Chapter 138: Professor Aanya Defeated?

The moonlight filtered through the ornate windows of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion's ninth floor, casting long shadows across the room.

The Masked Prince paced back and forth, his steps quick and restless. His robes swished with each movement, betraying the storm of thoughts raging within.

"Why haven't I received any word yet?" The Masked Prince's voice was sharp, tinged with impatience.

He turned abruptly to the black-robed man standing silently in the corner, his expression hidden behind his mask. "What if they fail? What if those fools can't even handle a simple task?"

The black-robed man remained calm, his posture unwavering. "My lord, there is no need to worry. Captain Hato is competent and determined. He will ensure the task is completed."

The Masked Prince scoffed, though his hands clenched into fists behind his back. "Hato is competent, yes, but those cultists are brainwashed idiots. I need results, not excuses!"

"My lord," the black-robed man said softly, his voice like a whisper in the wind, "the plan is flawless. The sacrifices, the altar, everything is in place. Victory is within our grasp."

The Masked Prince paused, his breathing uneven. "Victory," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Once the ritual is complete, the power we'll obtain… No one will be able to stop us." His voice grew more fervent, almost zealous, as he envisioned the future he craved.

The black-robed man stepped forward, his head bowed slightly.

"Indeed, my lord. The world will tremble before your might. But for now, patience is key."

The Masked Prince turned to face the window, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the distance. "Patience. Yes, patience."

He clenched his jaw, the uncertainty gnawing at him. "But if they fail…"

The black-robed man's lips curved into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "They won't fail, my lord. And if they do… well, we have contingencies in place."

The Masked Prince glanced at him, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but it quickly faded as he nodded. "You're right. This is just the beginning. Soon, the entire continent will bow to me."

"Of course, my lord," the black-robed man said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You are destined for greatness."

As the Masked Prince turned away, lost in his thoughts of power and conquest, the black-robed man's smile widened ever so slightly.

In the shadows, his eyes glowed a sinister red, but the Masked Prince, consumed by his own ambitions, did not notice.

"Yes," the black-robed man whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Destined for greatness… or something else entirely."

___

The cult leader, disguised as Captain Hato, paced the chamber with growing frustration.

His cold eyes narrowed behind the mask as he sensed the destruction of one of the core altars beneath the chamber. The sinister energy pulsing through the room flickered, and he clenched his fists in fury.

"Those pests," he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. "How dare they disrupt the ritual?"

As the last echoes of his words faded, Ruchir and his group stormed back into the chamber.

This time, they moved with heightened caution, every step deliberate, their eyes scanning the room for traps or hidden threats.

The air was thick with tension, and the oppressive atmosphere made the cult leader's anger palpable.

Captain Hato's gaze snapped toward them as they entered, his expression darkening further. "You again? You dare return after defiling the core? I'll make sure you don't leave this place alive!"

Before he could finish his tirade, Professor Aanya launched herself at him without a word, her face a mask of determination.

"Ruchir, Garret, Robert—destroy the altar! I'll handle this scum!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber.

Ruchir nodded, signaling to his companions. "Let's move! We don't have much time."

Captain Hato sneered beneath his mask. "Fools! You think you can challenge the power of the cult? Cultists, kill them! Let their blood fuel the ritual!"

At his command, dozens of brainwashed cultists surged forward, their eyes wild with fanaticism. They screamed praises to their dark gods as they charged, brandishing weapons with unhinged fervor.

Garret, no longer the hesitant and fearful member of the group, met them head-on, a newfound confidence fueling his every move. "You want a piece of me? Come and get it!" he yelled, his voice brimming with defiance.

With a swift motion, he unleashed his new technique, Stone Fist Barrage, his fists glowing with an earthen aura.

He punched the ground, sending a shockwave of jagged rocks and debris hurling towards the oncoming cultists.

The ground trembled as the rocks struck, knocking several cultists off their feet and sending them crashing into the walls.

Robert, not one to miss a chance to tease, grinned as he joined the fray. "Look at you, Garret! A new move and everything! Who knew you had it in you?"

"Save the compliments for later!" Garret shot back, his heart pounding with adrenaline. "Just don't get in my way!"

Robert chuckled, raising his hand as green energy coiled around it. "Don't worry, I've got my own tricks."

He summoned his Vine Strangle, and thick, twisting vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the cultists' limbs and dragging them down, immobilizing them with a vice-like grip.

While Garret and Robert held off the cultists, Ruchir focused on the altar, his mind working swiftly to devise a plan.

The demonic statue at the center loomed ominously, its wicked face leering down at him.

The altar's energy pulsated with dark power, a clear sign that it was still operational despite the destruction of the core below.

"We need to take down the statue," Ruchir said, his voice calm and measured. "It's the key to the altar's power. If we destroy it, we can stop this ritual for good."

He called upon his Celestial Ink Calligraphy, his brush sweeping through the air with precise strokes. Glowing symbols formed around him, each one imbued with ancient power.

With a flick of his wrist, the symbols flew towards the statue, striking it with enough force to crack its surface.

The altar shuddered, the dark energy flickering as the demonic statue's power began to wane.

Meanwhile, Professor Aanya was locked in a fierce battle with Captain Hato. The cult leader, despite his anger, fought with deadly precision, wielding his water attribute magic with terrifying skill. 

"Torrential Wave!" Captain Hato cried out, raising his hand as a massive wall of water surged from the ground, crashing down on Aanya with relentless force.

The wave twisted and churned, its sheer power overwhelming, as it threatened to engulf her completely.

Aanya barely managed to evade the brunt of the attack, but the force sent her stumbling backward. She quickly regained her footing, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Ghostly Apparition!" she called out, summoning spectral forms to shield herself from the onslaught.

The ghostly figures took the brunt of the next wave, but it was clear that Captain Hato held the upper hand.

"You can't win against me, Professor," Captain Hato sneered. "Your tricks are no match for the power of the cult!"

Aanya gritted her teeth, sweat dripping down her brow as she struggled to hold her ground.

The cult leader's relentless water magic was proving difficult to counter, and with every passing moment, the situation grew more dire.

The chamber echoed with the sounds of battle, the clash of magic and the cries of cultists creating a cacophony of chaos.

Despite her best efforts, Aanya found herself being pushed back further and further, the water surging towards her like a relentless tide.

Captain Hato's eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as he pressed his advantage, his attacks growing more intense and focused.

The situation looked grim for her, the tide of battle seemingly turning in favor of the cult leader. But Ruchir, Garret, and Robert were determined not to let their professor fall.

The altar was weakening, but time was running out.

They had to act quickly if they were to turn the tide and save Professor Aanya from her impending defeat.

___

The moonlight filtered through the ornate windows of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion's ninth floor, casting long shadows across the room. The Masked Prince paced back and forth, his steps quick and restless. His robes swished with each movement, betraying the storm of thoughts raging within.

"Why haven't I received any word yet?" The Masked Prince's voice was sharp, tinged with impatience.

He turned abruptly to the black-robed man standing silently in the corner, his expression hidden behind his mask. "What if they fail? What if those fools can't even handle a simple task?"

The black-robed man remained calm, his posture unwavering. "My lord, there is no need to worry. Captain Hato is competent and determined. He will ensure the task is completed."

The Masked Prince scoffed, though his hands clenched into fists behind his back. "Hato is competent, yes, but those cultists are brainwashed idiots. I need results, not excuses!"

"My lord," the black-robed man said softly, his voice like a whisper in the wind, "the plan is flawless. The sacrifices, the altar, everything is in place. Victory is within our grasp."

The Masked Prince paused, his breathing uneven. "Victory," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Once the ritual is complete, the power we'll obtain… No one will be able to stop us." His voice grew more fervent, almost zealous, as he envisioned the future he craved.

The black-robed man stepped forward, his head bowed slightly. "Indeed, my lord. The world will tremble before your might. But for now, patience is key."

The Masked Prince turned to face the window, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the distance. "Patience. Yes, patience." He clenched his jaw, the uncertainty gnawing at him. "But if they fail…"

The black-robed man's lips curved into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. "They won't fail, my lord. And if they do… well, we have contingencies in place."

The Masked Prince glanced at him, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but it quickly faded as he nodded. "You're right. This is just the beginning. Soon, the entire continent will bow to me."

"Of course, my lord," the black-robed man said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You are destined for greatness."

As the Masked Prince turned away, lost in his thoughts of power and conquest, the black-robed man's smile widened ever so slightly.

In the shadows, his eyes glowed a sinister red, but the Masked Prince, consumed by his own ambitions, did not notice.

"Yes," the black-robed man whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Destined for greatness… or something else entirely."

___

The chaotic clash of steel and the crackle of energy reverberated throughout the chamber as the battle raged on. Cultists fought with fanatical fervor, their zeal unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds.

Captain Hato's mocking laughter echoed off the chamber walls, a sinister melody that pierced through the sounds of combat.

Amidst this chaos, Professor Aanya fell to the ground, her body limp and motionless. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her eyes fluttered closed.

The once unyielding and determined professor now lay defeated, her energy spent, and her strength drained by the relentless onslaught of Captain Hato's water magic.

"Professor Aanya!" Ruchir's voice cut through the din, filled with shock and despair. He watched in horror as the woman who had guided and protected them throughout their journey now lay defeated before the cult leader. His heart clenched with anger and sorrow.

Captain Hato sneered, his eyes glinting with malice as he looked down at Aanya's prone form. "Is this the best the so-called 'renowned' professor of the Thousand Leaves Academy can do? Pathetic!"

"You should have stayed in your little school, teaching those brats how to write. Now look at you, lying in the dirt like the worthless piece of trash you are."

Ruchir's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white with the force of his grip.

His body trembled with barely restrained fury. "How dare you!" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll pay for this."

Garret, who had been battling nearby, also felt the surge of anger.

His usual lighthearted demeanor was replaced by a fierce determination.

"You're gonna regret messing with us!" he shouted, his voice filled with anger and defiance. But even as he spoke, his attention was divided, battling cultists who continued to press their attack.

Robert's gaze flicked between the ongoing battle and their fallen professor.

His usual teasing tone was absent, replaced by a grim resolve.

"We have to take him down, Ruchir," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil around them. "But we can't lose focus. If we do, we're all dead."

As Ruchir and the others struggled to hold their ground against the cultists, Professor Aanya drifted into unconsciousness. The world around her faded away, replaced by the distant echoes of a memory—a memory from a time long past, when she was just a child.