Chapter 7 The Aftermath

POV: Angela Ashford

The silence that followed the explosion was deafening.

As the echoes of Lucas's outburst reverberated through the room, I remained still. My movements had been calculated, my response deliberate, but even I couldn't deny the weight of what had just transpired. The room, once full of hope and potential, was now a testament to devastation—a charred ruin that would be remembered in the minds of everyone who had witnessed it.

The magical barrier that I had crafted stood resilient, a shield that had protected me from the worst of the blast, but it did little to shield those who had been too close to the explosion. The once vibrant, lively students who had stood by, their faces filled with uncertainty and fear, were now reduced to nothing more than the hollow remnants of the blast. Some were still writhing in pain, their bodies scorched, their screams punctuating the grim atmosphere. Others lay still, their life force extinguished by the sheer force of the attack.

I could feel the heat of the destruction, the lingering magic that still crackled in the air, a constant reminder of the recklessness that had just unfolded. My gaze fell upon Lucas. He stood frozen, his body trembling from the aftershocks of the explosion, his eyes vacant, as if unable to comprehend what he had just unleashed.

The room was suffocating, the acrid stench of burned wood and singed flesh mingling with the oppressive silence. The weight of guilt and loss pressed down on everyone trapped within the confines of this broken room. Those who survived were barely holding on, fighting to stay conscious, their breaths shallow and ragged, their movements slow and disoriented. I could see the fear etched into their faces—the dawning realization that they were caged in this ruin with no way out, no salvation in sight. The aftermath of Lucas's fury had turned their world into a living nightmare.

And yet, I felt nothing but satisfaction.

The people who mocked me, framed me, and cast me as the villainess—they had brought this upon themselves. I had done nothing to them, never stooped to their level. Most of the time, I ignored their petty insults and cruel schemes, for they were nothing but a waste of my time, insignificant gnats buzzing around a fire far greater than they could comprehend. They thought themselves righteous, justified in their malice, reveling in the joy of tearing me down. But now? Now they lay broken, powerless, their hollow arrogance reduced to ashes.

This wasn't vengeance, it was justice.

I allowed my gaze to sweep across the room, the smoldering remains of what once was a gathering of vibrant youth now reduced to a tableau of suffering and despair. Those who had whispered behind my back, who had thrown stones at me while hiding their own sins—they had reaped what they sowed. The hypocrisy of their righteousness disgusted me. They saw me as the villain, the wicked force they had to unite against, but it was their own actions, their own hatred, that had led them here. I was merely the mirror, reflecting their ugliness back at them.

My eyes fell on Rudolf Goldstein, the crown prince, and Lucy Windmere, crumpled in the corner of the ruined hall. Their unconscious forms bore the marks of my handiwork. Rudolf's limbs were twisted and broken—a reminder of my fury, of the punishment I had dealt. Lucy's legs were severed, her blood pooling beneath her, a macabre testament to the price of crossing me.

Yet, they were still alive.

It was not luck, nor mercy, that had spared them. It was my will.

Before the explosion consumed the room, I had moved them to a place where the force of the blast could not reach. With meticulous precision, I had cast a protective barrier around them, a shimmering dome of magic to shield their fragile bodies from the chaos I had unleashed.

Their suffering was far from over.

I stepped closer to Lucy Windmere, her frail body teetering on the edge of death. Blood continued to seep from the wounds where her legs had once been, a direct consequence of my actions. The signs of severe blood loss were evident—her shallow breaths, pallid complexion, and the faint tremors that wracked her form.

The healers had done what they could, their magic slowing the bleeding and stabilizing her condition to some degree. But it was not enough. Their efforts had only delayed the inevitable, leaving her clinging to life by a thread.

I turned my gaze to the healers themselves, slumped nearby, their bodies bruised and battered. The aftermath of the explosion had not spared them. They were unconscious but alive, their drained magic and injuries a testament to the toll this ordeal had taken.

Their survival, like Lucy's, hung precariously in the balance. Yet I felt no pity, no remorse. This was merely the natural consequence of their actions—the price they paid for their part in this twisted narrative.

I stepped closer to Lucy Windmere, her fragile form trembling as life barely clung to her. Her legs—once a source of grace and false Innocent—were gone, the remnants mangled and destroyed by both my actions and the explosion's unforgiving force.

With a calculated breath, I knelt beside her. Channeling healing magic through my hands, I worked to seal the wounds, closing the severed stumps of her legs. The torn flesh knit itself back together, the bleeding halted, and the worst of the pain subsided. Yet there was no undoing what had been done—her legs, obliterated by the blast, could never be reattached.

Lucy Windmere would live, but she would live changed, her body a permanent reflection of the consequences of her arrogance and manipulation. No amount of healing magic could restore what was lost—not her legs, nor the illusion of invincibility she had carried. Her once-pristine image, carefully cultivated through lies and deceit, was shattered like glass, and all that remained was the harsh reality of her downfall.

I stood over her, the irony not lost on me. This woman, who had spent so long weaving webs of deception and false promises, now lay at my mercy. Her suffering would not end here—this was only the beginning. The physical pain would heal in time, but the scars of humiliation, the loss of her power, and the irreversible change to her life would haunt her far longer. She would carry these marks as a reminder that every action has its cost.

I let my gaze linger on her crumpled form for a moment longer before shifting it to Rudolf Goldstein—my former fiancé. His once-proud demeanor, the arrogance that had defined him as the crown prince, was now stripped away. He lay crumpled on the floor, his limbs twisted unnaturally from my doing. 

Then my attention turned to the bodies of his entourage. The noblemen who had once stood by his side, confidants and loyal subjects, now lay in grotesque disarray. Their bodies were no longer recognizable. The explosion had burned and twisted their features beyond recognition, and the magic that Lucas had unleashed had left their forms mutilated and unrecognizable. They had followed him blindly, and now they paid the ultimate price for their loyalty their brutal, meaningless death.

And then there was Lucas Eldryn. He lay curled in a fetal position, wracked with pain and guilt, his body trembling as if the weight of his actions could crush him. He was the last one standing from the crown prince's entourage, but the devastation he had wrought—the lives lost, the destruction—seemed to have shattered him beyond repair. I couldn't help but wonder, as I looked at him, whether he had ever loved Lucy like the others. But it was a question left unanswered, for I had no time to ask.

With a sigh, I released a faint pulse of magic, directing it toward the artifact I had created to seal the room. This artifact, a powerful creation of my own design, had been the key to maintaining the barrier that had trapped us inside. As my magic flowed into it, I deactivated the enchantment, watching as the shimmering barrier slowly faded, its oppressive presence dissipating into nothingness.

Now that the barrier was gone, the Professor and Headmaster could finally enter. Despite their efforts, they had been powerless to breach it. The barrier was far beyond their abilities—too complex, too formidable for them to dismantle. Their attempts to intervene had been futile, leaving them helpless as events unfolded unchecked within the room.

This was also the reason they hadn't arrived sooner to help the students and servants. Trapped outside, they had been unable to stop the chaos in time, their powerlessness leaving a trail of destruction behind them.

The professors and headmasters of previous generations had been far stronger than those in charge now. Their predecessors had wielded more influence and power, capable of stepping in when necessary to prevent such carnage. But the new system implemented by the school had dulled their strength, weakening them to the point where they could no longer perform their duties effectively. Now, they would have to face the consequences of their failure—of allowing death and destruction to unfold unchecked under their watch.

With that, I activated [Body Augmentation] 60%, feeling the surge of power course through me. My body thrummed with raw strength, magic pulsing through my muscles, bones, and veins, amplifying every physical attribute. My senses sharpened, my movements became faster and more precise, and an overwhelming vitality surged within me, as though I had tapped into an entirely new reservoir of power.

Drawing on the teachings of my older brother, I focused my mind, channeling the kinetic energy of the surrounding space. With practiced ease, I manipulated the force around me, molding it into a protective barrier. This barrier didn't just shield me—it was designed to absorb and contain any excess force, leaving no trace of energy to spill out. Every movement I made, every step I took, was contained within this controlled space, ensuring that my empowered body would not cause unwanted destruction. The energy flowed through me like a controlled storm, ready to unleash when necessary, but tightly reined in to prevent any chaotic outbursts.

I pushed forward, feeling the ground beneath my feet tremble as I burst through the crumbling walls of the room, leaving behind the wreckage and devastation. The air crackled with the residual force of my departure, but the barrier I had woven ensured that nothing escaped my control.

I ran deeper into the forest, the trees parting like an ocean before me. The world around me seemed to slow, my enhanced senses drinking in every detail—the sharp scent of pine, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds—all amplified, sharp as a knife's edge. My body moved with fluid grace, each step a testament to the power coursing through me.

As I ventured further, the forest began to swallow the sounds of the world, and I found myself alone with my thoughts, the chaos of the previous moments fading into the distance. The power inside me was intoxicating, but it also carried the weight of the decisions I had made. Every action, every choice, had led me here—and I knew this was just the beginning of the path I would walk. A path where nothing would be the same.