"So whoever did this… they’re still out there," he said, his voice low and grim.

  Sylra nodded, her expression hardening. "And we’re running out of leads."

  The weight of her words hung in the air, the silence between them heavy with unspoken fear and determination. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a bell rang, signaling the start of class. But for Elliot and Sylra, the real battle was just beginning.

  "Have you told Towan?" Sylra asked, her gaze steady and piercing as it locked onto Elliot.

  Elliot hesitated, his jaw tightening as he weighed his words. "Not yet…" he admitted, his voice low. "I’m planning to tell him today. I wanted to wait until he fully recovered."

  Sylra nodded slowly, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with understanding. "If that’s what you want…" she said, her tone neutral but carrying a faint edge of skepticism.

  They walked in silence, the rhythmic echo of their footsteps filling the empty hallway. The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts and the weight of what they’d uncovered. The classroom doors loomed ahead, their polished surfaces reflecting the faint glow of the overhead lights.

  Towan glanced up as Elliot and Sylra entered together, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. The way they moved—shoulders tense, expressions guarded—told him everything he needed to know. he thought, his curiosity piqued but his instincts warning him to tread carefully.

  "Hey, Towan!" Elliot greeted, his tone deliberately casual as he slid into the seat next to his brother. "There’s something I need to tell you."

  But before Elliot could say another word, the air in the room shifted abruptly, as if the world itself had taken a sharp inhale. An overwhelming pressure swept through the hallway, dense and suffocating, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

  The students froze in unison, their chatter dying mid-sentence. The temperature in the room began to climb, the heat oppressive and unnatural. Beads of sweat formed on foreheads, and a few students clutched their arms, shivering despite the warmth.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "What’s happening?!" a student gasped, her voice trembling as she glanced around in panic.

  Elliot’s expression darkened, his body instinctively tensing as he turned toward the door. "This is…" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the growing tension.

  "The headmaster," Towan said, his voice firm and steady, though his eyes narrowed with focus. "He’s releasing even more energy than last time."

  The oppressive aura seemed to seep through the walls, thick and unrelenting, pressing down on everyone in the room. The very atmosphere vibrated with raw power, each pulse resonating like a drumbeat in their chests. It wasn’t just a display—it was a warning, a reminder of the authority that loomed over them all.

  Conversations ceased. No one dared to move, their breaths shallow and their eyes darting toward the door. The headmaster was coming, and with him, an unspoken command:

  Elliot’s hand twitched, his fingers curling into a fist as he exchanged a glance with Towan. Whatever he’d been about to say would have to wait. The headmaster’s presence demanded attention, and the room held its breath in anticipation.

  The door creaked open, the sound cutting through the heavy silence like a knife.

  Professor Velaryn entered first, her presence a stark contrast to the oppressive energy that still clung to the air. She moved with her usual grace, calm and composed, as if the suffocating pressure didn’t even register to her. Her sharp eyes swept across the room, taking in the tense faces of her students.

  "Good morning, class," she greeted, her voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of authority.

  No one answered. The weight of the headmaster’s aura still lingered, pressing down on the room like an invisible hand. Even the faintest breaths seemed too loud, too intrusive, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

  Velaryn’s gaze shifted toward the doorway, her expression unreadable. "As you probably know," she continued, her tone measured, "we have a guest today."

  The tension in the room spiked, sharp and electric, as the headmaster stepped into view.

  He moved with a quiet, deliberate grace, his presence commanding the space without effort. The air seemed to bend around him, as if the world itself was making room. He came to a stop beside Velaryn, standing tall and motionless, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room.

  Then, he spoke.

  "Good morning."

  His voice was calm, almost gentle, but it carried an undeniable weight that resonated deep within the chests of everyone present. And just like that, the oppressive pressure vanished, dissipating like smoke in the wind.