantly everywhere. Copies of students scattered in every direction, drawing the beasts away, confusing their already destroyed simple senses, turning their aggression into a misdirected frenzy. Real students slipped through untouched, guided away from danger without even realizing why.
And in the midst of it all, Mary touched the earth. Mana radiated out and formed a gigantic tree that sprung from the ground and its limbs spread out like the petals of a flower.
The Great Blossom.
Warmth washed over the field, wounds closing, mana restoring, exhaustion lifting—every student caught within its reach pulled back from the brink. The beasts received nothing as Mary controlled who received the blessing. All of it happened at once. No hesitation. No overlap. No wasted motion. Each of the professors moved within their domain, their mastery absolute, their roles perfectly aligned.
At the center of it all, Charlotte descended, hovering just above the ground as she sipped on her coffee and observed the battlefield.
Her gaze moved across the plains, taking in every detail, every failure, every response. There was no panic in her expression, only calculation. The beasts continued their rampage, but the momentum had shifted. They were no longer overwhelming the students unchecked. They were being pushed back, contained, and gradually eliminated.
Outside, the families watched the change with growing unease. Despite not destroying the coven, they got what they wanted, a way to destroy the reputation of Charlotte Sweeiz.
By the time the last beast fell, the plains had been left in ruin.
Moonflowers were crushed beneath the aftermath of the battle, the ground fractured and uneven. Students stood scattered across the field, being healed, exhausted, but alive.
And that was the problem.
The Welsch and the other three had already spread the word. Recording the spell Display with Bareblood gadget, phones, they spread the word that Charlotte wasn't able to protect their students.
The Senate would see it. The other families would hear of it. The Witching Hour itself would feel the impact of what had just occurred.
Questions would come. Investigations would follow. Not just because of this incident, but because of everything happening at once—the disturbance in the north, the rogue witch, the growing instability among the great families. And at the center of it all— The Lunarium who was invaded with beasts all of a sudden.
Charlotte stood in silence, looking over the ruined plains. She already understood what this meant. This was no longer just about the school, or the students, or even the families. This was something bigger.
And it had only just begun.