Hate Me, Miss Witch!

The night sky over the outskirts of the Imperial Capital was illuminated by roaring flames, casting a fiery red glow that pierced through the dim haze.

Outside Saint Roland Academy, the Alchemy Department's Dean, Professor Karn, gazed solemnly at the towering wall of flames separating the student dormitories from the outside world.

"Where are the principal and vice principal?" he asked with evident concern.

"The principal hasn't returned in two years. No one knows where he might be," a dust-covered instructor replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "As for the vice principal, he left three months ago to search the Astral Plane for a Transdimensional Beast cub. He's likely still lost in some dimensional rift."

"And the other department deans?" Karn pressed.

"Some are out on academic projects, others are on exchanges with allied lords, and one is... attending a 'multi-party event,' which I believe is a fancy noble banquet. None of them will return in time."

The young instructor shot a cautious glance at Karn. "For now, Professor Karn, you're the only Master-tier Beastmaster in the entire academy."

"These lazy old scoundrels!" Karn growled, snapping the wooden staff in his hand.

Still, he knew it wasn't fair to blame his colleagues. Under normal circumstances, no secret organization would dare cause a scene in the Imperial Capital—the core of the Freesta Empire, teeming with formidable powerhouses. Even if they succeeded, escaping the relentless pursuit of the capital's elite would be nearly impossible—a fool's errand that would cost more than it was worth.

Thus, Saint Roland Academy, like the capital itself, had never faced a crisis of this magnitude since its founding. The academy's defenses were more for show than actual security. But this time, the attackers weren't just anyone—they were the Ashen Order.

Unlike other outlawed sects deemed heretical by the Church, the Ashen Order wasn't the largest or strongest. But it had one defining characteristic: it was recklessly bold.

While other sects acted with calculated caution, avoiding unnecessary losses, the Ashen Order's arsonist zealots cared little for collateral damage or self-preservation. Even in captivity, they would shout their fiery slogans before transforming themselves into deadly explosions.

Karn cursed the "suicidal maniacs" under his breath before steadying himself. His expression grew grimmer as he felt a faint but piercing spiritual presence lock onto him.

The Patriarch of the Ashen Order.

As one of the two Master-tier Beastmasters present, Karn knew the enemy Patriarch had marked him as a priority. Though the Patriarch hadn't yet made a move, Karn could feel the oppressive aura of potential violence, keeping him from dispelling the fire barrier.

His instincts warned him that, despite being at the same Master-tier, his years of teaching and research left him at a disadvantage against a battle-hardened adversary.

"Stalemate is our best option," Karn murmured. "This is the capital—time is on our side."

"Unfortunately, Professor Karn, time is not on our side," came a steady voice.

The speaker was a middle-aged officer in military uniform, his demeanor sharp and commanding. A crest of a black eagle adorned his collar, and a floating Beholder loomed behind him, its writhing tentacles emitting a faint, palpable aura of surveillance.

With a wave of the officer's hand, a blurred screen appeared in the air, projecting scenes captured by the Beholder. Within the dormitory plaza, dozens of black-robed arsonists patrolled methodically. At the plaza's corners, hundreds of students lay bound but otherwise unharmed.

At the center of the square stood a dark, ominous altar under construction, flickering with spectral black flames that sustained the barrier.

The officer's voice deepened. "These zealots plan to use the students as sacrifices for a fire ritual. Once completed, the resulting explosion will obliterate most of Saint Roland Academy."

Relief flickered across Karn's face upon seeing the officer. "Colonel Zieg, you're here... What about additional reinforcements?"

"I'm the only Master-tier reinforcement," Zieg replied bluntly. "Pressure from the capital's nobility has forced the military to focus on securing the inner districts, especially the noble quarters. No further help is coming."

Karn's expression tightened. "But this attack challenges the Empire's authority—"

"To the Empire, yes," Zieg interjected. "But to the nobles, crushing the Ashen Order after they've fled is preferable to risking their own forces in what could be a trap."

Though Karn fell silent, the implication was clear. With no noble heirs among the hostages—only commoners—sacrificing the academy was an acceptable loss for the aristocracy.

Breaking the silence, Karn asked, "Colonel Zieg, if we join forces against the Patriarch...?"

"Challenging," Zieg admitted. "The Patriarch is a high-tier Master. While we might overwhelm him, defeating him swiftly enough to prevent the ritual's completion is unlikely."

Zieg's eyes narrowed. "There's another way, though. The arsonists within the barrier are only Intermediate-tier. If the students inside have the strength and courage, they could disrupt the ritual and disable the barrier from within."

"Students?" Karn's face darkened, then lit up as he recalled something. "Yes! The student council! They're still here."

At that moment, several figures hiding among the hostages leaped into action. Summoning their beasts, they launched a coordinated strike on the altar, their movements precise and practiced.

The faculty observing through the Beholder's screen held their breath. These students—members of the academy's elite—had faced many dangers before. If anyone could turn the tide, it was them.

But as the students' attacks neared the altar, dark flames erupted from its perimeter, consuming their beasts in searing agony. Even as their masters withdrew them, the damage was done, leaving the students unconscious from the backlash.

Laughter erupted among the arsonists as their leader stepped forward. "Fools! Did you really think our altar was unguarded?"

The leader's gaze fell on Dyris, the student council president, who had collapsed after enhancing her peers with her unicorn's blessings. He sneered, pointing his scythe at her neck. "A pure soul like yours will be the perfect first offering."

Cries of outrage echoed from the hostages, but they were powerless to intervene.

Then, from the shadows, a calm voice rang out.

"Oh, the Ashen Order has tacticians? Guess not all of you are just pyromaniacs shouting 'Burn, burn, burn.'"

Two figures emerged—a dark-haired boy with a lazy demeanor and a golden-haired girl, her silver spear gleaming ominously.

It was Xaya and Aurora.