FROST
Chapter 72: Price of Restraint

Chapter 72: Price of Restraint

The courtyard, once pristine with glowing stones and carefully trimmed hedges, now resembled a war zone.

Craters lined the broken paths, the once-beautiful fountain cracked and coughing out spurts of water like a dying creature. Shards of stone and twisted vines littered the area as wind from Gail’s unchecked magic churned the air.

More apprentices had begun to gather along the perimeters—perched atop balconies, hiding behind shattered columns, peeking from open windows and archways. Some stood in silent awe, others in grim silence.

"Silvermist’s not even using magic," one muttered, clutching their night gown tightly as another wind sphere roared past.

"Is she stupid? Or just done for?"

A group huddled near the far garden entrance, half-shadowed by the broken wall. A blonde-haired girl with sharp eyes gritted her teeth. "We should help her. Gail’s gone too far—this isn’t just a misunderstanding of some sort or whatever."

"Didn’t you hear East?" another hissed, glancing nervously at the motionless yet imposing figure standing at the edge of the battlefield. "He said not to interfere. We’re not supposed to move."

"But she’s going to die!"

"Good," someone else muttered near the steps. "Silvermist’s been nothing but trouble. I think it’s about time for her to learn her lessons."

"Yeah," another agreed, "After what she’s done to Amethyst and Frost. That’s just karma served cold."

But their whispers were broken by a louder voice, a red-haired boy who stepped up on a ledge with a wide grin. "A thousand says Gail wins in under a minute!"

"Oh, you’re on," his friend laughed, already pulling out their enchanted coin pouch. "But if Silvermist somehow turns this around, I want your red knife!"

Cheers and laughter erupted from their corner while others looked away in disgust. A few apprentices—those who are in the same section as Silvermist, shared meals or at talked to her—stood frozen in indecision. Their hands clenched, eyes pleading to move, to help, to do something.

But they couldn’t.

Not under East’s order which was even backed up by Cloud himself, the eldest among the Guardians.

Cloud stood with his arms crossed. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face, even as Gail’s next sphere pulsed dangerously in her hand.

"She’s bleeding," one girl whispered, voice tight with guilt. "She’s actually bleeding..."

And yet, no one stepped forward. Not even the ones who wanted to. Because Cloud still held them in place, and East had yet to rescind his command.

The air turned cold as the giant wind ball continued to grow. The power it radiated was overwhelming, scattering loose leaves and dust in whirling rings around Gail.

Silvermist stood with her feet planted into the cracked stone, still unmoving—bruised, trembling, but upright.

And far behind them, hidden in the shadows of the academy pillars, Tim exhaled deeply.

"Hope you know what you’re doing, East," he muttered, eyes narrowed. "Because they’re all watching now. And whatever happens next... they’ll never gonna forget."

East didn’t say anything. He didn’t even spare him a look. He is more concerned on how Ezekiel, Sebastian, and West would react, but so far, they only remained silently watching.

For some reason, they had already calmed down and none of them looked worried including Adeline and Mila who had been hysterical earlier.

It seems as though they know Silvermist would win this fight.

East turned back to Gail when her fingers twisted sharply in the air, commanding another compressed spiral of wind that formed between her palms like a coiled storm.

The air ball screeched as it launched forward, slicing through the night with an ear-piercing whistle.

Silvermist rolled to the side—barely. The wind sphere slammed into the ground just inches behind her, exploding into a cyclone that shredded the nearby hedges and uprooted loose stones. Dust and petals flew like shrapnel through the darkened sky.

Another followed. And another.

Gail hurled them in rapid succession, her eyes glinting with something between rage and madness. Each attack carved into the already-ruined garden, bursting craters into the stone and sending shockwaves rippling through the broken earth.

Silvermist ducked under one, leapt back from another, and twisted her body to the ground just as a third sphere screamed past her head. Her limbs ached from exertion. Blood trickled down her arms where splinters and stone had grazed her during the near-misses.

She couldn’t block. She couldn’t strike back. All she could do was survive.

"Still just running?" Gail taunted, her voice echoing above the chaos as she floated higher. "Isn’t that all you’ve ever been good at?"

Silvermist didn’t respond. Her breathing was labored and uneven. She tumbled to the ground again, clutching the side of her abdomen.

"Stop it!" Mila’s voice finally cracked, fighting against the ancient incantation that held her in place. Her hands trembled violently at her sides, her throat raw from a scream she couldn’t unleash.

"Silvermist, MOVE!" Adeline shrieked, the binding spell weakening just enough for her voice to thunder across the courtyard. "FIGHT BACK, DAMN IT!"

Silvermist’s vision blurred as Gail charged again, another deadly sphere forming with howling speed. She twisted out of the way—barely—but the edge of the force clipped her shoulder and sent her skidding across the courtyard floor, her back slamming into the remains of a broken fountain.

She couldn’t even scream. The pain drowned everything.

The seal was still there—East’s merciless seal—choking her magic like an invisible collar around her soul. Her mana refused to answer, no matter how hard she reached, no matter how much she willed it. It was futile.

She heard Adeline’s cries. Saw Mila trying to break free. But she couldn’t do it. She had nothing left.

Not strength. Not magic. Not hope. Then, she heard it again.

That voice.

Cold, familiar. Like a mirror speaking through cracked glass.

"Switch with me..."

"I’ll end things fast for you..."

The air grew colder, even amidst the swirling storm.

"Let me take it from here..."

Silvermist blinked, her blood dripping into her eye as she pushed herself up on trembling knees.

"Why are you fighting yourself. Unleash your magic! You had the power to kill everyone here..."

"Just give yourself to me, human... I’m going to protect you."

"I was the one who kept you alive with my magic..."

"Who do you think who have been helping you while your own master turned his back on you?"

Silvermist snorted, wiping the blood creeping down her right eye. "As if y-you’re the one I stabbed instead of Amethyst..." she rasped aloud, her voice barely audible through the chaos. "I-I’d rather die than ask for your help."

Another gust. Another crash. Another moment she narrowly avoided death by rolling into the rubble of a broken pillar.

Her breath caught. Her body shook. Her limbs screamed for rest.

Gail hovered just a few feet away now, a wicked grin on her face, her hair whipping wildly behind her. The wind danced like a living creature around her, ready to strike again.

Cullen wanted to help so bad, but what could he do when all he could move are his eyes?

All around the courtyard, chaos reigned. Cheers, screams, shouts—an orchestra of madness. Cullen gritted his teeth, helpless. The ancient spell holding him in place chained his entire body like stone.

But then—it happened. The atmosphere shifted.

So subtly at first, like the stillness before a storm, until it began to press. The same foul mana he, Amethyst, and Gail felt earlier, but this one is just simply too heavy. The ground beneath Cullen’s boots began to thrum.

He gasped. It was magic. But not just any magic. Something ancient. Something wild. Something furious.

A choking wave of raw mana slammed into the courtyard like a tidal wave, silencing the screams, muting the wind, stilling even Gail’s feral laughter. All sound seemed to vanish into a vacuum. For a breathless moment, not even the trees moved.

East narrowed his eyes. Cloud’s jaw twitched. Even Tim visibly tensed, his fingers tightening at his sides.

Cullen’s eyes widened. He could feel the spell binding him loosen—not because it was lifted, but because something stronger had entered the field. Something the ancient magic itself recoiled from.

The moment he turned to his right, he immediately found the source.

The ground around Levi was cracking—splintering—beneath his feet as an emerald glow exploded from within him like a waking beast.

His aura surged, whipping violently through the air, pulling leaves from trees and scattering dust like a cyclone in slow motion. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned bone-white.

His head hung low, and his hair curtained his face, but from the corner of his eye, Cullen caught a glimpse of something burning beneath the strands—Emerald. Brighter than fire. Deeper than poison.

Levi’s eyes are now glowing.

The three Guardians turned in unison, their bodies instinctively shifting into battle stance, as if the sudden release of energy had tripped an invisible alarm.

"Ahh, damn," East muttered, rubbing his temple with one gloved hand. "I am now entirely convinced all of the Twelve Apprentices are a collection of corrupt individuals."

"Ahh, damn," East muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple with one gloved hand. "I am now entirely convinced all of the Twelve Apprentices are a collection of corrupt individuals."

The wind trembled with Levi’s unchecked aura. The once-rowdy courtyard was dead silent now, all eyes fixed on the storm slowly forming around him. Even Gail, mid-attack, hesitated when the pressure in the air dropped like a lead curtain.

East winced as a thin crack webbed through the invisible barrier he had layered across the grounds—his barrier, crafted with divine reinforcement, now splintering under the sheer pressure of Levi’s mana.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. His tone was calm, but edged with steel. "Mr. Ashenfall," he said coolly, "I command you to release your magic. All at once."

A pause. The wind howled faintly.

Slowly—dangerously—Levi lifted his head. The shadows parted from his face to reveal those brilliant, unnatural emerald eyes. They weren’t glowing with rage.

They were glowing with warning.

"Unless you help her," Levi said, voice low and raw like rumbling thunder, "I might end up crashing everyone here. You know I do not have the luxury to control whatever magic I possess, Grandmaster sir."

There was no drama in his tone, no theatrics. It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact.

East’s eyes narrowed, a sharp glint flickering in their depths—but he said nothing. The wind still carried Levi’s mana like a brewing storm, dense and oppressive.

Beside him, Cloud exhaled through his nose, adjusting his grip on his staff as if weighing the situation in his palm. "Forget it, East," he muttered under his breath. "I guess all of us saw it now. Silvermist can no longer use her mana... not even in a life-or-death situation."

His words weren’t cruel. They were simply truth.

"Your seal must’ve really worked," Cloud added, eyes briefly landing on the girl who had fallen to her knees, bloody and breathless in the cracked ruins of the garden. "She’s no longer a threat."

That final phrase hung heavily in the air.

East turned slowly to face him, searching Cloud’s expression. Cloud wasn’t bluffing, wasn’t trying to mock her. If anything, there was a shadow of disappointment behind his usually unreadable gaze.

With a long, tired sigh—the kind that felt older than his years—East finally raised his hand.

Snap.

A sharp crack echoed like lightning through the courtyard. A faint shimmer rolled outward from his body, an invisible wave peeling through the air.

Every enchantment he’d bound shattered in an instant.

Cullen gasped as he stumbled forward, finally released. Mila caught Adeline before she collapsed from the force. Levi blinked, and though his magic didn’t vanish, it slowly pulled back into him like a tide receding.

Then came another snap—clean, effortless.

And Gail’s spell shattered mid-cast.

A pulse of raw energy burst from her core, but instead of launching forward, it fizzled into glowing dust. The wind around her vanished as if yanked from existence. Her body dropped with a sharp thud onto the broken ground, stunned.

The crowd gasped.

Even Silvermist, who had braced herself for another attack, blinked in disbelief.

Gail looked up, breath ragged. She raised a trembling hand and tried to summon again—desperate, frantic. "No... no, no, no—"

Nothing.

Not a spark.

No wind. No energy. Not even a tingle.

East stared at her impassively. "You didn’t think I’d let this farce continue forever, did you?"

There was a reason he bore the mantle of Moonstone Academy’s Grandmaster. It wasn’t just his mind. Not just his lineage.

It was his curse.

An anti-magic caster. A wielder of an ironic gift—one who had mana, and yet could erase it from others with the snap of a finger. A skill so rare and feared that few dared challenge him once they learned the extent of it.

Within a 500-radius meter, East could erase everything—mana, blessings, enchantments. He could even temporarily cut a caster’s bond to their element entirely.

But that power came at a cost.

His senses were already starting to dull. He felt the mana of the world fading like dimming candlelight, the presence of others beginning to blur around him. This was the risk he took each time he invoked his anti-magic field.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

Just one moment of silence to steady himself.

Because the irony of his existence was cruel: he could stop chaos by silencing magic, but the very act would blind him to the dangers that followed.