The sky above the cliff was clear, but the air around the altar felt heavy, thick with mana and the metallic smell of blood.
The masked leader raised his hand.
The floating earth swords above the altar trembled, their edges sharpening.
"Begin the final stage," he said.
The cultists around the altar tightened their formation.
Their twisted horn-and-eye marks glowed faintly on skin and masks.
Ethan's senses were spread out as far as he could push them.
He felt the pressure of the ritual circle. He felt the restless power inside the egg.
He felt the faint, fast-approaching mana signatures from the forest.
Then one aura pressed down on everything else.
It dropped from the sky like a heavy stone into a pond.
Mana in the area trembled once.
The masked leader's head tilted up.
A shadow fell over the altar.
"Who gave you permission," a lazy voice asked, "to make such a noisy mess in our academy's backyard?"
Clouds of pale green slime rained down from above.
They did not splatter like water.
Each drop hit an invisible barrier above the altar, flattened, and crawled outward, clinging to the ritual circle like living creature.
The light from the array dimmed where the slime passed, as if someone had thrown a wet cloth over a lamp.
A figure descended slowly from the sky.
The fat female sorcerer floated down on a disc of condensed slime, her round body wrapped in a loose robe that somehow made her look even rounder.
Her hair was tied in a messy bun.
She landed beside the altar.
"Outer branch of the Abyssal Horn, is it?" she said, looking at the masked leader.
"You people really do not know when to stop."
The leader's mask turned toward her.
"Slime Witch of Asteria," he answered. "I did not expect the academy to send you personally."
"I did not expect to be dragged out personally either," she replied.
Around the altar, cultists shifted uneasily.
Some of them tried to move, only to find their feet held down.
Green slime had already spread under their boots at some point, gripping them like thick mud.
The leader did not look at them.
"You are too late to stop the ritual."
"We will see." The sorcerer flicked her fingers.
The slime that clung to the ritual circle shivered, then split into thin strands, sliding in between the runes like worms.
Several cultists panicked at once.
"Protect the circle!" one of them shouted.
Ethan watched all of this from Oliver's waist.
'Slime magic,' he thought. 'So this aunt is a control-type monster.'
He would have liked to watch more, but he had no time to admire.
The leader had already raised his hands again.
The ground shook.
The stone altar rose higher, lifting the tiger and the chained students into the air.
The swords above adjusted their positions, pointing down.
The ritual lines flared as the leader forced more mana into them, pushing past the slime's interference.
"Too Late," he said. "As long as the gate opens, the offering will be accepted."
The Slime Witch snorted.
"You cult people always talk big," she said. "Let us see if your gate is tougher than my spell."
She clapped her hands together.
The green slime under her feet shot upward like a geyser.
It moved and expanded, forming a massive translucent arm that slammed toward the altar from the side.
The leader raised both hands.
The floating earth swords moved as one, rushing forward in a storm of stone blades to meet the incoming slime.
The two forces collided.
BAM!
Stone swords stabbed into the slime arm, vanishing up to the hilt, but they did not pierce through.
Instead, the slime swallowed them, thickening, turning darker.
The arm flexed, then swung again with greater weight, as if it had just eaten a full meal.
The impact shook the entire cliff.
Cracks spidered out along the ground.
A few unconscious students hanging on the outer crosses swayed like vegetables in a storm.
On the altar, Oliver grit his teeth as the chains dug deeper into his flesh. He could feel every vibration.
"Senior Ethan…" he whispered.
"Do not talk," Ethan answered. "Save your strength."
He was about to say more when something else caught his attention.
The chain around Oliver's right wrist trembled.
Ethan narrowed his focus on the chain. The mana flowing along the metal did not belong to the cultists at all, it was Oliver's own power.
All this time Oliver had been leaking mana into the chain, letting it erode the structure from the inside.
It was not enough to break it.
But enough to make the chain begun to crumble.
'So you were modifying the chain all this time,' Ethan realized.
The altar shook again as the Slime Witch and the leader clashed.
Half the cultists were now stuck in place, their legs swallowed up to the knees by slime.
The other half were trying to support the ritual, pouring their mana into the weakening array while their leader wrestled with a growing slime giant.
Then more mana lights rushed in from the forest.
Streaks of color shot through the trees and burst into the cliff area.
Instructors from the academy appeared around the ritual field, artifacts shining on their wrists and belts.
Behind them, several examinees who could still move stumbled out, faces pale, but eyes hard.
"Support Head Instructor Mira!" one sorcerer shouted. "Break the outer circle first!"
Fire shot through the air, exploding against cultist shields.
Blades of condensed wind screamed across the ground.
An ice wall rose to block a blood spear that had been heading toward a group of unconscious students.
The Slime Witch did not look back.
"About time you arrived!" she snapped. "I hold the head, you clean the trash!"
The new instructors moved without arguing.
One raised a staff and called stone pillars from the ground to break the formation of the cultists.
Another used chains of lightning to bind a robed figure in place.
A third sorcerer slammed his palm into the earth and caused thick roots to erupt, tangling with several of the twisted horn-and-eye marks.
The examinees who were still able to stand joined as best they could.
Some dragged unconscious students away from the altar.
Others used simple spells to block stray attacks, their faces tight with fear and determination.
It was chaos.
Light from spells clashed with the dark glow of the ritual.
Slime, earth, fire, and blood all fought for control of the same space.
No one had the leisure to stare at Oliver's wrists.
The chain shuddered one more time.
Something inside cracked.
Oliver felt it at the same moment.
He pulled his arm with all the strength he had left.
The stone at the back of the cross tore open.
The chain did not break, but its anchor did. His right arm jerked free.
The length of metal still wrapped around his wrist swung loose, clattering against the stone.
For the first time since he had been tied up, Oliver could move one arm freely.
Ethan's spirit jolted.
"Good," he said quickly. "Now throw me toward the tiger."