"It seems we've been stuck in this lightless underground for so long that a lot of news from the outside world has lagged behind."

The elderly man with a stern face sighed. "Something major must have happened that we’re unaware of."

"That old fellow Pulan seems to know something, but he refuses to tell me. Looks like it’s because of that so-called ‘Silence Covenant’ again." Professor Gran shrugged.

"It doesn’t matter if Pulan knows. He’ll handle it with discretion. And for us old men who’ve already got one foot in the grave, even if we knew, there’s nothing we could do about it."

"How carefree of you." Professor Gran habitually let out a whistle.

"Hmph, I’m not interested in tormenting myself before preparing for eternal rest."

The old man chuckled coldly, then turned to Professor Gran and asked, "So, you roused us all from our slumber—not just for a little catch-up chat, I assume?"

"I’d like nothing more than a catch-up chat, but now’s hardly the time."

For once, Professor Gran’s expression turned serious.

"I gathered all of you here for one thing—whether or not to wake *that one*."

"…"

As soon as Professor Gran’s words dropped, the dim room fell into a weighty silence. The only sound was the wheeze-like breathing of one elderly individual, raspy and labored like a broken bellows.

It seemed as though everyone was grappling with the significant meaning hidden in those three, almost flippant words—*‘wake that one.’*

After a long pause, the stern-faced elder finally broke the silence with a sigh.

"So, the academy has come to this right?"

"Who would’ve thought otherwise?" Professor Gran cast a glance out the window. At this moment, the twelve towering spires had only just risen, pinning the entire academy back to the earth.

"Of course, we have the safeguarding of the Second Tier Megamystery coupled with Pulan’s own strength. One could say that unless the Holy Pontiff himself descends with his scepter in hand, no one could pose a threat. But our foe this time isn’t human."

Professor Gran couldn’t help but sigh as well. "Two Dark Gods, acting in unison, attacking the academy—and one of them has even partially descended with their true form. This is utterly unprecedented in the academy’s thousand-year history. So, regardless of whether Pulan can hold his ground, we must prepare a second line of defense—or rather, prepare for the worst."

"What about seeking reinforcements?" someone suddenly suggested. "After all, this is Belland. There are plenty of strong figures here, and surely the royal palace wouldn’t just sit back and do nothing."

"Good idea."

Professor Gran snapped his fingers. "But, my dear Professor, have you noticed the problem?"

"What problem?"

"It’s too slow. If reinforcements were coming, they’d be here already."

Professor Gran continued, "How far is this place from Belland? How far from the royal palace? And how quickly can The Crowned travel? Or are you suggesting that with such commotion, those strong figures are all blind? Based on my calculations, Belland’s top-tier experts should’ve arrived to investigate within three to five minutes of noticing the anomaly here. And yet, how long has it been now?

"The fact that there’s been zero response—well, that tells us all we need to know…"

Professor Gran lifted his head, gazing at the azure moon slowly approaching in the heavens.

"The entire academy may already be sealed off by *that one*. In other words, seeking reinforcements was never an option to begin with."

"A grim scenario, indeed."

After a short silence, the stern elder lowered his gaze, as if finally coming to a decision.

"Then there’s no more room for hesitation. The old rule applies—we vote. Those in favor of waking *that one*, raise your hands."

The elder was the first to raise his hand.

Then Professor Gran.

Next, one withered hand after another was reluctantly lifted, scattered yet resolute.

"So, the final count… Sixteen votes in favor."

Professor Gran swept his eyes over the room and noted that, apart from the professor who had spoken earlier, every single person had raised their hand.

"I still think this is inappropriate," the dissenting professor sighed. "It’s too cruel for *that one*."

"But if we don’t wake *that one* now, and they wake later only to find the academy already destroyed, they’d undoubtedly be furious."

A faint, bitter smile appeared on the stern elder’s face, as if recalling unpleasant memories from a distant past.

"And I, for one, do not want to be on the receiving end of another of *their* tongue-lashings."

"Well, then, that’s settled. No need to dwell on it further."

Professor Gran clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention back.

"On to the second question—who’s going to wake *that one*?"

"…"

No sooner had Professor Gran spoken than the room returned to silence.

But this time was different. As every individual held their tongue, Professor Gran could distinctly feel over a dozen pairs of eyes quietly but unmistakably focusing on him.

"…You can’t seriously be thinking of me to go." Professor Gran’s cheek twitched.

"Why not?" The stern elder raised a brow.

"Among us, you’re the only one still relatively spry, aren’t you?"

"There’s a private elevator that leads directly to that room, you old wretches! It’s not like asking you to run a marathon!"

Professor Gran roared in frustration. "I’ve just finished evacuating all the students at great risk to my own life! And I even rescued a certain deranged *naked lunatic*. Now you’re telling me to do something this dangerous again? Do you people have no conscience?"

"Ah, well, uh… ahem…"

The stern elder suddenly coughed and began rubbing his leg with a feigned look of pain.

"Ah, my old rheumatism’s flaring up. I can’t move."

"But wasn’t your rheumatism in your left leg? Why are you clutching your right?"

"…It’s… it’s… spreading?"

"Rheumatism isn’t a bloody fungal infection!"

Professor Gran looked around at the others. "What about you lot? Is your rheumatism acting up too?"

"…Ah, I, uh… threw my back out."

"My hemorrhoids are flaring…"

"Herniated disc…"

"My granddaughter’s acting up—I need to go discipline her…"

Under Professor Gran’s stunned gaze, the other professors, most of whom usually struggled to even hobble around, suddenly sprang to their feet. Each mumbled an excuse about their ‘ailments’ while scurrying away like a flock of startled birds.

Some of their supposed ‘ailments’ were downright bizarre—particularly the one about the granddaughter. Your *granddaughter is over sixty, old man!*

The professors dispersed with impressive speed.

As for the few who genuinely couldn’t manage movement, they silently pulled coffins out of their storage spaces, climbed inside, and slowly closed the lids under Professor Gran’s withering glare.

"…"

Finally, in the now-deserted room, only Professor Gran remained, both furious and weary.

"So basically, when Pulan's gone, I’m the one stuck doing everything, huh?"

"No way! I’m not taking on this unlucky role. Considering *that one’s* temper upon waking up, who knows what will happen to me? I need to find another poor soul to take my place."

"Hmm? Speaking of unlucky souls…"

Professor Gran rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a sly smile creeping up his face.

"I might just have a perfect candidate in mind."

…

…