Part Eight

In the dimly lit hallway, the air crackles with a palpable tension. The man who just appeared steps forward, his tone cold and detached. "This is quite bothersome," he remarks, seemingly unimpressed by the carnage that unfolded moments ago.

The original man, still holding his bloodied dagger, plays with it nonchalantly, flipping it between his fingers with an air of confidence. Despite the gravity of the situation, his demeanor remains calm and collected.

"A third party making an attack on the academy would damage our plan," the newcomer states, his voice devoid of emotion. He moves with deliberate precision, and with a single step, a huge spinning summoning magic circle materializes under the feet of the first man.

The first man glances down at the magic circle as it attempts to consume him, slowly pulling him downwards. In such a dire situation, most would succumb to panic or agony, but he simply grins, his laughter resounding in the room. "Hmhmhmhmhahahaha... I see, your pet needs to learn some manners," he taunts.

Dark mana flows from his hand, swirling around in a mesmerizing dance. It behaves peculiarly, like a liquid despite its gaseous appearance, dripping ominously onto the floor. The magic circle beneath him starts to corrupt under the influence of this dark mana.

Before the newcomer can react, the first man plunges his hand into the magic circle with a grin. A loud cracking sound fills the room as he withdraws his hand, now holding the head of a grotesque, monstrous creature.

The atmosphere thickens with an unspoken acknowledgment of the immense powers at play. The original man, holding the grotesque head of the monster, examines it closely. The head, nearly three feet high, seems to hold his interest for a moment.

"It's a Grasping Ghoul," he states coldly, his knowledge of the creature extensive. "They are known for their telekinetic abilities and their insatiable hunger for humans. This one, however, was just a pawn, a summoned being without true substance." His voice carries a tone of disdain as he describes the creature's characteristics, speaking as if he knows every single detail about its kind.

Casually, he tosses the head towards the other man, who catches it with a mixture of interest and caution. The focus of the second man, however, quickly shifts to the dark mana still lingering in the air, a visible sign of the first man's formidable capabilities.

The first man, noticing the second man's curiosity, lifts his foot slightly, breaking the remnants of the summoning circle. His feet are bloodied, with cuts and blood smeared all around, but he shows no sign of discomfort or concern.

The second man, now holding the disintegrating head, observes it as it burns into dust under the influence of his magic. He then turns his attention back to the first man, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Dark magic..." he muses aloud, his tone betraying a hint of respect and wariness.

"There is only one dark mage within this country, a young one that appeared around two years ago. They call him 'The Harbinger of Madness'," he states, his words heavy with implication.

The first man, unfazed by the title, steps forward, the speed of his dagger spinning around his fingers increasing. A sly grin spreads across his face as he responds, "Guilty as charged." The ease and confidence in his demeanor suggest a man who not only acknowledges his infamous reputation but also revels in it.

The second man, his voice as cold and emotionless as the shadows around them, addresses the first. "What is your goal? A dark mage in this academy?" His words hang in the air, challenging yet indifferent.

The first man, reveling in the growing intensity, spins his dagger faster and faster around his fingers. With a swift and precise motion, he slashes it through the air, creating a razor-sharp arc that cuts through the nearby pillars as if they were made of butter.

The second man reacts with uncanny foresight. He raises a finger to the path of the incoming slash. At the precise moment of contact, a small magic circle etched on his finger activates, forming an invisible shield that effortlessly blocks the slice. The ease with which he deflects the attack speaks volumes of his own formidable abilities.

The first man, unfazed by the counter, lets out a chilling laugh that echoes off the walls. "Hmhmhmhm... You have no right to know that," he retorts with a dismissive sneer. There's a dangerous glint in his eye, a spark that hints at the delight he finds in this game of cat and mouse.

Taking a confident step forward, he narrows his eyes. "I was simply asked to deal with some people before I get my toy. And you happen to be one of those on the list... Kuza, was it?" he says, his voice dripping with a mix of mockery and anticipation.

Kuza's laughter, cold and hollow, fills the space as he lifts his head, covering his face with a hand in a deep, contemplative sigh. "So there's a mole... It looks like the plan will need to be modified," he muses, his voice betraying a hint of frustration at this unexpected complication.

The first man, reveling in the unfolding drama, brings the tip of his dagger to his finger, drawing blood with a deliberate cut. He looks at Kuza with eyes gleaming in the dim light, slowly licking the blood off his finger. "Mole? Hmhmhmhm... No, your cult is simply a... variable," he responds, his voice dripping with dark amusement. 

Suddenly, Kuza snaps his fingers, and the room is immediately engulfed in a labyrinth of huge magic circles, appearing in all angles and dimensions around them. The magic circles pulsate with energy, their intricate designs weaving a complex web of power and control.

The first man's grin widens into a malicious, bloodthirsty expression. His eyes sparkle with an intense, almost feral excitement as he faces the magical array surrounding them. "Are you going to risk your group being exposed?" he challenges, his tone laced with a threat and a promise of chaos.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

-Ayla's POV

As I watch the young boy approach, a sigh escapes my lips. What is V thinking? He assured me he was sending a trained professional group to assist. The boy's attire catches my eye – his clothes and mask are of high quality, effectively shielding any attempt to read his intentions. Intricate runes are woven into the fabric, skillfully hidden from prying eyes. I remind myself not to judge hastily; V is a seasoned secret agent, and his judgment in matters like these is rarely off.

I decide it's best to treat the boy with the respect due to a professional, regardless of his apparent age. It's possible they're using some form of transformation magic, after all. "I have read through the Test process," I begin, addressing him. "There is a total of 17 professors meant to guard the Academy."

I start running, curious to see if he can keep up with my pace. To my surprise, he matches my speed effortlessly, a fact that both impresses and perplexes me. The level of training V must have put him through is beyond what any normal freshman would endure. I shake my head, a mix of admiration and concern in my thoughts. What kind of world do these young agents live in?

I continue, "Although it seems like a lot, the Academy is huge. And even if a fight were to break out, each professor is not allowed to leave their zone unless Professor Thaddeus gives the order, as he's in charge of security."

We reach a seemingly ordinary wall, and with a tap of my finger, I activate a hidden mechanism. Gears shift internally, and the wall opens, revealing the underground network of the Academy. "This is the underground network," I explain. "I'm not sure what you need to do here, but this is as far as I can take you. Unfortunately, V has asked me to assist him elsewhere."

I look at the boy, his presence a puzzle and a testament to V's unorthodox methods. His ability to keep pace with me, both physically and mentally, suggests there's much more to him than meets the eye.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In the underground network of the Academy, Ash stands alone, catching his breath after the swift run with Professor Ayla. His heavy breaths are muffled by the mask, but the effort he's exerted is evident. "T-that was quite a workout, I-I don't want to do that again," he pants, speaking to himself but knowing that Des is listening through the earpiece.

Des's voice crackles through the earpiece, a mix of admonishment and concern in her tone. "This is what happens when you skip out on training," she chides. "You're lucky the mask covers your heavy breathing. Now stop complaining and go in! I have the map on my screen here, ready. Put on the glasses that Eira lent you, very very very very carefully. And I mean it. Don't break them, or she'll get angry at us! Hurry up, I need to see what you're seeing."

Ash groans, his frustration clear even through the mask's voice modulation. "All you're doing is yelling at me. 'Don't talk', 'don't do anything stupid'," he mutters under his breath. Despite his grumbling, he carefully retrieves the glasses from his pocket. The glasses, a sophisticated piece of equipment from Eira, are crucial for their mission.

He gingerly puts them on, adjusting them to fit snugly over his mask. The glasses come to life, their lenses flickering with a soft glow as they interface with the technology embedded in his mask.

"Okay, they're on. Happy now?" Ash says, a hint of playfulness creeping into his voice despite the earlier frustration. He glances around the dimly lit tunnel, the glasses enhancing his vision and providing a clearer view of his surroundings.

Through the earpiece, Des guides him, her voice a steady presence in his ear. "Good. Now, go down the tunnel and keep your eyes open. I'm watching everything from here. Remember, we're here on a mission. Stay focused, Ash."

Ash navigates the winding tunnels beneath the Academy, his movements swift yet cautious, guided by Des's directions coming through the earpiece. "Are you sure it's this way? It's getting smaller and smaller," he complains, ducking to avoid low-hanging pipes.

"I'm just following what Kael said, so hurry it up," Des retorts with a 'hmph,' her voice a mix of impatience and focus.

Finally reaching the designated spot, Ash is about to sprint forward when Des's urgent voice stops him. "Wait! Don't run anymore, you idiot!" she exclaims, her tone laced with anxiety.

Ash grits his teeth, his frustration evident. "Okay, I get it! Sheesh, you're not the one down here, so stop yelling," he snaps back, his voice echoing slightly in the tunnel.

Des ignores his complaint and instructs him, "Grab one of the boxes." Ash reaches into his pouch and pulls out a box, opening it with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"Wait, I need to read the instructions. Ah, where did I put them?" Des mutters, her voice betraying a hint of disorganization as she searches her screen. "Here they are. Okay, first take out the big paper with a magic circle on it and place it down on the floor, make sure the drawing of the circle is facing upwards."

Ash, following her instructions, lays the paper down but accidentally places it upside down. "Okay, so... like this?" he asks, unaware of his mistake.

"No, you idiot! Just flip the paper to the other side," Des corrects him, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Ash clicks his tongue, flipping the paper. "H-how was I supposed to know? Tsk, what's next?"

Des continues, reading from the instructions. "Now, put some rocks on each corner of the paper to keep it in place." Ash complies, placing rocks carefully.

"Okay, what's next?" he asks, looking at the array of items in the box.

Des guides him further. "In the box, there are three different vials. Start with the blue one. On a corner of the paper, there's one triangle drawn inside the circle. Pour the blue one on top of that triangle. The page should glow."

Ash follows her instructions, watching in fascination as the paper begins to emit a soft, blue glow.

"Next, the green vial," Des instructs. "Pour the green vial in the center of the magic circle."

Ash does so, observing the green liquid merging with the glowing circle.

"And finally, the red vial," Des says. "There's a small box in the box, covered in paper. No need to open it. Put it in the center of the paper and pour the red vial on top."

Ash carefully places the small box and douses it with the red vial, watching as the entire setup comes alive with a myriad of colors.

"Okay, Ash, did you do it all?" Des asks, her voice a blend of anticipation and concern.

Ash nods, even though she can't see him. "Yeah, all done. Now what?"

 Ash's confirmation is met with a moment of silence from Des. Then, her voice, steady and focused, comes through the earpiece. "Okay... Um, now we have to do this 49 more times."