Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Bloody Banquet (4)

Noel stumbled into a narrow side corridor off the servant tunnels, hidden from the chaos of the Grand Hall above.

The air here was still.

Quiet.

For now.

He set Elyra down gently against the cool stone wall, keeping one hand on her shoulder to steady her.

She was breathing, but weak—every exhale shallow, strained.

Noel ripped a clean strip from the inside of his sleeve and wrapped it around a raw rope burn on her wrist, tying it off quickly.

‘She’s stable enough.’

For now.

Elyra’s fingers twitched, grabbing the front of his jacket with surprising strength.

Her eyes cracked open, sharp despite the exhaustion dulling them.

“Listen…” she rasped.

Noel leaned in immediately, cutting through the ringing in his ears.

“I overheard them,” Elyra whispered. “Talking… about bombs. Three.”

Her hand trembled as she clutched him tighter, forcing herself upright.

“I don’t know where exactly… only that two groups moved toward major buildings. The library… maybe the gardens… I’m not sure.”

Noel’s chest tightened.

‘Two bombs near major points. One unaccounted for.’

His mind raced.

If they had split the explosives between crowded, evacuation-heavy areas…

It could be catastrophic.

Elyra sagged against the wall again, her strength failing.

Noel caught her gently, letting her rest.

“You’ve done enough,” he said under his breath. “Let me handle the rest.”

The real nightmare wasn’t over yet.

It was just getting worse.

Noel wiped a smear of blood off his palm onto his pants as he sat back against the wall, quickly going over what Elyra had said.

Three bombs.

Two locations she’d overheard—the library and the gardens.

The third?

Unknown.

Noel’s mind raced.

‘Where would you hide a bomb if you wanted to maximize casualties?’

He thought fast.

Not inside.

Outside.

Somewhere big.

Somewhere students would naturally run toward when panicking.

‘The closest open space near the Grand Hall.’

‘An open area. Just… the obvious choice.’

It wasn’t a designated emergency point.

It was just the nearest and most obvious place for hundreds of panicked students to gather.

Wide, open, exposed.

He clenched his jaw.

‘Shit.’

He didn’t know exactly where the bomb was yet.

But he knew the area to search.

And he needed to move.

Now.

He looked down at Elyra again.

She had slumped back against the wall, unconscious, her breathing shallow but steady.

‘You did your part.’

‘I’ll do the rest.’

Noel tightened the straps on Revenant Fang and sprinted back toward the Grand Hall, dodging rubble and collapsed beams as the full noise of battle grew louder with every step.

The moment Noel pushed through the service door back into the Grand Hall, the world exploded into madness.

“Arc Lightning!”

A bolt of white-blue energy split the air, shattering a stone column into dust.

“Inferno Burst!”

Flames roared across the ceiling, consuming rich velvet banners and sending thick black smoke swirling into the air.

Students screamed, ducking for cover.

Spells ricocheted wildly between the marble pillars, crashing into walls, shattering tables, ripping the buffet apart.

The orchestra platform was nothing but a broken wreck, instruments burning like twisted corpses.

In the middle of it all—masked attackers moved through the chaos, blades flashing, magic tearing paths of destruction.

The professors and senior students fought back fiercely.

“Shield of Aegis!” one professor bellowed, raising a shimmering golden barrier that barely held against the next barrage.

“Frost Lance!”

“Wind Cutter!”

Spells clashed midair—ice shards shattered, blades of compressed wind howled, shockwaves from detonations cracked the marble floor.

Noel didn’t hesitate.

He ducked low under a wild bolt of Arc Lightning that scorched the stone inches from his head and sprinted forward, eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of the Director.

A masked terrorist spotted him—young, fast, sword flashing for a horizontal cut.

Noel’s body moved before his mind finished registering.

A clean sidestep.

A brutal horizontal swing of Revenant Fang across the terrorist’s ribs.

The man gasped sharply—blood spraying as he dropped, lifeless, to the ground.

Noel didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

One kill among many.

The thick smell of burning mana and blood clogged his throat.

He pressed forward, weaving through overturned tables, crushed chairs, and the bodies of wounded students.

Another blast—”Shock Nova!”—rattled the walls as electrical energy surged through the air, making his skin crawl.

He dodged a blast of Flame Spike that obliterated the space where he stood seconds earlier.

Finally—

Through the chaos, Noel spotted a figure like an anchor in the storm.

Director Nicolas Von Aldros.

Standing tall at the heart of the battle.

His cloak billowed around him, spells forming runic circles at his fingertips—complex, beautiful, deadly.

He directed teams of professors and senior students, shielding evacuating civilians with walls of raw mana force.

Noel clenched his jaw and broke into a full sprint, Revenant Fang dripping red by his side.

He had to reach him.

Had to deliver the warning.

Before the next explosion tore this place apart.

Noel burst through the defensive line, Revenant Fang still dripping blood at his side.

Director Aldros turned immediately, his silver eyes sharp and commanding even in the chaos.

Noel didn’t waste a second.

“Director! Three bombs,” he shouted over the din of battle. “Two near major buildings—the Library and the Gardens. The third… somewhere outside. Open ground. I don’t have the exact location yet.”

Aldros’s expression didn’t change.

He absorbed the information instantly, processing it with terrifying speed.

But Noel could see it now—subtle cracks in his aura.

Flickers of strain.

‘He’s exhausted.’

It made sense.

Aldros was the strongest mage in the entire academy—Valor’s shield and sword.

But tonight, he hadn’t been dealing with just students or amateur terrorists.

He had been containing Caldus—a former professor enhanced by a mana-boosting drug so potent that it elevated him to nearly Aldros’s level.

The clash between them had drained enormous amounts of power.

Even now, the Director carried the invisible scars of that fight.

Noel swallowed the tension rising in his throat.

He had to move fast.

“Cover me!” Aldros barked to the nearby professors.

He raised both hands, fingers weaving complex, burning sigils into the air with brutal efficiency.

The mana around him condensed, pressing down like a storm about to break.

Then—

“Twin Echo.”

A flash of blinding white light split the space.

Director Aldros divided into two identical copies, each one slightly smaller than the original, their mana signatures burning but clearly weakened.

The two copies turned to Noel, speaking in perfect unison:

“I can handle two.”

“And the third?” Noel asked, voice low and steady despite the growing pressure.

The Director’s face hardened.

“There’s no time to pull another professor,” he said, grim. “They’re all occupied. Overwhelmed.”

He stepped closer, locking his gaze onto Noel like a spear through steel.

“You,” Aldros said. “You find it. You carry it. You run.”

He spoke each word like an order etched into stone.

“You get it as far away from the academy—and the city—as possible. Do not attempt to disarm it. Just move.”

Noel didn’t argue.

Didn’t flinch.

He simply nodded once.

Sharp.

Final.

The two Aldros copies shot off in different directions—one toward the Gardens, one toward the Library—magic flaring at their heels.

Noel turned sharply toward the Grand Hall’s shattered entrance.

Toward the open grounds.

Toward whatever nightmare waited for him there.

Because now?

It was on him.

Noel tore through the shattered entrance of the Grand Hall, the sounds of battle behind him growing distant as he sprinted through the crumbling plaza.

The air outside was no better.

Cries of fear echoed through the open grounds as dozens—no, hundreds—of students and staff had poured into the nearest open space.

The only one wide enough.

The plaza just beyond the eastern steps.

It was packed.

Bodies pressed together, people screaming, crying, shouting for their friends. Professors and upper-year students were trying to restore order, herding people away from danger, shielding the most wounded.

It was the perfect place.

Open.

Obvious.

Predictable.

‘If I were them, I’d put it here.’

Noel’s eyes darted everywhere as he sprinted into the plaza, scanning every shadow, every cluster of crates, every piece of cover.

Nothing.

He slowed only for a second, breathing hard, narrowing his gaze.

Then—

A faint glint.

Barely visible.

A soft, unnatural glow flickering beneath the surface of the courtyard fountain.

Subtle.

Faint.

Almost masked by the rippling water and the frantic movement of the crowd.

‘Got you.’

He didn’t hesitate.

He sprinted forward.

Jumped over the stone lip of the fountain.

Splashed straight into the water.

The cold hit his skin like a slap, soaking through his shirt and boots in seconds.

His hand plunged down, reaching—

There.

A metal casing.

Warm.

Pulsing with unstable mana.

The bomb.

He didn’t try to disarm it.

Didn’t even open the casing.

He just grabbed it and exploded back out of the water in one desperate movement, water cascading down his back as he clutched the device to his chest.

“MOVE!” he shouted to the nearby students, shoving past a group as he broke into a full sprint across the open courtyard.

No one stopped him.

No one could.

There was no time.

Noel ran like the devil was behind him.

Noel sprinted across the plaza, the bomb pulsing violently in his arms, its mana signature growing hotter with every second.

‘Not enough time. Not on foot.’

His eyes darted around, desperate.

Then he spotted it—

Near the edge of the courtyard, where a few academy guards were trying to rally panicking students—

A horse.

Chestnut brown, big, strong.

And mounted.

The rider, a young stablehand or junior guard, was trying to hold the animal steady.

Noel made a beeline straight for him.

The guy turned just as Noel reached him, confusion flashing across his face.

“Hey, what the hell—!”

“Fuck off!” Noel snapped, grabbing the saddle with one hand and hauling himself up in a practiced motion.

As the boy spluttered and tried to grab the reins, Noel reached into his jacket with his free hand, yanked out a gold coin, and chucked it at the kid’s chest.

The coin bounced off his armor and clattered to the ground.

“Talk to the Director! He’ll pay for the damages!” Noel shouted over his shoulder.

The kid made a strangled noise of protest, grabbing uselessly at the horse’s tail as Noel kicked the beast hard into a dead sprint.

The horse reared for a second, hooves slashing the air.

Then it took off.

The bomb vibrated dangerously against Noel’s chest as the world blurred around him.

He didn’t dare slow down.

Didn’t dare look back.

The city gates loomed ahead, wide open in the confusion.

Noel barreled through them at full speed, past terrified civilians and guards too stunned to react.

Out into the open.

Toward the dark line of the forest waiting at the horizon.

Away from the academy.

Away from the thousands of lives at risk.

‘Just a little more.’

‘Hold it together, damn it.’

The trees rushed toward him like a wall.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Because there was no other option.

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