There was silence in the class.

They looked at Malaric’s collapsed figure with a mixture of sympathy and fear.

Both emotions were tangled together.

Sympathy that he had become an unwilling example of what overusing rage essence could do. Fear at the thought of what would happen if any of them pushed past their own limits.

The chairs beneath everyone began to crumble, dissolving as their focus broke under the weight of it.

And with that came the wave of pressure that crashed back into them.

Ymir turned to face them for the first time, her palm leaving the tree.

"Did I ask you to dispel your creations?" She asked.

A red energy surged from her eyes, making her look like the incarnation of a war god.

The pressure intensified.

"Create a chair. Using rage essence."

The students who had managed it before tried again.

They could not.

The fear was too paralyzing.

Ymir took a single step forward.

Just one step, but somehow she was already standing in front of Azrael.

Her palm curled around his neck, tight as a clamp.

[Host, your mind has been paralyzed by an unknown source of fear.]

The system rang through his mind.

He did not reply.

He could not.

"You are a demon of the Wrath lineage. Why would a little fear paralyze you?"

She threw him backward. His back slammed into a pile of skulls that had been hidden in the darkness until that moment.

She did not look back. She did not spare him a second glance.

She moved to Nyx.

Before Nyx could register it, a punch had already landed squarely in her face.

Her body drove into the earth beneath her, cracks spiralling outward from the point of impact.

Ymir moved on without pause.

Sirris.

Her gaze lingered for a moment.

Then her heel tore upward, smashing into Sirris’s jaw.

The sound of cracking bone echoed through the air.

Sirris reached her peak height and began to fall.

Ymir had already moved on.

Valdren and Zuriel.

Both hands shot out, seizing their heads simultaneously.

’No,’ was the only thought in both their minds.

But there was nothing either of them could do.

She pushed both heads together.

A loud bang tore through the room.

Both of them dropped to the floor, barely conscious from the pain.

She reached Zephyr, palm already descending toward his neck.

Clang.

A sharp chime rang through the room.

Her palm stopped inches from Zephyr’s neck.

She looked away.

"Class is over."

She leapt upward at those words.

The crushing pressure on the students dissolved at the same moment.

Before any of them could speak, they vanished.

They were back in the reception.

Azrael looked around, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

The terror from earlier had not fully left him yet.

He was not alone in that. He could see it in the others too.

But they began to steady themselves slowly.

On the floor beside them, Malaric’s unconscious body still lay where it had been brought through.

Azrael glanced at Zephyr.

"I should take him to the clinic," he said.

"Can you manage him alone?" Zephyr asked.

Azrael nodded.

They rose from the floor and walked to the desk to sign out, then stepped outside.

As usual, their maids stood waiting.

"Welcome, Lord Azrael," Clara bowed as he appeared.

Azrael nodded.

A coin expanded before him, large enough to carry five people comfortably.

"That is why you offered to take him alone," Zephyr said with a smile.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome," Azrael said, lifting Malaric carefully onto the coin.

"Clara, join me," Azrael said.

"Yes, my Lord," Clara bowed, stepping onto the coin.

Azrael nodded once at Zephyr.

"Good night."

Zephyr waved.

The coin shot off before he could even track it with his eyes.

"No wonder he won the race," Nyx said from beside him. "That thing is just too fast."

Zephyr nodded slowly.

The two of them began walking back toward the residence, their maids following behind at a distance so light it barely felt like they were there at all.

At the clinic, Azrael handed Malaric over to one of the nurses.

"Thank you," she said, carefully taking him inside.

’That teacher is genuinely something else,’ Azrael thought with a faint smile as the coin carried him and Clara back through the estate.

They reached the main house of the direct lineage shortly after.

"Clara, bring my food to my room," Azrael said as the coin dissolved beneath them.

Clara bowed and moved toward the left wing.

Azrael watched her go briefly, then turned toward his own room.

The maids lining the hallway bowed as he passed.

He smiled in return.

"Huff," he exhaled as he stepped inside.

His eyes found the bed immediately, and the only thought that surfaced was to collapse into it and sleep.

But there was too much to do.

"What do I need to do?" He muttered, walking toward the bed anyway.

"Aura. Rage essence. Using the soul core to create a construct."

Saying it all at once made the weight of it real, and he could not help but drop face first into the mattress.

"This is going to take forever," he groaned into the pillow.

"If only there was a way to slow time down or something."

[5,000 SP per hour.]

The system said plainly.

Azrael lifted his head.

"You can do that?" He asked with furrowed brows.

[Something similar. It is a special plane created by the system with a ten to one time ratio between itself and the outside world.]

Azrael sat up slowly, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"An hour in there is ten hours in here," he said.

"Why are you only telling me about this now?" He added. "You are genuinely incompetent sometimes."

[Coming from someone who cannot fully control their own power yet.]

A scoff emoji appeared on the screen.

Azrael opened his mouth and closed it again.

[It is understandable that you have no response. Forming words requires mental control too.]

"I wish there was a shutdown button on this thing," Azrael muttered.

Just then, a knock came from the door. Slow and gentle.