"It's over—"
In that terrifying torrent of magic, as she was kneaded into candy pills by that hand and swallowed by the entity described in the codex, those were the only two words that filled Weier's mind.
Had she… made another wrong decision?
What now? What now?
She had to find a way to make up for it, or else…
"You’ve already done well enough, Weier."
A familiar, cool voice rang out behind her.
Weier froze for a moment, shrinking her neck as she turned back, her eyes slightly turned red like a child who had done something wrong.
"President, I think I’ve messed things up again."
"This is not your fault."
With traces of blood staining her uniform and her hair slightly messy, Celicia gently patted Weier’s head and said softly:
"When facing enemies beyond comprehension, anyone would end up in this state. To be honest, considering the situation so far, the fact that there haven't been any student deaths amidst this upheaval is already…"
Celicia glanced at Ariel, who was bundled up like a mummy, and paused for a moment before continuing:
"It's already an excellent outcome. From here on out, this isn’t something we should intervene in."
Raising her head, Celicia scanned the surroundings, instantly grasping the situation. However, when her gaze fell upon the nude man sprinting wildly in the wind—a scion of the Campbell family and also her fiancé Moen—even her normally calm demeanor faltered, the corner of her lips twitching slightly.
But she quickly composed herself and issued orders to all the students around her.
"The entrance to the academy’s underground shelter has been opened. Everyone, evacuate immediately and take refuge underground!"
She didn’t use any magic tools, yet her cool and commanding voice resonated with every student, calming them down from the shock of the current scene.
Under the guidance of the student council elites, the students swiftly organized an orderly retreat.
But—
"Too slow."
A sigh drifted through the air.
An elderly man, leaning on a cane but still looking remarkably spirited, appeared beside Celicia.
Professor Pulan gazed at the codex floating in the air. That hand had already withdrawn, but that didn’t signify the enemy’s retreat; on the contrary, it indicated that the next step for the enemy was complete descent.
"Which of us will go?"
Another voice sounded.
Professor Geland had somehow appeared beside them, flanked by spatial ripples. Beyond those ripples, it seemed like over a dozen aged gazes were directed toward them.
"I’ll go," Professor Pulan sighed.
"You?"
Professor Geland raised an eyebrow and whistled lightly:
"At your age, aren’t you worried about hurting your back through the fight?"
"What then?"
Professor Pulan shot a cold glance at Geland and grumbled:
"Should it be you, who hasn’t fought in over a decade, or those geezers behind us who are already halfway into their graves?"
"Fair enough. Turns out among us old-timers, you're still the strongest one despite being the 'magic professor,'" Geland shrugged.
"I’ll handle helping the students evacuate then. You can go ahead without worries."
"Don’t make it sound like I’m headed to my death."
Professor Pulan reached into the spatial ripple and grabbed something. A cute, pink star-shaped magic wand, radiating an aura of authority, appeared in his grip.
Even as he gripped the wand, Professor Pulan’s eye couldn’t help but twitch slightly. He sighed:
"No matter how many times I use you, the feeling… is always peculiar."
…
…
"Uwu-uwu—"
Grieving wails resounded once more.
From the pitch-black pages of the codex, footsteps, faint and seemingly non-existent, drew ever closer.
Then, a light, flowing gown swayed gently. A delicate, pale foot stepped out from the darkness.
In an instant—
The hymn of saints played.
It was as if golden horns were sounding beyond the drapes of the heavens.
The ethereal, sacred song melded with the grieving cries, echoing across the desolate world.
Anyone who heard the cries would feel a heart-wrenching sorrow, yet listening to the holy hymn would bring an inexplicable sense of joy and fulfillment in devoting one's everything to this great entity.
Countless white feathers, their origins unknown, scattered and drifted with the wind like flower petals showered by children at a wedding.
Finally, the figure in the intricate white gown emerged fully from the codex and descended upon the scene.
Her expression was sorrowful, as though pitying the suffering mortals.
Behind her, pure white wings spread open, emitting an endless radiance—far brighter than the gathered spotlights around her.
Above her head, a crown engraved with stars and moons revolved, emanating an oppressive, terrifying aura.
The Crowned—Netheise Saint Maiden!
…
…
"Wait, what the hell? That brainless god of love actually has a Crowned-level follower?"
From within the Silver Well, Pink Bear stood gazing at the scene from afar. When his eyes landed on the majestic maiden above, crowned in gleaming terror, his bear-like jaw slackened momentarily in surprise.
Only those who break past human limitations into the realm above the fifth tier and earn the recognition of this world are granted the **Title** and **Crown**, becoming one of The Crowned.
The Crowned individuals represented the pinnacle of human power, their existence transcending ordinary lifeforms. Some scholars even referred to them as 'half gods.'
While they couldn't possibly wield the divine authorities of true deities, each Crowned denoted humanity's top-tier combatants.
And here, a Crowned had descended upon the academy, serving as a follower of the corrupted god of love—a fact that utterly stunned Pink Bear.
But the larger issue wasn’t merely her appearance.
The academy doesn’t lack its own Crowned defenders, actually, with the grand arcana present, a single Crowned couldn’t shake the academy's foundations unless seven or eight of them arrived simultaneously.
The real concern was—
Using a Crowned as a vessel and medium, just how much of the love god’s power could be projected in?
"Speaking of which, why does this Crowned look kind of familiar?"
Pink Bear scratched his chin, gazing at the near-perfect visage of the maiden.
He had a nagging feeling he'd seen her somewhere before.
But that couldn’t be right—any beauty he'd previously laid his eyes upon would have been unforgettable.
"Could it be…?"
Pink Bear seemed to realize something. He pulled out his well-loved "Saint Maiden Pin-Up Collection" and began flipping through it rapidly.
Upon reaching a particular page, his paw suddenly froze, his expression growing inexplicably heavy.
"I see now…"
"This Crowned—she was the Life Church's saint maiden from two generations ago?"
"But didn’t she retire twenty years ago, supposedly to wed her lover and live a happily married life?"
"Lover…"
Pink Bear glanced at the maiden adorned in sorrow. Without realizing it, a hint of pity crept into his expression.
"Half gods, huh? In the end, they're still merely mortals who can be corrupted by the twisted love in their hearts."
