My Demon Professors Are All Gorgeous Girls
Chapter 94: Yuria’s Lightning Tower

Chapter 94: Yuria’s Lightning Tower

The sky was never the same after the Origin Halo had accepted our intent. Mornings now crackled with raw energy, and even the softest breeze carried a faint electric hum. Throughout the Academy grounds, runes etched into stone and metal resonated with that hum, creating a living network of power that pulsed like a heartbeat beneath our feet. In this charged atmosphere, Yuria Blitzfang’s next project was no surprise: she intended to harness that brimstone energy and shape it into something lasting and spectacular—her very own Lightning Tower.

I found her at the eastern edge of the courtyard, crouched beside a field of frost-lilies that trembled in the electric breeze. She wore her usual battle gear, but it was modified—the gauntlets on her arms bristled with copper conduits, and a coil of enchanted wire lay coiled at her belt. Her wild blonde hair was pulled back into a practical braid, and her blue eyes shone with a manic intensity as she surveyed the sky above. Every time a pulse of raw magic rippled through the air, she reached out, catching a spark on her fingertip.

"Morning, Architect!" she called without turning. Her voice carried easily on the charged air. She held out a finger, and a tiny orb of lightning hovered above it, crackling with contained power. "You’re just in time. The Halo’s pulse is strong today. Perfect for Phase One."

I nodded, stepping beside her. Yuria’s Lightning Tower had been her dream ever since she first saw the Halo, a structure that would draw down ambient magical storms and convert them into usable energy for the Academy—and perhaps even the wider realm. "Show me," I said.

She grinned, tossing the spark into the ground. It struck the earth with a muffled boom, sending a bolt of blue-white electricity coursing through the frostflowers. They bloomed in a rush of light, petals glowing with arcs of lightning. Yuria laughed, the sound sharp and exhilarated. "Exactly," she said. "Phase One: harvest the Spark Fields." She waved toward the field. "The ground here is saturated with raw Halo energy. These lilies act like natural conductors—they bloom in response to spikes of magic. If we can network them, channel them into a conduit, we can feed the tower."

I knelt to inspect the lilies. Their petals glowed softly, veins of electric blue running along each stem. Each bloom hummed like a miniature generator. "You plan to wire them together?" I asked.

She pulled a length of copper cable from her belt, the metal etched with runic amplifiers. "Better. Crimson cable—copper core, alloy sheath infused with my lightning runes. It’ll handle the voltage. We’ll sink ground anchors beneath each bulb, run cables along every row, leading to a central mast." She pointed to a cleared plot behind the training grounds. "That mast will be the seed of the tower—Phase Two: the Conduit Pillar. It’ll draw energy up, focus it into the Amplifier Head, then feed it into the Academy’s grid."

"And Phase Three?" I prompted.

Yuria let out a whoop. "Phase Three is the celebration! A storm of my own making!"

I laughed, shaking my head. "You never lack for ambition."

She waved that tiny spark at me again. "Ambition is just hope with extra voltage."

Laying the Foundations

Over the next two days, Yuria’s team—composed of Frostbound engineers and Academy mages—worked around the clock. The Spark Fields were laid out in neat rows, each lily carefully anchored into golden conduits that hummed with anticipation. Frostbound artisans crafted conduits of enchanted copper and icewoven steel, melding Yuria’s love of chaos with Seraphina’s order. Valmira poured over the plans, inscribing runes of stability on the cables so that the immense energy would not fry the network.

Each night, I visited the site to check progress. At dusk, glowing embers would flicker at the base of each lily, like thousands of electric fireflies. The cables ran like silver veins toward a single point—the base of the Conduit Pillar. There, a carved stone pedestal bore runes in both ice-blue and ember-gold: the symbol of unity, reminding us that even the wildest power could be guided by harmony.

On the second dawn, we gathered for the lighting ceremony. Seraphina read the invocation—an ancient script Valmira translated into a balanced chant. Zephira stood guard, sword drawn, eyes scanning for any sign of instability. Astraea raised Eclipse to the sky, its ice-forged blade glowing with borrowed frost. I prepared my staff, its tip inscribed with the Halo’s symbol.

Yuria stood at the base of the pillar, pulsing arcs of electricity radiating from her palms. She looked radiant: a living conduit for the power she sought to tame. "This is it," she said. "The moment we harness the storm."

Valmira began the chant, her voice weaving through the morning air, binding ice and flame. The runes on the pedestal glowed, and the cables hummed in response. Lilies glowed brighter, their petals crackling with concentrated energy.

Yuria stretched out her arms. "By the spark in my soul, the storm in my veins, and the Halo above, I call forth your power!"

She closed her eyes, and lightning leapt from her fingertips, dancing along the cables. The pedestal flared, drawing the arcs upward like water through a fountain. The Conduit Pillar thrummed, shifting from granite to living energy as it absorbed the current. A column of pure, blue-white light spiked into the sky, cutting a path through the low-hanging clouds, leaving a crackling trail that connected the tower to the Halo ring above.

The crowd watching gasped as the tower’s head—the Amplifier—glowed with unearthly brilliance. Tiny bolts of lightning arced across its surface, then streamed into a hidden channel leading underground. A low rumble echoed as the Academy’s wards shivered, waves of power surging through our defenses.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the entire network responded, runes along the Academy’s walls flaring in sequence. Magical streetlamps flickered to life. Enchanted heaters warmed the dormitories against the lingering frost. The Codex’s runes pulsed, as though applauding. A chorus of delighted cries rang out: the Lightning Tower was feeding our grid.

Yuria threw her head back and laughed. "IT’S ALIVE!"

She punched the air. Sparks rained down like fireworks. Frost-lilies bloomed in reverse, petals opening and closing in ecstatic pulses. Lightning danced along the tower’s cables, weaving between the frost-lilies until the entire field glowed like a constellation fallen to earth.

I grinned at Seraphina. "You did it," I said.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "We did it," she corrected.

The First Storm

For the next week, the tower hummed day and night. I walked its perimeter often, marveling at how Yuria had channeled the Halo’s ambient magic into a sustainable resource. The power grid of the Academy stabilized at new heights, enabling late-night studies in previously unreachable wings, and lighting spells that illuminated gargoyle statues for the first time in centuries.

Then one evening, the first real storm rolled in. Dark clouds roiled on the horizon, charged with the Halo’s energy. Lightning cracked across the sky in ever-larger bolts. A hush fell over the campus as faculty and students gathered to witness Yuria’s greatest test: could the tower withstand a full magical tempest?

I met Yuria at the base of the tower, her eyes shining like the storm itself. She wore her conduit gauntlets—reinforced thrice over—and her expression was one of fierce delight. "Ready?" she shouted over the thunder.

I nodded. "Ready."

The storm broke with ferocity: lightning tore the clouds in half, revealing the glowing rim of the Halo behind them. Rain fell sideways, whipped by wind so strong it threatened to topple the Conduit Pillar. Yet the tower stood, cables vibrating with the torrent of power, converting sheet lightning into stable arcs that streamed underground.

Yuria’s laugh carried through the gale. She closed her eyes and let the lightning wash over her. The cables flared in response, amplifying her magic tenfold. The tower responded, absorbing the energy surge and lighting up the entire Academy like a living beacon.

I raised my staff, channeling a protective aura around the field. Frostborn mages wove ice shields to deflect debris; Academy summoners called forth elemental guardians to channel wind and water away from the structure. It was a ballet of cooperation, every participant attuned to the same rhythm of power.

In the center of it all, Yuria stood as conductor, directing the symphony of storm into the tower’s hungry mouth. When the final bolt struck, she exhaled a roar of triumph that cut through the thunder. The storm seemed to bow in deference, before dissipating in a cascade of sparks and droplets. Clouds parted, revealing the Halo shining in full glory above us.

Silence reigned for a heartbeat, then broke into jubilant cheers. Students surged forward, umbrellas and cloaks flying as they danced through the rain-swept courtyard. Professors joined them—Seraphina shaped frost into drifting petals, Valmira inscribed luminous symbols in the air with her quill, Zephira cracked her knuckles in satisfaction, and Astraea’s iceforge sword cleaved small arcs of ice in celebration.

I went to Yuria’s side, clapping her on the shoulder. "You did it," I said, my voice hoarse with exhilaration. "The Lightning Tower stands."

She smiled through the rain, droplets of water steaming on her skin. "We did it," she said.

Legacy of the Conduit

In the days that followed, the Lightning Tower became both a marvel and a necessity. Its power fed not only the Academy’s wards but also extended to surrounding villages, illuminating streets, powering water pumps, and enabling warmth in winter’s chill. Diplomats from the Frostbound Court and the demon realm filed through to witness the achievement and negotiate power-sharing agreements.

I watched these delegations with a sense of pride that I had rarely known. What began as Yuria’s dream had become a beacon of cooperative progress, proof that even untamed energies like lightning could be guided by shared purpose. The tower’s influence rippled outward—students from nearby academies petitioned to study here; merchants offered to trade new materials for experimentation; scholars from distant lands asked for access to our codices and our conduits.

Each evening, Yuria ascended the tower’s spiral staircase to oversee the power flow. From that height, she could see the Halo pulsing above and the Academy glowing below, connected by veins of lightning. She often beckoned me to join her. We would stand side by side on the platform, the wind whipping her hair and my robes, the world stretching beneath us in shimmering light.

"Look at this, Architect," she said one night, pointing to the horizon. "The village of Stormreach is lit up like dawn. Children are playing in the streets. Farmers are working late because they have electric lanterns."

I nodded, feeling the crown’s pulse against my mind. "You’ve changed lives tonight," I said. "You’ve shown that magic can be life, not just power."

She leaned against me, her shoulder warm. "We’re architects of more than spells. We’re architects of hope."

We stood there long after the last spark had faded from the tower’s head. The Halo glowed ghostly pale against the night sky, a silent witness to our triumph.

A Promise in Thunder

The week after the storm, Yuria organized a demonstration for the Academy’s students and faculty. They gathered in a vast assembly by the Lightning Tower’s base, lanterns glowing in the dusk. She stood on a raised dais, her gauntlets replaced by ceremonial gloves woven with bits of the first conduit cable.

She raised her hands. Silence fell.

Then, with a controlled burst of electricity, she sent a ribbon of lightning swirling above the courtyard, carving shapes of frost-lilies and flame-roses that hovered in the air before drifting down as glowing runes. Each rune spoke a word of promise—"Unity," "Innovation," "Protection," "Choice," "Hope."

As the final rune exploded into a shower of sparks, Yuria’s voice rang clear: "Let this Lightning Tower stand as a beacon that power can be guided by purpose, and that unity can reshape even the wildest force of nature. May its light shine on every path we choose."

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers that echoed off the Academy walls. The storm had tested us, but the tower now stood as testament that our worlds—frost and flame, demon and human—were stronger together.

I stepped forward, lifting my staff aloft. "Today we witnessed the taming of the storm," I said. "May we always remember that our greatest magic lies not in destruction, but in creation. Let the Lightning Tower be the spark that ignites our shared future."

And as the sky darkened and the tower’s head glowed bright, I felt Lilith’s ember stir within me—a promise rekindled that no force, however wild, could extinguish when hearts chose to stand together.