The Jack-o'-Lantern Subjugation (1)

"It's your major! Figure it out somehow!"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upper levels of the Montecristo Magic Tower.

The instant the explosion went off, faculty members who realized something had gone terribly wrong crowded into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the laboratory — but none of them could actually solve the problem.

"...No, what exactly do you expect me to do about this?"

There was a dimensional rift.

Beyond an unnatural scratch torn into empty air, an ominous light flickered and swayed. Worse, as time passed, the seam kept widening with a low grinding groan.

The professor of dimensional studies, saddled with the task purely because it happened to be his field, sweated bullets as he struggled to repair the crack — but the damage outpaced every repair he made.

...At this rate, all he could do was buy time.

Every professor present had grasped that truth ages ago, yet all they managed was to stamp their feet in frustration, offering no viable alternative. The dimensional studies professor manipulated his mana to keep the gap from stretching wider while the others fed him their own, and that was all they could do — stall for as long as possible.

Until the rescue team arrived from the main building.

While the professors played for time, people drawn by the sudden explosion spilled out onto the street below the tower, muttering and jostling for a look.

Every person on that street was a mage of at least 4th Class, so no one had been seriously hurt. They had simply all come out to gawk at what in the world had gone wrong.

Mages of less-than-professor caliber could sense that something had happened, but not one of them grasped precisely what. Only a tiny handful realized that something had gone wrong with the very fabric of the space they were standing in.

Among that small number was a white-haired woman who had been strolling along the street moments before.

She stared at the red wall sprawling across the street, then tipped her head back. From what she could tell, it was a hemispherical domain — a dungeon had devoured part of the Witchcraft Quarter.

"Hm. I didn't expect to be playing bodyguard this soon."

She tapped the glowing ring above her head a few times, then seemed to reach a decision and started walking toward the red wall. Even as she drew within arm's reach of it, she didn't hesitate for so much as a heartbeat.

She pressed herself toward the inside.

Creeeak—

A passerby on the street happened to turn his head and scan his surroundings.

"...Huh?"

The woman had vanished from that spot long before.

VRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—!

The beam of light tore down its path like a train — fast, and devastatingly heavy.

Whether that colossal attack was an ancient incantation or an 8th-Class spell cast by a high-ranking mage meant nothing to Cheon Yuha. The only thing that mattered was that her comrade had been swept away by it.

Choi Gangjun.

A being she believed stood clearly above her. She'd had her suspicions as they traveled together, but after seeing the records of their match in the Training Dungeon, she had resolved never to doubt him again.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He was strong. A martial artist on par with her at the very least.

And that man had just been flung far away by an attack from that damned pumpkin head.

Without a trace.

Cheon Yuha's hollow gaze lingered on the spot where Choi Gangjun had been standing only moments ago. One side of the floor had been blown to bits, and the wall where the elevator had been was gone as if it had never existed.

She told herself he surely wasn't dead, but her attention slipped all the same. And besides — she was angry.

"Yuha!"

At her friend's urgent cry, Cheon Yuha ground her teeth and threw herself aside.

FWOOSH—!

Where she had stood, a blue ghost-flame bloomed in her place. Sprouting like buds on a hillside, the flames multiplied in seconds and began gnawing steadily away at the floor. Left alone, the entire floor of the tower would soon be swallowed by arcane fire.

Everything had diverged from the plan from the very start — but she had no intention of dancing to the enemy's tune any longer than she already had.

KWAAM—!

Cheon Yuha drove her foot into the earth. She planted her true step.

Her legs strained harder than usual, but this was not the Cheonmagunrimbo. That footwork crushed opponents under sheer oppressive weight, and it did not fit the current situation.

So instead, she summoned the wind. Qi raced down her legs and across the floor, blanketing the entire level in a stabilizing force. A gale laced with domineering energy howled through the space. The flames, which had been expanding their domain by the second, lost their momentum all at once — and when she took one more step forward, the blue ghost-flame guttered out and died.

'Weaker than I expected.'

Cheon Yuha tilted her head at the spell's power, which fell short of her predictions on every count. She had braced herself to swallow her pride and retreat if necessary — so what exactly was this? Why wasn't the enemy pressing the attack?

She regarded the pumpkin-headed mage, still rooted in the same spot, with a puzzled look. Ever since blasting Gangjun away, Professor Pumpkinhead had kept his head bowed, staring only at the jewel in his hand.

Krrrk—krrrk—!

And all the while, the rift in the air kept widening.

'Is he waiting for that?'

If so, then this was the moment to counterattack. At the very least, she would hold out until Gangjun returned.

Made up in her mind, Cheon Yuha reset her stance and readied herself to launch forward.

"Elenor! I'm leaving support to you."

Elenor, who was already drawing back her bowstring, gave a silent nod. Confirmed, Cheon Yuha leaned her body forward like a drawn bow.

...Creeeak. Creak.

The way a warrior hunted a mage had not changed since ancient times. For warriors, the best option was never to show their back and flee, but to close to the shortest possible distance and snap the mage's neck or run them through the chest.

...Creeeeak.

That held true here as well. Cheon Yuha bent her upper body backward, curving it like a bow. Farther... farther... ever farther.

A counterintuitive technique: leaning the body backward even though she intended to launch forward.

Gungshintanyeong — Bow Body Springing Shadow.

They said this supreme art had fallen out of use because it was impractical in real combat, but in a situation like this, no method of approach could serve better. The principle behind this wondrous technique, which defied the very laws of physics, was simple: bend the body back like a bow, then snap it forward and ride that spring to take flight.

An exceedingly simple truth. And an extraordinarily difficult one to realize. But Cheon Yuha's breathtakingly precise control of her internal energy and her body made it possible.

KWAAM! In an instant she kicked off the floor and flew like an arrow. She surged forward at blistering speed.

The opening move of the counterattack.

Elenor Andersen loosed her string the very moment Cheon Yuha took flight. She was already murmuring as she released the arrow.

"—Blow."

An arrow blessed by Sylph, spirit of the wind, tore through the air with even greater force. Immediately after, the elf nocked five more arrows and fired in rapid succession, each one racing down the wake of the first.

KRAK—!

The first arrow, which had overtaken Cheon Yuha, slammed into the barrier spread before the professor. The second and third that followed merely thudded against its surface without so much as scratching it.

But they had struck true.

Baegansi — the White Angler Arrow, arrow of the ravenous white ghost.

The modern era's mage-slayers incarnate: the elves. Their signature arrows, which devoured mana, made short work of the barrier's power yet again. The shield guarding the mage's front riddled with holes, its coverage shrinking — and the arrows threaded through the gaps to find their mark.

THUD-THUD-THUD! They tore mercilessly through the mage's wrist, shoulder, and chest. Only then did a flicker of alarm enter the mage's eyes.

At nearly the same moment, Cheon Yuha, who had split the distance, arrived before the sorcerer.

KWAAM-! With her true step planted, she channeled every ounce of her strength and qi into her right fist.

'One strike. It ends here.'

A full 7th-Class mage — in martial terms, a master who had reached the Transformation Realm. The arrows would have thrown the mana in his body into turmoil for the moment, but he would recover in no time. With the opportunity before her, it was best to end it with the first blow — or at the very least, deal a grievous wound.

"Pacheonmu."

Her finest move. Cheon Yuha hurled her qi-hardened fist straight at the sorcerer's chest.

Professor Pumpkinhead, the pumpkin-headed mage, offered no response of any kind — he simply watched the incoming fist in silence.

KWAAM—!

At last, her fist met the center of his chest. Contact and conclusion had never come so easily.

BOOM-! The frail sorcerer's torso was punched clean through. It burst apart.

With her hand buried in her enemy's chest, Cheon Yuha's eyes flew wide open.

...This man has no mana inside his body.

She raised her head at the wrongness of it — and saw a face with its mouth stretched into a grin from ear to ear. Even with blood streaming down from his lips, Pumpkinhead had not lost his smile. He rasped through the blood in his throat.

"...Heehee. It's finally complete."

KRAK—!

In that instant, the rift in the air swelled even larger. Simultaneously, the crystal in the mage's hand at last took the shape of a perfect sphere.

An orb that had drained a colossal quantity of primal energy and everything the 7th-Class mage had. The priceless treasure's very first act was to betray its master.

"...Hn."

The pumpkin head's mouth, which had been smiling weakly, suddenly split into a jagged grin that stretched all the way to its ears. A chill crawled up Cheon Yuha's spine, and she yanked her hand free of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mage's chest, snapping her shin backward to fling herself away.

FWOOSH—! Pitch-black ghost-fire blazed to life in the pumpkin's two eyes. Black mana came pouring back into the sorcerer's drained body — and not just back. A staggering volume of mana, vastly greater than before, flooded the professor's frame. It filled him to bursting, so dangerously saturated that failing to expel it would have been its own peril.

And so Pumpkinhead chose to expel it.

GRRRND— the pumpkin head mechanically wrenched its own mouth wide open. From within, black flame came pouring out. And so did the mana.

The newly born demon, unable to contain its own fullness, opened its maw and gave in to instinct.

"———GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

It screamed.

KWAAM!

After a long, ragged flight through the air, I came crashing down into a garbage dump. To be precise, I landed atop the processing yard where all manner of scrap and junk had piled up.

Lying flat on my face, staring blankly up at the purple sky, I thought — no, I said it out loud.

"Well, shit."

Honestly, I'd let my guard down. The guy was a magical engineer, so I figured he'd be on the weaker end of the professor spectrum — apparently I'd gotten complacent. What an idiot I was.

I never dreamed it would fall apart this badly.

"...So in the end, I'm putting my life on the table too."

I circulated my internal energy through every blood vessel in my body as I sized up the situation. Could Yuha and the elf really hold out until I made it back to the tower? And even if I did get back — could conventional fighting methods actually bring down the professor, the newly born demon?

Rustle. I pushed myself up out of the garbage heap, weighing it right to the very end. Black and white. Yin and yang. After circling the categorized energies through my entire body, I made my decision.

"Guess I'm using it."

At my current level, it would take years of recovery afterward — but I'd already made my peace with that. If it came down to letting Yuha and Elenor die here, I'd rather take the expulsion.

The instant I moved to carry out the forbidden act, I sensed a presence and lifted my head.

Something was directly overhead.

Beneath the ominously rippling purple sky, a single figure of pure white hovered all alone. Descending to the ground, halo gleaming and wings dazzling white, the angel spoke.

"My name is Lucia."

Her tone was distinctly mischievous.

"The one destined to become your messiah."

The salutatorian fluttered the things on her back, winked one eye, and added:

"Care to borrow a wing?"

And so a divine jet booster fell from the heavens.