Long story short, Athelei got the room he wanted.

“Heh,”

As the author of this world, how could he not have information? Even if he had to wrench the hazy memory from the depths of his mind, it was still worth more than any present investigation. Especially since it was an event at the start of the story.

What he gave Professor Hyourin was a clue that he had accidentally discovered when he encountered the {Evil}.

This clue thus led her to a certain conclusion:

{Nest of Evil}.

A kind of sentient landscape that would give birth to {Evils} aplenty. It was forming right underneath the school, in the vast catacombs that hid just below the surface of the earth. The higher-ups of the Academy knew about it, and many examinations were even held within its claustrophobic presence.

However, something alien had crept into it, a calamity drawn by the sheer amount of greed and desire congregating in one place.

“Where there are dreams, there are tragedies.” Just as Athelei had once written in the distant past.

Those who could overcome these trials would grow stronger. Those who were weak would be trampled upon.

A natural law of Earth that was amplified within Athelei’s own writing.

***

Within the {Nest of Evil}.

Although Athelei wasn’t physically around, he knew of what was transpiring at the moment. An exchange of words. Of ideals. Of sentiments as far as the horizon. Heated, yet in a deadly calm.

A conversation. Between old friends. Between new enemies.

“Hyou,”

“Jackie,”

Two parties greeted each other with great familiarity, one male, and the other female. Hyourin had followed the clue that had been supplied to her with utmost haste. Fully expecting the encounter with the individual before her.

The scent of pine trees collided with the comforting smell of a fireplace.

“No… perhaps it’s Professor Hyourin now…” Jackson said, the shine of his sword gleamed in the darkness of the catacombs. Only his glowing yellowish eyes could be seen, gazing outwards from the shadows. “How long has it been, old friend? A short year?”

Hyourin looked into Jackson’s topaz gaze. Her expression was unreadable, yet Jackson knew it all too well.

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It was disgust. An abhorrence for his presence. Yet the shine in her eyes spoke of an equal familial affection.

“I wished it were longer.” Hyourin smiled a deadly smile, “You should have stayed in bed, dear friend. Forever. Until you ferment in death and pass on.”

“Haha,” A chuckle was solicited, and Jackson emerged, stepping into the light.

A scarred face was juxtaposed against his beautiful baritone voice. His disfigured features were akin to a roughed-up clay doll.

His body was the same… He was lacking an arm, and a leg, clearly replaced by some monstrous black tentacles. His back was hunched, yet traces of a once-perfect physique could be glimpsed by those keen of eyesight.

“I’m surprised you allied with the Academy, Hyou.” Jackson would smack his crooked lips, “I’m surprised you would turn the other cheek.”

“It is what it is.” A reply came back with a wry shaking of the head. “My dreams… I want nothing more than their fulfillment. I cherish our friendship, but I carry the wishes of those who had gone before me as well. You, of all people, should understand.”

Jackson fiddled with the sword in his hand.

“An Eternal Pursuit is an eternal shackle. You need to let go, Hyou. Unburden yourself from the demands of the world.”

A bloody mist began to emerge from the disfigured man. A manifestation of his [Will]. Gaseous in form, malicious in appearance…

Yet so incredibly warm. Comforting like the fireplace it drew its scent from.

“You talk so much about letting go, yet you cling on to your memories more than all of us, you damn bastard.” Hyourin felt a tear threatening to fall. “You still cherish our childhood. It shows in your Tangible Will.”

“I’ve let go of all the things I’ve deemed unimportant. Now, I hold only what is truly dear to me. That’s what I’ve learned to do.”

—Swish!

With those words said, Jackson launched his attack. A swift slash of his sword, augmented by the bloody mist that surrounded him.

Hyourin drew up a shield. The smell of pine trees manifested as a cyan wind that blew against the crimson mist.

Jackson felt his body slow down. Like facing a powerful headwind, he struggled to move.

“Flow!” He bellowed, and the mist around him swirled. The cyan wind blew around him, and he weaved his way forth. Advancing with a dizzying brandishing of his blade.

Jackson’s slashes were aimed at Hyourin’s throat. Yet the latter dodged with ease. Like the wind, the young professor shifted her weight, dancing like a ribbon in a storm.

Their battle existed like an art form. Different emotions flashed in their eyes. Hate and affection. Disgust and acceptance.

Wounds began to appear on Hyourin’s porcelain skin. The vivid red was a saddening sight on her body. Yet both fighters didn’t seem to care.

Hyourin could only dodge. Jackson could only continue to attack. The moment one stopped would mark the end of the fight.

However, Hyourin realized that Jackson’s behavior was… off.

His usual aggression seemed to waver every time he stepped forward. If in the seemingly distant past, he would lunge with each strike, he was now instead inching forward like a snail.

A gleam of purple caught Hyourin’s eye.

“I see,” She smiled.

“No,” Jackson replied, frustrated by his circumstances, “You don’t.”

—Boom!

Leaving cracks behind on the stone floor of the catacomb, Jackson gave his all in a split second. Charging forward like a train without breaks, his true colors fluttered in the wind. His sword gleamed with a deadly hue, guided by the coalescing crimson mist.

In the same moment, Hyourin released her limiters. The shattering sound of a glass bottle falling onto the floor was a crisp tune against the howling mix of Tangible Will.

The cyan intent suddenly slowed down, losing its velocity yet gaining viscosity. A portion of Hyourin’s Tangible Will had begun to condense, becoming liquid particles that sliced through Jackson’s skin.

At this moment, Hyourin was half a step into Dictator Rank 2 — Liquid Phase.

“Admit defeat, old friend.” She said.