CHAPTER 261: CHAPTER 261

Berserk’s mask cracked under the force, a spiderweb of fractures spreading across its surface. Even so, Berserk only laughed—an ominous, guttural sound that reverberated through the ruins. "Your courage, I praise it," he said, his voice a twisted melody of admiration and mockery, the mask’s cracks glinting under the dim light as if mocking the futility of their efforts.

Cypher and Edge surged forward in a desperate bid to take advantage of the moment, their weapons raised. But Berserk was faster. Metal claws erupted from his knuckles with a sickening shink, gleaming like razor-sharp talons. They shot out in a blur, piercing Jude’s chest with brutal precision, the instructor’s body jerking violently as blood sprayed in crimson arcs.

"Pfft!" Jude coughed up a mouthful of blood, his eyes widening in shock before he crumpled to the ground. It was only then that Cypher and Edge arrived, too late, their attacks faltering as they skidded to a halt beside their fallen mentor.

Berserk closed his eyes for a brief moment, shaking his head with feigned sorrow. "How unfortunate," he muttered, his tone dripping with arrogant indifference.

With a single, dismissive wave of his hand, he unleashed another pulse of magic. Edge’s spear shattered like glass under an invisible hammer, splintering into useless fragments that clattered to the earth. Cypher was shoved back with effortless force, tumbling through the air before crashing into a pile of rubble, the wind knocked out of him. The difference in their power was staggering.

Looking down at the battered group with eyes that burned through his mask, Berserk muttered arrogantly, his voice a blend of condescension and amusement. "I said I would let you live. What makes you so eager to die?"

Suddenly, the air erupted with the the howl of wind. Every eye in the area snapped upward, drawn by the unearthly disturbance. High in the sky, a swirling lump of raw magic power materialized, pulsing with ethereal energy like a heart of pure storm. It streaked downward like a shooting star, blazing through the heavens before slamming into the heart of Glacial Sphere Academy with a cataclysmic boom. The ground trembled, shockwaves rippling outward, and a blinding flash illuminated the devastation.

A brief silence descended upon the area, heavy and suffocating. The unexpected phenomenon had left everyone frozen, breaths held in collective shock. Then, a slow-blowing wind stirred, gentle at first but gaining strength, lifting the thick cloud of dirt. As the haze dissipated, swirling away in eddies of dust and debris, a single figure emerged in the center of the massive crater—a man standing tall amidst the scorched earth, his silhouette etched against the lingering smoke.

"D-Dad?!" Whitney’s voice pierced the stillness. Her eyes widened, hands flying to her mouth as recognition hit her. She stumbled forward a step, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and fear.

Naturally, the others pieced it together in an instant—their savior, Whitney’s father, Matthias Owen.

Matthias glanced at Whitney, his eyes softening for just a moment behind a mask of stoic resolve. He let out a deep sigh of relief, the tension in his shoulders easing as he confirmed she was alive and relatively unharmed.

"You-You’re Matthias Owen!" Berserk muttered, his voice a venomous hiss, the mask’s cracks seeming to deepen with his shock. The enigmatic Rogue’s body tensed, his earlier arrogance cracking like thin ice. He and Matthias clearly knew each other, the air between them thick with unspoken history—Berserk’s glare burned with pure, seething hatred, his fists clenching as old wounds reopened.

Matthias muttered nonchalantly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "It’s been a while, Malak."

Berserk’s face immediately distorted beneath the mask, his exposed jaw tightening into a snarl of raw fury. "I thought I told you never to call me by that name again," he spat, the words dripping with venom, his body coiling like a predator ready to strike.

"I can’t remember," Matthias replied, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and challenge. "But you know..." The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a storm of barely contained wrath. Bluish electricity began to crackle fiercely around him, arcing like living serpents through the air, illuminating his form in a halo of electric fury. He fought to suppress the rage boiling inside, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "It’s none of your business what I call you, motherfucker."

Matthias the Raegon—that was the name he earned through his mastery of electricity and because he can’t contain his fury on the battlefield. It was an alias that made Whitney and her mother squirm with embarrassment, a reminder of the wild, uncontrollable side of the man they loved. But there was one among them who watched with unabashed respect, his eyes wide with awe.

"I can’t believe it..." Edge Killian breathed, his voice barely audible over the hum of Matthias’ crackling energy. He stood transfixed, the shattered remnants of his spear forgotten at his feet, as if witnessing a myth come to life.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

When the rooftop shook violently as the entire building crumbled down, I knew disaster was upon us. But before I could fall into the abyss, I summoned my last ounce of mana, channeling it into a desperate barrier to shield Aurora and Angela. The translucent dome flickered to life around them before I got hurling away from them. I plummeted through the air, separated by the blast’s merciless force, my heart pounding with fear for their safety even as my own world spun into darkness.

I dropped to the floor with a loud thud, the impact jarring every bone in my body. Debris rained down like a hailstorm—chunks of concrete, twisted metal, and shattered glass pelting the ground around me. I tried crawling away, dragging myself through the dust and rubble, but my muscles refused to obey. Pain radiated from every limb. ’Well, this is a sad and unworthy way to die,’ I thought bitterly.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the end as a cluster of metal rods descended slowly, inexorably, like the jaws of fate. But there was no pain. No crushing weight. Instead, a familiar voice pierced the haze.

"...ster! Master!"

I opened my eyes to see Macaron, shielding me from the falling debris. His sleek, feathered form hovered protectively, wings spread wide as he deflected the onslaught with bursts of his own magic. I heard a low grumble beside me and turned my head to see Glacier, crouching nearby. His eyes fixed on me with a mix of concern and reproach.

"Macaron... Glacier..." I said weakly, my voice barely a whisper, relief flooding through the pain.

Macaron carefully scooped me up with his talons, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the urgency. He carried me over to Glacier, laying me down on its back. "You dumbass master," he screeched, his voice a frantic mix of anger and worry as we hurried away from the crumbling building and walked to a hidden tunnel. "You’re almost on the verge of death! What would have happened to us if Glacier didn’t sense you?! Huh?!" His words echoed through the chaos, laced with the raw emotion of a friend who’d nearly lost everything.

I chuckled then, a weak, pained sound that quickly turned into a gasp as agony flared anew throughout my battered body. "Well... I get to die another day...?" I managed to quip, trying to inject some levity into the grim situation, though it came out more like a wheeze than a joke.

"You’re the kind of master that is so reckless and crazy!" Macaron glared at me, his eyes flashing with a mix of exasperation and genuine concern. Without warning, he slapped my face with his wing, the feathery smack sharp but not unkind.

"Oww..." I mumbled weakly, my cheek stinging as I blinked up at him, the world still spinning from the pain and the adrenaline crash.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Nightjars Hideout

Thorne was happily counting his latest haul—piles of glittering jewels, enchanted trinkets, and stacks of money spread out on a scarred wooden table like trophies from a victorious heist. His fingers danced over the loot, a satisfied grin plastered on his face as he tallied the spoils from his latest mission. It had been a clean job, swift and profitable.

But then, the television flickered to life on its own, the screen buzzing with static before snapping into focus. An emergency announcement blared through the speakers, cutting through the hideout’s usual hush like a knife. Thorne paused mid-count, his grin fading as he glanced up. Magellan and Gula were sprawled out nearby—Magellan sharpening a dagger with lazy strokes, Gula idly flipping through a deck of cards. They both perked up at the intrusion, their eyes drawn to the glowing screen.

"My name is Mercy Antoine, and we are reporting live from Glacial Sphere Academy," the reporter’s voice announced, urgent and breathless. The camera panned over a scene of utter devastation: crumbling buildings shrouded in smoke, scattered debris, and the distant silhouettes of fleeing students. "Rogues have simultaneously invaded Academy for Heroes all over the world..."

Thorne’s brow furrowed, his loot momentarily forgotten. "So they finally went mad," he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a cynical chuckle. The Rogues had always been a chaotic bunch, but this? Invading academies en masse? It was bold, reckless—even for them.

With Matthias Owen’s appearance, the situation was quickly taken care of. After receiving the GPS Mirror from Cypher, Matthias moved like a bolt of lightning, darting across the ravaged grounds. He rescued every single student with breathtaking speed, his rage-fueled power shielding the vulnerable as he dismantled the Rogues’ forces one by one.

When news reporters, their microphones thrust forward like weapons in a siege, asked how he could arrive so quickly at the academy’s doorstep, Matthias Owen simply shrugged. "I learned that Glacial Sphere Academy wasn’t as trustworthy as it seemed," he replied, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of paternal fury. "So I have to protect my daughter with my own hands."

Gula, ever the pragmatist, grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels with a bored sigh. One after another, the screens flickered to life, each news agency echoing the same grim narrative: invasions, rescues, and the looming specter of retaliation. "...The Union of Sovereign States and the Global Heroes Alliance have condemned Rogues for today’s attack and have declared that they can no longer tolerate the Rogues’ tyranny," one anchor intoned solemnly, her face illuminated by the glow of breaking news graphics. "As the clouds of war are filling the skies across the globe..."

With the Rogues’ brazen assault on Hero Academies worldwide and their reckless provocation of the Kraken—the colossal, ancient guardian of the Aeonian Peninsula—the aftermath dwarfed any previous Rogue-related incidents. Cities were in lockdown and alliances were fracturing.

Currently, the president of Aeonia was personally directing emergency meetings with the Global Heroes Alliance. Diplomats argued in hushed tones, maps of the world spread out like battle plans, as they grappled with the fallout. Sanctions were being drafted, troops mobilized, and the fragile peace that had held since the last great Djinn uprising teetered on the brink.