Inside the academy director's office, the soft ticking of a clock on the wall filled the silence. The room smelled faintly of ink, polished wood, and the faint bitterness of old coffee.
The director, a man in his late sixties with silver hair and a stern gaze, sat behind a heavy mahogany desk. His wrinkled hands rested on a pile of reports, but his attention was locked on the young woman standing calmly in front of him.
"Who are you?" the director asked, his voice deep and measured, though curiosity flickered in his eyes.
The young woman tilted her head slightly, strands of her long black hair catching the dim light. Her lips curled into a faint smile.
"Me? Well… allow me to introduce myself. My name is Herda Juk."
The director frowned at the name, repeating it softly as if searching his memory. "Herda? Why are you here?"
Her smile did not falter. If anything, it grew sharper, colder.
"As I said before stepping into this office…" Her voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undertone. "I'm here to put an end to this academy."
For a brief moment, the words seemed to hang unreal in the air. Then, the director leaned back in his chair and let out a booming laugh.
"What? Hahaha! You almost had me there. So, be serious now. Why are you really here? What's your reason?"
Her expression darkened. The faint amusement in her eyes evaporated, replaced by a chilling seriousness.
"Hey, old man," Herda said flatly, her tone suddenly void of warmth. "Do you think I'm joking?"
The director's laughter trailed off. He studied her silently for several seconds, his sharp eyes narrowing as if trying to pierce through her intentions.
Then he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Ah, I see. I'm wasting my time. Why did the guards allow some lunatic into my office?"
Herda's smile returned, but this time it was different—slow, deliberate, carrying a trace of menace.
"Lunatic?" she repeated softly, as if tasting the word.
The director frowned and reached for the small walkie-talkie on his desk. He pressed the button, his voice clipped and authoritative.
"Secretary, why did you bring a crazy woman into my office?"
There was a pause, only static crackling on the other end. Then the secretary's confused voice answered:
"Sir… I didn't bring anyone to your office. In fact, no one has requested to see you today."
The director froze. His brows furrowed deeply, and for the first time, a sliver of unease slipped into his stern demeanor. Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned his head back toward the woman.
Herda Juk was still standing there, smiling. But her smile was no longer charming—it was unnerving, her eyes gleaming with something unnatural.
The air in the office grew heavier, as though the walls themselves were leaning closer.
"You see now?" she said softly, her voice carrying an edge that cut through the silence. "I wasn't brought here. I came on my own."
The director's throat tightened. He placed the walkie-talkie down carefully, keeping his gaze on her. His instincts screamed that something was wrong—terribly wrong. He had dealt with Awakened, soldiers, and even the occasional rogue mercenary. But the woman in front of him radiated a presence he couldn't categorize.
"You…" he said slowly. "What exactly are you?"
Herda chuckled, tilting her head once more, her long black hair swaying like ink in water. "Didn't I already tell you? My name is Herda Juk. And I am here… to erase everything you've built."
The director's hand inched toward the emergency button hidden under his desk, but before he could press it, Herda's eyes flicked downward—just once—and the button sparked with a sudden crack. Smoke hissed from it as if it had been fried from the inside.
The director's eyes widened. "Impossible…"
Herda took a step forward, her footsteps eerily soft on the carpet. The smile she wore deepened, but her tone remained calm, almost playful.
"Old man, this academy of yours has been living on borrowed time. And you? You've been living under the illusion of safety. But reality…" She spread her arms slightly, her presence suffocating the air around them. "…is about to come crashing down."
The clock on the wall ticked louder, echoing in the silence that followed.
The director sat frozen in his chair, staring at the woman who had entered his office without permission, without being seen, without even existing on his secretary's records.
Herda Juk's smile widened, and her dark eyes shimmered with something inhuman.
The director's hands clenched against the polished surface of his desk. He had faced countless challenges in his long career, but nothing compared to the presence before him now. The woman who called herself Herda Juk radiated something unnatural, something that pressed down on the air like an invisible storm.
"You think you can defeat me?" the director finally asked, his voice steady despite the rising tension.
Herda tilted her head back and laughed, a sharp, echoing sound that seemed to vibrate against the walls. Then, her eyes shifted. Her sclera turned pitch black, her pupils burned crimson, and a suffocating wave of demonic energy exploded outward from her body. The lights in the office flickered violently, as though the electricity itself was recoiling from her presence.
"You…" the director whispered, his tone darkening. "You're a demon."
Herda's lips curved into a wicked smile. "Of course. What took you so long to notice, old man? You should be sharper than that."
The director's aura flared in response, heat rippling across the office. Sparks ignited at his fingertips as flames coiled into existence, wrapping around his arm like a serpent. His expression hardened.
"Then you leave me no choice."
Before he could move further, Herda snapped her fingers.
BOOOOM!
The entire upper floor of the academy erupted in a violent explosion. Glass shattered, flames and smoke burst outward, and a thunderous shockwave rocked the entire campus. Students and staff below screamed as debris rained from the sky.
Through the chaos, a figure shot out of the ruins—the director. His coat was torn, his face streaked with ash, but he landed with precision atop a massive iron pole that jutted out from the wreckage. In his right hand, a blazing spear of fire materialized, its flames twisting and roaring as if alive.
The crowd below gasped.
"The director…" one student cried, pointing upward. "He's fighting!"
"Against what?!" another shouted in panic.
Some began running for shelter, while others froze in awe, unable to believe what they were witnessing.
From the smoking crater of the destroyed office, a shadow emerged. Step by step, Herda walked forward, untouched by the flames or falling debris. Her expression was calm, almost amused, as though this was all a game to her.
She twirled an object between her fingers—a large, ornate clock that gleamed in the shifting light of the fire. Its ticking echoed unnaturally, louder than any normal clock should be, resonating through the air like a countdown.
"Hey, Director," Herda called out, her voice carrying across the courtyard below. She raised the clock high for all to see, her smile stretching into something terrifying. "It's time. Time for you to die."
Herda's eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "And don't worry—you won't be going alone. This academy of yours… it'll follow you into the grave."
Her words sent chills through the crowd. Gasps, screams, and whispers filled the air as the reality set in. This wasn't just an ordinary battle. A demon had infiltrated the academy, and she was threatening to bring the entire institution down with her.
The director's grip tightened around his flaming spear. His gaze sharpened. "Over my dead body."
Herda chuckled darkly. "Exactly."
The clock in her hand ticked louder, faster. The battle for the academy was about to begin.