"Gok-kraw—"

No one expected the Saw-Beaked Vulture to snap its neck up and hop forward. The fireball veered off and slammed into its wing.

White glare flooded out; dust billowed; a thunderous detonation rolled through the slope, leaving their ears ringing for seven or eight seconds.

"What happened?"

"My god!"

"That was Fireball? Fireball can hit that hard?"

It wasn't just Luo Wei's teammates—professors watching through the Magic Mirrors were stunned.

For a single fireball to hold that much mana and impact—absolutely not something a junior magic apprentice could manage. That girl's mana was at least already at Mage level.

But how old was she?

Not even of age, yet her mana intensity rivaled a Mage?

When the dust thinned, they saw the vulture on its side in the grass, half a wing flayed open and raw.

A large magic beast, mauled like that by a junior magic apprentice's Fireball—did that make sense?

In the viewing stands the professors recalled her earlier Needle-Spined Rodent kill—turns out her rapid-fire flames then had been conservative.

Up on the river slope, Jack swallowed hard at the scene below.

If it could blast apart a wing armored in rigid feathers, if that had landed on the vulture's bare neck… they might already be collecting spoils.

"Gok-kraw—"

The vulture shrieked in agony, a tearing, razor cry. The wave sliced through turbulent air and bored into their ears.

The cloth wads in their ears did nothing; nausea and vertigo surged back.

"What's going on—why hasn't Gladys reacted?"

Per Luo Wei's plan, Gladys should have cast already. The opposite slope stayed silent.

Useless!

Axina cursed inwardly, raised her wand, and forced out a spellchant; a red fireball gathered at the tip.

"Gok-kraw—"

The vulture's abdomen pumped. The audible volume didn't swell—yet the dizzy, gut-churning effect spiked. Axina's fingers slipped; half-built mana collapsed; the wand nearly fell.

Higher on the slope Hol and Jack stalled mid-spellchant, unable to continue. Even with ears plugged tight, their spinning heads left them barely upright.

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Luo Wei tried to launch a second attack, but the interference was brutal—her viscera felt like they were vibrating with it; the nausea reflex shredded her focus; she couldn't finish the chant.

She fixed on the vulture's quivering belly and finally confirmed the sound carried infrasound.

Specifically in the four-to-eighteen-hertz band—that was why the bodily resonance felt so intense.

They couldn't keep fighting. Infrasound at those levels could cause organ displacement, deformation—even rupture. They needed out, fast.

"Retreat!"

"You hear me? Fall back first!"

Luo Wei shouted; answers came from up-slope.

"Copy!"

Hearing human voices, the vulture thrashed its half-ruined wing, furious cries spreading across the hills for ten li.

The Siria squad looped around the slope and fled to the opposite bank—only then realizing they were one short.

"Wait—where's Gladys?" A sinking jolt hit Luo Wei. "You go first. I'll go back."

Hol: "How do you search alone? We're all going."

Jack: "We're a team. We don't split. I'm going too."

No time to argue. Luo Wei nodded. "Fine—together."

The nearer they drew to the slope, the tighter their breathing, stabbing pain tugging at their hearts. Good news: they found Gladys unconscious in riverside trees.

Bad news: two dead Three-Headed Fierce Tapirs—and five fainted boys—lay there too.

The beasts' deaths were ugly—bodies riddled with sword slashes and burn marks, rumps hacked off—raw, bloody messes.

Each skull had a big hollow hole—at what was, on closer look, the right eye socket.

Black viscous blood leaked out; the ruined globes were gone; in the black ooze floated tofu-like white granules—brain pulp.

The wound told the method: someone had driven a sword through an eye, given it a savage twist; withdrawing the blade churned brain matter out with it.

The technique was too familiar; Gladys loved that twist in practice.

Luo Wei glanced at the sword in Gladys's limp hand—caked deep with blood, the dark stain running from tip to three finger-widths below the guard.

"They're Pengjato students," Hol said after checking chest badges and breaths. "All alive, but pretty banged up."

"Pengjato's fourth among the Ten Academies. How'd two medium beasts do this to them?" Axina frowned.

"Who knows." Hol stood, looking to Luo Wei. "Well? Leave them or haul them?"

"With four people we can't carry six," Axina objected immediately.

Brows tight, Luo Wei turned toward the far bank.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Axina snapped. "You're not seriously thinking we take them, right? They're rivals!"

"Quit it," Luo Wei said, face stern. "Haven't you noticed—the vulture stopped screeching."

"Stopped?" Axina blinked toward the opposite bank—and jolted. "Where's the Saw-Beaked Vulture? It's gone!"

Only rodent corpses and scattered stones carpeted the slope. The vulture itself was gone.

Jack peered across. "Really gone… did it fly off?"

"With that wing shredded—could it still fly?" Hol's brow knotted.

His words faded—and an eerie stillness settled.

Too quiet. So quiet they heard only their own breathing.

In the deathly hush Luo Wei reached up and pulled the cloth plugs from her ears.

"Were we talking too loud just now," she said in a normal tone.

"What?" Her teammates, ears still blocked, couldn't hear—yanked their stuffing free and boomed, "What did you say?"

Only once they'd cleared their ears did she repeat, "I said—were we talking too loud just now."

They stared; several seconds passed before Jack's lips trembled. "W-what do you mean?"

"The wing's injured, not destroyed. It can still force a short flight through pain."

Luo Wei stared at the ground—tension sharpening into icy calm. "Guess where it is, if we can't see it anywhere around."

"Haven't you noticed—there's no sunlight on us."

All three went wide-eyed, instinctively starting to look up.

"Don't look up!"

Luo Wei hissed. "If it realizes we've spotted it, it won't stay this quiet."

Under the cold canopy shade the four froze like statues.

Death's shadow hung above; even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

In that stillness, a single stringy drop of drool fell from above and splashed onto Axina's shoulder.

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