The attack came not at night—but in broad daylight.
Students were in lectures. Instructors stood mid-spell. The air shimmered.
And then the sky tore open.
> Twelve black spears rained down from the heavens.
Each one landed with the force of a meteor, forming craters across the courtyard.
From them emerged the Council's Executioners—S-class mage-hunters. Ghosts in enchanted armor. Eyes hidden behind iron masks. Each bound to a forgotten god. Each trained to kill monsters masquerading as men.
And all of them came for one target.
---
Ash stepped into the courtyard calmly.
Rhiessa stood beside him, silent but tense.
Arin cracked her neck, drawing her twin daggers. "Twelve? That's unfair. They'll die too fast."
Lyssara grinned. "Let's test how elite they really are."
The Executioners didn't speak. They didn't warn. They just attacked.
Ash moved like thunder.
One Executioner lunged—his blade phased through dimensions.
Ash caught it barehanded, snapped the spell midair, and shattered the man's helm with a glare. Blood exploded like mist.
Another came from behind—Lyssara intercepted, her staff pulsing dark violet. Shadows surged. Screams echoed.
Rhiessa summoned moonfire and cleaved two in half, her silver hair blazing.
But one of the twelve got through.
He struck Ash in the chest with a god-bound curse meant to erase existence.
Ash staggered.
Blood sprayed.
The world held its breath.
And then… Ash laughed.
"You call this godfire?"
He lifted his hand—and unlocked the second seal.
His body pulsed red.
Then black.
Then… everything stopped.
Time froze.
The last five Executioners watched in horror as their limbs withered and magic backfired.
When time resumed, they collapsed.
Dead.
All twelve.
The courtyard was silent. Ash stood tall, breathing heavily.
Velmora had witnessed its first massacre.
The Headmaster arrived late—again. But this time, he didn't speak. He just stared.
Because etched into the earth where Ash stood… was a new sigil.
One none had seen in over five hundred years.
> The Sigil of the Arclord.