Chapter 109:

Yuna was used to the constant churning of elemental energy within her body, so maintaining her water shields didn't tire her out the way it might others. But the real problem wasn't her.

It was her Heart Class.

They lacked endurance.

Accustomed to quick, high-intensity bursts of power, they weren't built for prolonged fights. The endless wave of monsters continued pressing forward, their piercing, maddening wails echoing across the battlefield. The sounds threatened to erode everyone's clarity, dragging them toward the brink of madness.

Celeste, the team's sound-user, worked hard to counter the auditory assault, but even she was beginning to falter. Meanwhile, Theo's mutated mana-control—once so precise in tracking airborne monsters—started slipping too.

A frown etched itself on Yuna's face. Damn it. She was definitely going to propose an endurance training schedule after this.

They'd been pushing forward for fifteen straight minutes, but progress was painfully slow. The prolonged engagement was wearing on everyone—especially Yuna, whose heightened senses were constantly active. Though Celeste's ability neutralized the delusional effect of the monsters' wailing, the sheer volume still rang loud and grating in Yuna's ears, increasing her irritation by the second.

If only there was a way to control the sound instead of just neutralizing it…

Her eyes widened as the thought struck. Turning quickly to Celeste, Yuna called out, "Celeste! Instead of just neutralizing the sound, can you counter-control the wailing?"

She continued, her voice rising with inspiration, "Sound is sound—it doesn't matter whether you create it or it comes from somewhere else!"

Normally, Yuna avoided sharing her half-baked theories—especially after Theo's near-death experience from following one of them. But now, she didn't care. This wasn't the time for hesitation.

Celeste's eyes lit up. "OH MY GOD! Why didn't I think of that?? Yuna, I LOVE YOU!"

Reinvigorated, Celeste shouted, "Guys! I'm trying a new approach. There's going to be a lapse in sound neutralization—brace yourselves and cover me!"

"What do you mean cover you?! We can barely hold our ground!" someone protested.

Still, her classmates instinctively moved to surround Celeste, despite the grumbling. But before they could fully form a shield, a water dome enveloped Celeste entirely. Then came Yuna's firm voice:

"No need. I'll cover her. Just hold your ground."

"Okay, okay! Mom's backing Celeste. We've got this!"

"Class Rep's water barrier is amazing!"

Yuna gave her classmates a sidelong glance. Despite the dire situation, some of them were still cracking jokes, even laughing while swinging their weapons with wild abandon. Others didn't even bother dodging incoming strikes, trusting that her barrier would protect them.

Yuna honestly didn't know where their faith in her kasa water barrier came from.

And yet—just as one student braced for a monster's claws, an umbrella-shaped water shield unfurled above him, deflecting the blow effortlessly. The student's eyes gleamed in awe.

Yuna wasn't aware, but these monsters—though physically weaker than the academy's training puppets—had lethal claw strikes. Their durability might be low, but their offensive output was nearly on par with academy standards. Even the Heart Class had trouble defending themselves once the claws got too close.

But Yuna's water barriers didn't just hold; they negated the killing force, turning what should've been fatal strikes into nothing more than harmless slaps of water.

Her classmates stared in disbelief.

They hadn't known their class rep had such a powerful water ability. They still remembered her wind demonstration—the one that earned her a negative score.

But this? This water technique was easily worth a perfect 100.

Why hadn't she used it back then? Why didn't she like fighting or showing off her skills?

No one asked. It didn't matter.

As long as Yuna cared for them, as long as she continued acting like their guide—Dependable, and kind—that was enough for the Heart Class.

They didn't need a warrior.

They just needed her.

Yuna didn't know it, but to them, she was more than a classmate or a guide.

She was a steady, calming presence. Their representative.

Their "mom," as they often joked.

And that alone made them feel like they could face anything.

….

The teacher watching the projection followed the movement of Yuna's water ability with sharp, focused eyes, tracking every shift as it rippled across the domain.

The casually dressed instructor narrowed his gaze and pointed at the screen. "Confirmed. There's a Law pulsing in her water ability. Still faint, but it's already there." His voice carried the weight of certainty—this wasn't just a trace or the beginning stages. The Law was present.

"Isn't she only thirteen?" asked another teacher, this one dressed immaculately in a suit that screamed elegance and attention to detail. His tone held a hint of disbelief.

"She is," Veyne replied flatly.

The sharply dressed teacher let out a soft sigh, almost regretful. "Such talent… she should be in the Diamond Class."

"Tch. As if every talented student has to end up in your class," came the sneer from the Spade Class homeroom teacher, who stood across from him, arms crossed and unimpressed.

"If not there, then where?" the Diamond teacher shot back.

"Anywhere but your so-called elegant class."

"At least my class isn't full of meatheaded brawlers."

"Say that again!" The Spade teacher, never one to back down, slammed her claymore into the floor with a resonating clang. A flicker of mana pulsed around her.

"Brute," the Diamond teacher said coolly, mana beginning to stir at his fingertips.

The tension spiked, magic humming in the air as both teachers prepared to escalate.

But before either could make a move, a sudden clapping broke the moment.

"Hey, hey, hey… no fighting," came a light, singsong voice. "The orb determines their cards. We don't get a say in it, remember? Now hush—don't interrupt my show."

The voice was youthful, almost childlike.

Principal Lillith Noir stepped into view, clapping her hands with a cheerful grin. Her appearance was jarringly out of place: petite, bright-eyed, and dressed like a thirteen-year-old girl in a frilly academy uniform—more like a student than the head of one of the most elite institutions in the realm.

And yet, the moment she spoke, both teachers froze.

Because appearances meant nothing when it came to Lillith Noir.

Despite her cutesy looks, the Principal of Evigheden Academy, Lillith Noir—a name that carried weight and fear. Her power was overwhelming, her authority absolute. Behind that smiling, youthful facade was a force no one in their right mind dared to cross.

.