High above the forest.
In the monitoring tower, Maki stood before the multiple displays watching in silence the aspiring students.
One of the holographic showed a red haired, red eyes boy sitting gently on a boulder, by his feet was a the remnants of a criminal: their ashes.
Another showed a boy staring into oblivion, his hands behind his back as he stood. A dead criminal lay by his feet, horror etched on its features.
Maki glanced over both screens.
"Edward and Silas are really something." She muttered.
"Yes they are." The dean nodded in agreement.
"Sir." Maki turned to face him. "Speaking of outstanding students, who is this Anessa girl? I can't find any files on her or her background."
"Oh? You don't have to bother about that. What you should know is that her background is as strong and as mysterious as those girls." The dean stated.
"So, no digging." Maki concluded.
"Exactly." The dean gave her a smirk.
Maki nodded, she turned to focus on Anessa's screen.
"Just how strong is she?"
---
The chubby man had transformed—now a gaunt, starving figure wreathed in flame, with a burning war chariot behind him.
He took a battle ready stance.
"It is nothing personal, little girl."
Just as he had talked, the chariot flames blazed high into the sky. He jumped backwards, landing right into the chariot.
Anessa watched on with mild interest.
He gestured towards her: Go.
The chariot boomed as it shot forward.
Then.
"That is cute."
A clap.
"Crush."
The word came just right after her clap.
That word, resounded through the vicinity like a law etching itself into reality.
That word, evoked fear, primal fear, and awe in the man's heart.
That word, was the last thing the chubby(now thin) man heard.
Both the chariot and the man were crushed in a spot. It was like an invincible hand had crushed them between its palm in a clap. The crushed chariot floated in the air, static in its position.
Anessa separated her hands.
The crushed chariot fell to the ground in a thud.
---
"As strong as an average last year student." The dean stroke his imaginary beard as he answered.
Maki eyes widened.
She knew what being at that level meant.
The Dean might call them average—but even the weakest of the last years were in leagues of their own.
Once, a fourth-year lost control during an external mission—Frostveil. Half a city paid the price—among the few fourth years, he was average.
This school doesn't produce graduates, it produces walking calamities.
She took a deep breath, calming herself down. Just then, her eyes caught something—the girls. One of them had transformed, using magic.
She leaned in, eyes narrowing—curious about how magic works.
A magic circle covered the sky, and before Maki could react, they were gone. The girls and the two criminals.
"That is domain magic," the dean commented.
"Don't be surprised at whatever they do, magic in general is like a multi-purpose gift—one that uses a specific energy to power it up." He explained, seeing the subtle curiosity in Maki's eyes.
---
Inside the Domain.
Everything was red.
Not just the light or the air—but the world itself.
The ground wasn't ground at all, just dense, churning clouds of crimson mist. It coiled and pulsed like something alive, thick enough to walk on but soft enough to drown in.
Above it all floated her.
The mage girl—now fully transformed—hovered in the center of the sky like a blood-drenched queen. Her robes fluttered without wind, and her eyes gleamed with superiority.
Beneath her, a shimmering sphere pulsed—a bubble forged from translucent blood and coated in ripples of strange, twitching energy.
Inside it stood the two criminals.
The iron-plated giant stood still as a statue.
And beside him, leaning casually against his leg, was the bloodied girl—humming.
She dragged a finger across the bubble's inner wall, the motion childlike.
It was her doing. Her shield.
She was shielding them.
From this place.
From nLympha's domain.
High above, the witch-girl raised her voice, and it echoed through the domain like a divine decree.
"Welcome, lesser-world peasants, to my world—nLympha's world—Red Tears Domain."
The bloodied girl giggled at the theatrics.
The iron giant grunted like a bored beast.
---
Elsewhere, deep in the forest.
Kale watched silently as the twin returned, dragging new baggage behind him.
Two criminals followed—one male, one female. Their eyes were empty, their limbs slack. Like puppets whose strings had been stretched too long.
The twin halted in front of the prince and gave a small bow.
"Your Highness. I have brought the prey."
Kale barely nodded.
He turned slightly to the elegant girl beside him.
"Crystal. Take one."
Then to the other.
"Gorrana. The other."
Crystal hesitated. Just a beat. Her gaze lingered on Kale longer than necessary, as if reading something beneath his tone.
But she obeyed.
She raised her hand, and a thick gas spiraled outward, engulfing the female criminal. Within seconds, her body shivered—and collapsed. Lifeless.
Gorrana didn't bother with theatrics.
She strode forward and, in one fluid motion, tore the man's head clean off. No flair. Just finality.
The twin watched in calm fascination, not flinching once.
When it was over, he turned back to Kale.
"Don't you want the points?"
Kale shook his head.
"Not really."
He lifted his hand. A faint green glow pulsed from his palm.
"What I've gained from this exam... is more than enough."
---
Meanwhile, near the forest's heart.
"Really too bad…" Sion shook his head, almost pitying. "Well, if I can't save your lives…"
A slow smile crept across his lips.
"…at least I can help you keep them."
Laughter erupted.
The emaciated man's voice distorted as he laughed, the delay in his speech stretching with each syllable. His cronies grinned, stepping back behind nearby trees like an audience before a show.
Cracking.
Popping.
His bones twisted as fur spilled across his limbs. Claws tore from his fingertips. Canines punched down from his jaw. The man grew—taller, broader, darker.
In seconds, the transformation was complete.
A towering, humanoid beast of thick black fur loomed over Sion, muscles coiled and twitching.
"This wolf will now take your head, cub."
BOOM!
The beast lunged.
Sion barely raised his arms in time. A claw slammed into him, hurling his body like a cannonball through the forest. Trees splintered. Ground tore. An unlucky student, caught in the path, was reduced to nothing but legs.
Sion's body hit the ground with a sickening crash and slid into silence.
But the beast wasn't done.
Before Sion could move, a massive claw came down—BOOM—smashing him into a crater.
Then came the barrage.
Claw after claw, a whirlwind of savage slashes rained down. Dirt flew. Blood sprayed. Sion disappeared into the earth, buried in his own crater, unmoving.
The beast stopped.
He howled—long and loud, victory echoing across the treetops. Then he turned, walking toward the approaching criminals.
"Dig him out. Let's feast—"
A growl.
A heart shaking growl. One that sends terror through one's spine.
The beast stepped back—instinct drowning out pride. The others froze. Not in awe. In terror.
The ground opened a path as Sion stood.
A golden glow shone in his brown eyes.
He cracked his neck. "Seriously?"
A deep, menacing, soul terrifying voice sounded from Sion.
"Not even a wolf?"
He was speaking through a growl.
As he spoke, the blood all around floated up, like time reversal, they all returned into Sion's blood stream as all his wounds close up.
"Just a dog."
Before the beast could react, he was on his knees—Sion had caught hold of his neck and force him down.
"A dog dares brag in my front."
Sion's voice shook the beast to his core.
"The disrespect."
The beast's heart ruptured on the spot. Not from claws. Not from a punch.
From the sound of Sion's voice.
His body slumped forward—dead before it hit the ground.
The other criminals pissed themselves in fright.
Did boss just die to his voice?????
One of them, thought of running.
He turned, what he saw was Sion ravaging through the group: heads separated from necks, limbs from body.
Then he remembered, he only had the thought of running, he had not taken any action—he had not even tried to turn his head.
Then why am I facing this way...
His thoughts faded away as his head hit the ground.
Sion stood alone now. Surrounded by gore.
Breath even. Gaze calm.
Not a single scratch.
"Tch. Next time, I should kill with more style."
He looked around at the limbs, heads, and torsos strewn across the earth.
Then smirked.
"Following the words of the great Napoleon: Killing is an art…"
His fingers flicked blood off his sleeve.
"…let it be stylish."