CHAPTER 52: ( SKIP) ( DON’T UNLOCK IT)

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Chapter 57: Fresher Ball (1)

Five Minutes Before the Attack

Michael POV

I drew a slow

A faint violet shimmer haloed my vision, crawling across the marble tiles, climbing the frozen chandeliers, tracing along the veins of the summoning circle.

Fractals unfolded in my eyes countless, merciless. Every flick of mana, every rustle of silk gown, every breath drawn by terrified students became a line in an equation.

The ballroom no longer looked like a ballroom.

It was a battlefield. A chessboard. And every piece was already moving.

---

The summoning circle wasn’t just ink and glow. It was alive.

Crimson veins pulsed across the floor, as though the marble itself had grown arteries. Mana surged, fed by something unseen, a current thicker than rivers.

I narrowed my gaze. My vision tunneled deeper, piercing past the glowing runes.

There.

The pillars.

Elegant, carved marble supports, gilded with gold filigree. Decorative to the nobles, structural to the architects. But to me shimmering with thin, almost invisible veins of mana.

Like IV tubes feeding poison into a dying patient.

Inside each pillar embedded deep, pulsing faintly lay mana stones. Dozens, arranged like a spine. They thrummed with stolen energy, siphoning from outside sources and feeding it into the circle’s heart.

My calculations flared across my mind like rapid-fire equations:

Destroy the stones outright → backlash. Catastrophic. Building collapse within 1.2 seconds. 73% casualties.

Ignore them → circle completes. Projection: High-Rank Demon, Category A. Probability of survival: 0.8%.

Sever channels in controlled sequence → risk minimized. 52% chance of success... unless coordinated perfectly.

I clenched my fist. Fifty-two percent. Better than zero.

---

Gasps echoed around the hall. A noble girl screamed. Someone shouted "Demons!" as the first malformed claw scraped against the inside of the rift.

Chaos stirred like wildfire. First-years stumbled into each other. Second-years tried to form defensive lines, but half of them hesitated, fear freezing their hands.

Third-years looked grim, pulling weapons, activating aura, but their eyes betrayed it they’d never faced a ritual like this before.

This wasn’t training. This wasn’t a duel.

This was slaughter waiting to happen.

---

I forced my mind away from the panic, anchoring myself in the cold flow of probabilities.

Think. Who? Who can execute this?

Maria. Ice affinity. Precision control, disciplined to the point of cruelty. If anyone could freeze a flowing vein without cracking it, it was her.

Emily. Lionheart sword arts, famed for control. Not strength. Not flash. Control. A Lionheart blade could thread a needle mid-swing. Perfect for surgical cuts.

Alice. Shadows—elastic, adaptive, suppressive. If backlash came, she could strangle it before it screamed.

And Draven... arrogant bastard though he was. His lightning wasn’t just destructive. It was purifying, dispersive. A perfect eraser for residual sparks.

My lips parted slowly. That’s it. That’s the line.

---

The circle pulsed again. Stronger. The rift widened, a low hum shaking the very chandeliers.

I had seconds left before panic ruled everything.

I stepped forward.

The nobles’ chatter choked off the moment my boots echoed across the marble. Their eyes cut to me with disdain, confusion. Some sneered, others whispered. "What’s he doing?" "The commoner?" "Who does he think he is?"

I didn’t care. My voice rose, sharp as a blade.

"Maria. Emily. Alice. Draven."

The hall froze.

Four names. Four heirs. Each one used to leading, never following.

’And I a first-year commoner had just summoned them like pieces on a board.’

---

Maria’s gaze cut to me first. Silver hair caught the glow, her icy expression unreadable. But her eyes narrowed in faint interest.

Emily’s hand paused on her sword hilt, fiery gown shimmering, her brows furrowing.

Alice tilted her head, shadows curling faintly at her feet, her pale eyes unblinking.

And Magnus Draven towering, broad-shouldered, the embodiment of noble arrogance arched a brow, lips curving in something between mockery and curiosity.

---

The hall’s whispers rose louder.

"He’s insane."

"Does he think they’ll listen to him?"

"Draven will crush him for that."

I blocked it out. The probability tree spread before me, thousands of branches ending in fire, rubble, and corpses. Only one path glimmered faintly purple.

Narrow. Dangerous. But alive.

I breathed in, steady.

Time to gamble.

The ballroom no longer felt like Arcadia’s jewel of nobility.

Shadows writhed across marble tiles. The chandeliers, once brilliant, hung dead above. And in the center—where nobles had danced minutes ago—a circle of ancient crimson glyphs pulsed like a heartbeat.

Thrum. Thrum.

Each pulse spat mana into the air, pressing down on lungs, rattling bones. And then—

Tunk.

A horn slammed against the barrier from inside the circle.

Tunk. Tunk. Another. Claws, dripping with shadow, pressed harder.

The crowd broke. Screams rang out, feet scattered, goblets shattered against marble.

"W-What is that?!"

" More are Coming !"

"No—it’s... it’s—"

The voice of a third-year cracked above the panic.

"Demon of C rank!"

The word tore through the hall like a blade.

And panic turned to terror.

---

(Emily POV – commanding tone)

No time to hesitate.

Emily Lionheart stepped forward, crimson dress whipping behind her like a battle cloak.

Her voice thundered:

"Third-year mages! Shields, now!"

Dozens of upperclassmen snapped to attention through sheer instinct. Hands flared, runes carved into the air, mana threads locking together.

A crystalline dome shimmered across the hall, hexagonal plates fusing into place.

The demon’s claws struck

BAM!

The dome quivered, spiderweb cracks branching outward

—

But it held.

Emily’s breath steadied. She could feel her own fear clawing at her ribs. Demon Soldiers. D-rank equivalents. Dozens of them, pressing through a circle that was still growing.

But she couldn’t let it show.

Not here. Not in front of cadets who would shatter at the first sign of weakness.

---

Emily commond at her junior

"Second-years! Form strike units! D-Rank hunters to the front! When the shield falters, you strike the breach!"

A chorus of affirmatives answered. Lightning, fire, and steel lit the air as they prepared.

She turned her head slightly, voice lower—yet sharper.

"First-years... stand by. Do not panic. If you falter, you’ll be trampled by what comes next."

Her words were both whip and anchor. Cadets stiffened, terror still in their eyes, but none dared disobey.

---

(Michael POV )

I had to admit it.

Emily Lionheart wasn’t just a noble heiress. She was a commander.

Her words cut through panic, welding the fear of hundreds into brittle resolve. Still... resolve wasn’t enough.

Because the circle pulsed again. The glyphs weren’t weakening—they were feeding.

I narrowed my eyes, purple fractals flickering across my vision. Quantum Analysis Mind churned, showing branching futures, threads of collapse.

And then there it was.

Thin veins of mana spidering outward from the circle... feeding into the ballroom’s support pillars.

Mana stones. Embedded. External fuel.

That was the key.

Break them wrong—

Building collapse.

Circle destabilization.

High-Rank demon summoned.

My breath caught. That was the original story, wasn’t it? Kidnap attempts. Blood on marble. The worst-case future.

Not tonight.

---

Maria low, urgent

"You called me. Speak."

She stood beside me, eyes colder than the ice she wielded, yet I saw the faintest tremor in her hand. She wasn’t afraid of demons she was afraid of losing control of the battlefield.

Michael quiet, firm

"The circle’s being fed. Mana stones hidden in the pillars. Cut them wrong and we collapse the hall—or invite something stronger."

Maria’s silver eyes sharpened. She didn’t ask if I was sure. She simply believed.

But Emily heard, turning sharply, fire flashing in her gaze.

Emily sharp, disbelieving

"What?"

Michael:

"You heard me. The stones must be neutralized in sequence. Or this becomes a massacre."

The room shuddered again as the demon slammed against the shield. Emily’s knuckles tightened on her sword hilt.

She searched my face like she wanted to catch me bluffing. But I didn’t blink.

Finally, she exhaled, a harsh edge in her breath.

Emily (low, grudging):

"Then tell me how. Now."

---

The light of fractured futures danced in Michael’s eyes. He turned not just to Maria, but to the others gathering, drawn by the tension, the truth.

Maria Arrive and Emily was One hand away from him also Magnus and Alice also present near me.

---

Michael (commanding):

"Maria. When I signal, you freeze the mana lines. Ice will slow the flow without shattering them."

Maria’s lips curved faintly. "Consider it done."

Michael:

"Emily. After the freeze, you strike. Your control’s sharp enough to sever them clean."

Emily tilted her chin, pride flickering through her eyes. "...Then I’ll cut without fail."

Michael:

"Alice. Shadow threads—contain the backlash when the mana surges."

Alice Nightveil stepped from the shadows, veil drifting like smoke. Her voice was soft, amused.

"...You’re not half bad at playing general, commoner. Very well. My threads will weave the leaks shut."

Michael:

"Draven."

The name alone made the hall stiffen.

Magnus Draven stood aloof, hands behind his back, expression carved in arrogance. Sparks danced lazily along his glove.

"...You expect me to play janitor?"

Michael flat, unwavering

"You’re lightning. Perfect for dispersing fragments. You want to walk out alive, you do it."

Magnus’s smirk didn’t fade, but something colder sparked in his eyes. "...Tch. I’ll consider it charity."

---

(Leon POV )

I clenched my fists.

Michael. Commanding nobles. Giving orders to Draven. And worseMaria and Emily actually listening.

And I look at myself struggling to get graps of the situation, am I really not ready face such situations.

’ This nobel they had taunt me as they see me and I don’t even have confidence to face them and yet Michael is Ordering them ’

Beside me I saw Selena , who eyes are widely open seeing a Commoner to that gain support from the novel like this.

Selena whispered at my side.

"...He’s dangerous."

I hated it. Because she was right.

He is far from being Dangerous but good things is that he is on humanity side.

---

But Michael wasn’t finished. His gaze swept wider—toward his classmates, second-years, and third-years bracing the barrier.

Michael snapping out look at Elara and Chris and give them a task.

"Elara. Chris. You’re both earth affinity you’ll reinforce the pillars as soon as one stone is cut. Stone Pillars. Keep the building standing."

Elara’s eyes widened faintly, but she nodded. "Understood."

Chris smirked faintly, rolling his shoulders. "Finally, something to hit that isn’t screaming at me."

Michael:

"Leon. Aiden. You’ll break any demon that slips the front. Your speed and brute force are the stopgap."

Aiden grinned, fangs flashing. "About damn time!"

Leon’s jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly. "...Fine."

Michael:

"Selena. Support spells, prioritizing shields on strike units. You’ve got precision. Don’t waste it."

Selena smirked slyly. "Tch. Bossy. I’ll allow it."

Michael (finishing):

"Everyone else—don’t think. Don’t panic. When I call, you move. If anyone hesitates..." His eyes swept across the trembling first-years. "...you die. Simple as that."

---

The hall fell into silence again not of fear, but of grim acceptance.

Michael Willson stood at the center, eyes burning violet, voice cutting like steel.

And somehow—somehow—the nobles listened.

Emily Lionheart lifted her blade, voice firm.

"You heard him. This is no longer a ball. It’s a battlefield."

The shield cracked again. Demons slammed harder, snarling. The dome flickered.

Maria’s breath frosted in the air. Alice’s shadows writhed. Draven’s lightning danced sharper.

Everyone waited.

For one signal.

For Michael’s call.

---