Giola stood across from Mr. Spear with a look of absolute certainty, as if the battle had already been decided.

  “Let’s not kid ourselves,” Giola said, voice dripping with contempt. “You’re just a coward who was too afraid to fight real battles, so you hid behind a classroom and called it ‘teaching the next generation.’”

  Mr. Spear’s composure was shattered.

  “What you’re saying is meaningless!” he roared, rage cracking through his voice. “All that matters now is that you don’t live to see the sun set today!”

  Giola laughed, low and mocking. “Is that so? Then stop me, wannabe hero.”

  Mr. Spear lowered his head and began to murmur a chant under his breath.

  Giola simply sat down in the courtyard, resting his chin against his fist, waiting to see what this “teacher” could possibly do.

  Far from the courtyard, Dragora walked alone, trying to clear his mind. Then it hit him—a sudden, suffocating sense of dread.

  He froze.

  Giola’s fighting right now. He should be winning easily… so why do I feel this?

  He clenched his fist.

  Earlier, I felt Axel’s energy mixed with something else—but it vanished almost instantly. What the hell is happening over there?

  The unease intensified.

  This isn’t good. I need to get there. Now.

  Back in the courtyard, Giola felt it too—the shift in the air, the pressure building.

  Still, he dismissed it. What could a measly teacher possibly do to him?

  Mr. Spear, however, stood in complete contrast. His eyes sharpened. His focus narrowed to a razor’s edge as he continued chanting, unwavering.

  The final words left his lips like a vow carved in stone.

  “I give you my soul, Zero!”

  A circle of light flared into existence before him.

  From within it, something emerged.

  A godlike entity rose slowly from the circle, only its upper body visible. The rest faded into nothingness. Its arms were massive, its presence overwhelming. A single horn curved around its head toward its mouth, and a crown-like mask partially concealed its face—though the wide grin beneath was impossible to miss.

  The courtyard fell silent.

  Zero’s voice echoed like distant thunder. “I have heard your demand. You understand the price you must pay… correct?”

  “I do,” Mr. Spear replied without hesitation. “And I accept the conditions.”

  Zero summoned a sheet of parchment into his hand. “This is the contract you established with me. To seal the agreement, you must sign it in blood.” His glowing gaze shifted slightly. “But first… tell me your target.”

  Mr. Spear raised his arm and pointed.

  “Giola. Standing right there.”

  Zero turned to look.

  Then he began to laugh.

  Loudly.

  Giola’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny? I’ll carve that disgusting laugh out of you.”

  Zero’s laughter only grew. “You will do no such thing, foolish human.”

  He turned back to Mr. Spear. “Very well. I shall sign as well. I will unleash one hundred percent of your crystal’s power. Sign it.”

  Without hesitation, Mr. Spear drew a knife and sliced his thumb. Blood welled up instantly. He pressed it onto the contract.

  The moment his blood touched the parchment, blinding light erupted around him. Electricity surged through his body, crackling violently across his skin.

  As Zero began to fade back into the circle, he spoke one final warning.

  “If you even think of escaping—”

  Chains burst from the glowing circle, shooting across the courtyard and wrapping around Giola in an instant.

  Giola’s eyes widened. “What the f—?!”

  “Farewell,” Zero said calmly. “I shall await your arrival, Spear.”

  And with that, he vanished.

  The circle dissolved.

  The chains held firm.

  Mr. Spear straightened, energy surging wildly around him.

  “Let me show you,” he said, voice steady despite the storm raging through his body, “an ancient technique passed down through generations.”

  Another portal opened before him—smaller, darker, different from the one that had bound Giola.

  Mr. Spear reached inside.

  Slowly, he began to pull out a spear.

  When it finally emerged in full, the air itself seemed to tremble.

  “See, this isn’t an ordinary weapon,” Mr. Spear said. “I can only summon it by using every last drop of energy in my crystal. But it has… a special property.”

  He lifted it, and the spear began to spin in place, gathering force, humming with lethal intent.

  “It will not stop,” he said quietly, “until it pierces its target.”

  The spinning intensified, energy spiraling outward.

  “This is it, Giola. I wish I could say I’ll see you in hell.” A faint, bitter smile crossed his face. “Unfortunately, what awaits me is far worse.”

  The spear roared with power.

  “I’ll have to settle for watching you draw your final breath right here and now.”

  Mr. Spear hurled the spear.

  It screamed through the air, spinning violently, tearing apart the ground beneath it as it surged toward Giola.

  Giola reacted instantly. His twin scythes materialized in his hands, their curved blades crossing in front of him just as the spear collided with them.

  The impact shook the courtyard.

  Sparks exploded outward as metal met unstoppable force.

  “Stop spinning, you damn spear!” Giola roared, digging his heels into the stone as the spinning weapon forced him backward.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The spear did not slow.

  It spun faster.

  Behind it, Mr. Spear began to fade.

  Tiny fragments of his body broke apart like glowing dust drifting into the wind. With every second the spear pressed forward, more of him disappeared.

  The scythes trembled in Giola’s grip.

  Slowly, they were forced apart.

  With a curse, Giola shifted his strategy. Instead of trying to deflect it, he reinforced the exact point where the spear would strike.

  His chest.

  Energy condensed over his heart, forming a hardened barrier just as the spear broke through his guard.

  The tip slammed into him.

  For a brief moment, it stalled.

  The spinning intensified. Faster with every second going by.

  The grinding sound was unbearable as the spear pushed deeper, drilling through the reinforced energy.

  “Damn you, teacher!” Giola shouted, veins bulging as he poured more power into resisting it.

  It wasn’t enough.

  With a violent burst of force, the spear tore through his chest.

  It pierced clean through him.

  Blood erupted outward as the spinning weapon burst from his back, still rotating before finally losing momentum.

  The chains binding him shattered and retracted the instant the spear exited his body.

  At the same time, Mr. Spear’s fading accelerated.

  “That’s what you get… bastard,” Mr. Spear said with a faint, satisfied smile.

  And then he vanished completely.

  Nothing remained.

  Giola collapsed to the ground.

  Blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the courtyard stones.

  His breathing grew shallow. His vision blurred.

  This… is death.

  For the first time, certainty slipped from his grasp.

  Unless someone came.

  The realization disgusted him.

  To rely on someone else…

  Footsteps echoed across the courtyard.

  “Giola, dammit, you reckless idiot.”

  Giola forced a weak grin despite the blood filling his mouth. “Oh… look at that. A dragon is coming to take me to hell.”

  Dragora knelt beside him, unimpressed. “Glad to see the humor wasn’t carved out of you. You’re lucky I brought this.”

  He produced a small, green, sphere-shaped medicine.

  “This won’t heal you completely,” Dragora said calmly. “But it’ll stop you from dying. Take it.”

  He placed it in Giola’s trembling hand.

  Giola laughed weakly. “Does it look like I can bring it to my mouth myself?”

  Dragora smirked. “I know. So beg me to save you.”

  The words hit harder than the spear.

  Giola’s expression darkened.

  “Damn you, Dragora,” he muttered. “I swear I will never forgive you for this.”

  “If you wait any longer,” Dragora replied casually, “you won’t be able to forgive me.”

  Silence hung between them.

  Giola hesitated.

  Then, against every instinct in his body, he forced the words out.

  “Dragora… plea—”

  Before he could finish, Dragora shoved the medicine down his throat.

  “Can’t believe you were that desperate,” Dragora said with a laugh.

  Warmth spread through Giola’s body. The bleeding slowed. Strength slowly returned to his limbs.

  “You will pay for this,” Giola said quietly. “I promise you.”

  Dragora stood and turned away. “Sure. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Giola remained on the ground for a moment longer.

  “Before we go,” he said coldly, pushing himself up slightly, “there’s something I must do.”

  “You’re done,” Dragora replied flatly. “You failed to kill her. Drop it.”

  Giola shook his head.

  “No… that ain’t it.”

  Prius sat cross-legged inside his cave, the dim light of a single lantern flickering against the stone walls as he meditated.

  The silence was absolute.

  Then his phone rang.

  His eyes opened.

  For me to receive a call… something must have happened.

  He reached for it, expecting Axel’s name.

  Instead, the moment he answered, he heard crying.

  “Prius… something happened at the academy…”

  His voice remained steady. “Elia. Slow your breathing. Tell me what happened.”

  Through uneven breaths, she forced the words out. “Axel got hurt… he’s unconscious.”

  Prius rose to his feet.

  “Who told you?” he asked. “Did they say who he fought?”

  A pause filled with quiet sobbing.

  “Giola… he fought Giola.”

  A brief silence followed.

  “I’ll be there shortly. Stay where you are.”

  He ended the call and stepped out of the cave, moving without hesitation toward the academy.

  When he arrived, the courtyard was fractured, stone split and scorched.

  Elia stood nearby, eyes red, hands trembling.

  “I’m here,” Prius said. “Where is he?”

  “They just took him to the hospital,” she replied. “He and his friends ,too.”

  “Any casualties?”

  She swallowed. “Just one. Their teacher.”

  Prius exhaled slowly, his posture settling as his gaze shifted toward the damaged courtyard.

  “Head to the hospital,” he said. “I’ll follow. I need to examine the battlefield first.”

  Elia nodded and hurried off.

  Prius stepped forward, surveying the destruction.

  Deep gouges marked the stone. Blood stained the ground in wide arcs. The air still carried the residue of violent energy.

  He walked slowly, eyes scanning every detail.

  Then he saw it.

  Written across the wall in thick, drying blood:

  Their failure is on you, Prius.

  Back at the hospital, Elia stood by the window, looking into Axel’s room through the glass.

  Machines hummed softly around him. Bandages wrapped his torso. His chest rose and fell steadily, but he did not stir.

  A few minutes later, Prius joined her.

  “This is the second time this month he’s ended up in the hospital with serious injuries,” Elia said quietly. “He can’t keep this up.”

  “For Giola to be there,” Prius replied, “I doubt Axel was given much of a choice.”

  Elia’s composure cracked, tears slipping down her face once more.

  “At this rate… I’m going to lose him, too.”

  She paused, struggling to steady her breathing.

  “Please, Prius,” she said, turning toward him. “I can’t lose him as well.”

  Prius met her gaze and gave a small nod.

  He said nothing else.

  Hours passed.

  Elia and Prius remained in the hospital corridor, waiting for updates on Axel and his friends. Lea and Miria’s parents eventually joined them, the hallway growing heavier with shared tension.

  Then a nurse approached.

  “There’s been a development,” she said carefully. “Axel is no longer in his room.”

  Prius’ brow lowered slightly. “Explain.”

  “He left,” she replied. “He isn’t here anymore.”

  Prius exhaled through his nose.

  “That kid can’t even rest after receiving a near-fatal injury.”

  Around him, confusion erupted. Nurses speaking. Parents asking questions. Elia was calling Axel’s name as if he might suddenly appear.

  Prius remained still.

  Where would he go?

  Then something surfaced in his memory.

  A story Axel used to tell him when he was younger.

  The first time he caught a fish at Lake Mundon was with his father, just weeks before his passing.

  Axel never spoke much about fishing itself. What he remembered was the quiet. The stillness of the lake. The way the wind moved across the water. He once said that when he went there, it felt like his father was still close by.

  Prius’ gaze shifted toward the exit.

  After everything that had happened…

  Comfort.

  That was what Axel would be seeking.

  Without announcing his thoughts, Prius turned and began walking.

  Voices called out behind him.

  He did not respond.

  The hospital doors slid open, and he stepped outside.

  Rain poured from the sky, heavy and relentless, soaking the streets within seconds.