Vanessa had never stood so intimately acquainted with death. Her pupils contracted to pinpoints as the world decelerated around her—every detail crystallizing with preternatural clarity: the wicked iron arrowhead, the polished wooden shaft, the meticulously dyed black fletching. Yet she remained motionless—not the slightest magical countermeasure, not even the instinctive flinch of self-preservation. She simply positioned herself before Pierce, calculating with detached precision where the obsidian-feathered projectile might strike her body, and whether such a wound would prove fatal. Erica's untrained lips stumbled over an incomplete incantation; a feeble flame flickered briefly across her palm before extinguishing—utterly ineffectual against a lethal missile. Logic dictated the arrow should have pierced Vanessa's expansive forehead. Reality, however, witnessed it vanishing into an inexplicable void.

  The sorceress remained petrified, as though transformed to stone herself. "Are you unharmed?... Pierce?" Upon receiving the boy's affirmative response, she demanded, "Where in creation did that arrow disappear to?"

  "You didn't see it?" the boy asked, his voice laced with genuine disappointment. "You missed the best part, Vanessa."

  The midnight-fletched shaft abruptly materialized, embedding itself in the churned mud beside the disconcerted archer's mount. The black gelding skittered backward nervously. "I could have redirected it directly into his helmet," Pierce remarked, his Resonance Hex once again infiltrating the Imperial knights' consciousness. "I chose restraint. I trust you comprehend the implications."

  "You infernal little demon..." Sir Lunedale's complexion suffused with crimson; he labored visibly to regulate his respiration. "Do not imagine your parlor tricks escape my understanding..."

  "Extinguish that flame immediately, Erica." Vanessa reassuringly squeezed the tall girl's shoulder before turning toward the boy. "You manifested a portal without a proper circle—without even verbalizing an incantation—didn't you?"

  "Precisely." He amplified the radius of his Resonance Hex substantially; even Vanessa experienced the peripheral discomfort of an encroaching headache. "For me, making a portal is as easy as breathing."

  The Imperial knights collectively held their breath, struggling to comprehend the profound implications. "Reject intimidation, knights!" Gil Assimo summoned his most commanding battlefield voice. "He boasts of portal manipulation—let us evaluate precisely how many he can sustain simultaneously! KNIGHTS—WEAPONS AT THE READY! ARCHERS—PREPARE TO FIRE!" Blades emerged from scabbards with metallic whispers; some warriors brandished spiked flails menacingly. The archers formed disciplined ranks, arrows trained upon the three figures. "Negotiations have terminated, little wizards," the knight declared between labored breaths. "I've exhausted my tolerance for your repulsive voices. LOOSE!"

  More than thirty bowstrings released in near-unison, sending a lethal constellation of ebony-feathered missiles hurtling toward the Academy's primary entrance. According to Sir Lunedale's tactical assessment, the golden-haired prodigy would need to manifest thirty independent portals simultaneously to neutralize their volley. Despite his limited magical knowledge—sufficient only to qualify him for this Saint·Asini acquisition mission—he understood that portal creation represented extraordinarily complex magic; the notion of a single practitioner generating dozens simultaneously belonged exclusively to tavern fabrications. Five thundering heartbeats later, he clutched his saddle desperately, preventing himself from toppling sideways in apoplectic rage.

  Pierce effortlessly conjured a single massive oval gateway—a shimmering doorway suspended in air—perfectly positioned to shield all three figures. Every projectile vanished instantaneously upon contact. With casual precision, he snapped his fingers; a corresponding portal materialized in the heavens above, disgorging the captured arrows directly above their originators—some impacting mere inches from the archers' boots.

  "When presuming to challenge me, kindly arrive equipped with adequate intellectual capacity," the boy shouted through manually cupped hands, deliberately eschewing his Hex. "You there, with a head the size of a prize melon—how in the hells did a man like you get a title? I ought to open a portal and drop you right back in whatever southern sty you crawled out of, you idiot. On the house, of course."

  Throughout his thirty-eight years of existence, Sir Lunedale, Gil Assimo, had never endured such egregious insult—particularly from a mere child. "...Savor your impudence while you can, boy," he eventually managed, unable to formulate a worthy rebuttal and resorting instead to threatening the child's homeland. "Your precious nation shall soon become my permanent residence—observe and witness." He attempted to expectorate defiantly for dramatic effect, succeeding only in dribbling saliva ignominiously down his mount's mane. "BROTHERS!" He dramatically extended his longsword toward the encroaching darkness. "ENGAGE WITH STEEL! CLAIM THIS ACADEMY!"

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  The Imperial knights methodically expanded their formation, encircling the three defenders. "They're actually advancing... their intentions are genuine!" Erica desperately conjured flames again; ephemeral sparks danced ineffectually across her fingertips. "What strategy shall we employ, Vanessa?"

  "What options remain? Strategic withdrawal." Vanessa's palms gently guided her charges backward step by deliberate step; the modest staircase behind them seemed to stretch endlessly upward. "Let us hope we've secured Evelyn sufficient time..."

  "Retreat to the refectory?" the tall girl inquired anxiously.

  "Indeed. Secure the entrances. Pray we've discovered some egress... Pierce?" The golden-haired youth appeared reluctant to surrender ground. "Move immediately, child. Their encirclement tightens."

  "We stand unburdened by fear," he proclaimed—his declaration amplified by the Resonance Hex.

  "By all gods!" Erica tugged insistently at his hand as they retreated. "Victory remains unattainable, little genius! They wield lethal weapons—we possess nothing!"

  "A blade can't cut a belief. A sword can't kill an idea."

  "Come, Pierce..." The massive doors began swinging inward at Vanessa's subtle gesture. Before they could fully close, a polearm thrust between them, preventing their closure. The knights applied collective force, violently pushing the doors apart; only then did the boy reluctantly yield ground. A lightly armored archer maneuvered through the narrow opening, seized Erica violently by her collar, and forcefully dragged her downward. "ERICA!" The boy's anguished scream punctuated the chaos as he desperately clutched her hand, straining to prevent the Godman from extracting her through the doorway.

  "GET OUT!" Dean Vanessa snapped a shaping spell. Water leaped from a nearby basin, gathering itself into a solid, spinning sphere. With a whip-crack motion of her arm, she sent the globe of water smashing into the archer and the congregation of mail-clad soldiers pressing behind him, forcefully expelling them through the entrance. "Proceed immediately to the refectory." She positioned herself protectively before her students, summoning another watery orb—noticeably smaller than its predecessor.

  "What of yourself, teacher?" Erica inquired between ragged coughs, one hand protectively cradling her throat.

  "I remain uncertain." She surveyed the dozens of Imperial knights regrouping at the entrance, recognizing the absolute absence of hope in their situation. "I shall remain at your side," Pierce declared resolutely. "Together, we might discover opportunity."

  "Such risk exceeds acceptable parameters..." The liquid suspended between her hands continuously morphed shape. Observing the encircling knights temporarily retreating, Vanessa capitalized on their hesitation by advancing. "I solemnly pledged to both Patrick and Bella that I would ensure your safety, children. Erica, escort him immediately to the refectory—"

  "The boy has courage. The girl has sense."

  Another voice—profoundly resonant yet disturbingly lifeless—reverberated throughout the Academy. This phenomenon originated not from any Resonance Hex; its natural sonorous quality sufficed to saturate the entire courtyard. Vanessa pivoted toward Pierce, suspecting his mischief; he responded with a bewildered headshake.

  Stone fractured with catastrophic force. All sixty-odd knights simultaneously redirected their attention toward the unnatural statue. It emerged majestically from the crumbled wall: magnificent wings white as pristine snow, impressively broad and magnificent; clutching an ornate glaive between stone fingers; its skull adorned with the intimidating horns of both buffalo and mountain goat. "And the ones who are fools," the gargoyle's voice rumbled, a sound so deep it made the stomach turn, "are these trespassers from another land."

  Sir Gil Assimo laboriously swallowed what felt like an ocean of saliva before reclaiming his composure. He hastily deployed his men as a protective screen, encircling the monstrosity—maintaining a conspicuously excessive distance. Archers nocked arrows with trembling fingers, though none could confidently assert whether conventional projectiles would affect an ambulatory stone construct.

  "What manner of... entity is that?" Erica leaned weakly against the doorframe, transfixed by the imposing, malevolent gargoyle. "Isn't that identical to the decorative figure in the passage leading to the storerooms..." Pierce had ventured outside again, cautiously observing from behind a substantial pillar.

  "That is indeed the very same," confirmed Dean Vanessa of Moslander, maintaining her protective stance before her students. "The statue—the demon's effigy."

  "It—it's animate! It demolished the corridor wall entirely!" Erica gnawed anxiously at her knuckle, visibly horrified. "Is that... is that a real gargoyle?"

  "Precisely. The Reiss Daemon itself."