The ruins of the Royal Magic Academy were still smoking. The ash, the rubble, the collapsed tower that bent at a comedic forty-five-degree angle—it all should have been a solemn sight, a place where scholars mourned the death of knowledge.
Instead, it was a battleground of whispers.
"The sister called him husband."
"She's smiling while entire armies faint!"
"The other brides are sharpening their weapons."
"Place your bets! Final Boss Sister versus Six Brides!"
Merchants were already setting up betting stalls outside the ruins. Demons handed out roasted peanuts. A group of nobles huddled together drafting a Declaration of Sibling Romance Legality just in case history decided this was normal.
[System Alert: Cultural Collapse Achieved.]
[Forget Civilization. Welcome To A Reality Show.]
And at the center of it all, Rei was not rallying troops, nor trying to negotiate. He was inside a broom closet.
