In the middle of the explanation, while the teacher was drawing a diagram of a fortified wall on the board, the floor suddenly trembled.
At first—barely noticeable.
As if something very heavy had passed somewhere underground.
Then stronger.
Inkwells rattled.
Desks creaked.
A thin, snaking crack ran along the wall.
“An earthquake…?” someone whispered.
No.
This was different.
The entire Academy seemed to inhale—and began to groan softly.
A low rumble rolled through the corridors, like the beat of a gigantic heart.
Someone screamed.
Someone grabbed a desk.
Someone had already jumped up and rushed toward the door.
And then—everything abruptly stopped.
Silence slammed into our ears.
And into that silence…
a new sound crashed.
From the courtyard came a heavy, nauseating grinding noise.
As if tree roots were being torn out of the earth.
Almost simultaneously, we rushed to the windows.
I saw them.
From the ground itself, from a torn-open layer of soil, they were rising.
Demons.
Not like in old books with blurry illustrations.
Alive.
Skin like hardened resin.
Bones jutting outward as horns and spikes.
Movements—far too organized.
They weren’t charging chaotically.
They were advancing in formation.
In ranks.
Some—toward the outer walls,
some—toward the towers,
some—straight for the central building.
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A probe. A test.
An organized incursion.
“All with me! Formation!” our teacher shouted.
His voice cracked—but it was firm.
He didn’t even look out the window again—just turned toward the door and led us on.
We moved quickly.
Not running, but close to it—in a tight formation.
The corridors were chaos.
In one group of students, someone was crying.
Someone tried to summon a shield and couldn’t—fingers shaking.
One boy was sitting against the wall, repeating over and over, “This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream.”
Other teachers tried to organize students,
someone was shouting,
someone was on the verge of panic themselves.
Ours… did not shout.
“Steadier,” he said curtly.
“Hold the line.”
“Even breathing. You are mages. Remember that now.”
And then—
it burst in.
The wall on the right bulged like a blister.
And through it, something broke in—
neither fully solid nor fully alive.
Horns.
A mouth like a crack in stone.
Eyes—dull, dim red.
The children screamed.
The demon lunged forward—and didn’t even manage three steps.
Our teacher struck with earth.
Not a spell with grand words.
Just—clenched his fist.
The floor beneath the demon surged up like a giant’s hand,
and instantly, a stone slab slammed down from above—
two walls closing together.
Crunch.
The demon was literally crushed between them.
I didn’t even immediately realize it was our teacher who had done it.
It was too fast.
He turned his head.
“Everyone alive?”
We nodded silently.
“Then we move on. You’ll have time for battle later,” he said coldly.
And for the first time, I thought:
He’s… not just an ordinary teacher.
They brought us to the combat training hall.
A massive chamber where normally:
training spheres exploded,
illusions were created,
practice walls and battlefield elements were built.
Now it was completely different.
Students were flowing in from all sides.
Mages.
Swordsmen.
Older students, younger ones.
Some already in uniform.
Some in everyday clothes.
Some barefoot—having run out as they were.
Other teachers stood in a semicircle—
some reinforcing protective formations on the walls,
some strengthening the floor,
some already holding combat staves.
Shouts echoed nonstop:
“They’re inside the Academy?!”
“What about the outer guard?”
“Does the city know?”
“Where is the Dark Order?!”
I spotted Elinia—
she was already standing among the senior students,
her face pale, but her gaze clear and focused.
Our teacher led us to the main group.
“Closer together,” he snapped. “Don’t break formation.”
And then we heard the impacts.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
At first, dull—like from far away.
Then louder.
Vibrations ran through the floor, the walls, the air.
Runes embedded in the stone flared with every strike.
The demons were hitting the hall.
They weren’t just raging—
they were testing the defenses,
searching for a weak point.
I saw stone beginning to crumble in places.
Saw the runes redirecting the force of each blow—
but every time with slightly greater strain.
The teachers exchanged glances.
And several stepped forward.
Formed a circle.
A circle of adult mages around us.
“Listen carefully,” one of them said.
I recognized him—it was the water mage I’d seen at night.
“The defense will hold.
But… if a breach forms anywhere—
you may have to defend yourselves.”
Someone whimpered.
“Silence,” he said quietly but harshly. “You can cry later.”
Our teacher added:
“You do not attack. Your task is to survive.
Shields. Basic spells. Support.
If anyone can’t cope—move to the center of the formation.”
I felt several gazes flick toward me without meaning to.
I pretended not to notice.
And in my head there was only one thing:
Demons.
Not training ones.
Not theoretical.
Right here.
The blows outside grew even stronger.
BOOM.
A crack spread across the wall.
BOOM.
Some of the runes flared too brightly—and went out.
One of the teachers said quickly:
“Prepare yourselves.”
A wind mage nearby whispered:
“If they break through—aim for the eyes and joints. The rest… later.”
I wanted to create a dozen ice spears right now and reinforce the walls from the inside.
Do what I knew I could do.
But I held back.
I am a student.
For now.
The teachers raised their hands.
Impact.
BOOM.
And in one of the far walls…
the stone collapsed inward.
Darkness, swirling dust…
and silhouettes—horns, claws.
The demons had found a weak point.
