Students began to filter into the Great Hall, their hushed voices bouncing off the high stone walls as the full student body gradually assembled. Nearly six hundred students from all grade levels filled the vast space—despite the unusually small first-year intake this season.

From his position on the raised stage at the front of the hall, Michael did his best not to fidget. Standing before so many eyes was uncomfortable enough—but what truly unsettled him was the reason he was here.

His gaze swept over the crowd. Some teens were still laughing with their friends, others chatted cheerfully—utterly unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded just days earlier.

Most would be unaffected by the news. But a few…

A few would have had family in Newhold.

And because word of the incident hadn't yet reached the castle, it fell on them to deliver it.

Michael's eyes drifted toward the hall's entrance, where he spotted Magnus, who was quietly pulling a few students from the crowd. As planned, Magnus would speak with them privately—an attempt to soften the blow before the formal announcement and prevent panic.

Michael swallowed hard.

"This doesn't feel right…" he muttered under his breath, his stomach tightening into knots.

He knew what was coming. He'd lived it himself when Velmara fell.

That familiarity didn't help—it only made this moment heavier.

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder.

He turned to see Rose, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

"Stay strong," she said softly. "You just need to stand beside us—we'll handle the announcement."

Michael nodded, grateful for the kindness. She had mistaken his quiet for nervousness, but he didn't bother correcting her.

It was proof of her character—and perhaps why she'd been chosen as a class representative.

By now, the student flow had stopped. The hall was full. Professors stood in a wide semicircle along the edges of the crowd—seemingly relaxed, but their alert eyes suggested otherwise.

From across the room, Magnus raised a hand, signaling them. Then he ushered the handful of students he'd selected out of the hall and shut the heavy doors behind them.

The deep echo of the doors slamming shut reverberated through the room, cutting through the chatter like a blade.

Silence followed.

Without hesitation, Rose stepped forward.

She cleared her throat, raising a hand as she whispered an incantation. A delicate blue magic circle formed in her palm, floated upward, and settled gently around her neck like a glowing necklace.

"Ahem. Can you all hear me?" she asked, her voice now amplified—booming across the Great Hall.

A few students in the front rows winced, hands darting to their ears in surprise. But by the time she spoke again, the volume had adjusted, her words perfectly balanced.

"I apologize for the sudden gathering—especially on a Sunday," she began, her tone even but solemn. "But we had no other choice."

She paused briefly, scanning the sea of faces. Her posture was composed, her expression mournful yet calm.

The perfect balance of poise and empathy.

"There has been a terribly tragedy in the town of Newhold to the east…" she relayed, causing the room to fall silent with apprehension. "An unknown phenomenon occurred, causing the dissolution of the mana spring and… significant loss of life."

The moment the announcement ended, a wave of shock rippled through the student body.

Gasps and murmurs erupted like aftershocks, bouncing around the Great Hall. At first, there was only confusion—uneasy chatter, stiffened expressions—but panic was not far behind.

"What do you mean loss of life!? My uncle lives there! Is he okay!?"

A third-year student pushed forward, eyes wide with alarm. His voice cut through the growing noise, triggering a chain reaction.

He was the first to yell—but far from the last.

Cries of disbelief, outrage, and fear began to rise in volume.

On the stage, Rose raised her hands, trying to stem the swelling tide of emotion.

"The royal family is investigating the phenomenon… but as of now, it appears that anyone within a twenty-mile radius of the mana spring has—"

She hesitated.

"—has lost their lives."

"Impossible!"

"What kind of nonsense is that!?"

A chorus of denials followed, some filled with grief, others fueled by disbelief. The crowd grew restless, voices layering over one another in mounting hysteria. Michael watched from the side, his gut twisting. The room was coming undone.

If someone doesn't step in soon…

"I'm leaving to go check on my uncle!" the same third-year shouted, spinning on his heel and storming toward the doors.

Rose's composure faltered.

"You can't leave!" she said quickly, her voice higher than before. "The castle is now under lockdown."

"Lockdown!?" someone cried out.

"We can't leave!?"

"Are we next? Is that thing going to attack us too?"

Her attempt to stop the student had only worsened the situation.

The idea of being trapped in the castle triggered panic, especially among the younger students. Dozens began to push and shove, desperate to escape the unknown. A few looked ready to bolt.

Michael braced himself, expecting the chaos to erupt—

But then—

A low hum filled the hall.

It wasn't loud, yet its weight was immense. It pressed on their chests, not as a physical force, but something far deeper—instinctual, almost spiritual.

And just like that, silence fell.

Not enforced. Not magical.

Earned.

Into that stillness stepped a figure clad in a flowing crimson robe, his fiery red beard unmistakable. He didn't walk across the floor—he walked into the air, as though climbing invisible stairs.

Every eye turned toward him, not in fear, but in reverence.

Even amid the panic, Headmaster Bartholomew's presence commanded awe.

His gaze swept the hall, pausing briefly on Rose. He offered her a small, respectful nod—an acknowledgment of her effort.

Then his focus shifted to the students.

"What Miss Lyon said is true," he announced, his voice soft, yet impossibly clear. "The castle is currently in a state of lockdown."

The crowd tensed again—until he continued.

"But do not fear. This is a precautionary measure, put in place to protect the nation's brightest minds."

His words carried no magic, yet they calmed like a spell.

"The restrictions will be lifted once the royal investigation is complete. Until then, I ask for your patience."

His eyes found the third-year who had first cried out.

"A list of the deceased will be delivered to the academy in the coming days. Please… wait for official confirmation before acting rashly."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

"And to those of you directly impacted, counseling will be made available. In the meantime, please follow your professors' instructions—and above all, remain calm."

He said it gently.

But with absolute authority.

The change was immediate. The tension in the hall began to dissipate. Even the third-year student who had shouted earlier now stood frozen, his expression unreadable.

The crowd slowly steadied, murmurs quieting into stillness.

Compared to the headmaster's calm gravitas, Rose now seemed like a child—brave, yes, but out of her depth.

And yet, Michael saw something else in her expression. Not shame.

Relief.

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