The Author's Playground
Chapter 45: Discord (4)

Chapter 45: Discord (4)

"That scream..." Victoria’s whisper turned shaky as she asked. "It belonged to Quasolium right?"

"We must hurry, they might be in danger." Lucian started before rushing away.

Victoria and Elijah glanced quickly at each other before nodding.

’Step... Step... Step...’

Lucian skidded to a halt, his breath caught in his throat as they finally arrived to the destination.

"What happened?!" He asked.

There was the stench of blood and viscera choked the air.

His words cut off as his gaze followed the trembling finger of the brunette student kneeling before him.

She was barely upright, her body trembled in fear, and her eyes widened with shock. Her lips moved soundlessly before a hoarse, gasping sob tore from her throat.

"A-astra-...h-he..."

She pointed at the scenery ahead.

Then, Lucian saw it.

Astra’s body—no, what was left of it, was splayed out like a grotesque offering. His torso was split in half, and Astra’s organs were spilled out as steam rose faintly in the cold air.

Blood pooled beneath him, so much of it that the ground had turned into a wet, sloshing mire of red.

And what’s crouched over his ruined corpse, was a ghoul feasted.

Its fingers clawed into Astra’s exposed gut, yanking out its intestines with a wet, slurping sound.

The slick coils of flesh and teeth sew through the mass as blood and bile dribble from its mouth.

A guttural purr rumbled from its throat, seemingly uncontented from its feast.

"An... A-rank nightmare... what is it doing here?" Lucian whispered confused.

Victoria, on the other hand, couldn’t endure the sight any longer. She gagged before doubling over, vomiting onto the blood-soaked ground.

"N-no way... d-did he died?" She asked as if trying to confirm his death over there. "But how? Wasn’t the dungeon supposed to let us out when we received a fatal damage?"

"Didn’t you notice...?" Elijah’s expression darkened. "Our bracelets... they’re all broken."

*****

Back to the Academy.

A vast void stretched endlessly. Floating marbled platforms began to appear endlessly.

Faculty members in elegant robes and wide-brimmed witch hats sat at designated stations. Some watched attentively, while others simply looked indifferent. Their expressions were hidden beneath their hats.

At the center of the assembly, numerous glowing orbs flickered in the air, each displaying a live feed of different teams.

24 teams in total.

Every orb revealed a different battlefield, a different struggle, a different team.

The professors simply observed in silence, evaluating the performance of their students.

Among them, sitting at the farthest, most isolated corner, was Professor Sean.

And the silence was soon broken by the sound of a door creaking open.

The Headmaster had arrived.

"Well then, let us begin the assessment," the Headmaster announced, her voice echoing in the room.

A professor from the front row adjusted their glasses and began to read the reports.

"Starting with Class S—11 students have passed, zero failures, and two students are still in the process."

A sharp scoff echoed from one of the stations. A stern-faced professor leaned back in their floating seat, arms crossed. "Hmph. If those last two fail, they don’t deserve to remain in Class S."

The Headmaster merely nodded before the person announcing the reports moved on.

"Next, Class A—45 students have passed, 15 failed, and 23 are still in the process."

A cheerful, almost childlike voice chimed in. "Everynyan worked hard, nyan! It cawn’t be helped if some failed, nyan~!"

"Continuing to Class B—67 students passed, 56 failed, and 12 students are still in the process."

A gruff, impatient voice clicked its tongue. "Tch. Disappointing."

And so, the reports continued. Each class was evaluated, commented on, and judged.

Until, finally, the last name on the list was spoken.

"Lastly, Class F—3 students have passed, 198 have failed, and 2 students are still in the process."

Professor Sean, who had been silent the entire time, remained still. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his seat.

The room remained quiet, waiting for someone’s reaction.

No one expected much from Class F, after all.

Would the last two students fall like the others? Obviously not, it was a miracle there were 6 class F students who even managed to succeed in this event.

Perhaps they were simply carried by their team?

Who knows...

The Headmaster’s voice cut through the murmurs.

"If the remaining students fail to complete their objective within the time limit, they will be considered failures."

The gathered professors nodded in agreement.

All except for one.

A lone hand rose from the crowd.

"Please speak, Professor Sean."

The chamber, which had previously been filled with idle chatter and disinterest, suddenly grew silent. Eyes turned toward the farthest seat, where Professor Sean sat.

For years, he had been regarded as aloof, an unremarkable man in an unremarkable position—an instructor for Class F, the lowest-ranked students in the academy. Someone not worth paying attention to.

But the weight of his gaze now carried something different.

Annoyance.

Frustration.

And, above all else—resentment.

Slowly, Sean rose from his seat.

"The 24th orb... It isn’t working."

Murmurs broke out immediately.

"What?"

"He’s right. The screen is black—"

"Did the artifact fail?"

"But that shouldn’t be possible... Should it?"

For most, it was a mere technical malfunction. A rare glitch in an otherwise seamless system. Nothing worth panicking over.

One professor chuckled under their breath. "Well, there’s no real issue, is there?"

The Headmaster, however, did not share their indifference. Though her expression remained calm, she seemed to tremble a bit as she turned toward the assistant.

"Check the team assignment for Orb 24. Who are the students participating?"

The assistant immediately conjured a scroll of names. Their voice was clear as they read:

"Class F—Astra Nova.

Class F—Elijah Noe Shahrazad.

Class S—Victoria Elizabeth De Fleur.

Class S—Lucian Winterhold."

"...And their vitals?"

The assistant hesitated.

"...Missing."

This time, the murmurs turned into outright alarm.

"Oi... isn’t that dangerous?"

"The system has never failed like this before."

"This has never happened in over a hundred years—"

"Silence."

The Headmaster’s firm voice cut through the noise.

"We will investigate the matter once the event is over."

The other professors nodded, as if that was the most reasonable course of action.

Sean, however, did not.

He remained standing. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. And then, to the growing confusion of the room, he took a step back.

And turned toward the exit.

"Professor Sean." The Headmaster called out. "Where are you going? The meeting is not yet finished."

Sean didn’t even pause.

"Where else?" he responded sarcastically. "My students are in danger."

A cold tension filled the chamber.

"You will sit down," the Headmaster ordered.

"I refuse to."

"You are a professor of this academy. If you act recklessly, you will be stripped of your title."

Sean finally stopped.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for the others to see the frustrated expression on his face.

He exhaled slowly, before answering—

"So be it."