CHAPTER 166: SUN’S INTERFERENCE

The academy was in uproar.

From the broken earth beneath the central courtyard, shadows poured like smoke, thick and fast, carrying with them shapes that twisted into claws, wings, and fangs.

The once-polished flagstones split apart, vomiting darkness into the night. The first wave of students had already rushed to form lines, desperation burning in their faces, but the creatures tore through them without slowing.

Screams cut through the din as the formations broke.

Teachers shouted for order, voices sharp and frantic over the collapse of stone and shattering wards.

Spells flared in panicked rhythm across the night, bolts of fire, spears of lightning, blades of wind, each strike briefly illuminating the chaos.

But for every beast that fell, another reformed. Their bodies dissolved into mist and crawled once more from the widening rift.

The ground itself shook beneath each emergence, cracks racing outward from the courtyard as if the earth’s heart had been pierced.

The air carried the acrid sting of burning mana, sharp enough to make throats ache and eyes sting. Every breath dragged heavy into lungs, weighted as though the battlefield itself conspired to pull its defenders down.

"Push them back!" Master Arin roared. His hand shone white-hot as arcs of lightning burst forth, crashing into a cluster of shadowlings.

The creatures shrieked as their forms shattered, scattering in smoking fragments, only to whirl together again, twisting into a larger, more grotesque mass.

Mistress Veyla, usually the calm center of the academy, shouted herself hoarse as she reinforced the wards around the youngest students.

A translucent dome spread from her hand in time to catch a clawed strike that would have torn a boy in two. Her other palm pressed against the trembling ground, channeling layer upon layer of defense into the very stone.

Sweat streaked down her face, and her eyes burned with strain. "Keep the formations tight! Don’t scatter! Hold them!"

But it was like trying to hold back the tide with bare hands. Every shadow struck down returned in twofold.

Each wave swelled stronger, denser, as though the rift itself was learning, adapting. The courtyard, where laughter had echoed, where sparring matches had once ended in cheers, was no longer a place of growth but a slaughterhouse.

And then the rift widened.

The air cracked like glass. From within the shuddering wound in reality, something larger forced its way through.

At first, the outline resembled a man’s frame, The Cult Master’s body rose, half-consumed by smoke. His limbs hung at strange angles, stretched unnaturally long.

His chest swelled grotesquely, ribs straining as though his very bones resisted what clawed inside. His head hung forward, pulled low by invisible chains. His skin rippled and shifted, no longer flesh but a writhing sheath of shadow.

The darkness constricted around him. Veins of red light bulged across his body like molten cracks in stone.

Each throb sent fresh waves of heat rolling outward, blistering the air. When he finally straightened, it was clear he was no longer himself.

A General of the shadow forces had taken him.

The figure stepped onto the battlefield. Every motion oozed authority, deliberate, patient, inevitable.

Shadows dripped from its limbs and stained the courtyard stone, spreading outward like oil poured across water. Its presence pressed down upon the field like invisible chains.

Several students collapsed to their knees, unable to resist the crushing weight. Spells weakened mid-flight, flames sputtering, lightning dying before it struck. Defensive barriers flickered and broke.

One group of desperate students struck directly at the General, their blades and charms raised with courage enough to rival their fear.

The General raised one hand,

only one, and their bodies were flung aside as if they were straw. They crashed against stone walls, broken dolls strewn across rubble.

The bells of the academy rang without pause, metallic clang after clang. They should have drowned all other sound, but even their thunder was eclipsed.

A voice rolled across the grounds, low, resonant, reverberating through bone and marrow.

"Your walls will not hold. Your stars are gone."

The words themselves cut sharper than any blade. Students froze mid-motion, limbs stiff as though seized by invisible hands.

Others turned and ran, abandoning formations their teachers had bled to hold together. Even instructors hesitated, their spells faltering before they rallied with grim resolve.

At the edge of the courtyard, Jae stood watching. His red eyes gleamed in the firelight of burning wards, calm in their intensity though his blood thrummed hot in his veins.

His mana stirred restlessly, pulsing in rhythm with the pounding of his heart.

At his side, a faint glow shimmered into being. With a single thought, the air condensed, and a blade of pure crimson flame blazed into his grasp.

[Skill Activated: Dragonfire Blade]

The mana-sword hummed in his hand, fire curling eagerly along its edge. The warmth climbed his arm, steady, familiar, an old companion whispering a single truth: fight.

His instincts screamed the same. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, that if no one confronted the General directly, the academy would fall.

Jae stepped forward.

"Stop."

The command cut sharp across the battlefield. Sun had moved into his path, tall and rigid, posture unyielding. His expression revealed nothing, but his eyes were cold as ice.

"You’re not to fight," Sun said. His tone was flat, but its authority struck like iron. "This is a threat only the royal family may confront."

Jae frowned, his grip on the mana-blade tightening. "You want me to just stand here while that thing tears through the academy?"

"It isn’t your place," Sun replied, voice steady, unflinching. "You’ll interfere and make it worse. Stay back."

The words bit deeper than the command. They weren’t borne of fear or hesitation. They carried too much insistence, too much weight, as if Sun’s focus wasn’t on the General at all but on keeping Jae away.

"You’re more focused on stopping me than stopping it," Jae said, his voice low, sharp. "Almost like you don’t want it defeated."

Sun’s eyes narrowed, frost biting at his tone. "Watch your words."

"Then tell me I’m wrong."

The ground shook violently as the General slammed its massive arm into a warding tower. Stone shattered, raining debris across defenders who scattered, screaming.

The wards that had once guarded the courtyard splintered with a thunderous crack. Yet Jae didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed, his blade pulsed, his resolve hardened.

"I’m the only one here who can defeat it."