At that mont, the ticking of the classroom clock seed to stop abruptly. All sound disappeared, leaving only the low growls lingering in the air. The oppressive silence made the demon examinees gripping their pens tremble, struggling to breathe.
And then—
Lance flicked his wrist, sending out his final magic card, which shimred with an orange glow.
Instantly, a soft, sultry voice rang through the space—
"In this mont, great love descends!"
A gray-haired demon materialized beside Lance.
Her left hand rested over her heart, while her right palm lifted high in the air. She smiled, her posture exuding the elegance of a dancer in a crimson evening gown.
—
Not far away, diagonally ahead—
"AAAAHHH!!!"
The flas of rage burning within the owl demon’s heart were suddenly doused with a barrel of oil.
His mind went completely blank.
He didn’t even have ti to process where that charming female demon’s voice had co from.
His fury exploded, erupting like a volcano in his chest. The restraints of reason were utterly powerless against the raging inferno. Sothing inside him snapped.
The owl demon’s body tensed like a drawn bow.
With all the strength and anger he could muster, he thrust both talons straight at the dragon demon’s eyes!
—
Blood splattered everywhere.
The dragon demon scread in agony as the sudden ambush tore through his face, leaving it a mangled, bloody ss.
His hands trembled violently, struggling to cling to the last shred of rationality.
But under the spell’s influence, that struggle was aningless.
A tidal wave of pure, uncontrolled fury surged through his body. He lunged forward, his only thought—to tear this bastard apart.
—
The two proctors clashed in a brutal, frenzied brawl.
There was no more logic, no more rules—only the primal instinct to kill.
So fights, once they begin, can never be explained away.
—
Chaos erupted in the classroom.
The dragon and owl demons fought like rabid beasts, their attacks savage and unrestrained. It wasn’t just physical combat—it was a battle of sheer hatred, a contest to completely destroy the other.
They clawed. They bit.
Their fangs sank deep into each other’s flesh, ripping and tearing, blood pooling in their mouths like predators feasting on prey.
The sheer force of their attacks obliterated the carved desks and chairs, reducing them to splinters.
Blood and ink mixed on the floor, the darkened walls now drenched in fresh crimson, painting a grotesque mural of carnage.
The examinees who failed to escape were torn apart in the crossfire.
Their screams—ghostly wails of despair—echoed through the room, rattling the hearts of those still alive.
Terror spread like an infection.
Most students had completely lost the will to flee, curling into balls on the floor, screaming in pure hopelessness.
In a matter of seconds, the entire exam room had turned into a hellscape of rampaging demons.
Only a handful of students, those with exceptionally strong wills, managed to stay clear-headed enough to sprint for the exit.
But at this mont—
Neither of the proctors cared about anyone escaping.
—
The first one to bolt—of course—was Lance, the mastermind himself.
He swiftly snatched up the engraving pen and ink bottle from his desk, stuffing them into his pockets before taking off.
Huberian, the mont she heard The Poet of Great Love’s voice, had already braced herself.
Even without seeing exactly what happened, she knew Lance had just flipped the whole damn exam on its head.
Thankfully, she had ntally prepared for this.
Even though the card’s effect amplified her own negative emotions, she quickly steadied herself when she heard Lance’s calm, steady voice beside her—
"Run."
Her eyes flashed with determination.
Without hesitation, she matched Lance’s pace, sprinting down the leftmost aisle toward the exit.
But—
Huberian suddenly noticed sothing.
This bastard Lance—
Even as they were fleeing, he was still looting the corpses of the demon students he had just gotten executed.
And the live broadcast was still rolling!
As a duke’s daughter raised with strict etiquette training, Huberian had no words to describe this behavior.
But for so reason—
Lance’s obvious amusent made it seem like he was inviting her to join in.
She hesitated for half a second.
Then, gritting her teeth, she activated an invisibility spell and silently sped up.
With movents light as the wind, she started looting bodies alongside Lance.
—
Jera morial Plaza, Ikrit Academy
As the sky shifted from sunset’s orange to night’s deep blue, the clock hands neared 6 PM.
The outlines of buildings blurred in the evening haze, but at the center of the plaza, the open-air projection screen beca all the more striking.
More students had gathered.
They ca from all directions, filling the plaza’s steps.
—
"What the hell just happened?"
Monts ago, the students watching the broadcast had seen Lance activate a few magic cards—
And in the blink of an eye, the two demon proctors had gone insane.
It was all so fast, so bizarre, that the spectators turned to each other, asking if they had missed sothing.
—
"If I had to guess… he’s actually having fun in this Tier 4 Shadow Realm?"
—
No one even had ti to be shocked that Lance had an Orange-tier Epic Card.
None of his magic cards looked familiar to them, and the Arcane Engineering Institute hadn’t provided any appraisal results for them.
But aside from the Epic-tier card, his strategy was starting to beco clear—
He had speedrun the exam by eliminating the proctors.
—
"I feel like Huberian’s getting corrupted by him… Isn’t she supposed to be the demon here?"
—
Plaza Periphery
At the edge of the steadily growing crowd—
A gray-haired, golden-eyed figure casually passed by.
She was nibbling on a slice of cheese cake, a small bite missing from one corner.
Hearing the commotion, she glanced toward the projection screen, frowning slightly before stopping in place.
"Ancient Demon Realm…"
Talia murmured, watching the broadcast.
To her, watching real-ti Shadow Realm footage had so value.
So whenever she passed through Ikrit Academy, she’d occasionally stop to check the magic screens.
But today—
She had only co here for one reason—
To buy a dessert.
A truly exceptional dessert from a certain pâtisserie, one that deserved a solid 95 points.
And it was all Lance’s fault.
That bastard gave her too much money, dragged her to obscenely delicious restaurants, and now she had fallen into the habit of spending her days collecting debts and relaxing with sweets.
At this point, enjoying Ikrit Academy life was the only thing left to do.
And yet—
Here she was, casually watching a demon-thed Shadow Realm on the big screen.
Normally, pure human challengers would never match into a Shadow Realm steeped in Demon Clan history.
But this one—
Even Talia couldn’t recognize what era of demon history it belonged to.
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