The Principal, Dora, who arrived shortly after the incident, stood frozen, her eyes blankly staring at the Origin Pillars.
These ancient structures, once deeply buried beneath the earth, now stood tall and proud on the surface.
The soft, sunless light cascaded over them, illuminating their long-hidden forms—pillars that had slept in darkness since nearly the very beginning of the Worlds.
Twelve majestic pillars stood on the circular stone platform, arranged in a perfect ring. Each one shone brilliantly, their surfaces etched with long-forgotten symbols—wave, water, hamr, fire—all pulsing softly, resonating with a strange, living energy.
The marble bases reflected a ghostly light, too uniform to cast shadows. It was as though the light enveloped them from every direction, denying even the existence of darkness.
They were stunning—absolutely awe-inspiring.
But Dora's face didn't show awe. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her jaw tight. Not even a flicker of wonder crossed her eyes. In fact, they narrowed as veins pulsed visibly on her forehead. Anger, frustration, and sothing far more complicated twisted within her as she turned sharply toward the Representative Professors with dust-covered clothes, a bleeding cut on their cheeks, their bodies and fatigue dripping from their every movent.
One of them coughed and tried to gather his breath before stamring out an explanation.
"The ground... it just gave way..."
"Yes," another professor added hoarsely, "it cracked without warning and collapsed beneath us. We barely had ti to react."
"We tried our best to maintain the barrier, but..." a female professor trailed off with a sigh, her eyes filled with sha.
Their voices were honest, their words laced with exhaustion and pain. So of them looked down, disheartened that the protective barrier they had maintained for so long had failed. But beneath the despair, a quiet relief glimred—relief that the burden was finally lifted.
They didn't have to hold the barrier anymore. No more sleepless nights. No more constant tension.
Except Delphine.
She stood apart from the others, trembling slightly. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and her lips were pressed together tightly. Victor stood beside her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers... He could feel the guilt radiating from her.
One of the professors glanced nervously between them before muttering under his breath, "I-It may have been because... Ms. Delphine left the barrier. Maybe that's what triggered the collapse..."
Dora's eyes imdiately snapped toward Delphine. "Left?" she asked coldly, her voice razor-sharp. "Why would you abandon your post?"
Delphine opened her mouth, struggling to speak. "I-I... I just—" But before she could finish, Victor stepped forward.
"There's no point blaming anyone," he said with a calm, serious expression, though his voice trembled slightly beneath the surface. "The Origin Pillars were going to rise one way or another. What matters now is deciding what cos next."
He pointed toward the ruined structure that once stood above the site. The building that had taken days—of effort to construct was now a shattered ss.
Dora's sharp eyes locked onto Victor. Sothing about his tone, his deflection—it didn't sit right with her. She could feel it, the tangled ss of truth and lies simring beneath his words.
But now wasn't the ti to pry... The pillars were out.
The secret had been exposed. Even with her imdiate efforts to seal off the periter, workers, and even a few students, had already seen it.
There was no hiding it anymore.
Dora let out a slow breath, steadying herself before addressing the professors again.
"For now," she said with firm authority, "no one is to co near this site. Maintain surveillance. Day and night, around the clock. I don't care what it takes—just do it."
The professors' faces turned visibly pale.
"A-All day and night?" one of them asked hesitantly, already drained from the collapse.
Dora didn't respond. She simply turned on her heel and walked away—though not before calling out to Delphine and Victor.
"Both of you. My office. Now."
Delphine flinched at the words, her breath catching in her throat. She could barely bring herself to move, but Victor gently touched her elbow and walked with her. She followed, silent and fearful, her heart pounding in her chest.
Dora's new office, though hastily arranged and lacking the prestige of her forr one, had a sense of sombre practicality. She sat down behind the desk, folding her hands as she leaned back and fixed her gaze squarely on the two standing before her.
Delphine managed a weak smile, but it trembled at the corners.
Victor stepped forward with a long, deep sigh. "She didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault. I got angry—angry that she was forced to keep maintaining that barrier day after day like a machine. So I snapped. I caused it."
Dora's expression darkened.
"So it was you?" she asked, voice low, dangerous.
Delphine's eyes widened with horror. "No! No, wait! It wasn't him, I swear! I'm the one who did it!" she cried out, stepping in front of Victor protectively. "It was —I lost control. I punched the wall and shattered the underground chamber! It's my fault alone. Please, punish , not him!"
Dora blinked at the scene before her. A slow, knowing smirk curved her lips. "Look at you... protecting your beloved."
Delphine blushed furiously but held her ground. "Please... just believe . I was the one who caused the damage. Don't bla him. Don't punish him. I'll take full responsibility."
Victor looked at her quietly for a mont. Then, his gaze softened with sothing warm and unspoken. "She's lying," he said calmly. "I was the one who did it. Everything. ."
Delphine's head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at him—pure, silent rage etched in her face. /Shut your mouth. I told you I'll handle this!/She shouted ntally.
Victor frowned. "Oh co on, we both know I was the one. Why lie?"
Delphine's lips twitched violently. /Now is not the ti to be right about this, idiot.../ she groaned in her mind, before turning back toward Dora with an exhausted breath.
"Principal... I believe he's only saying that to protect . He always does that. Please—punish instead. I'll accept whatever you decide."
Dora stared at the two of them. These two stubborn, infuriating lovebirds are trying to out-sacrifice one another.
But she could see it—Victor was clearly enjoying this. There was amusent behind his eyes. A glint of mischief that mocked the situation.
She sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "Anyway... this isn't even the reason I called you two here," she muttered, voice tired as she leaned back again and closed her eyes for a mont.
Delphine blinked, slightly tilting her head, "Oh? Really?"
Dora gave a small, solemn nod in response.
Delphine blinked again, but this ti, her playful deanour quickly faded. Her expression sharpened with sudden clarity, her posture stiffening. She nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose, standing tall with a commanding presence, like a strict professor slipping back into her role with quiet discipline.
Dora smiled softly, watching the shift in her. That change... the way Delphine could switch from warmth to control with such grace—it was sothing Dora couldn't do.
Then Dora turned toward Victor, her tone lowering. "Mary… didn't accept."
Victor let out a long, exhausted sigh. His hand rose to his forehead, rubbing it with the kind of frustration that had grown too familiar. "What about Nyx?" he asked, his voice laced with the last traces of hope. "You could have persuaded her, right?"
Dora shook her head, her face already showing the disappointnt she was about to voice. "Nyx is... difficult, to say the least. She's not soone you can sway with logic or emotion. She only listens to Mary. No one else ever held that leash."
She waved her hand dismissively, her voice flat with tiredness, "I told them everything. I told them what might happen, how dangerous the exposure was. But Mary, as always... she couldn't care less."
Victor stared at her in silence for a mont before lowering his gaze with a resigned sigh. "I guess… that's it, then. We're on our own."
Dora nodded again, this ti weaker, her expression showing the strain of so many dead ends. "I even tried to reach out to Lia," she confessed. "But Mary... she's made it nearly impossible. I couldn't even speak to her daughter. She's like a wall now."
She groaned softly, running a hand through her hair, clearly at her limit.
Delphine blinked beside them, her brows slowly knitting. She looked back and forth between Dora and Victor, completely out of her depth, "Wait… what's going on here? What are you two talking about?"
But Dora didn't respond imdiately. She just let out a slow exhale, as if letting the weight of failed diplomacy slip from her shoulders. "Anyway," she said finally, "We cannot force her. The Chosen One must walk her path, and it's no longer our place to interfere."
With a sharp snap of her fingers, the door creaked open.
A familiar figure entered—an old woman with a kind face and gentle eyes. It was the nurse who worked in the Academy's infirmary.
Victor raised his eyebrows.
Dora's face hardened into sothing more formal, her words crisp and deliberate. "After a thorough investigation, we've co to a conclusion," she said. "She was not involved in the collapse of the Academy."
Victor nodded, of course... He already knew that much.
"She was being manipulated," Dora added with emphasis.
Victor nodded, of course.... he had already suspected.
"She was possessed… by a ghost."
Victor nodded of cours--
"Wait-- Ghost?" His eyebrows shot up, caught completely off guard.
anwhile…
A pair of cold eyes stared at the rising Origin Pillar from a distance. The gaze was deep, focused, as if the sight before them stirred a mory long buried.
Kara stood still, her lips parting slowly as a breath escaped her.
"After the Ancient Era…" she murmured to herself, "this is only the second ti I've seen this." and softly chuckled, "Hah.. The first ti… it ended in nothing but destruction."
Beside her, a woman with curious eyes and a faint smirk looked between Kara and the glowing structure. "Kara? What's that thing?" she asked, cocking her head. Her voice held intrigue but also unease, as though the pillar made her stomach twist in ways she couldn't explain.
Kara exhaled, her expression distant and unreadable. Then, she shrugged casually. "Who cares?" she said with lightness, "We're only here for the money, right?"
With that, she bent down and started picking through the debris. Stones, broken chunks of marble, twisted steel beams—her hands moved thodically. But as she brushed aside a pile, a small, smooth stone dislodged and rolled to the edge.
It tumbled silently… bouncing once… then slipping between the cracks of the rubble-covered ground.
Falling deeper…
Underneath the weight of fractured stone, concrete, and dust...
The little stone rolled… until it dropped against sothing pale,
Thuck!
A massive hand—white, unnaturally pale—rested beneath the wreckage. It had stitches crudely running across its surface, as though it had been sewn together.
The arm was severed just below the forearm, but there was no blood. No rot. No decay.
Just eerie silence.
Then…
Twitch.
One finger—stiff and lifeless—shifted.
The slightest movent. Subtle. Barely a flicker.
But it moved.
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