Chapter 207
Her voice finally broke the silence she had created herself, as low and cold as an underground current of water.
Flat and devoid of emotion, yet carrying the weight of absolute authority.
Her words were simple and indisputable.
She stated that Ilux was not permitted to follow the old man's trail.
No reasons were given, no room left for rebuttal.
This was not a discussion, but a new fact that had to be accepted.
Then, in the same tone, she delivered her next command.
Ilux had to follow her—now.
Not later, not after this, but at this very second.
Every syllable was spoken with total certainty that it would be obeyed, a conviction born from the power she emanated and the spatial restraint still binding the young man's arm.
She was not merely blocking Ilux physically.
She was effectively dismantling his will to rebel, reducing him to a prisoner trapped within spatial distortion and unquestionable authority.
"Release me right now.
I don't care who you are—if you keep holding me, I'll hurt you.
This is my final warning."
"Too much talk."
Buaakk!!
At first, the rebellion burned wildly in Ilux's chest.
The suppressed emotions—confusion, anger toward the old man, concern for Aldraya, and now humiliation at being obstructed—all overflowed into a threat that escaped his lips in a low tremor.
He warned the woman, his voice growling, declaring his intent to injure her if the obstacle was not removed immediately.
His gaze was sharp, his body tense, ready to force his will even though his left arm still felt trapped within that strange, viscous space.
He still trusted the remnants of adrenaline and the unfamiliar strength within his body.
However, the woman of the Mirhush class did not respond with words or counter-warnings.
Her response was pure action, a language of the body far more fluent—and far more cruel.
With a movement too fast for untrained eyes to follow, she twisted Ilux's left arm, already warped by spatial distortion.
It was not merely pain in the joint, but as if the entire reality around that arm were forcibly rotated, creating a nauseating shockwave that rippled straight through Ilux's nervous system.
A choked groan escaped his throat.
There was no pause.
Before Ilux could process the first wave of pain, the woman's right fist was already in motion.
It was not a wild, swinging punch, but a direct, fast, lethally precise penetration, launched from the hips with perfectly focused core power.
The fist smashed into Ilux's right cheek with crushing force.
Not a simple strike, but a brutal transfer of energy.
His head snapped sideways, the world spun, and a high-pitched ringing filled his ears.
His body reeled violently, his legs losing their foundation and shattering every bit of balance he struggled to maintain.
And at the peak of that stagger, just as gravity was about to drag him helplessly to the cold floor, the grip on his left arm—which had never truly released—suddenly changed its function.
From restraint, it became support.
The woman calmly and firmly held him, keeping Ilux upright even as his body went limp and his mind clouded with pain and shock.
It was a perfect demonstration of dominance.
She who could destroy was also the one who could prevent total collapse.
In a single, brief, emotionless sequence of movements, the woman had stripped Ilux of his threat, punished his rebellion, and ensured that he remained under absolute control.
Ilux now hung from her grasp, both physically and symbolically, bitterly realizing that the power he relied on was meaningless compared to the discipline and ability standing before him—almost beyond comprehension.
"You're coming with me.
We're going to see the students—make sure they remain calm and don't act recklessly."
"Y-yeah, I'll come. But keep your distance from me."
Ilux's head throbbed with piercing dizziness, a symphony of pain echoing from his swollen cheek down to the base of his skull.
The world around him swayed gently, but he locked his knees, forcing a fragile balance.
His left arm, which had just been the center of distortion and sharp agony, suddenly felt light.
The woman had released her grip, but not by guiding or leading him.
Instead, a gentle yet irresistible push—like the air itself pressing forward—propelled his body ahead.
Ilux stumbled several steps, with no physical touch on his back, yet with a commanding presence behind him that made it clear he had no other choice.
The next order flowed from the woman's lips in the same flat tone, sounding more like a statement of fact than an instruction.
Ilux had to follow her.
The destination was the students.
The reason was delivered with cold efficiency: to prevent mass panic.
The woman explained, without the slightest trace of concern, that students who had heard news of the bombing might do "non-fatal" things, such as trashing their own rooms.
That phrase—"non-fatal"—sounded cynical to Ilux, reducing human panic to nothing more than an inconvenient breach of order.
Their priority was not soothing wounded minds, but ensuring that property and discipline remained intact.
Ilux, his arm still aching and his jaw clenched against the pain, could only nod obediently.
All his courage and threats had been crushed by a single punch and a single twist.
He no longer saw the woman as a person, but as a force of nature he had to submit to—for now.
With quick, slightly unsteady steps, he began to walk.
He deliberately positioned himself in front, letting his legs move first and a little faster.
It was a small attempt to create distance, an illusion of control in a situation where he truly had none.
He wanted the woman not to be too close, so that her cold breath and oppressive aura would not constantly pierce his back.
'Aldraya chose her own path.
Whatever the reason, whatever the truth behind that explosion, the responsibility is not on my shoulders.'
After walking for some time and approaching several frantic students, their efforts bore fruit.
Most of the students were successfully calmed and chose to secure themselves in their respective rooms, locking their doors with fear still lingering in their eyes.
Meanwhile, a few others—still gripped by disbelief or seeking answers—decided to follow Ilux and the woman toward the security post.
They moved in a silent line, accompanied only by heavy breaths and vacant stares aimed at the empty corridors.
Ilux struggled to suppress the gnawing feeling in his chest, the suffocating sensation that kept reminding him of a horrifying possibility.
He tried to shake off the suspicion that he might be responsible, directly or indirectly, for the terror unleashed by Aldraya Kansh Que.
The sixteen-year-old girl who was his teacher had now become the source of chaos—a painful paradox.
Every memory of training sessions, guidance, even Aldraya's expressionless face, turned into a sharp, piercing question mark.
Had he missed something?
A word, an action, that unknowingly pushed the young teacher toward such a violent abyss?
Those thoughts spiraled wildly, finding no footing, only adding weight to the already heavy burden on his shoulders.
'Her attention has loosened.
Her steps are too focused ahead, on those who are panicking and noisy.'
Fiiih!
'This is my chance.
If I stay in that line, I'll only be dragged farther away from the truth.'
Wusssh!
To be continued…