The wind blew coldly as they reached the top of the slope.

The entire horizon was dominated by the colossal sight of Azalith Academy—a fortress carved into the mountain, surrounded by white stone walls covered in golden runes.

Above it, a translucent dome shimmered like a second sky—the golden barrier that protected the heart of the city.

The barrier's light cut through the fog, casting reflections across the rocks.

Even wounded, Azalith still resisted.

Sylphie was the first to stop, her eyes fixed on the structure.

From where they stood, they could see the academy's inner towers casting intersecting beams of light, supporting the magical shield. Inside, shadows scurried—magicians and instructors keeping the seal active.

Outside, a field of destruction.

The slope leading to the main gate was covered with mana creatures, clustered together like a living swarm. Translucent, misshapen beasts, their bodies composed of raw energy.

Their every step left luminous trails on the cracked ground.

Sylphie crouched, observing the movement.

"The walls are still standing," she said quietly. "But if the barrier falls, the Academy falls with it."

Irelia twirled her sword, gauging the distance.

"There was heavy fighting here. The instructors must be trapped inside, defending the seal."

Amélia approached, her staff resting on the ground.

"And outside, no one remained to stop the creatures from climbing."

The princess remained behind, her gaze fixed on the walls.

The golden barrier emitted a low, steady sound, like the echo of a distant bell—the sound of magic sustaining the impossible.

Sylphie pointed to the gate. "We have to go through there. If we reach the perimeter of the barrier, perhaps they will be able to identify us as allies."

"And these things?" Irelia asked, watching the beasts.

Amélia answered without hesitation.

"Leave it to me."

Sylphie turned away in surprise. "You're low on mana, Amelia."

But Amelia had already taken a step forward.

The wind began to shift.

Her staff began to emit a high-pitched sound, vibrating with the pressure of the energy.

The runes covering the wood lit up icy blue, and the air around her grew heavy—so cold that the vapor from each breath turned to crystals before her lips.

The beasts began to move.

One hundred. Two hundred.

The entire ground seemed to ripple with their advance.

Amélia raised her staff.

The tip glowed like the core of a star.

The runes expanded, forming a massive circle around her. Ancient symbols floated in the air, each one ringing like a broken bell. The sky changed color—the pale blue turned to pure white.

Sylphie felt the impact even before the spell was cast.

The air went still, the wind stilled. The sound died.

"Amelia!" she screamed, but it was too late.

The witch extended her arm, her voice cutting through the air:

"Ice Age."

The world responded with silence—and then, destruction.

From her staff, a white explosion expanded in all directions.

The light engulfed the hillside, the ground, and the sky.

Everything around them was frozen in a single instant.

The advancing beasts were engulfed in a layer of pale blue ice—bodies and energy trapped in time.

The ground was covered in miles of translucent crystal, reflecting the golden barrier above like a shattered mirror.

When the sound returned, it was that of shattered glass. The frozen creatures shattered, turning into mana dust that dissolved in the wind.

Silence returned, absolute.

Amelia stood motionless in the center of the devastation, her staff still raised.

The tip burned blue, and the air around her trembled.

Sylphie and Irelia rushed to her.

Amelia's first step was unsteady.

The second, hesitant.

On the third, blood trickled from her mouth.

She fell to her knees.

"Amelia!"

Irelia caught her before she fell completely, supporting her body on her shoulder.

Amelia's face was pale, her eyes half-closed.

"Idiot," Irelia muttered firmly, adjusting her position. "You didn't have to do this alone."

Amelia coughed, spitting up more blood. "Shut... up," she muttered, forcing a half-smile. "I had... to clear a path."

Sylphie approached, her gaze darting around.

The entire slope was clear—no enemy standing.

But the price had been high.

The mana around Amelia was nearly depleted.

The color of her aura had faded, leaving only a faint flicker around her body.

"You need to rest," Sylphie said. "Or you'll die before you get there."

Amelia ignored her.

With effort, she raised her free hand and moved her fingers in the air.

Runes began to form—slow, unsteady, but precise.

On the ground ahead, stone blocks began to rise, one after another, forming a makeshift staircase that climbed up to the walls.

Sylphie watched her silently.

Irelia, still holding her friend, muttered,

"You just don't learn."

"Shut up, I said," Amelia replied, her voice weak but firm.

Her staff trembled in her hand.

The staircase completed with a crack.

From above, the golden barrier pulsed, reflecting light off the ice covering the ground.

Sylphie climbed first, testing the structure.

Each step vibrated beneath her touch, held together by sheer willpower.

She glanced back.

"Irelia, bring her. I'll open the way."

Irelia nodded.

Carefully, she lifted Amelia onto her shoulder and began to climb.

The princess followed close behind, her cloak dragging over the cracked ice.

The air grew denser the closer they got to the barrier. The heat of the golden energy mixed with the extreme cold of the previous spell, creating a contrast that made the air ripple in visible bands.

Reaching the top, Sylphie stopped.

From above, the entirety of Azalith Academy lay revealed.

Tower after tower, connected by crystal bridges, all within the golden dome.

Mages and instructors moved on the highest platforms, casting coordinated spells to keep the shield stable.

Even from a distance, the wear and tear could be seen.

The barrier wavered in spots—the outer runes flickering and rekindling at irregular intervals.

Sylphie placed her hand on the golden surface.

The heat was intense.

The barrier vibrated like a living wall, reacting to her touch.

On the other side, a figure—a mage in a golden robe—saw them.

He made a quick gesture, and the seal before them partially opened, creating a vertical slit of light.

"Hurry," Sylphie said, glancing at the others.

Irelia climbed the last step and passed through the crack, carrying Amelia.

The princess entered soon after, panting.

As Sylphie crossed the passage, the sound of the shield intensified—and the barrier closed again behind them, sealing off the outside world.

Inside the dome, the air was different.

Hotter. Heavier.

The stones of the floor trembled under the steady flow of mana channeled by the instructors.

A gray-haired man approached, his golden cloak marked with runes that glowed faintly.

He looked at the group appraisingly.

"Did you come from outside?" he asked hoarsely.

Sylphie nodded.

"Yes. The south gate is clear."

The man shifted his gaze to Amelia—still leaning against Irelia, blood trickling from her mouth.

"She used high-level magic, didn't she?"

Irelia replied coldly. "She led us here."

The mage sighed, raising his arm.

Healing runes lit in his palm, casting a soft light over Amelia.

Color slowly returned to her face, but her eyes were still half-closed.

"Rest," the man said. "Within the barrier, you are safe. For now."

Sylphie looked up at the golden sky above.

Even from within, she could see the unstable glow pulsing from the mountain.

Something in the center of the Academy still vibrated strongly—something that not even the barrier seemed to fully contain.

She kept her gaze fixed on the inner castle.

"Kael..." she murmured.

The mage heard her. "..." he observed and glanced at the barrier... "The barrier may not hold another night."

Sylphie nodded silently.

Irelia rose sharply, spear still resting on her shoulder, and walked to the front of the group as if she were about to push the world with her fists. The air between her and the tall man—a commander in worn armor, with broken insignia and a helmet hanging at his side—was thick with tension.

She stopped a few steps away. The man looked at her with tired eyes, frowning.

"Hey," Irelia snapped, her voice as hard as a blade, "why the fuck is there an invasion happening and you, who are supposed to be protecting the city, are messing around? Why are you hiding behind the barrier while outside the city is being devoured?"

The commander opened his mouth, hostility rising reflexively.

"Shut the fuck up and get in your place. You think we haven't tried? We've been dealing with this for weeks. Who are you to question the order?" He took a step forward, his words hardened by sleepless nights.

Irelia didn't back down. She stood still, nose in the air, defiance etched in every line of her face.

"Irelia Ainsworth," she said dryly. "My uncle is the fucking Sword King Adalric Ainsworth. So tell me what the hell is going on now before I cut you in half and ask the next guy."

The effect was immediate. The muscle in the commander's jaw twitched. His face shifted between surprise and rapid calculation—names mattered in that world of alliances and threats; Ainsworth was a name that carried weight. The hostility took a step back, replaced by caution.

He took a breath, trying to regain his composure. Around him, a few nearby soldiers raised their heads, alert. The atmosphere in the barrier's inner plaza grew tense: evacuated civilians, exhausted instructors running, a tense routine of containment.

"Adalric Ainsworth," he murmured, more to himself than to Irelia. "The king... yes. That changes diplomacy." His voice lost some of its edge. "But don't get me wrong, girl: we're not 'hiding.' Do you see the barrier? Do you see the Academy in flames? We're holding back a hole that's trying to swallow the entire world."

Irelia didn't smile. "Then speak clearly. Speak now." The man stared at her for a moment longer, as if deciding between truth and courtesy. Finally, he pointed to a map hanging on a nearby wall—a tapestry showing the city and the ascent to the Academy.

"My name is Captain Halvar. Commander of the Third Bastion. The order is simple: maintain the inner seal. Hold out until the Academy regains control of the towers." He slapped his palm on the tapestry. "Reinforcement? Promised, yes. But messages have been cut. Arcane channels, horse routes... all intercepted. Have you seen the mana pathways?" He pointed to glowing veins snaking through the city. "Most of the defenses have been eroded and redirected to feed something deep within the mountain. This was no ordinary attack—it was a ritual intertwined with the foundations. This isn't a wave of monsters; it's extraction. And worst of all, there are points that draw energy directly from the Academy."

Sylphie, her face pale, stepped forward. "Who's commanding this?" Who cast the ritual?

Halvar closed his eyes for a second, then took a breath. "That's the problem. The watchtowers have reported signs of internal arcane manipulation—rewritten runes, reversed channels. We even sent investigators to the central dome, but nothing came through. Communication with the Directorate has been cut off. Some say the director is... absent. Others, that he was betrayed from within. I have no confirmation. I only know that the machine that sustains the city has become an extraction tool."

Amélia, supported by Irelia, wavered palely as she tried to keep up. "So the Academy itself has become a trap?"

"Those inside don't get out, and those outside don't get in. Just when all of Azalith's forces were inside," he commented.