"Lance Blast! Lance Blast!"

  Eryndra kept striking, her spear crackling with magical energy at every blow. Each hit was sharp, loaded with mana, designed to deal maximum damage. These weren’t just regular attacks—they were high-level strikes, the kind only top-ranked adventurers could pull off.

  But even so… the totem didn’t budge.

  Not a crack. Not even a flicker of weakness.

  Eryndra gritted her teeth.

  “This thing is reinforced… This isn’t the work of an amateur.”

  She stepped back, breathing hard, eyes locked on the artifact.

  “No… this is professional work. The kind of mage who’s studied magithology. Someone who knows magical defense systems inside and out.”

  She swallowed, her gaze fixed on the runes—still glowing, still untouched.

  Then she turned toward Dome 44.

  Silence.

  No sound. No tremor.

  “…Is it… too late?” she whispered.

  Her chest tightened.

  “These attacks aren’t doing anything.”

  Eryndra spun around.

  A man in his forties stood behind her, average height, short hair streaked with gray at the sides—a mark of years in the field. His leather jumpsuit was covered in dozens of small pouches stuffed with magical tools.

  It was Baguil, head of the Magical Innovation Team at the Department of Magic Research and Development (DMRD).

  Beside him was Ylier, still catching his breath from running.

  And behind them stood ten of the guild’s top figures.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ceboyo, Head of Defense—a towering man in heavy armor, eyes sharp as blades.

  Cronio, Head of Security—wearing a black coat reinforced with hidden plates, an expert in infiltration and counter-espionage.

  Lirden, Master of Strategy and Planning—lean, with a razor-sharp gaze, known for predicting the outcome of a battle before it even began.

  Maelis, Head of Healing and Magical Support—wrapped in a white and gold robe, a healer’s staff strapped to her back.

  Jorvik, Head of Training—a grizzled veteran who still wore his training gear.

  And at the center of the group, walking forward with steady steps… Abodrar, the Guild Master.

  A man in his fifties, with shoulder-length black hair, lean but muscular despite the loose clothing. He wore light reinforced leather armor under a midnight-blue tunic embroidered with gold thread, and a long split coat made for combat. It was the attire of a leader—but also of a fighter.

  They said he had once been the most powerful Class-1 adventurer in the entire Empire—a man who could slay a dragon single-handedly.

  Eryndra froze for half a second in surprise.

  She glanced at Ylier, who quickly explained:

  “Given how serious this is, I went straight to the head of the DMRD, Baguil… and had to interrupt an important meeting.”

  Eryndra shook her head, still stunned, then turned to Baguil.

  “Well? Do you have a solution?”

  Baguil knelt in front of the totem, running his fingers over the carved symbols. He closed his eyes, as if listening to the magic inside. Then he stood, face grim.

  “This isn’t just sabotage,” he said. “It’s a runic overlay. The original spell is still here, but someone engraved a second magic circle on top. And that second spell won’t stop until the crystal drains every last drop of mana.”

  Eryndra clenched her teeth.

  “So what do we do?! The candidate inside is going to die!”

  Baguil raised a finger.

  “Not necessarily. There’s a way… but it’s dangerous. Very dangerous.”

  All eyes turned to him. Even Abodrar stepped forward, his presence adding weight to the air.

  “Explain,” he ordered, voice calm but sharp.

  Baguil hesitated, then pulled out a thick scroll sealed with three glowing red runes.

  “This… is a prototype we just developed—a mana absorption scroll.”

  He glanced around the group.

  “If I activate it, it will drain all the crystal’s energy. But… the container isn’t stable. If it overloads, the excess mana could cause an explosion.”

  A heavy silence fell.

  “And in that case?” Ceboyo asked.

  Baguil grimaced.

  “We launch it at least a hundred meters into the air before it blows.”

  Faces tensed. Even the air felt still.

  “It’s risky,” Baguil admitted. “Very risky. But it’s possible… if someone handles the launch at the right moment.”

  His gaze moved from Ceboyo, to Cronio, to the others… and finally landed on Abodrar.

  The guild master crossed his arms.

  “No one here wants to get roasted,” he said evenly. “But no one’s letting a candidate die, either.”

  He turned to Eryndra.

  “You handle the launch if things go wrong. Baguil—get your scroll ready.”