"That book! Attack that book, quickly!"
As the monster's flesh and blood were torn open, the eerie tome appeared before the group. Weier immediately seemed to have discovered something, issuing a command to everyone with excitement.
When it came to monsters created by dark god energy, regardless of their formidable regenerative ability, as long as their source of corruption was destroyed, their demise was inevitable.
This was the perfect moment.
The students, having regained their composure, did not disappoint her. Countless brilliant spells erupted simultaneously, flung toward the massive body of the monster as though magic was an inexhaustible resource.
Yet after that brief surge of excitement, as the turbulent magical currents and dazzling radiance receded, Weier felt her body grow colder by the second.
It wasn’t working.
Even with over a hundred mages present, unleashing spells in unison,
That cursed tome—compared to the monster’s enormous bulk—remained too small a target.
Not only small. If it were just small, then under the covering blast of magic, there would inevitably come a moment when an attack struck it.
But the tome seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, continually shifting inside the monster's vast, bloody flesh, evading the bombardment of magic.
"Something’s off. Something’s wrong."
Weier couldn't shake the unease that made her delicate frame tremble involuntarily. It was as though, despite the monster being driven to its last desperate state, something ominous loomed ahead.
It was her intuition.
And her intuition was rarely ever wrong.
Surely, something terrible was about to happen—or perhaps, it had already begun.
"We can't keep dragging this on!"
Weier slammed her fist onto the railing of the elevated platform, gritting her teeth as she called out to the warriors who had fallen back.
"Who among you still has enough strength to charge forward and destroy that tome? I will cast a magic shell for you."
Her words had barely landed before she was met with dozens of incredulous stares that practically screamed, *Are you insane?*
Charge forward?
Have you seen how terrifying that monster is?
You want us to rush toward it?
To die?
And even with a magic shell, who could guarantee that diving into that mass of flesh wouldn't have adverse effects?
What if the dark god’s corruption spread to us, and we ended up turning into muscle-bound men who were only attracted to other men?
"This... sigh."
Weier clenched her fist so tightly that her knuckles turned pale.
She understood their fears, of course. But there were things that required someone to step up. If she weren't solely a specialized mage, she might have already gone herself.
But alas, she was neither a warrior nor someone with the authority to force others into certain death.
It left her feeling utterly powerless in this moment.
If only the president were here now.
If the president were here, this monster would have been dealt with long ago!
"Help me up! I can still fight!"
Just as Weier’s thoughts began to drift, she suddenly heard someone cry out. Her eyes lit with hope, like a luminous beacon piercing a deep darkness.
She raised her head—only to see Ariel wrapped like a mummy atop a stretcher.
Despite her injuries, Ariel was struggling fiercely, her expression savage, as if she were ready to rise again for another three hundred rounds of battle against the monster.
"No way, Ariel."
Lea pressed her down firmly, lying beside her on the stretcher with tearful eyes.
"You’re already so badly hurt. You can't go back."
"No!"
Ariel looked heartbroken. "My beauty… she’s gone. She might still be trapped there! I have to go save her!"
"She’s probably just retreated with another squad, Ariel. You don’t need to worry."
"Even so, I still need to kill that bald freak. I’ll cut him into thousands upon thousands of pieces, burn his ashes, and scatter them into the wind!” Her eyes ignited with rage. “Damn it! That smug bastard dared to call me flat-chested earlier!"
"Am I flat? Lea, do you think I’m flat? If I squish them together, isn’t there still something? They still round up to the nearest integer to a B, don't they? How could he spout such nonsense with a straight face?"
"..."
"Hey! Lea, answer me!"
"..."
Weier silently redirected her gaze elsewhere.
There was absolutely no way she would allow Ariel Bugard to venture forth at this juncture—not only due to her injuries, but also because anyone with a shred of discernment could tell she was the MVP of this hostage rescue mission.
She was the first to ascend to the rooftop, the first to engage the enemy’s leader, and the one who had forced that leader into a corner.
By the time the student council’s elite fighters stormed in, most of the muscle-head enemies upstairs had already been dealt with, while the so-called high priest was left critically injured.
Remarkably bold for someone only in her second year.
Had it not been for that high priest’s sudden transformation, this ordeal might have ended already. Though the whereabouts of the hostage remained unclear, this wasn't the time to dwell on it.
"Is my power still not enough?"
That uneasy feeling only grew more tangible, an intangible malice gnawing at Weier, making her stomach churn with disgust.
"If only a hero could descend right now."
In her helpless stupor, Weier resorted to idle daydreams once more.
Like those novels she read, where a dashing hero would arrive at the brink of catastrophe and, in all his glory, save the world.
"Alright, everyone, attention on me—"
Yes, just like the man who seemed to leap from the dormitory building a moment ago.
…Wait.
Did she see a man?
Where did a man suddenly come from?
Startled, Weier lifted her gaze.
With flawless timing, the first-year students assigned to lighting duty repositioned their spotlights. Like professionals, they aimed their beams at the leaping figure—a radiant presence amidst the gloom.
"I’m here to steal the show!"
Accompanied by this booming declaration, the prominently illuminated figure from the high-rise dove toward the monster below.
At that very instant, a magical blast tore through the monster’s flesh, exposing the tome as it tried to shift its position.
Nowhere to hide!
Moen laughed uproariously, plunging his massive blade directly into the tome.
The monster howled madly in agony, shrieking and writhing impossibly, but was powerless to resist the pull of death.
In that moment,
The cold wind roared, whipping through the golden hair of a man silhouetted before the rising dawn. His charming smile glowed beneath the spotlight’s brilliance, while his sculpted, explosive physique seemed reminiscent of the masterpieces housed within the Empire’s exhibition hall—flawlessly divine.
"Wow, so hot."
Many of the girls, whose hearts had only begun to stir with the pangs of first love, couldn’t help but gasp softly at the golden-haired man’s extraordinary charisma.
Even Weier found herself momentarily entranced, wondering if he might be the hero she’d wished for.
…
But amid the brief silence—when all eyes were drawn to the man’s dazzling splendor—a small, innocent voice from a first-year suddenly piped up.
In the crisp night air, it rang loud and clear.
"Wait, but—"
"Why isn’t he wearing any clothes?"
