Typhon stood at the front of the group, his towering form framed by the looming, castle-like structure that was the Atheron Academy. The massive doors stretched upward like a wall meant to keep the world itself at bay, their surface etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with protective magic.

Draco crossed his arms, tilting his head up toward the seal. “Can you do it?” he asked plainly, not really asking at all. 

After all, he knew Typhon was fully capable of destroying this door, magically sealed or not.

“…Can… kill,” Typhon rasped, his voice broken, as though speaking itself caused him pain.

Eirene blinked, then burst into giggles. “You can’t exactly kill a door, but good luck, big brother!” she cheered, throwing her arms into the air.

Typhon chuckled under his breath and stepped forward. He placed his right fist against the door, feeling the resistance of the enchantment, then pulled back and slammed it forward.

BOOM.

The impact sent a tremor through the gate, but the magic held. He frowned slightly, lifting his left arm. This time, he struck harder.

CRACK.

The runes flickered, and hairline fractures spiderwebbed through the shimmering barrier. Typhon’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile beneath his hood.

“…One… more… time.”

He lifted both arms, muscles tensing, then brought both fists down in a devastating blow.

SHATTER.

The enchantment exploded outward in a shower of blue light, the doors swinging open violently. The force of the strike sent Typhon’s hood flying back, revealing the grotesque and awe-inspiring tapestry of his face.

One side was framed by a wild mane of lion-brown hair; the other was covered in coarse white fur, crowned by a single, wickedly curved horn. His eyes—one silver, one gold—gleamed unnaturally as two different animalistic ears twitched in response to the settling dust.

From beneath his cloak, a long, muscular snake tail uncoiled, its scales scraping against the stone with a dry rasp.

Typhon turned back toward Draco and Eirene, his expression uncertain. “I… did… good?”

Eirene clapped enthusiastically. “Yeah! You totally—”

A sudden flash of light erupted behind Typhon.

“Watch out!” Eirene screamed.

But it was too late.

A bright blue beam of magic slammed into Typhon’s back, launching him forward several feet. He skidded across the stone, boots digging in, but he didn’t fall. He straightened, looking more surprised than hurt by the sudden attack.

As the dust cleared, three figures stood beyond the destroyed entryway.

Professor Thorne stood at the front, his normally stoic expression twisted into fury. Behind him, Professor Vexley held her wand with shaking hands, while Professor Briar stared at the ground, her face distant and unreadable.

“You will not enter this sanctuary of learning, intruders!” Thorne shouted. “Not while we stand against you!”

Eirene burst into laughter and dove behind Draco, covering her ear fins with her hands. 

“You guys made a big mistake attacking big brother Typhon!” she called out, sounding almost delighted that this wasn’t her problem.

Vexley’s eyes widened as Typhon turned fully towards them, his monstrous form illuminated by the blazing sunlight beaming down on him.

“…What… is that being?” she whispered.

Her hands trembled as she stared, horror overtaking her expression.

“He has the build of a lion beastman—but his tail… that’s a live snake!” she stammered. “And one of his ears is like a goat beastman’s! And that horn—!”

She staggered backward, nearly tripping over herself.

“He’s… he’s an amalgamation! Multiple beastman traits fused into one body! Just what is this abomination?!”

Typhon dropped to all fours, his mismatched eyes glowing as a faint aura surrounded his body.

“Cast a shield!” Thorne barked. “Now!”

Briar and Vexley snapped into motion, muttering incantations as Thorne raised his own wand. A shimmering barrier formed just as Typhon arched his back and unleashed a thunderous, lion-like roar.

The sound itself became a weapon. Visible shockwaves slammed into the barrier, warping it like glass under pressure.

Briar looked up, eyes wide. “It’s… not holding!”

Cracks began to spread.

Vexley’s breath hitched as tears streamed down her face. “What do we do?! We can’t hold on much longer!”

Even Thorne felt a flicker of concern—but then something else caught his attention: a blur of white light that streaked across the sky from the direction of the lake.

The light dispersed, revealing several robed figures descending gracefully onto the grounds.

‘Are they… from the Theocracy of Thalvaris?’ Thorne thought in stunned confusion. ‘How did they know we needed help?’

Draco and Eirene stared, just as confused.

Typhon froze mid-roar as one of the priests stepped forward—a teenage boy with dark skin, bleach-blonde dreadlocks woven with golden beads and threads. He raised his left hand, his warm green eyes glowing with divine light.

Typhon’s body locked in place. His aura vanished. His muscles seized.

Draco and Eirene moved instantly to attack, but the boy simply closed his eyes and clasped his hands together in prayer.

“Lord Thalvaris,” he invoked, his voice layered with something far older and more powerful than himself, “these sinners must repent for their transgressions. Submit yourselves to His light and beg forgiveness.”

An invisible force slammed Draco and Eirene to the ground, their faces forced into the dirt.

“Ghh—!” Draco growled, struggling. Eirene tried to move, but her limbs refused to obey. She whimpered due to the overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

The boy opened his eyes and turned toward the professors as their shield dissolved.

“Hello, Professors of the Atheron Academy,” he said, his voice fully his own now. “I’m relieved we arrived before events escalated beyond the point of no return.”

Vexley stared at him, her knees wobbling. The adrenaline keeping her upright finally gave out, and she collapsed backward, unconscious, her wand clattering against the stone.

Briar moved, though she didn’t rush. She simply stepped forward with slow, unhurried motions, kneeling beside Vexley. 

Her expression remained distant, eyes half-lidded as always, as she gently lifted Vexley’s head and rested it against her lap. One hand brushed aside Vexley’s hair; the other checked her pulse with practiced ease.

She stayed there, silent, steady, as if this were all just another quiet moment in her day.

Thorne spared them only a brief glance before turning his attention back to the priests, his expression unreadable—but his mind was already racing through the consequences of what had just crossed their gates.

To be continued…