The tension in the room spiked the moment the story ended.
A quiet unease spread among us—subtle, but unmistakable. No one dared to breathe too loudly.
"I'm not sure how far the story is true, but you need to prepare for what's coming," Ernst spoke, his voice steady despite the atmosphere. "The important part is leaving this place."
"Well, about that," Eugene said, stepping forward. "We're still stuck here."
A brief silence.
"Huh?"
The response came collectively, shock rippling through the group.
"Are you serious?" Glenn asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
Huston didn't wait for an answer. He sprinted toward the exit, determination overriding logic—then abruptly collided with something invisible. The impact echoed harshly. He staggered and returned in silence.
"He's right," he muttered, voice tight. The realization spread like cold water down the spine.
"If we assume the story to be true, how long will it be before he gets here?" Voltak asked, his tone wavering.
"I can't say for sure." Eugene's voice shifted—no longer uncertain or guessing, but weighed with certainty. "But judging by how our friend is reacting, he's highly likely already here."
His eyes locked onto Vaelon.
Vaelon froze, a barely visible tightening in his jaw. "What do you mean?"
"Seriously?" Elizabeth whispered.
"I can't die yet," Glenn muttered. "I'm only nineteen."
"Someone get the teacher!" a girl begged, voice cracking.
Chaos erupted. Fear swallowed rationality. Voices crashed into each other—panicked, desperate, useless. Order dissolved.
Vaelon slammed the chaos down with a single roar.
"Everyone, silence!"
His voice cut through the noise like a blade.
The room froze instantly, fear suspended like dust in still air.
"There's no point in panicking now. We must hold our ground," Vaelon ordered.
"But—" a girl began, her voice trembling. Ernst cut her off sharply.
"He's right. Even if we want help, it's impossible right now."
"What do you mean?" Huston asked.
With no way out, it's just not practical to ask for help. Telepathy won't work either as we're in a different space time.
Before the answer could come, the ground shook violently beneath us. The entire structure trembled like it was tearing itself apart.
"What the?"
"What is going on?" A girl screamed.
"One thing after the other." Ernst muttered.
Everyone tried their best to keep their balance and formation fell apart. To ensure the safety of everyone, Vaelon came up with an idea.
"Everyone stay together!" Vaelon commanded. "Those who can still use their spell, prepare a protective barrier!"
The shaking stopped as abruptly as it started.
Silence swallowed everything.
Then it happened.
We felt it.
A presence descended—nothing visual, nothing audible.
Not an explosion, not a tremor.
A force. Heavy and crushing.
It hit like a tidal wave unloading on our backs, forcing the air from our lungs. Breathing became a struggle. The room tightened as if the world itself was closing in.
Bodies collapsed instantly. The weaker ones hit the floor, knees slamming against the cold stone, trembling under the pressure. The few who remained upright trembled, barely holding themselves together.
"Get your act together!" Vaelon barked, forcing resolve into the breaking atmosphere.
It wasn't fear.
It was something beyond fear—primordial, instinctive.
Like prey kneeling beneath a predator the world itself fears.
The weight intensified, suffocating.
And as that unseen force pressed down on us, a single thought surfaced in my mind, cold and absolute:
Is a god really decending from heaven?
After that suffocating presence had vanished, the ground convulsed violently—far worse than before. It felt as if we were trapped inside a sphere being hurled from hand to hand, shaken without mercy. The floor heaved beneath us, walls groaned, and the entire space buckled like it was about to tear apart.
"Seriously?" Ernst muttered.
Screams erupted as bodies were thrown off balance. Most were driven to their knees instantly; others were hurled across the chamber, crashing hard against stone. The violent shaking launched several people into the air before slamming them back down.
A few quick-thinking students responded instinctively.
Earthen mages forced their bodies to synchronize with the ground—stone surged upward, encasing their limbs and anchoring them like pillars driven into bedrock.
Others invoked barrier reinforcement, generating forcefields that clamped them to the surface, invisible grips strengthening their endurance.
Those flung away grabbed onto anything they could, heightening their physical enhancement to survive the impact.
One minute.
Just one minute, but it stretched into eternity.
Then—silence. Absolute.
The shaking ceased abruptly, leaving only ragged breathing and trembling limbs.
"Is everyone okay?" Vaelon asked, scanning the now-disordered formation.
No one spoke immediately. They struggled to draw breath, gasping harshly as they tried to stabilize themselves.
"I suppose that's a yes," Vaelon exhaled, relief slipping through his usual composure.
"What the hell was that?" Voltak roared, his voice booming through the dimly lit passage.
Obsidian Voltak—towering, dark-skinned, built like a siege engine. Bald, shoulders broad as a fortress gate, and wielding a monstrous war hammer bristling with brutal spikes. The embodiment of overwhelming strength. In a duel against a single powerful foe, he was a terror. Against numerous smaller threats… significantly less so. He hadn't even shown any technique yet—only raw, violent force.
"Something's coming," Ernst murmured, tone sharp and controlled. His gaze snapped toward Vaelon, who stiffened immediately.
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. Echoing through the hollow silence.
Step.
Step.
Step.
With each approach, the weight in the air thickened. Suffocating. The pressure bore down on us like a descending mountain.
"It's coming from that side." Elaris pointed at the passage.
But that place was completely blocked moment ago.
"Everyone, stay alert!" Vaelon barked, authority returning in an instant.
Those who had collapsed pushed themselves upright, legs shaking, hands trembling, but refusing to fall again. They braced themselves against the crushing pressure.
"Formation—now. Pre-cast your spells!" Vaelon ordered.
The group surged back together, reforming a defensive line.
"Aim everything toward the passage," Vaelon commanded, voice cold and decisive. "No hesitation."
Unspoken understanding passed between us. None of us truly knew what awaited, but the instinctive dread twisting in our guts made one thing certain—it was nothing we wanted to face casually.
Eugene glanced at me and gave a small nod. A silent message:
If this goes wrong, retreat. Live.
There was bravery—and there was idiocy. Dying here would mean nothing.
We shifted slightly backward, remaining in range to support—but close enough to withdraw if needed. Not that we had anywhere to escape to.
"Release the moment it appears!" Vaelon shouted.
Weapons tightened in trembling hands. No one dared blink.
Staffs and wands ignited with light as incantations whispered through clenched teeth. Spells gathered—glowing spheres of condensed power swirling at mage fingertips. One caster raised a light spell, illuminating the dark corridor. Wind mages nocked arrows, air twisting violently around their tips. Others prepared destructive magic devices, poised to unleash devastation at command.
And then—
A silhouette stepped out from the darkness.
From beyond the illusion-guarded passage, a figure walked casually through the barrier.
"Now!!!" Vaelon roared.
Fireballs streaked like meteor showers. Ice spears exploded forward. Bolts of lightning tore through the air. Energy beams cut through stone. Boulders launched like artillery shells. The combined force merged into a single catastrophic torrent—an overwhelming storm of destruction.
Then—
"WHAT THE HELL?!" a voice screamed from inside the magical hellfire. Shocked. Indignant.
"STOP! STOP!" Vaelon shouted, fear striking through his authority. "IT'S SIR WILHELM!"
Silence fell like a blade.
Eyes widened.
Horror dawned.
Everyone...well almost everyone released their spell and cancelled them just before release.
"I CAN'T STOP IT!"
A girl's scream tore through the corridor, her voice rupturing with raw panic as the final spell, a massive, blinding beam of condensed light, erupted from her hands.
The impact was catastrophic.
A violent explosion detonated at the end of the passage, the floor convulsing beneath our feet. A thunderous shockwave blasted outward, rattling the stone walls and throwing dust and debris into a suffocating haze that consumed everything in sight. For a few seconds, vision, sound, and thought collapsed into static.
Silence followed—unnatural, absolute.
No one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe.
Then a quiet, fragile voice from the rear, trembling:
"What… what just happened?"
"I… I don't know." Another answered, equally lost.
And then—
"AHHHHHHHH!!!"
Glenn's scream split the air, sharp and horrific. Everyone's heads snapped toward him instantly.
"Oi, what's wrong?!" someone yelled, rushing to his side.
Glenn's face was drained of all color. His hands shook uncontrollably, eyes stretched wide with unfiltered terror.
"I THINK WE JUST KILLED OUR TEACHER!"
Silence struck again—this time heavier, colder, suffocating.
Huston clutched his head, collapsing to his knees in despair.
"Seriously?! This is not happening! It's the first day after a long break and we've already committed a crime—right after nearly dying!" His voice broke into frantic gasps.
"I can't get expelled. I want to graduate. I want to be successful. I haven't even made my parents proud yet!"
"That's not true, right?" someone whispered, clinging to denial.
"I hope he doesn't hold a grudge against us and haunt us as an evil spirit…"
I can't tell if they're being sarcastic or are actually serious.
The dust began to thin. Shapes emerged from the fog.
Eugene stepped toward me, posture unnervingly calm despite the chaos. His expression was unreadable—emotion sealed behind an impenetrable mask. He raised a hand casually to cover his nose, voice flat and almost bored.
"Well… this is a mess."