Chapter One Hundred Thirteen: The Unseen Confrontation

Meow!

The battle raged fiercely, when suddenly a cat’s cry seemed to echo within everyone’s heart.

The fight between Grimm Academy and the reanimated corpses abruptly fell silent. Bell, struggling alongside Sherlock in the dense forest, experienced a sudden failure in his spellcasting. His pet giant wolf no longer spewed luminous orbs, and Peter’s recently conjured shield faded away without a sound. Only Ebb and Vivi remained locked in a tense stalemate, cautiously testing each other.

Spell: Anti-Magic Curse!

Catherine had to force herself to release this curse; afterward, she felt a wave of weakness wash over her, nearly breaking her invisibility. Hastily, she retrieved a prepared potion from her spatial pouch—a gift from Andy—and drank it down.

This wave of magic ensnared everyone except Andy, producing a striking effect. Though the spell’s influence lasted only a mere second, that brief moment was enough for those alert to seize the advantage.

With Peter’s shield vanished, panic overtook him. Frantically, he racked his brain for a way to save himself. Suddenly, a thought struck him. He pulled out the vial his father had treasured, contemplating drinking the green potion inside, hoping for some miraculous effect. At this point, potential side effects no longer mattered—this was his last hope to turn the tide.

But Andy denied him that chance. Before Peter could uncork the vial, a blazing fire sniper shot exploded his head. The vial tumbled to the ground, ignored by all.

Meanwhile, the battle shifted for Sherlock as well. He hadn’t expected that even in the dense forest, Bell would suppress him so thoroughly. The notion that a wizard’s power peaks among peers proved true.

Yet, the moment Bell’s spell failed, the experienced Sherlock seized the opportunity. Boldly abandoning stealth, he revealed himself and faced Bell head-on. After a rapid volley of fire, Bell was left helpless, riddled like a porcupine.

With Bell’s death, his summoned giant wolf lost its anchor to this world. It let out a mournful howl before being sucked into a suddenly appearing spatial rift.

The sudden anti-magic stunned Alvis, but he quickly recovered. Silently, he commanded his corpses to cease spellcasting and charged at the Grimm Academy wizards. As they advanced, the corpses’ nails greedily lengthened into razor-sharp claws, and horrific fangs sprouted in their mouths.

Without magic, the wizards were torn apart like prey by monstrous corpses in an instant.

Satisfied that his objective was achieved, Alvis prepared to withdraw his corpses—only to be interrupted by a fierce shout: “Thieves!”

The disciplinary squad, led by Daina, had arrived.

They immediately witnessed Peter’s fatal headshot and the slaughter of Grimm Academy’s wizards.

Daina’s fury flared; having promised to escort Peter, he bore responsibility for the tragedy. If Professor Healy ever learned of this, Daina feared bearing the blame unfairly. His hatred for those who assassinated Peter ran deep.

Forming a battle line, Daina’s squad engaged Alvis’s corpses, gradually gaining the upper hand.

Though earlier, Andy’s side, Sherlock’s, and Alvis’s seemed to coordinate their attacks with uncanny synergy, now that their plan had succeeded, Andy and Sherlock showed no intention of aiding Alvis. Their consensus: use this distraction to slip away as soon as possible.

Andy activated his invisibility, carefully erasing his traces atop the high ground before descending on the opposite side. Upon landing, he cast all his acceleration spells upon himself and dashed toward the royal capital.

Ordinarily, even advanced wind-elemental mage apprentices couldn’t match Andy’s speed at full throttle. He intended to exploit this timing gap.

He had to attend a class at Grimm Academy, planning to make a conspicuous appearance to create the illusion that he was absent when Peter fell.

He and Catherine had agreed to reunite quickly at school regardless of the outcome. Catherine’s survival skills far outmatched his, so Andy was less worried about her.

Meanwhile, Catherine stealthily approached Peter’s corpse, her eyes set on his spatial pouch. She had witnessed Peter using scrolls recklessly, his wealth evident.

Vivi shared the same thought. With Peter dead, she was free from Ebb’s grasp, while he wasted effort swinging his weapon nearby.

Crouching low, Vivi crept toward Peter’s body and reached out for the pouch.

Suddenly, she froze, feeling a soft, furry paw touch her hand.

Catherine, reaching for the pouch simultaneously, also paused—her hand met a warm, gentle touch.

Both recoiled as if shocked by electricity, but then, realizing others were nearby in hiding, they swiftly reached for the pouch again, sparking a scramble.

“Meow!” Catherine called softly. Her eyes changed—the amber vertical pupils turned to pure black.

Spell: Shadow Eyes.

Now she could clearly see Vivi’s figure.

At the same time, Vivi activated a quasi-magic: Sixth Sense. She could sense Catherine’s location, though she still wondered what kind of being Catherine truly was. This doubt did not prevent her from attacking.

While grabbing for the pouch, Vivi blew a poisonous needle from her mouth toward Catherine.

Seeing this, Catherine dodged swiftly, losing her chance to seize the pouch.

Determined not to yield, Catherine’s claws rapidly traced five circles on the ground—the pattern of a pentacle.

Curse: Deprivation of the Five Senses.

Instantly, Vivi lost sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch.

Catherine doubted Vivi could accurately retrieve the pouch in such a state; she likely couldn’t even find north.

But Catherine miscalculated. Vivi snatched the pouch and hugged it to her chest, looking up to make a mocking face at Catherine.

Her actions betrayed no sign of sensory deprivation.

Vivi quietly thanked her Sixth Sense for alerting her to the danger; without it, she might have been ambushed.

Without hesitation, Vivi activated the quasi-magic: Swift Run, retreating rapidly.

Unwilling to let her go, Catherine gave chase.

Though deprived of her senses, the curse still affected Vivi. As she sprinted, she nearly tripped over something, but her toes hooked it up—a potion vial.

Sensing Catherine’s pursuit, Vivi flung the vial toward her, employing another quasi-magic.

Quasi-magic: Precision Throw!