Whoosh!
A gust of wind seemed to sweep through the room.
In that gust, the five figures blocking the entrance fell into pools of blood. Garcia, their leader, was pinned to the wall by the Upper Evil Spirit's right hand, which had plunged straight into his chest.
What happened?
Morrison, the second-year student, and the five people around them stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with horror.
Their eyes could not follow what had happened.
They had only seen the result.
And that result was hard for them to accept.
But none of them found it harder to accept than Garcia, who was pinned to the wall.
"Cough, cough!"
Blood spilled from Garcia's mouth as he coughed.
The fourth-year student stared in disbelief at the cold-faced "Pale Reno" before him!
The Dark Faction was certainly powerful.
One could even say that a school's Inner Faction was where its true secret arts were passed down. But how could the Hill School, a school that had always relied on kitchen utensils and secret medicines, be this strong?
By his reckoning, the Hill Inner Faction, which shared the same lineage, should have used more powerful or unusual kitchen utensils and secret medicines.
That was why he had brought five elites whose abilities ranked just below those of professors.
He had thought that would make his plan foolproof.
But reality had slapped him hard across the face.
It hurt even more than the slaps "Pale Reno" had dealt to the Hill School's peripheral members earlier.
The five assistants he had placed such high hopes in, painstakingly trained by the professor backing him, had died just like that.
Beneath the other party's hands, they had been sliced apart like tofu, without the slightest chance to fight back!
Garcia simply could not accept such an outcome.
But