The Novel's Professor

Ciel stared at one of the followers, raising his hand as he pointed the dagger at one of the cloaked figures. In one swift motion, he thrusted his arm, piercing the follower's throat.

One. He counted quietly.

Immediately after killing the cloaked follower, his body faded away into the darkness. Amidst the shadows, he searched for a prey. Re-appearing behind another, and striking without mercy.

Two. He counted while his body ached weakly. The strain of using his powers was getting to him. John needs to hurry up. He lifted his arm, raising the dagger slightly.

In that instant, he vanished once more. Before long, from beside the trees, a cloaked follower fell to the ground—the follower's throat pierced by a black dagger.

"..Three.." He counted as he groaned. The strain of his body was increasingly getting more painful as time goes by. Now, how was John doing?

Ciel turned his head, looking over the surrounding cloaked followers. He furrowed his brows as he noticed their lack of hostility towards him. He had thought that with his constant kills, they would focus on him. But all the cloaked followers' eyes were directed at the blonde-haired sorcerer.

'No wonder I haven't been feeling any attacks on me...they were all trying to target John.'

Ciel thought as he sighed. The blonde-haired sorcerer, on the other hand, was struggling to do anything—bar from dodging the attacks hurled at him. It was a miracle in itself he was able to dodge those fast chains.

"The plan was..." Ciel muttered, his hand tightly brandishing the dagger. To distract them by any means possible. It seems he had to exhaust his magical reserves again. He didn't really want to feel that same helplessness or powerlessness once more.

Alas, he couldn't do anything about it. He had no choice at the matter. It's either he dies here, or risk everything in one move...for a slight chance of survival.

Ciel gruffed, his body vanishing from the shadows. Before long, a silent scream echoed as another follower fell from his blade.

He looked inside his body, noticing the depleting magical reserves. At this rate he would die before they John would be able to do that plan of his.

This was too slow...he needed to be faster.

Faster. He raised his arms, brandishing his dagger once more. He sunk himself in the shadows, drowning in darkness as he searched for another prey.

Not just faster, but more precise. He materialized behind a group of cloaked followers—masterfully using magic; he applied a skill as he stabbed swiftly in the air—blood spurted out from every cloaked follower in the group, all their throats pierced simultaneously by a black dagger.

Their body fell to the ground, while the blood spread; forming a small sea of blood beneath his path. Even if he gave it his all and amplified his speed and precision—it wasn't enough. There were still too many to kill off.

But being faster and more precise isn't enough.

He needed to be much more flashier. Bolder. He needed the enemies eyes directed to him—be afraid of him. Without a moment of rest, he sunk himself once more into the shadows. He searched for the largest group of followers.

While he sunk deep into the shadows, a weird feeling erupted inside him. This way of attacking...was new to him. In the agency, they were always taught to disregard elegance and art, and prioritize efficiency and results, thus even if crude or cowardly as long as it kills, it works.

This time, he needed to do the opposite. He needed to be more distractive and impressive. He lightly shook his head, his eyes stopping at the largest group of followers in the surroundings.

How many...? He couldn't count them properly. His eyes were blurry. Ever since the ear-shattering hiss of the snake, he was relying on the darkness and his instincts to attack.

Regardless, no matter how many they were in the group, he was still going to attack.

He breathed deeply, raising the two dark daggers in his hand to the air. Before he start his assault, he checked the magical reserves in his body again.

It was good enough. He still had two-three chances until complete exhaustion. Not bad.

'Now...'

Ciel thought, his eyes glancing at the blonde-haired sorcerer, John.

'..I suppose it's time.'

He hoped this would work. He...hoped they would survive this together. His daughter's face passed through his mind.

While he was hesitating, his body involuntarily shivered.

It was his body aching in pain from the strain his powers brought to him, but instead of agony, he just felt numbness. He felt nothing.

Ciel sighed as he shook his head lightly. He emptied his thoughts, clearing any kinds of distraction. His mind went blank while his body drowned in darkness. In that moment, his eyes just focused on two things: his blade—and his targets.

His mind only had a single thought, and his body complied with it—Go!

—

Woosh—!

"What..?" Rio muttered, his body involuntarily taking a step back. He blinked his eyes. In that instant, a figure—enshrouded by darkness—suddenly appeared, dashing with inhumane speed.

'What are you waiting for?!' Faust shouted, his body upside down, staring at Rio's eyes, 'Go prepare the spell now! Or are you going to waste this chance?'

Rio blinked, his eyes staring at the surroundings. All the cloaked followers were no longer focused on him. All of them were stupefied—or distracted by Ciel.

'Though, I have to say...that was a clever yet risky move,' Faust muttered. 'Instead of reappearing behind the others back, he opted to dash in—at the expense of his invulnerability. It shows...the trust he put on you to save him in this situation.'

'I don't know what to feel about that,' Rio sighed. He wasn't exactly the sociable type. Hell, he might even go as far to say he hated talking to other people. In his life on earth, he never once had an acquaintance that he could trust.

Rio shook his head, emptying the thoughts inside his mind. He shouldn't get distracted, he only had one chance. And he would be a fool to waste it. His body took a step back, brandishing his wand.

"Elés fore..." Rio muttered, brandishing the wand once more. The wand moved fluidly—aligning with his hand's movements. Accessing magic in the body and surroundings.

'May the Forest grant it's elven blessings.

"Halim gotria..." Rio continued, his hand stopping still mid air; pointing at the middle of the area.

Thus, with the power of mystical chants,

"..Alás entre;" Rio paused. The surroundings suddenly turned quiet as an oppressive silence befell the place. The frigid wind stilled, while the oldened ancient trees awakened.

The will of the winds and ancient trees follow my wishes, only one order is on my mind—unleash;

In that moment, everyone's eyes were suddenly alerted as they all simultaneously felt a shiver went down their bodies. Extreme danger, their instincts shouted. Everyone on the area gazed at Rio, their eyes wide open.

'Elven skills...' Faust muttered, his eyes had a tint of nostalgia within. 'Never get's old. I still remember that time...what am I thinking? It's all in the past now.'

In that instant, they hurled several metal chains into Rio. However, Rio paid no heed towards the futile attempts of an attack.

"..Elva Natura!" Rio shouted, stressing the phrase strongly as he opened his eyes. Before him, the previously blank, empty wand was now filled with different kinds of energy converging at each other.

The pact of elves and nature, bring upon protection and destruction.'

Woosh—!

"Ciel! Run!" Rio shouted as he clenched his fist. He pushed his hand forward. In that moment, the energy on the tip of the wand shot to the middle of the area. A blinding light erupted throughout the whole forest as the winds raged while the trees shivered.

Boom—!

As soon as the energy exploded, painful screams of the followers rang out throughout the forest. All the followers slowly burned from the mass-energy that eclipsed them. However, instead of fear—their eyes held admiration and worship, as if accepting the decree of god.

From a distance, Rio caught a glimpse of a dark figure leaping away to an unknown direction in the forest. He hoped that the agent would be able to survive this and escape safely. That was the best he could do, after all, the whole situation was his fault anyway.

'Huh?!' Faust shouted in surprise, his eyes holding an unusual expression of panic and shock, 'Who are—!!!'

Before he could check on what happened to his master, his body was suddenly blown away from the impact—throwing him to god knows where inside the forest. His eyes closed as he braced for the incoming crash.

—

Moments later, the blinding light gradually faded. While the wretched and ruined state of the forest revealed itself. The surrounding area had a massive hole beneath the ground. The trees were destroyed.

From beside, fragile skeletons scattered all over the ground. While ragged and tattered cloaks floated mid air, slowly falling to the ground.

The previously noisy and battle fervent place was now reduced to a lifeless zone of utter, desolate quiet; devoid of any noise.

Above the sky, the scattered red clouds gradually converged together—the ominous red clouds forming into a scarlet tinted mist.

The scarlet mist slowly spread to the forest. Above the mist, a dimensional crack suddenly opened—within the crack, one could see a world with thousands of demons and devils.

At that moment, three eyes suddenly peeked outside the crack. Within those three pupils, there was infinite and bottomless abyss of desire. Only few have seen of their existence.

Archdevils.

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