The battlefield had quickly become a grave. Ash was continuously raining from the skies like dying embers, drawing down upon the ground.

The once serene water now churned with black ichor and corrupted mana, glowing runes crackling in the air like fractured veins of lightning.

Headmistress Raphaeline was standing in the air, staring at the Hydra.

Her black horns curled back like twin crescents, veins of crimson light pulsing beneath obsidian skin. Her long hair shimmered like flowing midnight flame, and her eyes, oh, her eyes, were bottomless crimson voids, their centers spinning with rings of arcane truth and madness.

Her back bore two immense wings made not of flesh but of shadow and ancient sigils, shifting like smoke caught in starlight.

Her mana was a thunderstorm given form.

A Demoness at the highest order. The students who remained conscious, and sane enough to comprehend what they were seeing, could only stare, awestruck.

Kayle, meanwhile, landed beside her, light flaring around her like a miniature sun. The Radiant Sigil hummed in her hand, forming into a spear of celestial fire, her golden hair fluttering as pure mana swirled around her like a hurricane of hope.

The Abyssal Hydra roared.

Its six heads split apart, each charged with a different spell: a torrent of cursed flame, a cone of deathless frost, a storm of pestilent arrows, raw gravity force, space-rending rifts, and a shrieking void beam.

Each of these would have leveled cities.

But Raphaeline simply smiled.

“Poor creature,” she said softly, her voice layered in three tones, calm, cruel, and ancient, “You should not have come here.”

Then she moved and the world immediately reacted. The runes beneath her feet exploded in demonic circles the size of buildings, layer upon layer of hellscript igniting the battlefield in crimson.

“Grand Demonic Art: Crown of the Crimson Monarch,” she whispered, and the space around her immediately twisted.

A phantom crown of horns and flame appeared above her head, and six copies of her silhouette blinked into existence behind her, each one echoing her power, feeding it.

The first Hydra head launched its flame beam, only to be cleaved in half by Kayle’s spear of light, the Radiant Sigil carving a perfect arc through fire and flesh. She dashed forward, each step lighting the ground in golden sigils.

“I’ll deal with the right flank,” Kayle said sharply, her voice all discipline and fury.

Raphaeline nodded, “Leave the rest to me.”

The second head fired void breath.

But the Demoness simply reached out, and caught the attack in her bare hand. The entire beam condensed into a sphere in her palm, spinning violently. It trembled, screamed, begged for release, but Raphaeline crushed it effortlessly.

The explosion warped the lake into a vortex, vaporizing monsters and reshaping the battlefield.Then she raised a single finger.

Her six shadows mirrored her.

“Abyssal Hex: Dread Binding, “

Chains of midnight steel and screaming runes erupted from the ground, ensnaring four of the hydra’s necks. They were not just chains, they were seals from the deepest parts of the Demon Realm, forged from the soul-iron of the Damned.

The Hydra roared, trying to resist, but the bindings tightened, siphoning its mana, burning through its Abyssal resistance.

Kayle, meanwhile, danced between heads. Her spear became dozens, each strike of the Radiant Sigil leaving afterimages of divine light. With every motion, she sang prayers of the old world, burning away darkness with every step.

“Sunborn Waltz: Infinite Piercing,” A storm of light erupted, impaling the third and fourth heads mid-cast, causing them to howl and writhe.

One tried to bite her, only to be blinded by a flash of solar mana condensed into a needle that pierced its eye.

Back at the center, Raphaeline drifted forward, wings spreading.

“Time to end this blasphemy,” she murmured.

Her shadows collapsed into her body. The crown on her head blazed as she casted her final spell.

“Throne Magic: Crimson Mandate of Ruin.”

A massive, blood-red circle unfolded across the lake’s surface. Demonic script flared brighter than lightning as towers of ruin erupted from the water, spikes of demonic architecture formed from burning bone and obsidian steel.

A throne rose from the center.

Raphaeline stepped upon it and sat. In that moment, every student still breathing felt the weight of a kingdom pressing down upon their souls.

Not a kingdom of mortals, but a dominion of demons.

The Hydra sensed it too. It panicked. The heads twisted, breaking through the chains with raw desperation. It tried to flee. To teleport. To collapse itself into another dimension, but it was far too late.

The skies above cracked again, not with light. but with darkness. A meteor of demonic fire descended from the heavens, summoned by Raphaeline’s throne spell.

It struck, but the impact didn’t cause an explosion or big bang like one would expect. The attack instead just devoured.

The lake biome trembled as the core of the Hydra was pulled into a vortex of annihilation. Its cries were drowned beneath the sound of the world tearing.

Head after head vaporized, body collapsing, mana eaten away until nothing remained.

When the light cleared…

Only steam remained, while the throne was slowly dissolving, with a woman seated atop it.

Her crown fading and her wings folding behind her.

Raphaeline immediately turned to Kayle, who had landed beside her.

“Status?” Raphaeline asked.

“Hydra’s dead. The central line’s secure. Professor Elias is sweeping the eastern perimeter with Garreth. Survivors are being evacuated.”

Raphaeline nodded, looking toward the broken students, some crying, some cheering, some still unconscious on the bloodied grass.

Then her gaze looked forward, towards the Amethyst Ranked Abyssal Worshipper, Lord Vhal’Tharas, who was looking at her with fear and anger in his eyes.

He had not moved. Not even when the Hydra, his masterpiece, had been devoured before his very eyes. Not when the throne of ruin carved the world into a wound. Not when the sky itself had trembled beneath the presence of her.

He couldn’t move. It was a law of the Abyss that the worshipper’s couldn’t betray their mission. He had to succeed, or pay the ultimate price, and he knew what would happen now.

His hands trembled as he stared at Raphaeline, “You…” he rasped, his voice broken by disbelief, “How’d you break the seal so fast?”

Headmistress Raphaeline did not answer. She simply looked at him. Her eyes, those bottomless wells of crimson void, bore into his soul like twin obelisks of judgment. They saw through him. Past his flesh. Past his gifts. Past his pride.

He was still standing, but he already knew.

He had lost.

Still, he lifted a hand. Mana surged around him. Abyssal symbols flared along his arms and neck. A self-destruction spell.

“I won’t be taken,” he snarled. “I would rather, “

Raphaeline vanished.

He blinked and a clawed hand clamped around his throat appeared.

The air boomed as her presence landed beside him, bending the ground beneath her heels into glass.

Her grip was tight, her black claws digging into his flesh but not piercing. Her face remained still, regal, her wings stretching wide behind her as a fresh wave of demonic pressure pushed the air away in a screaming spiral.

“You think you choose how this ends?” she asked, her voice a harmony of calm, cruelty, and fate.

He struggled, coughing blood, veins bulging as his mana surged in protest. His Abyssal core burned wildly, threatening to implode. But she simply raised her other hand, and with a flick of her wrist.

Time stopped.

His mana froze mid-flow. The explosion halted, his heart thudding in stunned silence. The symbols etched into his skin flickered, then snuffed out like candles drowned in a black sea.

“What…what did you?”

“Demonic Binding: Chains of the First Sin,” she whispered directly into his ear, and a massive glyph formed beneath them, composed of ancient demonic runes that predated current civilization.

From the glyph, chains of scarlet flame burst upward, wrapping around Vhal’Tharas’s arms, legs, neck, and even his soul.

He screamed from both extreme pain and realization.

These weren’t just bindings. They were legacy chains. An artifact-level spell that targeted the very identity of the target.

Vhal’Tharas could feel parts of himself unraveling, his connection to the Abyss, his higher senses, his dimensional anchors, all forcefully suppressed.

“NO, NO NO NOOOOOOO!” he bellowed, voice twisted with rage and fear, “You don’t understand what’s coming! This world is already doomed! This academy, these children, you, none of you will survive what slumbers beyond the veil!”

Raphaeline leaned in, her voice dropping into a low purr.

“I have stood at the veil,” she said, “I have dined with the sleeping ones, warred against their emissaries, and walked barefoot across the corpse of a Titan Monarch. You think this is the first apocalypse I’ve stopped?”

Her eyes burned brighter.

“You are not the storm, Vhal’Tharas. You are just the smoke that came before it.”

With a gesture, she drew a glowing rune in the air. A portal of blood and runes opened beside them, leading into a dark chamber lined with silencing wards and soul barriers.

The Deeplock Vault of Zephyr Academy, a prison even the Empire itself was forbidden from accessing without her word.

Kayle arrived just as Raphaeline cast Vhal’Tharas into the portal, his limbs bound, his voice silenced, his eyes wild.

“You’re not killing him?” Kayle asked.

“Not yet,” Raphaeline replied. “We’ll drain him of everything he knows. Slowly. The Abyss has evolved their strategy. I want to know how… and why now.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep