CHAPTER 63: FRESHER BALL — AFTERMATH

Chapter 62: Fresher Ball — Aftermatch

The cathedral hall was a battlefield of ruin and blood.

The Mana Pillar pulsed at its center, its heartbeat echoing like war drums in their skulls. Every pulse sent cracks crawling across the stone floor.

Every hum made the summoning circle glow brighter, the abyssal gate yawning wider as clawed hands and twisted horns pressed against the veil of reality.

One more minute or maybe less.

And the Academy would be lost.

---

Aurelia’s breathing was ragged, her rapier trembling in her grip. Her sharp eyes traced the runes snaking across the ground, her mind racing faster than her heart.

"...This isn’t endless. The pillar—" She gasped between words, flipping her notebook open and sketching hurried glyphs, her hand smudging ink. "That’s the anchor! Destroy it, and the summoning collapses!"

Leon’s gaze hardened. His sword was slick with ichor, his uniform torn, but his voice was steady.

"Then that’s our target. Forget the rest. Cut off the head of the beast."

Michael’s frost-blue eyes narrowed. His thoughts clicked like gears in a machine.

’Just like the raid in the game. Ignore the infinite mobs. Take out the core. But in the raid... it took twenty top players, three hours, and a mountain of potions. We’re barely eight. No respawns, no retries.’

His knuckles whitened around his blade.

’But if we fail—everyone dies.’

A demon lunged at them with a guttural shriek, its claws glowing with corrupted mana.

"GET—OUT—OF—OUR—WAY!"

Aiden met it with a thunderous roar, swinging his greatsword in an arc that split the air itself. A gale exploded outward, smashing the demon into the far wall with bone-shattering force.

Wind roared. Dust scattered.

Lyra darted through the gap Aiden made, twin daggers blazing with twin elements. Flames roared on one edge, water shimmered on the other. She spun mid-air, carving a crimson X across a Warrior’s chest before landing in a crouch, boots sliding across the cracked marble.

Her lips twisted into a grin.

"Not bad, muscle-head. But I’m not letting you hog the spotlight."

Aiden snorted, charging after her.

"Fine. Then try to keep up, brat."

Behind them, Elara’s glaive flashed in silver arcs. Calm, precise, merciless. She pivoted smoothly, her blade intercepting another Warrior’s strike, then swept it aside with almost mathematical grace.

"Go." Her voice was steady, even as ichor sprayed across her face. "I’ll hold them back."

Selena raised her staff. Warm light spilled across the battlefield, flowing into their wounds, weaving flesh and knitting muscle. Their pain dulled, fatigue eased, the edge of despair softened.

"You will not fall," she whispered, her eyes shining. "Not while I still breathe."

---

Michael pressed forward, frost swirling around his blade in a storm.

(This is where extras break. This is where they die in silence, forgotten by the story. But not me. Not now. Not anymore.)

He ducked under a demon’s halberd, his sword flashing upward. Frost burst outward, encasing the monster’s arm in crystalline ice. Aiden’s strike followed instantly, shattering the limb like glass.

The path to the pillar lay open.

Michael sprinted forward. His chest burned. His mind screamed. But his eyes his eyes never wavered.

The closer they drew, the heavier the air became.

The Mana Pillar loomed above them, a tower of obsidian and runes glowing with malice. Its energy poured over them like suffocating tar, pressing against their skin, whispering voices that clawed at their sanity.

Lyra stumbled, clutching her head.

"...Ugh—it feels like—like it’s inside me."

Aiden snarled, teeth bared.

"Then let’s tear it out."

He raised his blade, mana surging, and brought it down in a strike that split the earth. The impact thundered, the pillar shook, runes flickered—

But it stood.

Michael’s heart sank.

’It’s absorbing it... it’s feeding off our mana to reinforce itself.’

---

"Aiden, stop—don’t just brute force it!"

Aurelia’s voice cut through the panic, sharp and commanding. Her glasses glinted as she scribbled a final rune.

"Overlay affinities! Different elements—strike together! The pillar can’t stabilize against conflicting mana!"

Leon’s eyes lit with understanding. "She’s right. Everyone—synchronize!"

Michael exhaled frost, his blade igniting with azure ice.

Lyra’s fire and water twisted together, hissing with unstable harmony.

Aiden’s wind howled like a storm.

Elara’s glaive shimmered with lunar frost.

Selena’s light wrapped them all in divine brilliance.

Together—they struck.

"NOW!"

Their weapons collided with the pillar in a symphony of clashing mana. Fire hissed against ice, wind howled through flame, light seared into shadow.

The pillar shrieked. Cracks split its surface, runes spasming wildly.

Leon’s voice roared. "Again! Before it regenerates!"

They struck once more.

---

The summoning circle flickered. Demons inside wailed, their forms dissolving. The abyssal gate trembled, its edges collapsing.

And then—

A roar tore the air apart.

The Demon Commander stepped forward from the darkness.

It was massive—twice the size of a man, clad in jagged crimson armor. Its horns curved skyward, glowing with infernal energy. Its blade, black and serrated, dragged sparks as it scraped the stone.

Its aura crashed down upon them like a tidal wave.

Selena choked, dropping to one knee. Even Aiden’s bravado cracked, his knuckles trembling around his hilt.

The Commander’s voice was a guttural snarl that rattled their bones.

"Insignificant insects... YOU DARE... TAMPER WITH THE GATEWAY?!"

Michael’s stomach twisted. His mind screamed at him to run.

’This isn’t just a Warrior. This is at least E-rank... maybe S Against us? It’s impossible. But—’

He looked at the pillar. Cracked. Flickering. Weak.

(We don’t need to kill it. Just the pillar. Just this once—one impossible gamble.)

---

The Final Strike

The Commander raised its sword, flames of corrupted mana engulfing it.

Michael roared.

"NOW! POUR EVERYTHING INTO IT!"

They obeyed.

Lyra’s flames erupted into a raging inferno.

Aiden’s wind coiled into a storm.

Elara’s glaive burned with frozen moonlight.

Selena’s staff blazed like a second sun.

And Michael

Michael unleashed all his mana, his blade wreathed in frost and shadowed aura, a storm of ice and void.

Together, their strike descended—

And the pillar shattered.

BOOOOOOM!

Dark shards exploded outward, dissolving into smoke. The summoning circle howled as runes burst apart. Demons screamed, clawing as they were dragged back into nothingness. The gate shriveled, collapsing into itself until only silence remained.

The Commander howled in fury, its roar shaking the heavens.

"NOOO! FILTHY VERMIN!"

But the circle was gone. Its reinforcements lost. Its power cut in half.

---

The ground quaked. The Mana Barrier surrounding the cathedral shuddered. Cracks spiderwebbed across the glowing dome

And then it shattered.

CRASH!

Fragments of mana rained down like stars. The suffocating pressure vanished, replaced by cool night air rushing in through the broken ceiling.

And then

Figures surged into the hall. Hunters in Academy uniforms. Instructors wielding blazing weapons. Arrows and spells poured down like a storm, annihilating the weakened demons.

"Students!" an instructor roared. "Hold on—we’re here!"

The tide turned in an instant.

---

(Michael POV)

Michael fell to one knee, his blade digging into the stone to keep him upright.

His chest heaved, lungs burning as if fire licked his ribs. Sweat and blood blurred his vision.

But when he looked up—

The pillar was gone.

The circle was closed.

The barrier was destroyed.

They had won.

His lips trembled into a smile.

’I did it. Iactually did it. An extra—standing beside heroes—and winning.’

The battlefield fell silent at last.

The broken cathedral reeked of blood and scorched stone. Demon corpses smoldered among the rubble, their black smoke dissolving into nothingness.

Michael stood swaying, his blade trembling in his grip. His vision blurred. His body screamed in pain. Every vein burned as if shards of ice had been driven into him.

’We... won...?’

That was his last thought before the world tilted sideways. Darkness swallowed him.

---

Academy Hospital

When Michael woke again, it was to the soft glow of white light and the faint scent of herbs. He lay on a bed, linen bandages wrapped tight around his chest and arms. His mana veins pulsed painfully under the seals etched onto his skin.

Around him were rows of beds—his comrades, all unconscious or groaning softly. Leon’s arm was in a sling, his once-pristine hair matted with blood. Lyra was covered in burns. Aurelia’s rapier hand was broken. Selena still slept, her pale face damp with sweat.

The room was filled with healers. Senior students of the Healer Class whispered incantations, their palms glowing green as mana threads stitched torn flesh. Doctors scurried between beds, taking notes and exchanging grim glances.

But the air shifted when she entered.

The Saint-class Healer.

Her robes glowed with golden embroidery, a halo-like shimmer surrounding her form. Even the air seemed to brighten as she raised her staff, light spilling across the room.

With a sweep of her hand, Michael’s pain eased as threads of divine energy seeped into his body. Bones realigned. Cracked mana veins soothed. His breath no longer felt like fire.

"Rest, young ones," her voice was warm, resolute, and firm. "You’ve walked the edge of death, but no further."

Shoohs~

The hospital doors opened with a heavy thud. Silence fell across the hall.

Alastor stepped in.

The veteran’s eyes were as sharp as steel, his presence heavier than the blood-soaked battlefield. The aura around him carried the weight of countless wars fought and survived.

He looked over the rows of injured students, his jaw tight, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes lingered longest on Michael, then Leon, then Selena.

"...They should have died," he muttered. "Any ordinary class would have been annihilated."

The Saint glanced at him, but said nothing. Her light continued to heal.

Alastor turned toward the aides.

"Call the Principal. And the Vice Principal. Immediately. They need to see this with their own eyes."

His words carried no hesitation. No one dared argue.

---

Michael drifted again, half-conscious, as voices echoed faintly.

Healer said

"He burned his mana circuits nearly to collapse..."

"This much strain on a Rank E body—how did he even keep fighting?"

"Saint’s blessing saved him, but... recovery will take weeks, maybe months."

He wanted to open his eyes, to say something clever, but his body wouldn’t move.

’I’m still alive. That’s... enough. For now.’

Darkness claimed him again, but this time it was warm, not cold.