Part Three

Stretching out my arms, I open the oven and pull out the pan. It's time for a treat I haven't had in ages. I carefully cut the donuts, scooping ice cream into each one. Heh~ Ice cream donuts are the best: a perfect blend of warm, soft dough and cool, sweet cream. Placing the large plate on the table, I announce, "Get a snack for the show."

Lysandra grabs a handful and shoves them into her mouth. Her eyes light up, and she trembles slightly as she declares, "This is so fucking good." Damn, Lysandra eats too much... I wonder where she puts it all.

I pick up a donut and hover it above Biana's nose. She's still laying her head on the table, snoring away. As the scent reaches her, she instinctively tries to bite it, but I pull it back just in time. She topples over in her half-asleep state, trying to chase the donut. Ah, what a moron.

The rest of the group starts to dig in, grabbing the donuts with various expressions of delight. Oliver, with his usual curiosity, inspects his donut like it's a new potion ingredient before taking a cautious bite. His eyes widen in surprise, and he nods in approval.

Aira, still holding her sword, reluctantly puts it down to try one. Her usual stern expression softens as she tastes it. "Not bad," she mutters, a rare compliment from her.

I take a bite of my own creation, savoring the mix of flavors. It's good but it could be better. It won't be long until I'll have to move nonstop so I better enjoy this while I can. 

"Enjoy it while it lasts," I say, glancing towards the monster that's now Azura's problem. "We've got a front-row seat to the show."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The monstrous behemoth erupts from the water, a towering mass of tentacles and gnarled flesh, right in front of Azura's group. Azura, without a moment's hesitation, springs into action. Her fist flies through the air, connecting with a solid thud against the creature's rubbery hide, but it's like hitting a wall. The beast barely flinches.

Knox is right there with her, his body a blur of movement. He launches a series of high kicks, aiming for the creature's eyes, but his attacks are deflected by the sweeping tentacles. His agility keeps him safe, but it's clear their usual tactics aren't working.

Quinn darts in, her daggers glowing with enchantments. She aims for the gaps between the monster's armored segments, but her blades struggle to pierce its skin. She flips back, narrowly avoiding a lashing tentacle, her face set in a determined frown.

Calder swings his greatsword with both hands, each strike powerful enough to cleave stone. But against the behemoth, his blade only leaves shallow cuts. He glances over at Lyra, ensuring she's out of harm's direct path.

Zephyr, concentrating her efforts, summons a fierce gust of wind. The blast hits the monster, momentarily disorienting it. Azura uses this opening to launch another attack, her fists hammering against its head, but it's still not enough.

The creature roars, a sound that vibrates through the water, and swings its massive tentacles with even more fury. Knox barely dodges one, rolling away and shouting, "We need to hit it harder. For fucks sake... It's like we're tickling it."

Azura, frustration mounting, wipes a trickle of blood from her nose. She grits her teeth, muscles tensing for another assault. "Keep at it you fuckheads! It has to have a weak spot. If any of you get hurt, I won't let it slide!"

Quinn, observing the monster's movements, calls out, "Hehe, it has to be the eyes right?"

-

As a massive tentacle comes hurtling towards her, Azura barely has time to react. The impact is immediate and forceful, sending her flying back through the air. She crashes into the water with a resounding splash. Ugh... what sort of fish is this? The water envelops her for a moment before she reacts instinctively.

Reaching out her hand, she touches the surface of the water, treating it as solid ground, and propels herself back up. Emerging from the water, she stands defiantly on its surface, a fierce look in her eyes. She takes a moment, closing one nostril with her finger, and blows hard through the other, expelling the blood that had trickled down from her nose. Tsk, this big fish thinks he's the king? What a fucking joke.

Cracking her neck, she raises her hand, a determined glint in her eyes. "I'll show it who the king is," she declares, her voice filled with a raw, unyielding conviction. She channels her aura into her hand, the energy concentrating and hardening around her knuckles, forming a glowing, sharp point. It's an aura enhancement, one that she's perfected over countless battles.

With a burst of speed, she charges at the behemoth, leaving a trail of splashing water behind her. Her enhanced fist aims straight for the creature's body, cutting through the air with lethal intent. As her fist connects, a shockwave ripples through the water, the force of the impact visible in the disturbed surface.

The punch lands with a thunderous sound, but the behemoth's hide is tougher than anything she's faced before. The blow only manages to slightly cut it, a shallow wound on its massive form. Azura lands back on the water, her feet barely causing a ripple, her breathing steady despite the exertion.

Azura's eyes blaze with unyielding determination as she faces the gargantuan beast. The creature, towering and monstrous, swings its tentacles with wild abandon, each one a deadly weapon of its own. Azura, undaunted, zeroes in on one of the flailing limbs, her muscles tensing in preparation for her next move.

As the tentacle comes hurtling towards her, she leaps, her movements a perfect blend of grace and power. She grabs the tentacle mid-air, her fingers digging into its rubbery flesh. The beast, taken aback by her audacity, thrashes violently, trying to dislodge her.

But Azura holds on, her grip ironclad. She's swung through the air like a ragdoll, the force of the beast's movements threatening to tear her away. Yet, she clings on, her aura flaring around her, forming a protective barrier that lessens the strain on her body.

With a fierce battle cry, she channels her aura into her other hand, transforming it into a blade of pure energy. She hacks at the tentacle, her strikes precise and forceful. The monster bellows in pain, its cries echoing across the water.

The tentacle, already weakened by her relentless assault, begins to give way. With one final, Herculean effort, Azura rips it off, sending a spray of dark, ichorous blood into the air. The severed limb thrashes wildly in the water before sinking beneath the surface. Azura lands back on the water, her breathing heavy but steady.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Finally getting everything back into my pouch, I take a moment to assess the situation. It's about time for the others to show up, but there's no need to rush ending this fight. I stroll over to Isadora, who's intently watching Azura's battle with the monster. "Stop it," I tell her firmly. "I gave you a better movement technique, so just practice it. It's not supposed to be easy."

Looking up at the towering monster, I note its head raised high, surveying its domain. It's an imposing sight, but I'm already formulating a plan.

Isabella's eyes flicker towards me, curiosity and suspicion mingling in her gaze. "Just what are you planning now?" she inquires, her tone cautious.

I flash her a grin, filled with confidence. "Don't worry about it. You won't see me for the rest of the match."

Lysandra, lounging atop Biana, groans as I grab her arm, dragging her along. "What are we doing now?" she asks, her voice laced with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

I don't answer her question, instead turning my attention back to Isadora. I lean in close, whispering something into her ear. It's crucial that the others, especially the readers, don't catch what I'm saying. She simply nods in understanding, her expression unreadable as always.

With a final glance at the group, I declare, "See you all later." Then, in a swift, coordinated move, Isadora grabs both me and Lysandra. With incredible speed, she dashes towards the monstrous behemoth, her every step measured and powerful.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a secluded, dark corner of the Equinox Academy, hidden away from prying eyes, a group of cultists gathers. These are the members of Group Seven, a faction distinguished by their use of advanced transformation magic to masquerade as teenagers. But beneath their youthful guises lie minds twisted by fanaticism, irredeemable and utterly devoted to a sinister cause.

The atmosphere among them is somber, their expressions cold and determined. They stand in a circle, their eyes reflecting the dim light from a single, flickering candle. The room is cloaked in shadows, the air heavy with a sense of foreboding.

One of them, a figure with an unnervingly calm demeanor, steps forward. His voice is as cold as the air around them, devoid of any emotion. "The time has come," he begins, his tone resolute. "Our objective is clear: we must take control of the operator room. It is the nerve center of the academy, the place where every corridor, every room is monitored."

He looks around at his fellow cultists, his gaze piercing. "Everything has been meticulously planned by the great ones. Our lord's salvation hinges on our success. Once we control the operator room, we will activate the arrays already installed there. These arrays are designed to disrupt both mana and aura abilities, neutralizing the defenses of those within."

His words are met with nods of agreement, the group's resolve hardening. "The inhabitants of the operator room are powerful, but they will be helpless against our strategy. We have the element of surprise, and we must use it to our advantage."

A sense of unity binds the group, their dedication to their twisted cause unwavering. They are more than ready to carry out their mission, their minds poisoned by the promise of their lord's return.

"This is more than a mission; it is a sacred duty," the speaker continues, his voice a chilling whisper. "We will not fail. For the glory of our lord and the fulfillment of our destiny, we will see this through to the end, no matter the cost."

Scrrrritch... Scrrrritch... Scrrrritch... The sound of a dagger methodically scraping against the cold stone wall reverberates through the dimly lit chamber. Each drawn-out stroke of metal against rock sends a shiver through the air, filling the space with an eerie cadence.

Suddenly, the scraping ceases, giving way to a chilling, drawn-out hum:

"Mmmmm... Mmmmm... Mmmmm... Mmmmm..."

The hum is slow, deliberate, and cold. It resonates through the chamber like a spectral song, void of warmth or life. The notes meander hauntingly, weaving an unsettling melody that hangs heavily in the shadowy room.

As the humming continues, it grows in intensity, yet retains its icy, hypnotic rhythm:

"Mmmmm... Mmmmm... Mmmmm... Mmmmm..."

Then, as abruptly as it began, the humming cuts off, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. In that void of sound, a low, sinister laughter slowly unfolds:

"Hmhmhmhmhmhmhahahaha..."

The laughter, cold and devoid of joy, echoes off the walls, a dark celebration of the nefarious intentions brewing in the room.

The cultists of Group Seven, their resolve steeled and weapons drawn, are poised for any confrontation that might arise. The room, steeped in shadow and tension, feels like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

The leader, his hand gripping his weapon tightly, steps forward to confront a figure emerging from the depths of the darkness. His footsteps are confident, measured, each one echoing in the silence of the room. "Who dares to interrupt our sacred gathering?" he demands, his voice a cold blade cutting through the stillness.

But as he strides into the shadows to face the intruder, his voice abruptly cuts off. The room falls silent, the other cultists exchanging puzzled glances. "What happened?" one of them whispers, his voice tinged with unease.

In a horrifying moment, the stillness is shattered by the sound of something wet and heavy rolling across the floor. It stops at the feet of the cultists - a human heart, still faintly pulsating. Eyes wide with terror, they slowly turn back towards the darkness.

Out of the shadows emerges only a malicious grin, framed by the darkness, and a pair of dark green eyes glowing with an eerie light. The figure speaks with a chilling calm, "He was right." Then the room is filled with a cold, mocking laughter. "Hmhmhmhahahaha!"

Before any of them can react, the figure strikes with inhuman speed. One by one, the cultists collapse, each with a dagger precisely embedded in their heart. Their expressions frozen in shock and fear, their dark plot ending as swiftly and silently as it had been planned.

The figure steps out of the shadows, their grin still wide, the laughter fading into the dark corridors of the academy.