"Tea—cher."

A barely audible cry, lost amid the heart-wrenching sobs.

This was not a conscious awakening, but rather the instinctive reaction of a young girl—a call engraved deep into her bones from countless repetitions in the past, resurfacing here and now.

【Professor Pulan, can I go outside?】

【Professor Pulan, I got a perfect score in my martial arts exam! How awesome is that? When will my magic exams get such high marks too? Haha, I have no idea.】

【Professor, I wasn’t fighting! Those jerks ran into my fists themselves.】

【Professor, getting angry so easily will give you wrinkles, you know.】

【…】

【Professor, I’ve decided that I’ll become a Saintess in the future.

Why, you ask? Because… being a Saintess sounds so cool, doesn’t it?

Wearing a pure white gown, smiling under the guidance of the gods as I bring salvation to the people—and then using my fists to smite all the villains. Isn’t that just amazing?

Saintess can’t get married? I don’t care. If I find my true love, I’ll absolutely go for it.】

【…】

【Professor, you would bless me, right?】

Those voices of the past, vibrant as ever, echoed once more within his mind, achingly vivid.

The elderly man paused, and then, from his aged gaze erupted the fury of molten lava, “God—of Love! You—bast—ard!”

The old man roared like a lion, spewing forth the profanities he'd abandoned since becoming a teacher.

Flames surged within his palm, consuming the intricate wand decorated with diamonds he had carefully maintained over the years. The gemstones embedded in its surface melted away, leaving behind a warped, jet-black blade.

Gripping the blade firmly, the old man advanced against the glow of the holy sword.

Then—

He plunged the flame-bound blade, imbued with hatred, into the chest of the young girl.

This time, it was her heart. Precisely, accurately.

Meanwhile, the tool serving as the core of the Grand Arcane Sacrament—the wand adorned with a pink star—quivered in the old man’s other hand, its tremors resonating with the crown fused into the barrier around them.

It was as though they were in symphony.

The colossal apparatus buried beneath the academy stirred with unprecedented vigor, channeling overwhelming power through the elderly man’s frail frame and into the Saintess.

Layer upon layer of intricate, albeit tiny, structures began to proliferate, forming around the girl’s lifeless heart and tracing through her bloodstream, flesh, bones, and skin. They searched, pressed forward, and drove out every last vestige of the corrupted god’s power and mark.

“Get the hell out of this body, God of Love!” the old man roared again.

As the flood of power rushed in, the Saintess's body began to convulse violently, as though something within her was desperately resisting, fleeing. However, the advancing structures pressed onward with exquisite precision, shrinking that entity's remaining space inch by inch.

Cracks became increasingly visible across the girl's delicate face, and behind those fissures emerged a terrifying will of higher-order—a dreadful presence that stared directly at the elderly man.

Cold.

Rage.

And then...

Mockery.

You’ve poured all your strength into this, haven’t you? Does that mean, elsewhere, you are woefully weak now?

In the blink of an eye—

The Saintess abruptly retched, vomiting out a grotesque flesh ball. A single eye appeared on the surface of the ball, glaring icily at Professor Pulan for only a moment before the entity controlling it fled toward the heavens without hesitation.

The Saintess’s face gradually fractured, as if losing some sustaining force, and with her visage, her entire body began to shrivel and decay.

Staring at that gradually crumbling face, Professor Pulan felt another pang deep within his heart.

But his focus quickly sharpened, and his gaze chased after the escaping remnants of the God of Love—the flesh ball.

Above the heavens, a blue moon hung high.

A chilling foreboding suddenly seized his heart.

Ignoring the wound in his chest, Professor Pulan abruptly waved the wand adorned with a pink star.

Countless structures quickly piled onto one another, hurtling after the flesh ball.

But it was already too late.

Or perhaps—God of Love had acted too decisively. After being blocked during the first assault, the deity wasted no time in abandoning its precious Crowned vessel, opting instead to hasten the arrival of today’s second act.

With an audible splat—

The flesh ball slammed into the barrier, like an insect flying at high speed in the night, crashing against glass.

The ball burst on impact, disintegrating into a mess of flesh and blood.

But within that flesh and blood, writhing tendrils began to rapidly reproduce, unfurling like some resilient, life-hungry plant and extending roots deep into the barrier’s surface.

Crack.

Even before Professor Pulan’s attack could reach its mark, the sharp, crystalline sound from the barrier made his face darken instantly.

A crack had appeared in the barrier.

Just like the cascading collapse of a dam after its first fissure, numerous tendrils burrowed through the cracks with reckless abandon, further weakening the structure.

And then—

Crack. Crack. Crack…

More fissures began to spread. Even though the Grand Arcane Sacrament continued to pour in magic in an attempt to repair the barrier, those entrenched tendrils, much like shrapnel embedded in flesh, obstructed any chance of recovery.

Outside the barrier, the massive blue moon loomed ever clearer.

Beams of moonlight seeped through the cracks.

First one.

Then two.

Three.

Countless beams.

Until the barrier, riddled with a thousand wounds, collapsed completely.

And so—

The enormous blue moon, already dominating half of the sky, now presided above all of Saint Maria College.

Its size was overwhelming, rendering everything else in the world insignificant. The craters and shadows etched upon its surface appeared sharp and vivid, faintly forming a grotesque face.

Under its moonlight, countless shadows began to sway, as though drawn in by the scent of mortal flesh—like fiends prowling amongst the deserted halls of the academy.

Staring at the blue moon, Professor Pulan felt a bone-deep chill ripple across his entire being.

Blood continued to seep from the wound in his chest.

Perhaps it was precisely because of this pain that the despair coursing through him felt so real.

Facing merely a fraction of the Cupid God’s manifestation had already drained him of all his strength and resourcefulness.

What, then, could he hope to do against this apocalyptic deity, who wields the power to partially manifest its true form in this realm?

…

…

“Who would have thought that even the Pure Saintess could fall to the corruption of a dark god.”

Atop the clock tower, Professor Gland observed the unfolding chaos below. Known for his usual irreverence, even he could not help but sigh:

“Though it seems the price was steep, it looks like those two are absolutely determined to obtain the thing buried beneath the academy. I can’t fathom why.”

“God of Love’s actions are understandable. By human standards, that deity is entirely insane, so nothing it does would surprise us. However, what puzzles me…”

A voice, old and fading, emerged from the shadows:

“Why is the other god doing this?”

“…”

A brief silence followed.

Dim candle flames flickered, illuminating faces wrinkled and spotted.

They were frail and decayed. Some had even been disturbed from the coffins they had prepared for themselves.

But despite their waning bodies, no one dared underestimate them, for these elders were titans in their respective fields. Each of their names carried enough weight to shake the entire empire’s academic world.

They were the true foundation of Saint Maria College.

Seventeen tenured professors of Saint Maria College had gathered here. Besides Professor Pulan, who was still battling the dark god above, all were present.

When they made a decision here, not even the academy’s principal could overturn it.