As the footsteps draw closer, I start recognizing the energy.
My heart, which seconds ago felt like it was about to explode from the absurd pressure Dean was emitting, slows just enough for another problem to take the place of the first one.
Because that presence is unmistakable to .
The slow, deliberate cadence of the steps. The faint tallic rings of his boots clinking against leather. The trace of cold OXI he can’t ever fully suppress, no matter how polished his bureaucratic mask becos.
And one certainty sprouts in my head like a weed between cracks in concrete: if it’s really him, then this situation has just beco much, much worse.
The silhouette erges slowly from behind the curve of the gigantic telescope.
’The bastard is still farming aura as he walks.’
No hurry.
No concern whatsoever for the fact that I almost died five seconds ago.
For a mont, I genuinely wish it were Veric showing up in his ridiculously flashy armor, glowing like a mariti lighthouse inside that dark observatory. Or even Garen, whose heavy military presence doesn’t need the polished excess his son loves so much.
But luck always takes too long to knock on my door.
Pristine white tunics glide through the dim light of the room along with the rhythmic motion of his steps. The academy’s symbol stitched onto his chest declares authority before his face fully appears.
Rae adjusts his thin-rimd glasses.
Then he pulls a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his tunic and brings it to his mouth, hiding a smile.
"Well, well..." his voice cos out loaded with pure mockery. "What do you think you are doing, Rector Dean? Are you molesting a student?"
The silence that follows turns so heavy I refuse even to swallow saliva, to avoid producing any sound.
Freya stands motionless near the observatory entrance. An ice statue. Her jaw trembles slightly, as if the queen of ice herself were feeling cold.
Pure nerves.
That confirms a suspicion of mine imdiately: she’s seen these two clash before.
And it probably didn’t end well.
"Instructor Rae," Dean says slowly, his voice compressed by rage, "I’ll ask only once. What are you doing here?"
Rae lowers the handkerchief with exaggerated calm and tucks it back into his chest pocket. Then he crosses his arms and closes his eyes for a brief instant, keeping that irritating smile on his face.
He looks like soone savoring the scene.
"I ca to discuss the infraction committed by Cadet Sands..." he answers. "And, oh... look what I found here."
A lie.
A complete lie.
I know that bastard too well by now. Rae doesn’t improvise situations like this. He was waiting. He probably has people tracking my steps since the mont I received the letter.
Dean’s eyes still burn white.
Literally.
The glow doesn’t dim.
His fists are clenched so hard the knuckles have lost all color. All the mana he gathered to crush now seems aid at Rae instead.
"I rely intended to discipline him," Dean says, holding each syllable like a held knife. "He defied . Please. Leave."
This guy urgently needs anger managent therapy. Or an asylum.
"I cannot leave. My apologies."
Rae’s smile vanishes.
Instantly.
The shift in his face makes notice sothing dangerous about this mont: this man isn’t only sarcastic. The sarcasm is a mask. And it has just fallen. He ca here to fight.
"Instructor Rae. I am still your superior. Show respect... and LEAVE!"
Dean’s voice detonates across the observatory.
The astral maps projected onto the ceiling oscillate violently. Small runic instrunts begin vibrating on the tables around us.
Rae uncrosses his arms slowly and then snaps his fingers in front of his chest. Blue flas burst into existence from the snap. A sphere of fire begins spinning above his palm, growing too fast to be a bluff.
"You may be my superior..." Rae says calmly. "But we are both Rank Abyssal. And I will not allow a cri before my eyes."
Hypocritical bastard.
He isn’t saving out of kindness.
He’s investing.
Every second I stay alive increases the political debt he plans to collect from later. He’ll bring it up casually, sowhere quiet, frad as a favor between adults—and I’ll be expected to pay it back in so way that costs far more than this scene is costing him right now.
And worst of all, if those two explode into a fight inside this room, Freya and I die instantly in the crossfire.
A battle between two Rank A isn’t addition.
It’s multiplication.
The blue sphere above Rae’s hand grows too fast. The OXI converted into that fire is absurdly dense. I can feel the heat even from ters away.
If that detonates here...
...the entire tenth floor disappears.
Maybe half the library along with it.
My brain starts working at maximum speed, searching for a way out.
Dean would never back down first.
Neither would Rae.
So my eyes automatically go to Freya.
’Please... please, Freya. Intervene. You are the only person here capable of stopping this.’
If she stepped between the two, Dean would never attack her directly. And Rae wouldn’t be able to act after accusing the rector himself of violence against a student.
But ?
If I tried to break them apart, Dean would tear my head off before Rae finished raising his hand, and I really don’t feel like watching the rest of this story unfold from hell.
The blue sphere is now the size of Rae’s chest. The heat starts distorting the air around him.
I look desperately at Freya.
My eyes widen.
I blink repeatedly.
I tilt my head discreetly in the direction of the two of them.
Anything.
Any possible signal to make her understand.
’Go! Do sothing!’
Freya stares back at for two endless seconds.
Then she shakes her head ’no’.
Slow.
Once.
Twice.
That refusal lands on like the sound of nails being hamred into my own coffin.
’Shit.’
’Shit.’
’SHIT.’
’What the hell do we do now?’
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