Surviving the Magic Academy With Just Intelligence Stats-Chapter 89: The Nurse Elena

Elena moved with practiced precision through the dimly lit underground chamber, her work for the evening complete. Behind her, the imperial spies from Xia—Akira, Ruohan, and Min-jae—huddled together in their cage, their bodies marked with the evidence of her "punishment." Their suppressed groans and labored breathing echoed faintly against the stone walls, mingling with the ambient sounds of dripping water and distant, indistinct movements from other cages.

She folded her multi-tailed whip with methodical care, each motion deliberate and unhurried as she secured the implement to her belt. Without a backward glance or a single word to her victims, Elena stepped out of the cage, the cage closing behind her with a subtle shimmer of energy. Her high-heeled boots clicked rhythmically against the stone floor as she moved through the underground prison’s main corridor, her posture immaculate despite the grim surroundings.

The pathway between the rows of cages formed a gauntlet of sorts. As Elena passed, various reactions tracked her progress. Some prisoners hurled themselves against their magical barriers with animalistic fury, chains rattling as they strained against their restraints. Their eyes, reflecting the dim magical light, burned with a mixture of hatred and madness. Others growled low in their throats. A few simply watched her with cold, calculating hatred—these were perhaps the most dangerous, their lucidity intact despite their captivity.

Near the midpoint of her journey, a particularly aggressive prisoner—a hulking figure whose species was no longer readily identifiable after whatever experiments had been performed on him—hurled himself repeatedly against the walls of his cell. The metal cage rippled with each impact, the noise becoming increasingly disruptive. Without breaking her stride, Elena unfurled her whip in a single fluid motion, the leather extension whistling through the air as it snaked between the openings in the cage.

The tip of the whip—weighted with a small metal barb—connected with the prisoner’s flesh. Being struck by the furthest part of the implement, where momentum concentrated its force, the pain inflicted was disproportionate to the seemingly casual flick of Elena’s wrist. The prisoner’s howl of rage transformed into a shriek of agony as he retreated to the far corner of his enclosure, cradling the fresh wound.

Elena continued without pause, not even acknowledging the interaction. Several other prisoners who had been working themselves into similar states of agitation quickly quieted as she passed, learning vicariously from their fellow captive’s mistake.

When she finally reached the solitary metal cabinet at the far wall, Elena began her transformation ritual with mechanical efficiency. Her fingers worked the complicated harnesses and buckles of her dominatrix attire, disrobing with neither haste nor hesitation. The persona she had adopted for the "interrogation" slipped away with each removed garment, like an actor shedding a costume after a performance.

Standing in just her underwear, then completely nude, Elena moved to a small adjoining chamber—a makeshift shower tucked into an alcove beside the cabinet. The space was barely large enough to accommodate a single person, with rusted fixtures that delivered lukewarm water at best. She methodically washed away the evidence of her activities, her expression remaining distant and detached throughout the process.

After drying herself with a rough towel retrieved from the cabinet, Elena returned to complete her transformation. Retrieving her nurse’s uniform, she dressed with the same clinical precision with which she had undressed. Each button and fold was perfectly aligned, creating the immaculate appearance expected of Crono Academy’s medical professional.

The final step in her metamorphosis was the most striking. Standing before the cabinet’s polished metal door, which served as a makeshift mirror, Elena placed her hands against her face. Her fingers kneaded the flesh as if it were clay, manipulating something beneath the surface. After several moments of this strange ritual, her entire demeanor shifted—the cold, sadistic gleam in her eyes replaced by professional concern, her posture softening from predatory to nurturing.

The transformation complete, Elena donned a surgical mask that concealed the lower portion of her face. This final touch sealed away any remaining trace of her underground persona, completing her return to the role of the academy’s trusted nurse. With measured steps, she made her way toward the hidden exit, leaving behind the underground chamber and its suffering inhabitants until her inevitable return.

…

The figure moved with practiced ease along the academy’s perimeter, their stature modest at about five foot eight. Their features blended into a canvas of ambiguity—neither distinctly masculine nor feminine—further obscured by the meticulously crafted rat mask concealing their face. The mask’s whiskers twitched slightly with each soft whistle that escaped their lips as they strolled with unhurried confidence.

Pausing at the imposing fence surrounding Crono Magic Academy, the masked observer tilted their head upward, taking in the full grandeur of the barrier.

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"Whoah, so big," they remarked, their voice a perfect middle ground—neither deep nor high, impossible to categorize by gender. The neutrality seemed almost deliberately cultivated, another layer of anonymity beyond the physical disguise.

Continuing their leisurely examination, the figure produced a roll of parchment from within their nondescript clothing. With methodical precision, they began sketching various landmarks and structural details of the academy grounds, occasionally pausing to confirm measurements or angles before committing them to paper.

"Hahaha, this is so easy," the rat-masked figure chuckled to themselves, the sound echoing slightly behind their facial covering. "Sir Dragon was afraid of nothing." They continued mapping the facility’s layout with practiced efficiency, clearly fulfilling some predetermined mission with remarkable ease.

The sudden shift in atmosphere came without warning. The air around them grew oppressively hot, molecules seeming to vibrate with dangerous intensity. The figure paused, confusion evident in their suddenly rigid posture as they sensed the abrupt temperature change.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, they lifted their gaze skyward—only to freeze at the terrifying sight above. A massive sphere of roiling flames descended toward them, growing larger with each passing heartbeat, its heat so intense that nearby vegetation began to wither.

"Is the sun falling?" they wondered aloud, momentary confusion giving way to horrified realization. "Oh no, I’m cooked—literally!" These final words barely escaped before the inferno crashed into their position with catastrophic force, the impact sending debris and scorched earth flying in all directions.

When the dust settled, Cassandra Blackvale landed gracefully at the center of the newly formed crater. Her piercing eyes scanned the devastation methodically, searching for remains but finding nothing conclusive amid the chaos.

"Tsk! They escaped," she muttered with evident frustration before launching herself skyward, soaring away in pursuit of her quarry.

Miles distant in a secluded forest clearing, the rat-masked figure materialized against a sturdy oak, their breathing labored from the narrow escape. Various patches of their clothing smoldered, edges charred and smoking, though remarkably their body appeared unharmed beneath.

"Dammit! That was my last pair," they complained, seemingly more concerned with their ruined attire than their brush with death. Turning toward the direction of the academy, their posture stiffened with newfound respect.

"Was that Cassandra Blackvale?" they wondered aloud, recognition evident in their cautious tone. "As expected of someone from the mad generation, she’s quite strong."

They sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as they contemplated their circumstances. "Now that I’ve alerted her, it’ll be quite hard to complete the mission." The moment of concern passed quickly, replaced by an almost cheerful resignation. "Oh well, I can just use this as an excuse to slack off for a bit."

The sudden resurgence of blistering heat cut their relaxation brutally short. Their head snapped upward, dread evident in their posture.

"Don’t tell me..." they whispered, voice trailing off as they confirmed their worst fears.

Cassandra Blackvale hovered above the clearing, her normally flowing red hair now standing upright, engulfed in dancing flames. Her entire form radiated power—wreathed in fire that seemed to burn from within rather than upon her. The temperature around her distorted the very air, creating waves of heat that made reality itself appear to waver.

"Is the academy a joke to you?" she demanded, her voice carrying the weight of lethal intent.

The rat-masked figure looked up, their earlier confidence evaporating like morning dew in a furnace. They swallowed audibly before offering a weak response.

"Umm...can we talk about this?"

…

A/N - I forgot to upload before reset, sorry guys. (here is a teaser lol)

[Name: Elena Masque]

[Level: ???]

[Talent: Actress (???)]

[Health: ???]

[Mana: ???]

[Strength: ???]

[Stamina: ???]

[Agility: ???]

A/N - can someone guess the stats?