“Yes, success! It worked! But… huh? Wait, does this mean it’s going berserk…?”
“Get out of there right now!”
At the center of the laboratory stood a massive red sphere.
Even from a distance of over ten steps, the searing heat it radiated made Yuri flinch in terror.
The sphere, pulsating and undulating as if alive, was steadily expanding, growing larger with each passing moment.
“It’s going berserk, but so what? It’s a success! I wasn’t wrong! I was right all along!”
“Just get out of there already!”
Ignoring the intense heat, Yuri dashed into the laboratory, grabbing the researcher by the collar and dragging him out.
Although he was the one who had caused this disaster, he was also the only one who could identify the sphere and possibly stop it.
“You! Stop standing there in shock and do something! At this rate, the entire lab is going to melt down in flames! Tell me how to stop it!”
“Ha! Hahaha! Stop it? That’s impossible! It’s already past the critical point! The chain reaction has reached its limit; all we can do is wait for it to end!”
“What happens when the chain reaction ends!?”
“What do you think? It’ll explode.”
“…!”
That massive sphere of energy—explode?
Even now, barely stable, its heat was intense enough to melt anything it touched.
If it exploded… Yuri’s mind went blank just imagining it.
Even without the researcher’s explanation, Yuri knew by instinct.
This was beyond her ability to stop.
The only option was to evacuate as many people as possible as quickly as possible.
Once she reached that conclusion, Yuri had already grabbed the researcher by the nape and was sprinting out of the lab.
“Yuri! What’s going on?”
“Everyone! Evacuate immediately! Hurry!”
“···!?”
Emerging from the research wing, they were met by a crowd of professors and students who had rushed over after hearing the commotion.
Seeing the stunned expressions on their faces, Yuri turned to look behind her—and her eyes began to tremble.
The red sphere had pierced through the outer wall of the building and was now swallowing the entire research wing.
Uncontrollable flames roared skyward, and the research wing began to buckle and collapse.
This had to be stopped.
That thought crossed Yuri’s mind, but…
‘A barrier? No… Something tells me that using a barrier will only make things worse…’
She hesitated to form a barrier, an inexplicable sense of foreboding stopping her.
Though it was a baseless feeling, her subconscious was urging her to think carefully.
‘The sphere is still growing.
That means its energy is still increasing… But no external energy is being supplied.
So it’s growing using only its internal energy?’
Something didn’t add up.
The mana detected inside the sphere was only about as much as an average person’s mana reserve.
Even if it burned all of it, the resulting explosion shouldn’t be enough to destroy an entire building, let alone continue expanding.
‘Wait. What if it’s not burning mana…?’
If the energy wasn’t being generated by combustion, then…?
In that instant, Yuri recalled the terms “chain reaction” and “critical point” mentioned earlier.
A paper she had once read came to mind.
It described a method of generating energy not by burning mana but by physically splitting it.
The process, it claimed, caused a small amount of mass to convert into massive energy.
At the time, it had been purely theoretical and unproven through experimentation.
But if that theory was now manifesting in reality, it would explain everything.
Such an enormous release of energy from so little mana was plausible.
In fact, the current scale of energy was comparatively modest—it could easily expand to engulf the entire campus.
‘There’s no way to stop this…!’
The only solution was to evacuate everyone from the academy as far away as possible.
Any attempt to contain the explosion would involve using mana, which would only fuel the chain reaction.
The only way to stop it was to somehow eliminate the core mana all at once.
But with no way to penetrate the intense heat and reach the core, that was practically impossible.
“I’ll cast a barrier to suppress the explosion! Professors, support me!”
“Understood!”
“Ah!? No, professors! If you cast a barrier, it’ll only—”
“Stand back, student! This is not something you can handle! Evacuate at once!”
“Wait, no…!”
One of the professors deployed a massive barrier to enclose the red sphere.
Yuri desperately tried to stop them, but the professors blocked her way.
The barrier was quickly reinforced with mana from the professors, who were each as powerful as a strategic weapon.
In no time, it became the most formidable barrier ever seen, radiating unmatched strength and durability.
The sphere, which had been expanding uncontrollably, now struck against the barrier and began to falter.
Seeing this, relief washed over the professors’ sweat-drenched faces.
“Phew. It’s done.”
“Good work, everyone. We were close to losing the entire research wing.”
“Someone must have broken safety protocols again to experiment with high-tier magic. Who was it this time?”
“Professors! This is no time to relax! We need to evacuate immediately!”
“···?”
As the professors began to breathe sighs of relief, Yuri pushed through the group, her voice urgent.
The professors turned to her, bewildered.
Though Yuri was technically just a student, every professor there had relied on her assistance in their research at some point.
They all knew her skills were on par with, if not above, those of a graduate student.
“The explosion is under control now, so there’s no need to panic. We appreciate your talent, but in emergencies like this, you need to trust the professors to—”
“That’s not what I’m saying! This isn’t a normal explosion! A barrier won’t work at all!”
“What are you talking about? The barrier has already stopped the explosion—huh?”
Sensing something wrong, the professors turned to look behind them, their faces stiffening.
Inside the barrier, a sealed, oxygen-deprived space where no combustion should occur, the red sphere was far from extinguished.
Instead, it raged wildly, filling the barrier with flames, its energy growing more chaotic by the second.
“Why isn’t it going out…?”
“Because it’s not a simple explosive spell! Using a barrier is like pouring water on oil!”
“Th-then what do we do now…?”
“Start evacuating immediately! The entire academy campus—no, the entire city—could be caught in the explosion!”
“…!”
The professors, finally grasping the situation, paled.
The supposedly unbreakable barrier, built to withstand even the strongest magic, was already cracking and melting.
The sphere, absorbing mana from the barrier, was expanding faster than ever, rumbling as if it might explode at any moment.
Reassessing the sphere’s energy, the professors groaned in despair.
Yuri was right.
Even their rough estimates showed it had enough energy to obliterate the entire campus—and more.
If the barrier shattered, the resulting explosion would be catastrophic.
But strengthening the barrier to buy time?
That would only fuel the reaction further, increasing the blast radius and making evacuation even more futile.
“Ah! Issue an evacuation order for the entire city! Get everyone as far away from the Imperial Magic Academy as possible!”
A blaring alarm resounded throughout the city as chaos erupted.
Terrified citizens fled in every direction.
Standing amidst the confusion, Yuri froze, unable to move.
“I have to save them… I have to save them all…”
But there wasn’t enough time.
There were too many people to save, and the area was far too large.
It was impossible to save everyone.
Who should be saved, and who should be left behind?
The thought of holding so many lives in her hands made Yuri’s breath quicken.
If only she were stronger.
If only she had the power to stop the explosion herself.
As despair clouded her vision, a familiar voice broke through.
“You soft-hearted fool. Instead of running, you’re wasting time worrying about others.”
“A-Aslan Vermont!?”
Startled, Yuri looked up to see none other than Aslan standing before her.
What was he doing here?
“Count! You need to leave immediately! The barrier is about to—”
“I know. I’m waiting for it to break.”
“W-what!?”
Before Yuri could process his words, a sharp crack echoed through the air as the barrier splintered.
Flames surged out from the cracks, roaring furiously.
At that moment, a dark, smoke-like aura began to rise from Aslan’s body.
The ominous energy quickly spread, enveloping the raging red sphere.
The black aura completely smothered the sphere, covering it without leaving a single gap.
Then, in an instant, the dark energy dissipated, vanishing like mist.
In its place, there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
“Wh-what!?”
The red sphere, which had been moments away from engulfing the academy, was gone as if it had never existed.
Staring at the empty space where the sphere had been, Yuri’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground in shock.
