[In the Common Hall]

"What… just happened?" Natalie asked, her eyes parted wide in utter shock.

"…" Gizel couldn't even form a word. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

Even Emma, who was usually the quickest to react, stood frozen. Her arms hung loosely by her side, eyes fixed on the large projection screen.

Everyone in the Common Hall watched in stunned silence as every single Ironhide that had been advancing toward William shattered apart.

Not pushed back. Not blasted away.

They broke.

Their massive bodies scattered into fragments, heavy shells splitting, limbs tearing free, chunks of iron-like flesh rolling across the dungeon floor.

And yet, William stood exactly where he had been the entire time.

There was no explosion. No surge of light. No violent release of aether that rattled the hall. He had not charged forward, nor raised a weapon, nor even changed his posture.

He had simply stayed there, concentrating and it…just happened.

Every single monster collapsed as if they had stepped onto invisible mines.

Murmurs slowly spread through the hall.

"What kind of spell was that?"

"Did he attack them?"

"No… I didn't see anything."

Due to the complete lack of any record in the Golden Book of Spells, even the senior instructors seated near the front failed to predict or explain what had just happened.

In their minds, the scene replayed again and again.

Still, nothing became clearer.

….

[A few moments ago]

[Inside the dungeon]

Levitating in the middle of the floor, William closed his eyes and focused.

Not on the monsters themselves, but on what they were doing.

The Ironhides were closing in. Their heavy slither echoed through the cavern, each movement vibrating through the stone beneath him.

They were still far enough away that he could have circled the area several times and they still would not have reached him.

That distance was important.

It gave him time.

Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to decide.

Running through the options he had already tried, William felt irritation stir within him.

Lifting them was pointless. They were too heavy.

Crushing them required too much effort and too much aether.

Blasting them away only delayed the problem. Their bodies were too dense, their shells too thick.

Every solution involved fighting their mass.

And every time, he lost more energy than he gained.

William slowly exhaled.

The movement of the monsters was simple. Their bodies pushed forward, inch after inch, all directed toward him.

That movement…

It wasn't something he created.

It already existed.

That realization struck him with sudden clarity.

He had been trying to grab the body, to dominate it, to force it to obey.

But the body wasn't the problem.

The movement was.

Their advance was steady, repeating, almost dull in how predictable it was. Each step fed into the next, like a straight line that refused to change course.

A line.

William focused on that thought.

He didn't reach out toward flesh or bone. He ignored the weight, the size, the hostility.

Instead, he reached toward something invisible.

The direction.

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

The monsters continued their charge, their growls filling the cavern.

Then, one of them stumbled.

Not because it tripped.

Not because the ground cracked.

Its foot landed wrong.

The effort it put forward no longer matched the direction beneath it.

The Ironhide lurched, its balance breaking. Its heavy shell tilted, and with a sharp internal crack, something failed.

It crashed onto the stone floor, limbs flailing uselessly.

William's brow furrowed.

So it could be disturbed.

His heart began to pound, but his thoughts sharpened.

He focused again, this time with clearer intent.

He imagined the forward movement as an arrow.

Straight. Clean. Constant.

Then, carefully, he nudged it.

Just slightly to the side.

The next monster twisted violently. Its upper body rotated while its legs continued to charge forward. The mismatch tore through its joints.

A loud snap echoed as it slammed down, cracking the stone beneath it.

The others didn't stop.

They didn't have any reason to.

They kept coming.

William swallowed, forcing his breath to stay steady.

"It's not about stopping you," he murmured, barely louder than a whisper. "It's about where you're going."

He expanded his focus.

Not one arrow.

Dozens.

Every Ironhide carried its own line of movement, all pointing toward him.

William gathered them.

Sweat formed along his brow as the strain pressed against his mind.

With a slow breath, he turned them.

Not backward.

Not upward.

Just wrong.

The monsters didn't slow down.

They destroyed themselves.

Their bodies moved in directions their structure could not support. Heavy shells slammed into the floor. Limbs twisted against their own charge. Torsos snapped as effort betrayed form.

It was not violence.

It was failure.

Reality refused to cooperate with them.

When the dust settled, silence filled the cavern.

Broken forms littered the floor, unmoving.

William opened his eyes.

A thin line of blood slid from his nose, dripping down onto the stone.

He lowered himself to the ground, knees shaking as the weight of what he had done caught up to him. His breathing was rough, uneven.

"So that's how it works," he whispered.

He hadn't overpowered them.

He hadn't crushed their bodies.

He had told their movement it was wrong.

Exhaling slowly, he wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

Looking around, he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction.

This wasn't something he could spam.

He had been thinking about it for some time now.

With his ability to enter another's mind, he could easily confuse them. Make them lose direction. Cause hesitation.

This was simply the physical extension of that concept.

And so, the name came naturally.

"Disorientation."

Still, he knew its limits.

He needed time to focus.

And more importantly, the Ironhides were simple. Their minds were dull. Their intent was direct and unchanging.

They were too weak to resist.

Against a faster opponent, or one with sharper awareness, this technique would fail before it even formed.

Broken, yes.

But fragile.

"So… probably not something I'll use often," William muttered.

He pushed himself back to his feet.

But it worked.

And for now, that was enough.

….

[In the Common Hall]

"That was boring," one of the students muttered, fingers interlocked behind his head. "I didn't even see him fight."

Another sighed, "He's a bonafide mage. What did you expect? Flashy moves are for warriors."

Emma frowned sharply. "What an immature bunch."

Natalie scoffed. "Ignore them. If a warrior can end a battle without lifting a finger, isn't that better?"

Gizel said nothing.

Her eyes never left the screen.

….

[Back in the labyrinth]

William resumed his journey, footsteps echoing softly as he walked through the dark corridors.

As he moved, he scratched small marks into the stone at intervals, making sure he wouldn't lose his way.

The air was quiet.

Too quiet.

He couldn't feel any presence nearby. No hostile intent. No pressure.

Yet the boss monster should have appeared the moment the mob monsters were wiped out.

"Hmm?" William frowned slightly. "Do I need to find it myself?"

Time wasn't on his side.

Stopping, he closed his eyes and expanded his senses outward. Not forcefully. Carefully.

Thoughts brushed against his awareness.

Most were distant echoes.

Then he found it.

A presence.

'It's not too far…'

William narrowed his focus, limiting his senses toward that single direction.

As he did, his frown deepened.

The presence felt strange.

Too close.

Or rather…

"I'm standing on it."

His head tilted downward.

The stone beneath his feet shifted.

Two massive eyes opened beneath him.

Menacing yellow eyes stared up from the darkness.

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