I watched as the dummy continued to smoke and gleam, the gaping hole in its chest the size of a cannonball.

  The smell of burned wheat stung my nose, and with a loud thud, the dummy finally fell backward.

  "Woah..."

  The other apprentices gasped, awestruck by what was considered the simplest of spells.

  As for me, it wasn't as interesting as I had hoped. It was still the same design used back in Cssic Adventure, just with a few tweaks and improvements. I had seen—and used—the spell a million times already.

  Still, for the NPCs, it was their first time seeing it, so their reaction was understandable.

  They really upgraded the AI a lot.

  "BakingTray, why don't you give it a try?"

  Miss Dingledongle asked after noticing my calm, unsurprised expression. She wore that smug smile of someone who thought they had just caught me off guard—and honestly, it pissed me off.

  "Alright, shouldn't be too hard," I shrugged, stepping forward until I stood beside her, my eyes fixed on the untouched dummy ahead.

  "Uh... do I get a wand or something?" I asked, gncing up at the tall witch.

  "Of course!" she giggled, handing me one of the practice wands.

  The moment the smooth wooden twig rested in my hand, memories flooded back—the first spell I had ever cast in Cssic Adventure. Feeling oddly sentimental, I shifted into a casting stance.

  "I wonder if the casting mechanics are still the same..." I murmured, waiting for Miss Dingledongle to expin.

  "Okay, now imagine—"

  That was enough.

  "Yeah, yeah, no need for a grand expnation," I sighed, cutting her off as I began casting. After all, it was still the same. Visualization made it easier, sure, but when you've done it a million times, it just wastes time.

  Thinking the spell name once was enough.

  All that remained was to chant it clearly.

  "Magic Missile!"

  Unlike Miss Dingledongle's spell, there was no buildup. The cast was too fast for the purple sphere to form at the tip of the wand—it only manifested a split second before impact.

  "Haha, that's what I call precision!" I said proudly, turning back toward the instructor.

  As expected, her jaw hung open, her gsses barely clinging to her nose.

  "And how was that, Miss Dingledongle?" I asked with a wide grin, casually twirling the wand. "Pretty impressive, right?"

  She cleared her throat and straightened herself. "Yes. That was a well-executed Magic Missile. Well done, BakingTray."

  Right on cue, a system notification chimed.

  Spell learned: Magic Missile. See Spell Library for more information.

  "Open menu."

  A soft melody rang out again as a translucent interface appeared in front of me. Time itself froze, everyone and everything locked in pce.

  A portrait of my avatar hovered on the side, surrounded by empty equipment slots—head, chest, gloves, pants, and boots. Beneath it were three bars: green for health, blue for mana, and yellow for stamina, all capped at one hundred.

  "Let's see... inventory, skill tree... ah, there we go. Spell library."

  Tapping the icon caused the interface to vanish, repced by an old book appearing in my hands. Only one page was filled; the rest were empty.

  At the top, written in ornate script, were the words Magic Missile.

  Below it was a block of lore text

  Magic Missile:

  The simplest and most fundamental spell known to magekind.

  First conceived by the Great Mage Gallius before time itself had a name, Magic Missile condenses raw magical energy into a stable sphere imbued with the world's knowledge.

  Once released, the spell seeks its target with unerring force, striking like a missile guided by intent alone.

  Though basic in nature, countless advanced spells trace their origins back to this single incantation.

  basic fvor that didn't say much yet.

  What mattered were the details beneath it.

  Spell Name: Magic Missile

  Damage Factor: 70

  Damage Type: Non-elemental Magic

  Cooldown: 10 seconds

  Mana Cost: 15

  Spell Proficiency: 1

  Progress: 10 / 100 XP

  "Huh... spells level up now?"

  I muttered. "That's new. I wonder if they can evolve ter."

  I closed the book. It vanished, and time resumed.

  The ground shook.

  "What the hell was that?"

  I groaned as I hit the floor hard, pain shooting through me.

  Panic erupted around us. NPCs screamed and scattered as Miss Dingledongle tried to calm them down—only for a bone-chilling roar to echo through the hall, making the walls tremble.

  Thankfully, Pinky grabbed my arm and hauled me back to my feet.

  "Get up! We need to get out of here!"

  The fear in her eyes was so real that, for a brief moment, I forgot she was just code.

  "W-what's going on?"

  I asked as she dragged me toward Miss Dingledongle.

  "I don't know by whom, but we're under attack!"

  she cried, a tear sliding down her pale cheek.

  Damn. These NPCs were written too well.

  "Children, gather and follow me!"

  Miss Dingledongle shouted, her wand erupting with light bright enough to guide the quest path.

  The grand hall began to colpse. Chunks of the ceiling fell away, revealing a dark, stormy sky as rain poured in, soaking the marble floor.

  Students slipped, fell, got back up, and ran.

  The scene was unbelievably cinematic.

  I couldn't help but smile.

  "Don't lose focus, BakingTray!"

  Pinky yelled as she leapt over a shattered bench.

  Before I could respond, three gargoyle-like monsters crashed through the broken ceiling. One dove straight toward me.

  Without hesitation, I raised the wand.

  "Magic Missile!"

  The purple sphere obliterated its head. Another missile pierced straight through its body.

  I turned just in time to see Miss Dingledongle, the tip of her wand still faintly smoking.

  "Good shot, kid!"

  Miss Dingledongle smiled at me before turning back to lead the horde of terrified students toward safety.

  The hallway was already engulfed in fmes. Marble walls were stained bck with ash, and the sheer number of people trying to escape caused bottlenecks that slowed us to a crawl. Panic filled the air—heavy, suffocating.

  Unable to do much else, I kept my eyes peeled for enemies.

  Growls and howls echoed from somewhere above, unsettling and distant, but there was nothing in sight. No monsters. No targets.

  Just destruction.

  I was about to turn back—

  When I saw it.

  On one of the high towers across the academy grounds stood two figures.

  They were far away, but unmistakable.

  One wore a cloak and a wide-brimmed magic hat, standing calm and unmoving.

  The other...

  If person was even the right word.

  They hovered in the air, massive wings spread wide behind their back. Burning horns crowned their head, and heat distorted the air around them like a mirage.

  "What in God's name is that...?" I muttered.

  Before I could focus any longer, Ellis tugged at my arm again, snapping me back to reality.

  "Quick! We need to get out of here!"

  I followed, but my mind refused to let go of what I'd seen.

  With every step away from the tower, my curiosity grew stronger—itching, gnawing at me.

  Until I couldn't take it anymore.

  I yanked my arm free and stopped dead in my tracks.

  "What are you doing, BakingTray? We need to leave!" Ellis cried, spinning around and reaching for me again.

  I pulled back.

  "No," I said quietly, shaking my head as I took a step backward.

  "What do you mean no?" she shouted. "Do you have a death wish or something?!"

  "Let go of me!" I snapped, my voice rising as I turned away. "I need to see that. I need to know what's going on up there!"

  I broke into a run.

  "No—wait! Please, come back!" Ellis cried after me.

  But I didn't stop.

  I didn't look back.

  My eyes were locked on one thing only.

  That tower to the north.

  I had to get there.

  I had to see who those two were—

  And why they stood there, watching the academy burn.