Samuel finally moved.
"Enough."
The single word cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Everyone," he roared, "RETREAT. Come behind me!"
Relief hit the students like water to the dying.
"Yes!"
"We're saved!"
"Sir Samuel—"
They staggered back, dragging the wounded, as Samuel stepped forward at last.
A golem lunged, its arms glowing. Samuel's sword carved through it in one stroke. Another swung a hammer—he sidestepped and severed its runic core with surgical precision. He fought like a god among mortals, his calm footwork and devastating strikes reducing the monsters to rubble with minimal effort.
The students realized, with gut-wrenching shame, that he could have ended this long ago.
When the last wave faltered, Samuel pulled a crimson stone from his belt. It pulsed like a living heart, glowing in his palm.
"Everyone," he barked, "link hands. One of you hold me. Now."
They scrambled, bloodied and terrified, grabbing whoever was closest.
