Noel sliced through the last of the enchanted bindings with Revenant Fang, the rope unraveling and falling limp to the dusty floor.
He dropped to his knees beside Elyra, pressing two fingers against the side of her neck.
Her pulse was there.
Weak.
Fluttering.
But alive.
"Elyra," he said sharply, tapping her cheek lightly. "Wake up."
For a moment, nothing.
Then a soft groan escaped her lips.
She shifted weakly, her head lolling to one side as her eyelids fluttered open—blinking against the dim light of the underground tunnels.
Confusion clouded her silver eyes.
She tried to sit up on instinct but immediately collapsed back, her body too weak to support itself.
Noel caught her before she hit the ground, steadying her against his chest.
"Easy," he muttered, keeping his voice low, calm. "You're safe now."
She struggled to speak, her throat dry and raw. Noel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small water flask, tipping it gently to her lips.
Elyra took a few shaky sips before pulling back, grimacing in pain.
"What… happened?" she croaked, voice barely above a whisper.
"You got ambushed. Same bastards behind this whole mess."
He kept it simple.
No time for details.
Her fingers twitched weakly against his arm, trying to push herself upright again.
Stubborn, even now.
"Stay down," Noel ordered, voice harder than he meant. "You're drained. Moving'll only make it worse."
Elyra scowled faintly but nodded, frustration flashing across her pale face.
Noel's gaze flicked toward the corridor entrance.
Still no sign of enemies.
But the sounds from above—the faint echoes of distant screaming, the clash of spells—told him the real storm had already begun.
He shifted his grip, moving Elyra to sit against the nearest wall.
His mind raced, calculating.
'First priority: Get her to safety—fast.'
But before he could plan further, footsteps echoed through the tunnel.
Fast.
Uneven.
And heavy.
Noel immediately positioned himself between Elyra and the source of the noise, unsheathing Revenant Fang in a single, fluid motion.
Eyes narrowed.
Muscles tense.
Whatever came next—
He would not let anything else touch her.
The footsteps grew louder.
Closer.
Noel gripped Revenant Fang tighter, his body coiled like a loaded spring.
Then—out of the dim corridor—a figure stumbled into view.
The red-haired student.
The same one Noel had impersonated weeks ago to infiltrate the underground meetings.
But this wasn't the cautious, calculating figure he remembered.
This version was something else entirely.
The redhead's posture was hunched unnaturally, his breathing ragged and heavy.
His eyes were bloodshot, wide and unfocused, pupils blown wide from some kind of stimulant.
"Morning, you son of a bitch," the redhead slurred, his voice rough and broken.
Noel raised an eyebrow.
"Now you know how to talk all of a sudden?"
The redhead smirked, tapping the back of his neck with a twitchy motion.
"It was you, wasn't it?"
Noel kept his expression flat. "No idea what you're talking about."
"Come on. Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."
Noel tilted his head slightly, a mocking smile touching his lips.
"Still not ringing any bells."
The redhead stopped responding.
The mana around him vibrated violently—unstable, furious.
The very air seemed to buzz and warp around him.
The sword in his hand pulsed with a faintly sinister aura, dark tendrils of corrupted mana leaking from the blade's surface.
Noel's stomach twisted.
'He's juiced up.'
'A mana-enhancing drug. Not the type that sharpens you. The berserker kind—the one that burns you alive from the inside out.'
The redhead's gaze locked onto Noel.
Bloodthirsty.
Ferocious.
No hesitation.
Just pure murder.
Noel shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity, positioning himself instinctively between the redhead and Elyra.
The redhead grinned, flashing teeth.
"Oh, I see now," he hissed. "You're the little fucker who's been screwing up all our preparations."
Noel arched an eyebrow.
"And here I thought I was being subtle."
"You've made us work a lot harder, you know," the redhead growled, stepping forward, his sword twitching with barely restrained energy.
Noel narrowed his eyes. "Work harder doing what, exactly?"
The redhead chuckled darkly.
"Oh, you'll find out... if you survive."
Without warning, he charged.
Noel met him head-on, Revenant Fang flashing into a defensive guard just in time to catch the first brutal blow.
The clash of steel rang through the narrow tunnel, echoing sharp and violent.
The sheer force of the impact drove Noel two steps backward.
'He's strong. Way too strong.'
But not invincible.
Noel gritted his teeth, locked his shoulders, and reset his footing.
There would be no talking this one down.
This would only end one way.
The redhead charged Noel like a force of nature—wild, unpredictable, overflowing with unstable mana.
Their swords clashed, sparks flying as steel met steel.
Revenant Fang vibrated violently with each impact.
Noel staggered backward, barely absorbing the force.
The redhead took advantage of the distance immediately, his mana flaring wildly.
He thrust a hand forward—flinging fireballs without restraint, one after another, each one crackling with unstable energy.
If even one hit—
'You trying to blow us both up, you lunatic?'
Noel cursed internally, remembering that this underground level still housed multiple explosives.
He couldn't risk fighting at range.
He had to close the distance.
Now.
The redhead howled wildly, screaming "Fireball!" again and again as he hurled volatile blasts down the corridor.
Noel weaved through the tunnel, dodging the explosions by the skin of his teeth.
Heat seared the air around him, smoke blurring the edges of his vision.
He grit his teeth and rushed forward—breaking through the fiery barrage with raw speed.
Their swords clashed again.
Metal screeched.
Noel gritted his teeth, absorbing the force, deflecting rather than blocking outright.
The redhead's swings weren't clean.
They were heavy.
Desperate.
Sloppy.
But each one carried enough force to break bone if it landed right.
Noel ducked under a vicious horizontal slash, the edge close enough to shear a strand of his hair.
He pivoted and retaliated with a sharp thrust toward the ribs—
But the redhead twisted unnaturally, like his muscles were barely under control, and Noel's blade only scraped across his shoulder instead of piercing deep.
Mana crackled violently around them, warping the air.
The redhead roared and swung again—wild, brutal.
Noel dodged by inches, the heat of raw magic brushing his cheek.
Another blow—Noel barely parried, stumbling two steps back, the sheer impact numbing his arms.
'If this keeps up—'
Then it hit.
Not the blade.
Not the spells.
The pressure.
The risk.
His heartbeat slowed.
The world sharpened.
It started subtly—a faint hum in his mind, a cold, ruthless clarity slicing through the chaos.
The trait of Revenant Fang awakened:
Trait: Increases clarity under life-threatening pressure. Evolves under extreme stress.
Everything around Noel shifted.
The berserk swings seemed slower now, each movement of the redhead telegraphed, each sloppy pivot clear as daylight.
Noel exhaled once, slow and steady.
His muscles moved smoother.
His footwork tighter.
Each step, each motion—calculated.
Measured.
Controlled.
He parried the next reckless lunge easily, sliding the blow aside, pivoting under the wild follow-up swing without effort.
The redhead howled again, hurling himself forward with sheer rage.
Noel's grip tightened around Revenant Fang.
Because now?
Now he could see it.
The cracks.
The openings.
The end.
The redhead screamed again, a raw, broken sound—and this time, instead of rushing at Noel, he planted his feet and raised his free hand.
Mana surged around him, wild and furious, crackling with unstable power.
Noel's eyes narrowed instantly.
He recognized the signs.
The redhead was casting—something big.
The unstable mana twisted tighter, forming chaotic spirals around his body, pulling energy from the very walls.
'Idiot. You're wide open.'
The redhead chanted sloppily, words tumbling from his mouth as he forced the magic into shape.
Seconds.
It would take seconds to cast fully.
Noel didn't hesitate.
He lunged forward, Revenant Fang flashing through the dim, broken light of the tunnels.
One clean, brutal arc.
Steel bit through flesh.
The redhead's casting arm was severed at the elbow—the limb falling to the ground with a wet thud, mana fizzling violently around the stump.
The redhead howled—pure agony, pure rage.
But it didn't matter.
Noel moved faster than thought.
Before the berserker could even register the pain, Noel twisted his stance, shifted his weight—
And Revenant Fang sang through the air again.
A clean, merciless cut.
The redhead's head separated from his shoulders in one smooth stroke, blood arcing through the air in a fine mist.
The body crumpled to the ground without ceremony.
The severed head hit the stone a second later, rolling once before coming to a stop.
Noel stood over the corpse, sword still dripping red.
He stared down coldly.
Breathing slow.
Heart steady.
"Serves you right, you fucker," he muttered under his breath, voice low and venomous.
The air around him stank of blood, burned mana, and death.
But he didn't flinch.
Didn't look away.
Because there was still work to do.
He wiped the blade clean against the dead man's tattered cloak, then turned back to where Elyra struggled to sit up against the wall.
The fight was over.
For now.
Noel lowered Revenant Fang slowly, the last echoes of the fight fading into the silence of the tunnels.
He stared at the redhead's body for a moment longer, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
'Still don't like it.'
Taking a life.
Even when necessary.
Even when justified.
It left a hollow, bitter taste in his mouth.
He remembered the first time.
When he'd been ambushed during the journey to Valor Academy.
When he'd been forced to kill for the first time.
'It was them or me then, too.'
But knowing that didn't make it any cleaner.
Didn't make it easier.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the thoughts down, compartmentalizing like he always did.
Noel turned away from the corpse without hesitation and moved toward Elyra.
She was awake now, leaning heavily against the wall, her silver eyes slightly unfocused but alert enough to recognize him.
"You... okay?" he asked, voice rougher than he intended.
Elyra nodded stiffly, but he could tell it was a lie.
She was still drained—still fragile after what they had done to her.
Noel knelt beside her, carefully checking the bindings on her wrists, making sure no lingering enchantments remained.
He checked for injuries next—quick but thorough.
A few bruises, rope burns, mana exhaustion, but nothing fatal.
Nothing that would stop her from walking with a little help.
He slipped an arm under her shoulders, lifting her gently to her feet.
She staggered once, and he caught her easily.
'Still breathing. Good enough for now.'
Overhead, faintly, he could hear it—
More explosions.
More screams.
The real nightmare had started.
Noel tightened his grip on Elyra.
He had to move.
Now.
Before the tunnels collapsed or more enemies came hunting.
He would get her out.
No matter what.
Noel adjusted his grip carefully, supporting most of Elyra's weight as they moved through the narrow tunnel.
She tried to walk on her own, stubborn even now, but her legs trembled with every step.
"Don't push it," he muttered, tightening his hold around her shoulders.
Elyra didn't argue.
Didn't even glare at him like usual.
That worried him more than if she had.
The world above them wasn't quiet anymore.
Far from it.
The muffled sounds of shouting, magical explosions, the crashing of furniture and spells ripping through stone—they echoed down the stairwells and ventilation shafts, painting a grim picture without needing to see it firsthand.
'It's worse than in the novel.'
'A lot worse.'
They moved slowly, methodically.
Noel kept close to the walls, avoiding open spaces, ears straining for any sound of footsteps besides their own.
Every corner could be an ambush.
Every moment could be the last normal second before hell swallowed them whole.
His hand stayed tight on Revenant Fang's hilt.
Ready.
Waiting.
As they rounded a final bend leading toward the service exit near the Grand Hall, Elyra tugged weakly at his sleeve.
He glanced down, frowning.
Her mouth moved, barely above a whisper.
"Bombs," she breathed. "There's... more."
Noel froze.
His heart skipped once, painfully sharp.
'More?'
'I already disabled the ones planted under the Hall—'
'This... this is something else.'
Elyra's voice was faint, but determined.
"I saw them... earlier. Before they grabbed me. Three. Different... locations."
Noel felt ice settle into his spine.
Three.
Not one.
Three more bombs.
Still active.
Still hidden.
Waiting.
He adjusted his grip on Elyra again, urgency flooding through him like wildfire.
First—
Get her out.
Then—
Find the Director.
The nightmare wasn't over yet.
It had only just begun.