The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a dull butter knife.
Hana, her face contorted with fury, anger, pissed off— or whatever word that could be used —was already channeling a second, even larger wave of fiery mana into her fingertips, fully prepared to bypass the boundary and turn the silver-haired princess into charcoal.
Before the flames could manifest, however, Professor Myra's green hair suddenly flared upward, swaying softly as a terrifying, suffocating pressure radiated from her slender frame.
CRACK!
Myra slammed her palm flat onto her podium, completely shattering the ancient, antique wooden desk into a spray of splinters and dust.
