My Demon Professors Are All Gorgeous Girls
Chapter 100: Yuria’s Thunderheart

Chapter 100: Yuria’s Thunderheart

The Lightning Tower’s glow had become a nocturnal landmark, visible for miles around Arcadia. But tonight, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky itself seemed to pulse with latent power. Dark clouds churned overhead, backlit by the Origin Halo’s pale ring, and every rumble of thunder felt like a heartbeat vibrating through the world.

I found Yuria Blitzfang at the base of the tower, her eyes reflecting the storm’s electric fury. She stood alone on the platform, boots planted firmly on the metal grates, lightning crackling in her hair like living strands of energy. Her cloak of braided copper wires fluttered in the gale. She looked like a storm incarnate, a child of thunder and brimstone.

"Architect," she called, voice rising above the wind. "This is it. The final trial I asked for."

I took a deep breath of charged air. "The Trial of Thunderheart."

She grinned, stepping forward and closing her eyes against the first sheet of rain. "I’ve been waiting for this since the Halo turned our world inside-out. To face the storm itself, to become one with it, and prove that lightning is not the enemy."

I approached, boots crunching on frost-dusted metal. "Are you sure?"

Yuria’s grin turned fierce. "I’ve got nothing to lose. If I fail, I’ll be struck down by my own power. If I succeed, I’ll make the lightning bow to my will."

She held up her gauntlets—tools she had refined over countless nights. Embedded runes we’d co-crafted with Seraphina’s icekeeper runes and Valmira’s stabilizing glyphs glowed faintly. "They’ll contain the strike long enough for me to channel it," she said. "But after that..."

Her eyes glittered. "After that, I’ll set the sky on fire."

I nodded. "Then let’s not waste time."

Stepping into the Eye

Yuria moved to the tower’s generator grid, initiating the safety wards Seraphina had designed. I chanted a protective aura, weaving frost and flame into a barrier that would contain any unexpected bursts. Valmira and Zephira flanked us, Codex and sword ready. Astraea commanded the frostbound mages to anchor the tower’s base with ice-forged pylons. The net effect was a ring of combined disciplines—lightning, frost, flame, steel, and ink—around the tower’s foundation.

The storm coalesced. Pillars of lightning arced down from the clouds, striking the tower’s head with deafening claps. Yuria shouted in triumph, arms raised, absorbing each strike into her gauntlets. Sparks danced across her skin, turning into fractals of blue and gold.

"Keep your focus!" I yelled over the roar. "Guide it!"

She nodded, eyes closed, breathing in time with the thunder. Her knuckles whitened as she redirected the lightning down the cables toward the generator. Each bolt she caught wound through her, then spiraled outward in controlled bursts, sending arcs of energy into the grid and lighting up the entire Academy grounds.

The storm’s intensity grew. Clouds churned faster. Rain lashed sideways. Yet Yuria stood firm, gauntlets crackling with contained fury. Sweat beaded on her brow, mingling with raindrops, but she did not falter.

A massive bolt struck directly overhead, splitting the Halo’s ring for an instant—a crack of pure white that left the world silent for a heartbeat. In that silence, I saw Yuria glow brighter than any thunderstorm. She absorbed that final bolt, centered it in her chest, and then threw her head back, releasing it in a blast of crackling energy that framed her in a corona of lightning.

She roared—a sound that shook the towers and shattered the fear in every onlooker’s heart.

Triumph and Aftershock

The storm broke as swiftly as it had formed. Clouds parted to reveal a sky strewn with stars, and the Lightning Tower’s head glowed steady, no longer crackling, but alive with pulsed energy. The wards around the Academy stabilized, shining frost-blue and ember-gold. The generator hummed with power equal to ten conventional conduits.

Yuria sank to one knee, her gauntlets cooling with tiny arcs leaping across them. She panted, hair plastered to her face, her laughter a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. "Architect," she rasped, "we’re... we’re the storm."

I knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are the storm," I said. "But you made it our ally."

Seraphina joined us, hand wrapped in frost, her smile radiant in the starlight. "A wave of energy pulsed through the halo ring," she said. "The Origin Halo has accepted your trial."

Valmira emerged from the shadows with the Codex. "It wrote itself," she said. "Trial Three: Thunderheart Passed. Lightning harnessed by will, not by weapon. Storm’s fury embraced rather than repelled."

Zephira stood guard on the tower’s platform, steel-steeled and alert. "We survived the storm," she said. "But we also tamed it."

Yuria grinned, raising her gauntlets to catch tiny motes of lightning that still danced in the air. "I think I’ve earned a nap," she said.

A Gift of Energy

The next morning the Academy was ablaze with light. Hallways shone with conduits powered by the Lightning Tower, classrooms glowed with gentle illumination, and even the farthest stables had flickering lanterns of pure energy. Students whispered of the new wonders—heaters that needed no fuel, lamps that responded to a scholar’s touch, enchanted quills that wrote in spark on parchment.

I walked through the courtyard beside Yuria, Seraphina, and Valmira. Her eyes sparkled despite the fatigue lining her cheeks. "We’re going to need to expand the grid," she said. "I’m already seeing gaps at the west gate."

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "We’ll manage. Together."

Seraphina paused beneath the Lightning Tower’s head. "I propose we install public charging stations for scholars’ summonstones and elemental caches."

Valmira nodded vigorously. "And a collation of notes in the Archive specifying safe limits and advanced applications."

Yuria shrugged, hair still crackling. "You nerds plan it. I’ll keep the energy flowing."

Evening at the Tower

I visited the Lightning Tower at twilight to see how Yuria fared. She was up at the apex platform, eyes closed, hands raised as she gently guided residual arcs. The sky’s last light glinted on her braided copper, frosting her hair with tiny sparks.

I ascended the spiral stairs to join her. Each step echoed with the hum of conduits. The higher I climbed, the stronger the breeze, until I emerged onto the platform, standing beside Yuria at the tower’s head.

Below, Arcadia stretched to the horizon: Frostbound villages glowed in the distance; the Academy’s towers shone like beacons; the Origin Halo hung overhead, a silent sentinel. The air was alive with electricity—gentle now, comforting.

Yuria opened her eyes and smiled, an incandescent grin that radiated joy. "Look at it all," she said. "We cracked the sky open and pulled its power into our hands."

I nodded, feeling the current rise through my staff’s tip. "You turned storm into strength."

She closed her eyes again. "And tomorrow," she said, "we’ll turn that strength into progress."

A Pledge in Lightning

That night, we gathered for a final ritual at the base of the tower. The courtyard was ringed with pillars of light—Arcadian mages channeling residual energy from the Lightning Tower into wards that would protect the campus from accidental surges.

Seraphina stood beside me. "I will hold the frost wards steady," she said, breath visible in the cold.

Valmira held the Codex aloft, runes glowing. "I will record every spark, every lesson learned, so future scholars may safely wield this power."

Zephira readied her blade. "I’ll stand watch, shield in hand, against any stray bolt or hidden threat."

Astraea stood firm at the archway. "And I will guard the gates, ensuring that no enemy exploits our triumph."

Yuria raised her gauntlets to the sky. Lightning arced between her fingertips. "And I, your Thunderheart, vow to keep the spark alive."

I raised my staff high. "By the flame and the frost, by storm and by star, we pledge ourselves to progress. May the sparks we ignite guide us through the darkest nights."

A surge of energy pulsed through the courtyard—an echo of our unified vow. For a moment, the Earth itself seemed to vibrate in agreement. Then, lanterns flared, runes settled, and the night resumed its gentle hum.

Embers in the Dawn

As I descended the tower, the first birds began to call across the frigid morning air. Frost still clung to the petals of the lightning-charged lilies at the tower’s base, and the cables hummed under the residual charge. I thought of how far we’d come: from war-scarred halls and broken treaties to an Academy powered by the storm.

Most of all, I thought of Yuria—her fierce spirit, her reckless courage, her love for both chaos and beauty. I found her at the courtyard fountain, watching her reflection ripple with electricity and starlight. She turned and caught my gaze, a question in her eyes.

"Mission accomplished?" she asked, voice warm despite the cold.

I stepped forward and offered my hand. "Mission electrified."

She took my hand, sparks dancing between our fingers. "What’s next, Architect?"

I looked to the horizon, where dawn’s first rays painted the sky in violet and gold. "We build," I said. "New schools of magic, deeper studies, and a world worth lighting."

She nodded, lightning flickering in agreement. "Then let’s spark the future."

And as the Academy awakened to a new day, I realized that the Lightning Tower was not merely a structure in the sky—it was a promise. A promise that, no matter how dark the storm, we would harness its power to light the way forward.