Chapter 181: The Moment Before Death

Andras still had to find Seraphina.

He closed his eyes and focused his senses.

Resonant Sense.

A subtle wave of mana spread outward, allowing him to detect the disturbances lingering throughout the academy.

The surrounding mana was chaotic.

Desperate movements. Collapsing spells. Violent clashes between opposing forces.

Then he found it.

A familiar fluctuation.

Seraphina.

Her mana flickered in brief, weakening surges. Each fluctuation was accompanied by traces of another exchange, and her responses were growing weaker with every passing moment.

Andras’s expression hardened.

She was running out of time.

He reached into his storage ring and retrieved a crystal vial containing a healing potion. The emerald liquid shimmered beneath the faint light filtering through the shattered windows.

He removed the stopper and swallowed its contents.

Warmth spread through his body. The bleeding from his serious wounds slowed, and the pain beneath his ribs eased enough for him to move more freely. The potion couldn’t erase his exhaustion or replenish his depleted mana, but it gave his battered body enough relief to keep going.

He discarded the empty vial.

His mana remained limited. Every remaining drop mattered.

Echo Step.

His figure blurred, leaving a faint afterimage that lingered for an instant before dissolving into the dust.

He accelerated through the ruined passage, following the disturbances he had detected.

---

Several corridors away, Seraphina was fighting for her life.

Her breathing came in short, uneven bursts. Blood trickled from a cut near her temple, while another wound beneath her torn sleeve stained the fabric red. Dust clung to her silver-blonde hair, and her once-pristine uniform was torn and filthy.

She barely noticed.

Her attention remained fixed on the demon approaching her.

Its elongated arms hung unnaturally low, their claws scraping against the stone as it advanced. Shallow wounds marked its flesh, remnants of her earlier attacks, but they had done little to diminish its aggression.

Seraphina raised her hand.

A thin current of wind gathered around her fingers.

"Wind Blade!"

A blade of compressed air shot toward the demon’s shoulder.

It turned slightly. The spell grazed its flesh, opening another shallow cut.

The creature glanced at the wound before looking back at her.

Then it laughed.

"Is that all you have left?"

Seraphina ignored the taunt and adjusted her stance.

Her reserves had been drained by the spells she had cast before Skyfall Tempest. The Fifth Circle spell had pushed her to the limit, and she had yet to recover from the strain.

She had hoped it would finish the creature—or at least leave it too injured to continue fighting.

Now, even a Second Circle spell demanded careful control.

She couldn’t afford to exchange blows with it, nor could she sustain another powerful barrier. One wasteful spell might leave her completely defenseless.

The demon lunged.

Seraphina twisted aside. One elongated arm swept past her face, its claws cutting through several strands of silver-blonde hair.

She retaliated with another Wind Blade, aiming for its wrist.

The spell struck, but the demon barely reacted.

Its other arm snapped toward her.

"Gale Barrier!"

A compressed wall of wind formed in front of her.

The impact shattered it.

The force hurled Seraphina backward, slamming her shoulder against a broken pillar. Pain shot down her arm, and her knees nearly gave way as she struggled to stand.

The demon approached without haste.

"An impressive spell earlier. I almost thought you might be dangerous."

Its elongated fingers flexed.

"But look at you now."

Seraphina gritted her teeth and forced herself upright.

"Come closer," she said. "I’ll show you."

The demon’s mouth stretched into a cruel smile.

"Still pretending?"

It attacked again.

Seraphina watched its shoulders rather than its claws. The slightest shift in its posture offered a clue about which arm would strike first.

She moved diagonally, trying to slip past the initial sweep instead of retreating straight backward.

For an instant, she succeeded.

Then her injured shoulder failed to respond quickly enough.

The claws tore across her side.

She stumbled into the wall, catching herself before she could fall. Agony flared through her body, and blood seeped between her fingers as she pressed a hand against the wound.

The demon withdrew its arm and examined the blood on its claws.

"How fragile."

Seraphina’s sapphire eyes hardened.

She gathered a thin thread of mana and released a short burst of wind toward its face.

The demon turned its head, allowing the spell to pass harmlessly beside it.

But the attack had never been meant to hit.

While the creature’s attention shifted, Seraphina moved toward the broken pillars, drawing it into the narrower passage where its long arms lost their advantage.

The demon lunged after her.

Seraphina slipped behind a pillar.

Its claws smashed against the stone, sending fragments flying. Before it could withdraw its arm, she aimed a Wind Blade at the wounded joint.

The spell cut into the same area she had targeted earlier.

The demon snarled and tore its arm free.

Seraphina retreated several steps, struggling to steady her breathing.

The joint was damaged, but the demon was already adapting. Its injured arm now hung slightly lower, and it instinctively guarded the joint whenever it attacked.

That was her best chance.

Seraphina steadied her breathing and waited.

The demon studied her for a moment before its expression darkened.

"You think that little trick will save you?"

It charged.

Its injured arm swept across the narrow passage. Seraphina waited until the last instant, then slipped past the claws and released another Wind Blade toward the damaged joint.

The spell struck true.

The demon’s arm jerked sideways, disrupting its follow-up attack.

For a fraction of a second, its defense opened.

Seraphina moved to exploit the opening.

Her legs buckled.

The final burst left her limbs heavy and unresponsive. Before she could reach the opening, the demon had already recovered.

Its uninjured arm swept across her chest.

She hit the ground hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs.

Her fingers scraped against the stone as she tried to push herself up. Her arm trembled, and her vision blurred around the edges.

She forced herself to gather the last remnants of her strength into her palm.

Nothing happened.

She gritted her teeth and tried again. A faint current of wind stirred around her fingers, only to unravel before it could take shape.

Her magic had finally failed her.

The demon stepped closer.

"Where did all that confidence go?"

Seraphina glared at it, refusing to look away.

She dragged one knee beneath herself and struggled upright. Pain tore through her side, but she forced her trembling hand upward anyway.

The demon looked at her raised hand and laughed.

"Impressive stubbornness. Unfortunately, it won’t keep you alive."

It lifted one elongated arm.

"I think we’ve played long enough."

There was no spell she could cast in time. No barrier she could raise. No opening she could exploit.

The claws descended.

So this is it?

She had always known death was possible. As a noble and a mage, she had been trained to face dangers most people could scarcely imagine.

But knowing death existed was different from watching it approach.

Her thoughts drifted to Andras.

She remembered their first meeting in Darkmoor, when their engagement had been little more than an arrangement between two powerful houses. She had expected an arrogant young noble—and found someone far more difficult to understand.

She remembered defeating him in their fight, and the dance in the capital when, for a little while, their family names and obligations had mattered less.

Then came the academy: their arguments, his infuriating composure, and the drawing wager that had ended in a kiss neither of them had known how to address afterward.

She had told herself it was rivalry. Curiosity. Nothing more.

Perhaps she had simply never wanted to examine her feelings too closely.

A faint, bitter smile touched her lips.

I never even got to challenge you again.

The claws drew closer.

She didn’t want to die in a ruined academy corridor, her final moments reduced to a cruel demon’s victory.

She wanted another conversation with Andras. Another argument. Another chance to discover what lay between them.

Just once more, she wanted to see him.

She closed her eyes.

I don’t want to die.

"Goodbye, little mage."

The demon’s arm descended.

A distortion crossed the corridor.

The creature didn’t notice it until the air behind it shifted.

A figure flashed through the dust, leaving a fading afterimage in his wake.

Andras.

His violet eyes took in the scene in a single glance.

Seraphina lay against the broken stone, blood staining her clothes. The demon stood over her, its claws moments from reaching her head.

There was no time to call her name.

No time to assess the enemy.

Only time to act.

Andras forced his remaining mana through his body and into his sword. The blade began to vibrate as he concentrated what little power he had left.

His injured shoulder protested. Pain tore through his ribs as he drove forward.

He ignored both.

Echo Step.

His figure blurred, carrying him into the narrow space between Seraphina and the descending claws.

Execution Line.

His sword flashed.

At the final instant, Andras angled his blade against the descending claws, redirecting them away from Seraphina. A harsh shriek rang through the corridor as the impact drove his boots across the stone, nearly tearing the sword from his grip.

He couldn’t overpower the demon through brute strength.

So he didn’t try.

The claws scraped along his blade before slamming into the floor beside Seraphina, carving deep furrows through the stone.

Dust burst into the air.

Andras stood between Seraphina and the demon, his breathing strained and his sword arm trembling. His injuries had not vanished. His mana remained dangerously low, and he had no guarantee he could win the battle ahead.

Behind him, Seraphina slowly opened her eyes.

A familiar figure stood between her and death.

Snow-white hair.

A composed face.

Violet eyes fixed on the enemy before him.

Andras.

She stared at him, unable to make sense of what she was seeing.

He had come.

Her lips parted, but for a moment no sound emerged.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"...Andras?"