The Headmaster turned and strode out of the office. Elena followed silently.

  Gaiza remained frozen. Helpless. Again.

  The heavy click of boots against the ruined floors echoed down the grand hallway. The torches along the walls flickered.

  As they neared the medical wing, a figure stepped out—Arlysa.

  Her dark robes were still torn from her recent battle. She adjusted her grip on her staff. Her black, curling-inward hair shifted while turning her gaze towards the pair.

  For a moment, she met the Headmaster’s piercing silver eyes—then immediately bowed her head slightly. “Headmaster.”

  The Headmaster’s lips curled into an almost sickly-sweet smile. “Ah, Arlysa. I was just thinking about you.”

  Arlysa’s shoulders tensed slightly. “I—”

  “But I must say,” the Headmaster interrupted smoothly, “I’m rather surprised to see you here instead of out there.”

  Arlysa’s face didn’t change, but there was the barest hesitation in her stance. “The battle was… compromised. I had no choice but to retreat.”

  The Headmaster’s smile didn’t waver.

  “…Is that so?”

  “I sent over five hundred mages to eliminate the enemy though,” Arlysa said with confidence. “I ensured that an overwhelming force was dispatched to handle the situation.”

  For a second, there was silence.

  Then—

  The sweetness in the Headmaster’s gaze evaporated instantly.

  “So, in short,” she said with a frigid sharpness, “you abandoned your post.”

  Arlysa’s jaw clenched. “I made a tactical decision.”

  The Headmaster’s gaze bore into her. “The mana extractor—the one thing ensuring our survival—is currently unprotected, and you have the audacity to stand here and say the battle was ‘compromised’? ”

  Arlysa’s grip on her staff tightened. “As I said, five hundred mages—”

  The Headmaster took a single step forward.

  “Then if you are so confident Arlysa…When we look out there, the enemy had better be destroyed.”

  She tilted her head. “Because if not…”

  She smiled.

  “…Then you will personally compensate for this failure.”

  Arlysa clenched her teeth. She followed the Headmaster down the hall.

  ‘I haven't even finished regaining my magic.’

  She could feel it—her reserves were still incomplete. The process had been interrupted somehow. The ritual to recover had gone wrong. But why? What had happened?

  Still, she remained silent. There was no point in showing weakness now.

  ‘Hopefully, by now, those idiots have dispatched those abominations to magic… and that damn Alan.’

  The heavy doors to the Academy entrance swung open.

  Cool air rushed in as the three of them—the Headmaster, Arlysa, and Elena—stepped outside.

  And then—

  They saw it.

  The barrier around the mana extractor. Gone. Completely obliterated.

  The Mages were all dead.

  The sight made Arlysa’s stomach drop.

  The Headmaster’s face darkened immediately.

  But before anyone could say a word—

  “Time to put an end to the Academy’s plans.”

  A voice—sharp cut through the air like a blade.

  Risebelle.

  Standing with her boots planted firmly against the torn earth, she aimed her high-density cannon towards the last mana extractor. Her blue eyes burned with fury as her fingers hovered over the trigger.

  “This one’s for Runebelle.”

  The cannon hummed and then—

  BOOM.

  A wave of Psychic energy exploded outward. The sheer force slammed into the battlefield, pressing against everything.

  Alan stumbled. His muscles twitched but his limbs refused to obey.

  Sylra gritted her teeth. Even her well-trained body was paralyzed.

  And Risebelle—

  Her vision blurred. Her grip weakened. Her cannon—so close to firing—slipped from her grasp and hit the ground.

  Risebelle lunged for it, but her movements were dragged down by an overwhelming pressure that crushed against her like invisible chains.

  Her breath hitched.

  “What is going on here,” The headmaster questioned. Her molten-silver eyes swept across the battlefield. Then, her attention locked onto a single person.

  “Alan, what are you doing?”

  Alan’s fingers twitched—just barely. A sign of nervousness so subtle, most would miss it.

  The Headmaster caught it instantly.

  She had never seen Alan nervous.

  That alone sent a ripple of unease through her.

  Alan took a breath. He forced his usual relaxed look back onto his face. Then, he shrugged. “Well… didn’t think this is how it would happen, but… yeah.”

  His green eyes met the Headmaster’s.

  “I’m resigning from my rank as Elite Mage.”

  Shock flashed across Elena’s face.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Arlysa stiffened.

  But it was the Headmaster who responded first.

  A slow blink.

  A pause.

  And then—

  She laughed.

  Afterwards, her gaze turned to disbelief. She placed a hand over her chest.

  “Alan…” she whispered while trembling ever so slightly. “After all we’ve been through… you do this?”

  She lowered her lashes.

  “You want to crush my heart now?”

  A deep, sorrowful sigh left her lips.

  Alan let out a low chuckle. “Y’know, I figured you’d say something like that.”

  His fingers twitched.

  A simple envelope with edges slightly crumpled appeared in his hands.“But before I throw this in, I got one question for you.” His green eyes darkened.

  “…How many?”

  The Headmaster’s silver eyes studied Alan carefully.

  Then—a knowing smirk curled on her lips.

  “…What do you mean, Alan?”

  Alan narrowed his eyes. “Tch. Don’t play dumb. You heard me.”

  The Headmaster tilted her head. Then—she chuckled. “Ah… so you figured it out…Well, of course you did. You always find out everything, don’t you?”

  She sighed and brushed a strand of silver hair back.

  Alan’s grip tightened around the letter. “Just answer the damn question.”

  The Headmaster’s smirk deepened. Then, she shrugged.

  “At least seven thousand.”

  Silence.

  Dead. Cold. Silence.

  Alan didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

  Arlysa shifted uneasily.

  “Oh, don’t give me that look, Alan.” She waved a hand dismissively. “This island is dying. You know that.”

  She sighed dramatically.

  “And let’s be honest, do you really think all of them could make it? The weak? The useless?” She gave a light laugh. “They would only be a burden in the city.”

  She stepped forward. “But I will ascend, Alan, and only those worthy enough will ascend with me.”

  She smiled.

  “And the rest? Well… sacrifices must be made.”

  The moment Alan moved, his restraints shattered.

  A rush of heat burst from his body as his magic surged to its peak.

  The Headmaster's eyes flickered.

  He was fast. Faster than she expected.

  "Extreme Magic: Blazing Inferno!"

  A torrent of fire erupted from Alan’s outstretched hands. The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer intensity.

  "You don't get to play goddess, Headmaster!" Alan spoke filled with rage. "You think you can just pick who lives and who dies?!"

  The inferno spiraled higher and closed in on the Headmaster.

  The world turned red.

  And yet—

  The Headmaster stood unmoving.

  Completely unfazed.

  When the firestorm reached its peak, she sighed. “…How nostalgic.”

  Then—she raised a single hand.

  Without even flinching, her psychic energy erupted.

  A shockwave of pure force burst outward that colided with the inferno. in an instant, the fire bent to her will.

  Alan’s eyes widened. "What—?!"

  With a casual flick of her wrist, she redirected the entire blazing storm.

  The inferno collapsed inward. Then it exploded on Alan, who was blasted backward. He skidded across the ground.

  The dust settled.

  And there she was.

  The Headmaster—completely untouched.

  The moment the Headmaster became visible again, it was as if the air itself had turned against Alan. His chest tightened.

  The Headmaster took a slow step forward.

  Then, she smiled.

  “I must commend you, Alan. You truly never disappoint.”

  Alan coughed. His limbs ached, yet he still scowled.

  The Headmaster lifted a hand with a faint psychic glow forming at her fingertips.

  Alan’s body lurched.

  He was lifted from the ground—hovering.

  The force around him was suffocating.

  The headmaster tilted her head slightly. “According to reports… you already used two Extreme Magic spells today, didn’t you?”

  Alan groaned. He already knew where this was going.

  Her silver eyes gleamed. “And this was your third. Maybe… if you were at full strength, you could’ve scratched me.” The Headmaster brought him closer and tightened her psychic hold.

  “But even then… the results would have been the same.”

  Alan let out a weak chuckle.

  “…Well…” His voice was hoarse. “It was worth a shot.”

  Then—his body went limp.

  After a second passed, a massive explosion erupted just behind the Headmaster’s group. The Magical Academy quaked from the sheer force of the blast.

  Arlysa let out a startled gasp. “Tch—what the hell was that?!”

  Risebelle blinked.

  Then—a voice rang out from above.

  “Damn, I missed.”

  A figure landed hard and cracked the dirt beneath her. Roselle.

  And on her back—Runebelle.

  The smoke and dust settled just enough to reveal Roselle standing with one hand extended forward. Her large cannon was still smoking in her grip.

  Her blue eyes locked onto the Headmaster.

  The Headmaster’s silver gaze slowly turned toward her. Her lips curled.

  “…You.”

  Roselle scoffed. Then she tilted her head slightly.

  “You...”

  Risebelle’s eyes widened at the sight of Roselle standing firm. For a second—a single second—she almost asked, "Are you okay?"

  But before the words could leave her lips—

  “I know.”

  Roselle cut through the tension. She glanced at Risebelle. “My job isn’t finished.”

  Her blue eyes flickered around the battlefield, taking in Alan’s limp form, Sylra still locked in place and the Headmaster standing unbothered.

  She exhaled sharply. “I can’t just sit around crying while the battle’s still going on,” she saidfirmly and adjusted Runebelle’s weight on her back before gripping her cannon with both hands. “It’s time to bring an end to this!”

  Risebelle stared for a moment—then grinned,.

  “Heh. That’s what I like to hear.”

  The Headmaster watched them all. Then, slowly, she tilted her head.

  “…How amusing.”

  She took a step forward.

  “Then let’s see if you truly have what it takes to end this.”

  Risebelle leaned in close to her sister. “Alright, listen up. Here’s what we’re gonna do—”

  Roselle’s eyes lit up.

  “OHHhh!”

  She grinned and out of nowhere, mimicked the motion of putting on lipstick.

  Risebelle’s eye twitched.

  What. The. Hell.

  Her fingers itched to smack the back of Roselle’s head, but instead, she took a slow breath and just… lowered her eyes.

  Roselle frowned, arms still lifted in her ridiculous gesture.

  "But that’s the... you know...?"

  Risebelle blinked.

  Then—click.

  She remembered something. Risebelle’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re remarkable Roselle.” She cracked her knuckles. "Okay, new plan."

  Their heads were almost touching as Risebelle whispered something too low for anyone else to hear.

  Meanwhile, the Headmaster’s gaze sharpened onto the duo. ‘What are they up to?’

  Her molten-silver eyes flickered around the area.

  Alan—down.

  Sylra—barely moving.

  She scoffed.

  "It doesn't matter."

  Her gaze landed on Runebelle who was limp on Roselle’s back.

  "One of them isn't even functioning. So that means..."

  A slow smile spread across her lips.

  "...There's only two left to deal with."

  Risebelle charged like a raging torrent. Her fists blazed with swirling water. From a distance, Roselle fired shot after shot, but in a flash the Headmaster’s psychic power redirected them harmlessly.

  "Are you approaching me like that?" the Headmaster sliced through the battlefield.

  Before Risebelle could answer, an unseen force yanked her forward. In an instant, she found herself pinned in the Headmaster’s unyielding grip. The Headmaster’s smile was icy.

  "Oh how I've been waiting to crush one of you with my own hands," she declared with venomous satisfaction.

  Roselle's gasped loudly.

  The Headmaster's eyes narrowed. "I will crush your heads one by one—starting with you," she hissed directly at Risebelle.

  For a long moment, silence reigned as Risebelle’s eyes blazed with defiance. Then, with a snarl, she spat, "You can try all you want, but in the end, you’ll die right here, you filthy human.”

  The Headmaster’s face darkened. “Filthy human?” Her grip tightened around Risebelle like an unrelenting vice.

  But then—

  “…And you’re gonna lose to lip-glaze.”

  The battlefield froze.

  A heavy silence.

  The Headmaster blinked. “…What?” Her rage faltered and twisted into sheer confusion “Lip… what?”

  The Headmaster’s gaze snapped to Arlysa.

  Arlysa simply shrugged.

  The molten-silver of the Headmaster’s eyes flared. She turned back to the so-called "creations" before her.

  Roselle grinned. She reached into Risebelle’s pocket and—aha!—snagged a pair of sunglasses.

  She dramatically slid them on and, in her best Kintovar impression, began,

  "Ahem. You see, Headmaster, Lip-Glaze is the fine art of maintaining one’s fabulousness in even the most dire of circumstances. It is a tactical application of—"

  "—Enough."

  The Headmaster cut through the air like a knife. Her psychic grip tightened around Risebelle.

  Her power surged and sent a tremor through the battlefield. "You’re making a mockery of this fight. Of me."

  Roselle gasped and raised up her hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—no! You can’t blame me! You’re the one who doesn’t know about lip-glaze.!"

  Risebelle—despite literally being crushed in a psychic grip— somehow managed to smirk. “Yeah, real embarrassing, Headmaster.”

  The Headmaster’s rage boiled over. Her silver eyes blazed. She held out one hand and Risebelle’s entire body twisted in agony. Her arms, her legs, her core began to pull in opposite directions.

  "I’m going to break you apart, “The Headmaster said with a dangerously low tone.

  Suddenly, a searing beam of energy slammed into the Headmaster’s side which caused an explosion of raw force that tore through the battlefield.

  Her psychic grip snapped.

  Risebelle collapsed and gasped for breath after she hit the ground.

  The dust cleared—

  And there, standing at the edge of the battlefield was Dr. Kintovar.

  At her side—Becky and Sybil.

  Kintovar’s signature pink headphones glowed. Her lab coat billowed behind her. She exhaled while lowering her weapon. "Tsk. Now that’s just sloppy, Headmaster. Torturing my girls while my back’s turned? That’s just plain rude."

  Roselle’s face lit up. "Dr.Kintovar!”

  Kintovar’s lips twitched into a smirk. "Hey, kiddo."

  Risebelle on the other hand lowered her eyes. "She’s late."

  Dr.Kintovar glanced around at the gathered individuals on the battlefield and said, “Sorry to keep you all waiting, but are you ready for a show?"

  The Headmaster, though visibly angered pointed a finger at Kintovar and declared, "So, you've finally come out to confront me face to face, Kintovar. Welcome… to your final resting place!"

  Project Mage