Inside the dimly lit preparation room, Miss Karrie was pacing back and forth, holding a glowing communication stone tightly against her ear. The magical runes on the stone flickered as she listened to a frantic update from the arena staff.
Sensing my presence, she lowered the stone and looked at me, her eyes sweeping over my perfectly clean uniform with a look of immense relief.
"Ah, Zenni! Good, you're cleaned up, look, we have a bit of a delay. Yellow Volcano is apparently running late returning to the staging area. Since there's some time, why don't you practice a few basic blood manipulation spells while you're waiting here? You'll need your mana fully warmed up."
"Right, thanks, Miss Karrie," I replied, Zenni's lazy smirk firmly in place.
While she turned her back to check on some medical salves, I walked over to the heavy wooden door and peered through a small spyhole that offered a direct line of sight toward the distant VIP balcony. I scanned the plush velvet seats, but the two figures I was tracking were completely missing. There were only high-ranking academy staff and a few minor district nobles murmuring amongst themselves. Neither my older sister, Principal Elicia, nor the Archivist were present.
"Just as I thought, Elicia must be in the high-security block right now, ruthlessly interrogating Sticky Sperm with the Archivist breathing down her neck."
Curiosity flared deep within my hunter instincts. If the Archivist was pressing the third-year about the bridge massacre, I needed to know exactly how much the Council knew, and how well my accidental scapegoat was holding up. I couldn't afford any loose ends.
I turned away from the spyhole, adopting a perfectly innocent, slightly sheepish expression as I looked back at the school nurse.
"Hey, Miss Karrie? Since there's still some time before the match, do you mind if I step out for a quick minute?"
Miss Karrie looked up from her bandages, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh? And where are you off to right before a grand finale?"
"Just the bathroom, nerves, you know? All that cinnamon toast from lunch is catching up to me." I lied smoothly, rubbing the back of my neck like an embarrassed teenager.
Miss Karrie let out a soft, amused chuckle and waved her hand dismissively.
"Alright, alright, go ahead. Just don't take too long. If Yellow Volcano shows up and you're not in the ring, the announcer will forfeit you."
"Got it. I'll be quick," I said, slipping out of the preparation room.
The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, the lazy freshman persona vanished. I didn't head anywhere near the student restrooms. Instead, I tucked myself into the deepest shadows of the corridor, snapping my black umbrella open to shroud my silhouette from any passing security runes.
Utilizing a fraction of my agility, I became a literal ghost in the hallways. I bypassed the crowded staircases, scaled the outer stone pillars of the facility, and glided soundlessly across the rooftops toward the administration building. Within a minute, I was crouched right outside the heavy, enchanted double doors of the Principal's private office.
Pressing my ear flat against the cold stone wall just beneath the detection barrier, I filtered out the ambient noise of the academy and focused my enhanced senses, eavesdropping intently on the tense, muffled conversation happening inside.
Through the heavy, enchanted wood of the door, Sticky Sperm's voice bled out into the quiet hallway, completely stripped of its usual arrogance. He sounded utterly terrified, his words tumbling out in a desperate, sniveling heap.
"I didn't do it! I swear on my life, your Excellency, I wasn't at the bridge! That night, I didn't even leave my room! I was... I was just sitting at my desk, trying to figure out how to officially change my legal name! I wanted to change it to Sticky Slime, but my freshman registration professor misheard me during orientation and wrote down Sperm! I've been traumatized by it for three years! I didn't go outside, I was in my dorm preparing for today's tournament!"
A heavy, resounding thud echoed through the door...the Archivist slamming his fist onto Elicia's oak desk.
"Liar! You are Oksana's apprentice! My undercover spies saw you lurking near the Emerald Spire. A faction of notorious bandits gathered right beside you, and you led them straight into the drug empire yourself. You are clearly working with them! My men planted a localized mana bomb inside your carriage to eliminate you, and the explosion happened exactly at the bridge leading to the student dorms. The investigation knights spotted several jagged cuts from a dense, unknown blade on my men's corpses...the exact same substance you used to mold your sword in the arena earlier! Your swordsmanship is no joke, and it matches the profile the knights identified!"
"N-No! That's just a coincidence! I'm just a normal student!" Sperm shrieked, his voice muffled by what sounded like uncontrollable sobbing.
Then, my sister's cold, commanding voice cut through the blubbering.
"Tell the truth, third-year, this is a severe, treasonous offense against the Grand Council. The academy cannot protect you from this. If you do not admit to your crimes right now, you will be handed over to the Council's black-site inquisition and executed."
"But I didn't do it!!"
"Then explain this," the Archivist sneered. I heard the sharp, crisp rustle of thick paper being tossed across the desk.
"These are official forensic documents, enchanted with high-tier photo magic from the crime scene. Look at the precise angle of these lacerations. Look at the depth of the cuts."
Crouched in the shadows outside, my eyes narrowed behind the cover of my umbrella.
The Archivist continued, his voice vibrating with absolute certainty.
"And look at this final image captured by the bridge's latent mana-residual mirror. A silhouetted figure of a student, escaping the blast, jumping clean over the bridge railing, and swimming directly upstream toward the dorm sector. It perfectly matches your build, your uniform, and your escape route. It is clearly you.
A cold sweat nearly broke out on my neck, but I forced my breathing to remain perfectly still.
"The photo magic caught my escape." I thought
Even though the silhouette was dark and the Archivist's confirmation bias was forcing him to see Sticky Sperm in the picture, it was actually a snapshot of me diving into the river after I slaughtered his elite squad. The evidence was dangerously close to home. If they analyzed that photo with a high-level light-refraction spell, they would realize the physical proportions didn't match Sperm's slouched frame at all...they matched mine.
Inside the room, Sperm let out a horrified, breathless gasp as he stared at the magical photographs, completely realizing that the Council had built an ironclad, inescapable frame around him using his own stupid magic affinity as the anchor. He was completely cornered by a crime he didn't commit, and the real Crimson Phantom was standing just a few inches away on the other side of the door, listening to every single word.
Inside the office, the Archivist's patience completely shattered.
"You've done enough lying, third-year! You will be thrown into the deepest dungeon of the Council and tortured until I hear the only answer I care to receive from you!"
"Stop! Please! I'm innocent! I swear to God I'm innocent!" Sperm shrieked, his voice reaching a pathetic, high-pitched crescendo.
"BANG!"
The heavy double doors of the principal's office were violently kicked open from the inside. Reacting with the split-second instincts of an bounty hunter, I instantly dissolved into the deep shadows of the corridor, pulling my black umbrella tight against my body to completely mask my thermal and mana signature. I melded perfectly into the darkness of a recessed alcove just a few feet away.
Two hulking, armored Council guards marched out of the room, dragging a sobbing, hyperventilating Sticky Sperm between them. The senior was a total mess...tears and snot streaming down his face, his body covered in patches of nervous, dripping white slime.
One of the guards didn't hesitate. With a brutal flick of his wrist, he slammed a pair of heavy, rusted "Magic Damping Chains" onto Sperm's wrists. The moment the enchanted iron clicked shut, the glowing mana circuits in Sperm's body instantly went dark. His ability to produce slime was completely severed, leaving him entirely powerless and human.
"Please, Principal Elicia! Save me! Don't let them take me! I didn't kill anyone! I just wanted to change my name to Sticky Sli..." Sperm begged, his boots scraping helplessly against the stone floor as the guards ruthlessly dragged him down the hallway past my hiding spot.
A guard ruthlessly elbowed him in the ribs, silencing his cries into a pathetic wheeze.
I watched from the shadows, my eyes fixed on the weeping senior as he was dragged toward the back exit of the administration building, destined for a black-site torture chamber. A cold, unyielding smirk played on my lips. It was a brutal fate, but in the underworld, threatening my girls carried a steep price. He wanted to play the villain, now he was going to die as one.
The hallway grew quiet again as the guards' heavy footsteps faded away. I slipped out of the alcove, snapping my umbrella back into a casual stance. The Archivist's absolute certainty had bought me the ultimate cover. Now, there was only one thing left to do.
I checked the time. The afternoon program was about to start, and I had a date with a certain fourth-year magma mage. I turned on my heel and began sprinting back toward the coliseum, ready to step into the light as the innocent freshman prodigy.