"Tea—cher."

A barely audible whisper, buried in her grieving sobs.

This was not the return of consciousness, but a fragment of instinct—etched into the bones of a certain girl after countless times of calling out that name, now surfacing here.

[Professor Prang, can I go out and play?]

[Professor Prang, I got a hundred on my martial arts exam! Pretty amazing, right? When will I score this high in the magic exam, I wonder. Hehe, no clue.]

[Teacher, I didn’t start that fight! Those bad guys just ran into my fist on their own.]

[Teacher, if you keep getting angry this easily, you’ll get wrinkles, y’know.]

[...]

[Teacher, I’ve decided—I’m going to become a Saintess.

Why? Because... because “Saintess” just sounds so cool, doesn’t it?

Wearing a white veil, smiling under the guidance of God, bringing salvation to the people—

And then punching all the bad guys to pieces. That’s just too awesome.

Saintesses can’t get married? I don’t care. If I find true love, I’ll go after it no matter what.]

[...]

[Teacher, you’ll give me your blessing, right?]

Those unfaded voices of the past echoed once again in his mind, vivid as ever.

Professor Prang froze—then, from his aged eyes, erupted an anger like molten lava.

“Love—God! I—f*ck—your—mother!”

The old man roared like a lion. The profanities he had abandoned the moment he became a teacher now burst forth unfiltered from his mouth.

Flames surged in his palm. The cane he had so carefully maintained—its gem-studded shaft—was melted down in fire, reforged into a twisted, pitch-black blade.

Gripping that blade tightly, the old man advanced against the glow of the Holy Sword.

Then—

He drove the blade, burning with fire and hatred, deep into the girl's chest.

This time—straight through the heart. Unerring.

Immediately, in his other hand, the pink star wand that served as the core of the Great Arcane Ritual trembled violently. The crown fused into the barrier above trembled with it.

It was resonating.

The massive structure beneath the Academy roared to life again with unprecedented vigor. Immense power surged wildly into the Saintess’s body, using the old man’s withered frame as a conduit.

Centered on her heart—long since ceased to beat—countless tiny yet intricate frameworks rapidly proliferated throughout her bloodstream, flesh, bones, and skin. They searched, pressed, and drove out the corruption and divine mark left by that God of Rot.

“Get out of this body—Love God!” the old man bellowed again.

As the power flooded in, the Saintess’s body convulsed violently. Something inside her was scrambling, struggling to escape—but was slowly being forced into ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ a corner by the relentless advance of the microstructures.

The porcelain cracks on her delicate face grew deeper. And behind those cracks, a terrifying will of a higher order cast its gaze upon the old man.

Cold.

Furious.

And then—

Mocking.

You’ve used all your power here. Doesn’t that mean... the other side is now terribly vulnerable?

The next moment.

The Saintess suddenly retched—and spat out a grotesque meatball. Upon it, an eye opened.

That eye gave Professor Prang a cold glance—then, without a hint of attachment, took control of the meatball and soared toward the sky.

The Saintess’s face began to collapse—as if having lost the power supporting it—her entire body withering and decaying.

Staring at that disintegrating face, Professor Prang felt another sharp twist in his heart.

But he quickly snapped back, eyes chasing the remnant of the Love God—that meatball—as it fled.

High above, a blue moon hung in the sky.

A sudden chill swept through him.

Ignoring the wound still bleeding in his chest, Professor Prang fiercely raised the pink star wand in his hand.

Layers upon layers of magical structure stacked and shot toward the fleeing meatball.

But—too late.

Or rather—the Love God had been too decisive. The moment the first wave had been repelled by Professor Prang, It had immediately abandoned the precious Crowned-tier vessel, turning instead to urge today's second protagonist to make their entrance.

Splat.

The meatball slammed into the barrier.

Like a mosquito flying at full speed in the night—smacking into glass.

It burst, splattering into a puddle of meat.

But from that pulpy mess, squirming tendrils of meat sprouted and rapidly grew, crawling along the barrier.

Like some tenacious plant with monstrous vitality, it kept spreading its roots—drilling deeper into the shield.

Crack.

Professor Prang’s attack hadn’t yet reached, but the sharp sound from the barrier made his expression instantly darken.

A fracture had appeared on the barrier.

Like a dam springing a leak—once it starts, collapse becomes inevitable. Countless meat tendrils surged through the crack.

And then—

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack...

More and more fissures appeared. Even as the Great Arcane Ritual frantically poured in magic to repair the barrier, the meat tendrils already lodged inside—like shrapnel embedded in flesh—blocked any healing.

Outside the barrier, the massive blue moon became even clearer.

A shaft of moonlight seeped in through the cracks.

Then a second.

A third.

Countless more.

Until the barrier, riddled with wounds, finally shattered completely.

And so—

A vast blue moon, occupying half the sky, loomed above all of Saint Maria.

So enormous was the moon that everything in the world seemed insignificant beneath it. The craters and shadows on its surface, grotesquely clear, faintly formed a twisted, monstrous face.

And under that moonlight, the shadows on the ground began to sway—like hungry ghosts catching the scent of flesh and blood, roaming through this silent academy.

Staring at the blue moon, Professor Prang’s whole body went cold.

Blood still flowed from the wound in his chest.

And because of that—he could truly feel it.

Despair.

Just facing the Love God’s partial descent through a vessel had already cost him everything he had—all his power, all his tricks.

Then what now?

How was he supposed to face... this terrifying being who had partially descended into the world through its own divine authority?

......

......

“Never thought even that Saintess of Purification would fall to a Heretic God’s corruption.”

At the Grand Clocktower, Professor Garan watched everything unfold below. Normally unserious, even he couldn’t help but sigh.

“But seeing them pay such a steep price... Looks like those two are dead set on getting the thing buried beneath the Academy. I can’t for the life of me guess what they want it for.”

“The Love God’s actions are at least understandable. From a human perspective, that deity’s a lunatic to begin with—so nothing It does is surprising. But what baffles us is...”

From the shadows, another ancient voice responded:

“Why did the other one do it?”

“...”

A brief silence.

The dim candlelight flickered, illuminating those incredibly aged figures.

Most leaned on canes, their faces blotched with liver spots, their bodies reeking of decay. Some had only just been shaken awake from coffins prepared for themselves.

But even so, no one in the world would dare look down on them. For in their respective fields, each was a titan—just mentioning their names could send tremors through the entire academic world of the Empire.

They were the true foundation of Saint Maria Academy.

Seventeen in total—Saint Maria Academy’s lifelong professors. All of them gathered here now, except for Professor Prang, still fighting the Heretic God in the skies.

When these elders made a decision—even the Academy Headmaster had no power to overturn it.