Dark Magus Returns

Chapter 1469: The Grand Magus’s Wrath

The students and teachers of Wilton were gathered in Raze’s room. Some sat perched on the edge of the bed, others squeezed onto the small couch pressed into the corner, and a few more leaned against the walls, arms crossed, content simply to be in the same space together.

The air was light, almost festive, a ripple of laughter and chatter weaving through the room. Spirits were high; after the battles they had witnessed and endured, it felt as though victory already rested in their hands. Many believed it was nearly time to leave, that their ordeal was almost over.

At the same time, the students of Wilton didn’t want to leave. The event was drawing to a close and they might never see Raze and the others again.

Panla, ever thoughtful, broke through the noise with a serious tone.

“What do you plan to do about tomorrow?” she asked. Her voice pulled the room quiet. “It’s the group event, the one where all ten of us have to fight against the other academies together. There’s a good chance the Central Academy will force you two to fight each other… to make up for what happened today.”

Liam leaned back, smirking, his usual cocky spark returning. “Oh? So you’re admitting it now, acknowledging the Central Academy’s dirty tricks. But I’m curious too. What do you want us to do? Go all out? Crush them the way we did today and let the rest deal with the fallout?”

“No,” Raze said flatly, his voice carrying enough weight to still even Liam’s grin. “Tomorrow will be a learning opportunity for all of you. We’ll take a passive role. Limit ourselves. Hold back on our magic, make it seem as though you’re fighting alongside any other students. This is your chance to test yourselves against stronger opponents, to grow. You should take it seriously.”

His tone shifted slightly, colder at the end. “But… if the situation becomes dangerous, or if they plan something underhanded, then we will step in.”

Piba, Chiba, Yolden, and Moze exchanged subtle glances. Relief flickered across their faces. For them, tomorrow represented something more than survival; it was a chance for revenge. For all the arrogance, all the disdain shown to Wilton by the Central Academy, this was their moment to stand tall.

Even Londo, though he appeared indifferent, could not entirely hide the edge of anticipation in his eyes.

The truth was, Raze and his group had already done more than enough. They had humiliated Central Academy’s pride. But tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow was Wilton’s day to strike back with their own hands.

Raze, however, had other reasons for his caution. His thoughts drifted to Kelly, to the strange pill she had shown him. A pill provided by Ibarin himself.

None of them have used it yet, he thought grimly. And tomorrow is the last day they’ll have the chance. Is it a refined version of what Alen once gave me? Something stronger, something cleaner with fewer side effects? Or is it worse, a more dangerous gamble disguised as a gift?

He knew too well the truth behind such pills. They forced breakthroughs unnaturally, shoving the body into a state it wasn’t ready for. Whether there were limits for students, or whether these ones carried new risks, Raze could not say. What he could say was that tomorrow’s battle might bring out opponents more dangerous than any they had yet faced.

While the Wilton group discussed their hopes and fears, another scene unfolded in the principal’s office.

Ibarin loomed over Wilton, his towering figure casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the entire room. Flames spiraled across his palm, twisting upward and casting a hellish glow across his furious face. The heat was suffocating.

“I understand you might have suspicions,” Wilton pleaded desperately, his voice trembling, his body pressed against the back of his chair. “You may even think I have intentions against you, but I swear, I do not. I only want what’s best for the academy!”

He could still speak, but he realized quickly it was not because of mercy. It was because Ibarin allowed it, restraining his magic just enough not to silence him. A cruel courtesy.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Ibarin roared. His voice cracked with unstable power. “Do you believe that because we both hold the title of principal, we are equals? Fool! You and I are nothing alike. I am the Grand Magus!”

The flames coiled outward, curling around Wilton’s arms. They seared flesh, eating into his skin, blackening it, leaving it blistered and charred. His body jerked against the bindings of magic, but no sound escaped his lips. The silence spell wrapped the room in suffocating quiet.

His groans of agony were trapped within his throat, swallowed by the spell. Only the smell of burning flesh betrayed his suffering.

Ibarin’s eyes narrowed. “If you truly know nothing, then explain. Where did those students come from? The white-haired boy. The girl with the God Eyes. The magic swordsman. Do you take me for a fool? Do you think you can deceive me with your pathetic excuses? Tell me the truth, or, ”

Flames surged again, wrapping around Ibarin’s arm, swirling hotter, brighter, hungrier.

“I don’t know!” Wilton shouted, panic in his eyes, tears streaming down his face. “They came on Alen’s recommendation, that’s all I know! I don’t know who they are, I swear it!”

The fire flared once more. This time it wrapped around Wilton’s head, devouring the air, swallowing his face. For a single moment, he existed within the inferno.

Then, nothing.

The flames vanished. And where his head had been, nothing remained but ash, scattering gently to the floor.

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