“It seems we’ve stayed in this lightless underground too long. Most of the outside world’s news is already outdated.”

The stern-faced old man sighed. “Something big must’ve happened that we don’t know about.”

“Old man Prang seems to know something, but he won’t tell me. Looks like it’s that silence pact or whatever again.” Professor Garan shrugged.

“If Prang knows, then it’s fine. He has good judgment. As for us, half-stepping into the grave already—knowing wouldn’t change anything.”

“How carefree of you.” Professor Garan let out his habitual whistle.

“Hmph. I’d rather not be licking regrets just before laying myself to sleep.”

The elder let out a cold chuckle and turned toward Professor Garan.

“So, dragging all of us out like this—don’t tell me it was to reminisce with us old bones already halfway in the dirt.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bit of reminiscing, but now’s not really the time.”

Professor Garan, rarely serious, grew solemn.

“I gathered all of you for one thing only.

—Whether or not we wake that one up.”

“......”

As soon as Professor Garan’s words dropped, the dimly lit room fell into complete silence. The only sound was the wheezing, bellows-like breath of one elderly man.

It was as though everyone was seriously weighing the heavy implication wrapped within those four light words: “wake that one up.”

After a long pause, it was the stern-faced elder who broke the silence, sighing deeply.

“Has the Academy really come to this point?”

“Who’s to say otherwise?”

Professor Garan looked out the window. At that moment, the twelve great towers had just risen once more, pinning the entire Academy back into the earth.

“Sure, there’s the second-layer Great Rite’s protection, plus Prang’s own power. Unless His Holiness the Pope himself comes down with the scepter in hand, there’s probably no one who can match him.

But the enemy... isn’t human.”

Professor Garan couldn’t help but sigh. “Two Evil Gods launching a joint assault on the Academy—one even partially descending in true form. In the thousand-year history of this institution, nothing like this has ever happened. So whether or not Prang can win over there, we have to be ready for a second move—or more accurately, for the worst-case scenario.”

“What about calling for help?”

Someone suddenly spoke. “This is still Belrand, after all. There are plenty of powerful people, and there’s no way the royal palace would just sit by.”

“Nice idea.”

Professor Garan snapped his fingers. “But, dear colleague, have you considered one problem?”

“What is it?”

“Too slow. Even if reinforcements were coming—they’re taking too long.”

Professor Garan said flatly:

“How far is this place from Belrand? From the royal palace? And how fast can a Crowned-tier expert travel? Or do you think with all this commotion, those powerhouses just turned a blind eye? I did a rough calculation. From the moment Belrand’s top elites notice something strange here to the time they arrive to investigate—it should take, at most, three to five minutes. But how long has it been now?

The fact that there’s still not a single response means...”

Professor Garan raised his head, eyes fixed on the blue moon slowly encroaching upon the heavens:

“The entire Academy... may already be under her lockdown.

Which means that so-called ‘requesting help’ was never an option from the start.”

“Sounds like a pretty hopeless situation.”

After a brief silence, the stern elder lowered his eyelids, as if reaching some decision.

“Then there’s no point hesitating anymore. As usual—vote. Those in favor of waking that one... raise your hand.”

The stern elder was the first to raise his hand.

Then Professor Garan.

After that, one by one, dry, withered hands slowly lifted.

“Alright then. The number in favor... sixteen.”

With a quick glance, Professor Garan noted that aside from the professor who’d spoken earlier, everyone had raised their hand.

“I still feel this isn’t right.”

That professor sighed.

“This is just too cruel for her.”

“But if we don’t wake her now, and she wakes up to find the Academy already destroyed, she’ll definitely be furious.”

A bitter smile crept onto the stern elder’s face, as if recalling a long-ago unpleasant memory.

“I’d rather not get yelled at until my ears bleed again.”

“In that case, let’s not drag this out. No point agonizing.”

Professor Garan clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention.

“Second question—who’s going to wake her?”

“......”

The moment those words left his mouth, the room went quiet once again.

But this time, it was different. As everyone fell silent, Professor Garan distinctly felt over a dozen pairs of eyes land on him in eerie unison.

“...Don’t tell me you all want me to do it?” Professor Garan’s cheek twitched.

“Who else?”

The stern elder raised an eyebrow.

“You’re the only one here who still walks without a cane.”

“There’s an elevator that goes right to her room, you bastards! I’m not asking you to run a marathon!”

Professor Garan roared, “I just finished evacuating every student and even risked my life to save some perverted naked man! And now you want me to do something this dangerous again? Do any of you even have a conscience?!”

“Ah, well... ahem...”

The stern elder averted his eyes and gave a couple of dry coughs. Then he suddenly grabbed his foot and cried out:

“Ow, my old cold-leg syndrome flared up. I can’t move.”

“Isn’t your cold-leg always in the left leg? Why are you grabbing the right?”

“...It’s... um... contagious lately?”

“Cold-leg syndrome isn’t athlete’s foot, you idiot!”

Professor Garan turned to the others. “What about you all? Got sudden cold-leg too?”

“...Oof, threw out my back.”

“My hemorrhoids are acting up...”

“Slipped disc...”

“My granddaughter’s too naughty, I gotta go teach her a lesson...”

Under Professor Garan’s appalled gaze, a group of professors who usually struggled just to walk suddenly scattered like birds and beasts, shouting about their ailments as they fled.

But Professor Garan had never even heard of most of those ailments before. Especially that last one—your granddaughter’s already over sixty, alright?!

The professors disappeared in the blink of an eye.

A few who really couldn’t move silently pulled coffins from their storage spaces, lay down in them, and—under Professor Garan’s dumbfounded stare—calmly shut the lids.

“......”

At last, in the cold and empty room, only Professor Garan remained, seething with grief and indignation.

“So basically, with Prang gone, I’m the unlucky bastard who has to do everything, huh?!”

“No way. I’m not playing scapegoat for this one. With her god-awful morning temper, who knows what she’d do if I’m the one to wake her. I need to find another poor bastard to take the hit.”

“Hmm? Speaking of unlucky bastards...”

Professor Garan stroked his chin, as if suddenly recalling something. A gleam of wicked glee crept across his face.

“I do have a pretty good candidate.”