Throne had already immobilized a sizable chunk of the enemy forces. If that princess struck just once more, the academy's main gate would crumble for sure.
"No," Throne shattered her hope coldly. "That's a waste of time. Ranni won't strike again."
Melina gaped at him. "Is she bluffing?"
"Not even close. She trusts me. I trust her."
Throne stopped wasting words. He closed his eyes, calm and deliberate. One magic professor, three Hero-class Tarnished, eight magic lecturers, and fifty puppet soldiers—ten of them the new fluid puppets. This level of force wasn't something to charge head-on.
"Then let's play dirty."
He pushed off with one hand, rising to his feet in a single, fluid motion.
Sacred Seal in one hand, Crystal Staff in the other. Almost instantly, the puppets near the fountain froze—they'd detected something unseen.
"Enemy attack!"
A low shout rang out, magic sigils flaring to life. Throne didn't hesitate; he unleashed a storm of comets.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The barrage fell short. Silver puppets surged, their surfaces morphing into shields that locked into place, protecting the formation. The Tarnished were quicker, rolling clear and launching their own counterattacks. This was poking the hornet's nest—and the hornets were furious.
Arrows from the puppets. Comets and Cannon of Haima projectiles hurled by the mages. A rain of crystals began to fall above Throne's head.
He dissolved into starlight, vanishing just as the barrage hit. He reappeared on a distant tree, staff trembling faintly in his grip.
Carian Retaliation. A blue vortex swirled before him.
These weren't amateurs. They reacted with lightning speed. Great Glintstone Shards shot toward him, only to be swallowed by the vortex. Their magic energy transformed into glowing swords, hovering in the air.
"Go!"
The swords shot forward. Before they even landed, golden ripples erupted above his head.
Golden Land!
Two attacks—one above, one below—hit simultaneously. Archer puppets exploded into spare parts. Throne caught his breath, dissolving into starlight once more.
Boom—rumble!!
A cyan meteor slammed into the ground, obliterating the tree and carving out a deep crater. Its force dwarfed that of an ordinary glintstone cannonball.
Leon lowered his staff, his expression grave. At first, he'd thought Miriam had arrived—but no. Night Sorcery, Glintstone Sorcery, Caria Sorcery, even Golden Order Incantations. Where had this monster come from?
"Pursue him! Night Sorcery is chaos incarnate!"
The puppet soldiers needed no prompting. They charged like rabid dogs. Throne darted between buildings, weaving through the chaos, retaliating with bursts of magic. The scene erupted into a firefight—Throne and the mages trading salvos like machine gunners.
Starlight movement proved its worth. He flickered in and out, stopping abruptly to unleash a spell before vanishing again.
"Tsk," Throne muttered, his lip between his teeth. "Those fluid puppets are a nightmare."
In this long-range duel, the ordinary puppets were useless, but the silver fluid ones? Different story. The academy had clearly enhanced their magic resistance during their manufacture; ordinary spells barely scratched them.
"And they've got a turret!"
Leon raised his staff. A cyan cannonball traced a high arc, exploding with a deafening roar above its target.
Airburst Magic Missile!
Throne raised his hand, Thopss Barrier snapping into place. Just as the meteor shower fell, it blasted clouds of dust all around him, and then, with a "boom," the roof beneath his feet cracked.
Leon stood frozen, carefully judging the flow of magic power, and before long, a look of joy appeared on his face.
"He's out of magic power! Hurry, attack!"
Starlight movement being Professor Miriam's research topic was no secret. Although this thing was powerful, it consumed a massive amount of magic, and the Thopss Barrier had also been around for a long time; everyone had a plan to deal with it.
Crash—the glass shattered, and several magic puppets rushed straight in, followed by the wary Tarnished. This was a classroom, with moonlight shining in through the large hole in the center.
All around were shattered wooden tables, and several cabinets had collapsed, scattering glintstone and books all over the floor. At this moment, no one was protecting public property.
Leon was the last to enter, and upon seeing the open classroom door, his head instantly swelled with worry.
"Search classroom by classroom. Remember, do not go to the Debate Parlor to provoke it."
Everyone knew what was in the Debate Parlor, so they couldn't help but nod with tense faces.
Puppets were the best meat shields; they walked out first, while the fluid puppets acted as the main force for breaking down doors, turning their hands into slender blades and continuously shredding walls or doors. The lecturers used search magic to detect signs of life, but there were mages hiding all over the academy now, so it wasn't as useful as they had imagined.
The three Tarnished lagged behind, and seeing the busy mages, they couldn't help but exchange glances.
"They rely too much on search magic."
"It's just a waste of time. Searching for a whole day would be useless, and there's the danger of being picked off one by one."
The Tarnished were anxious; they were all in the same boat now, and with so many rooms, it would take forever to find him.
"Suggest to him that we pull back our forces and just defend the core area."
Hoarah, who had the most military experience, had already sensed the danger and went ahead to pursue Leon, while Alperich lagged behind, looking up at the large hole in the ceiling and the open classroom door.
Something was wrong. If he had fallen from here, he could have just jumped out through the corridor window. Did one really need to observe etiquette at a time like this?
Thinking of this, his muscles tensed up, and Vilhelm, who had originally gone out, also turned his head back.
"Alperich, don't space out at a time like this..."
The words stuck in his throat at that moment. He widened his eyes as if he had seen a ghost, clearly seeing a person appear behind his companion, leaping up gently, long blade held high.
How is that possible? There are so many of us, we aren't blind!
Time seemed to freeze. Alperich, wearing a pointed hat, saw the moonlight reflected on the ground and, without thinking, rolled directly forward.
Whoosh—the blade's light remained in the air. The Tarnished had already leaped forward, drawn his scythe, and swept it behind him.
A few ice crystals remained in the air, and the staff was already pointed behind him from under his ribs. This was a blind shot without even looking.
Crystal—
"Come here, you!"
Moonveil blocked the scythe, the blade exuding a purple gravitational glow.
No one said that Throne could only use his left hand to cast magic; Moonveil, having been remodeled by War Counselor Iji, could also be used as a staff in an emergency. The Tarnished, who had already jumped two meters away, was instantly sucked back.
It was too fast to use magic. However, his left fist, hidden under his ribs, was covered in glintstone crystals, and he smashed it fiercely toward the enemy's back.
Thud!!
Alperich spat out a mouthful of blood on the spot. He wanted to break away, but felt his entire abdomen lose all sensation.
Damn it, my spine is broken.
What happens when you lose control of your body in close-quarters combat with Throne? The answer came swift and brutal.
Clang! The long blade twisted, cleaving his right arm clean off at the shoulder. Blood still hung in the air as he swung back toward his own head. Simultaneously, his foot lashed out, kicking the rolling scythe away.
The wet pfft of steel piercing flesh was followed by the sharp whoosh of a blade cutting through air. Vilhelm, mid-incantation, hit the ground in a desperate roll. His side lunge barely saved him as the bloodied scythe flew past, embedding itself into the classroom wall.
Too fast. It had all happened in a split second—appearing, killing, vanishing.
Vilhelm pressed his back against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. Hoarah sprinted back, shielding him.
"How the hell did they get behind us? Where's Alperich?"
Vilhelm's voice was strained. "I don't know. Go see for yourself."
The berserker paused, leaned against the wall, and cautiously peered out. His eyes widened like saucers.
The classroom was a slaughterhouse under the moonlight. A mutilated corpse lay in the chaos. Lowering his gaze, Hoarah saw a head roll to his feet, its dead eyes staring accusingly up at him, as if to say his skills had been useless.
He froze, then slammed his fist into the floor.
Boom! The shockwave shattered everything in the room.
Dust swirled, but the enemy was nowhere to be seen. It was as if the air itself had choked the life out of a powerful Tarnished.
"I don't care if you're human or ghost, get out here!" Hoarah roared, his voice tinged with panic.
Above, a chandelier swung precariously, witnessing the frantic rush of mages and puppets below.
The Mimic's Veil on Throne's face warped their perception. It wasn't invincible—if they'd just looked up, they might have noticed the chandelier's odd position. But who had the focus? They were convinced Throne was using some dark Night Sorcery.
"I forgot," Melina muttered, her tone bitter. "You have that artifact for hide-and-seek."
She paused, realizing her words fell short. This wasn't just about the item; it required nerves of steel. Moments ago, as the mages fled, several had brushed against Throne's cloak without even knowing it.
"Hide-and-seek?" Throne's voice was ice-cold. "No. I'm going to kill them all."
He gestured toward the door at the corridor's end.
"I have a task for you."
"What is it?" Melina asked.
Throne didn't mince words. "Open the door. Release the wolves."
......
Glintstone Sorcery lit up the night, its light and shadow effects impossible to ignore. The bombardment's chaos couldn't be concealed. From the Academic Committee gatehouse, cannonballs burst in the air, painting the sky cyan. Dust rose from collapsed roofs, the commotion spreading through the entire academy.
Even in the dark, the ruckus reached every corner, sending frontline mages into a panic. No one knew how many enemies had breached the defenses. The sound of battle was deafening, drawing everyone's attention.
"It's just two people," Oritis growled, his fists clenched. "What the hell is that idiot Leon doing?"
He didn't spare a glance for the panicked mages on the stairs.
Two people had thrown the academy into disarray. Oritis couldn't manage the frontline anymore. He entrusted everything to Witch Aila, an expert in barriers, who was desperately trying to repair the defensive shield.
Oritis stepped into the gatehouse, his worry palpable. Ahead lay an empty courtyard, where a Crucible Knight sat cross-legged on the ground.
She was motionless, a statue carved from stone. The magic professor swallowed hard, silently blaming her. If she'd struck earlier, those two intruders would never have escaped.
But as he entered, the thick stench of blood hit him, forcing him to turn his head abruptly.
A body hung pinned to the gatehouse wall, robed in identical garb to his own.
Oritis froze. Chelona? Dead?
This was the last magic professor, a figure he'd always watched warily, fearing betrayal. Now the man was skewered by intricate tree spears, his mastery of energy transformations useless.
"He sought Rennala's favor. I ended him."
The voice was calm, neutral, feminine.
Oritis turned, his masked cheeks twitching. Her armor bore no marks of battle. No trace.
The disparity between them was staggering. Oritis met her gaze, then bowed his head in a mage's salute.
"He died as he deserved."
What else could he say? The Crucible Knight's power eclipsed even Godrick's. At least she stood with them—or so he'd thought.
Premia didn't react. Her armor creaked as she rose, her golden, whip-like tail flicking. She yanked the tree spears free.
Thud. The professor's corpse crumpled to its knees, as if begging mercy or seeking penance.
Her voice cut through the silence. "And you? What brings you here?"
Her tone was flat, but the killing intent hit him like a storm. Oritis stepped back, heart hammering.
He'd been wrong. The Crucible Knight had never been on their side. She saw the mages as nothing—insignificant, irrelevant. Years of solitary guarding had stripped her of any care for fame or wealth.
The only thing that could make these killing machines act was loyalty to that King. She guarded the great rune, nothing more. All who approached died.
Oritis steadied his breath, licked his lips. "The academy has been invaded by a Carian Knight."
Her reply was icy. "And so what?"