Academy's Pervert in the D Class

A blinding pink glow erupted, filling the chamber like a newborn star, raw and searing.

The air crackled with power, ozone sharp in Silvia's nostrils, the lattice vibrating against her back as the force rippled through the room.

Lira stepped forward, placing herself between the soldiers and her daughter like a shield forged of will and blood.

Her face was resolute, etched with a fierce beauty, even as tears carved glistening tracks down her cheeks.

Power radiated from her in waves, pink light bursting from her body like flame given form, tendrils of it lashing out to fill every corner, scorching tapestries and making candles gutter wildly.

The soldiers reeled back, staggering against the onslaught, their shields buckling under the invisible force.

The High Mage shielded his face with a snarl, his cloak whipping in the sudden wind of her magic.

"A witch!" he spat, his voice laced with vindictive glee.

"Yes." Lira's voice broke like thunder, carrying the weight of sacrifice, deep and unyielding, echoing off the stone walls.

She pressed Kiara into the arms of a stunned servant, her hands lingering on the child's tear-streaked face, thumbs brushing away the salt tracks with heartbreaking tenderness.

"Keep her safe. Whatever happens." Her voice cracked on the last word, but her eyes burned, fierce and unbreaking.

"Mother!" Kiara screamed, her small body thrashing in the servant's hold, her fists pounding against the woman's chest.

"No! Don't leave me! Please!" Her cries cracked into raw, guttural sobs, her icy blue eyes wide with primal terror, her little face twisted in anguish.

Sparks of ordinary magic spilled helplessly from her palms—harmless flickers of light, worthless against the storm sealed in her blood, the power her mother had locked away to protect her.

She could not break the seal.

She could not save her mother.

The realization hit Kiara like a blow, her screams dissolving into hiccuping wails that clawed at the air.

Silvia bit her hand to stifle her own cry, teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood, the copper tang flooding her mouth.

Every fiber of her screamed to move, to run to her sister, to fight with her—to unleash her own magic in a blaze that would consume them all.

But she couldn't.

If she revealed herself now, the soldiers would turn, the chains would bind them both, and Kiara would be left alone in the ashes.

Her body shook, silent tears carving rivers down her face, her nails drawing crimson crescents in her palm.

The High Mage raised his staff, its runes flaring to life with a venomous hiss. "Bind her!"

Lira's pink aura surged, a tidal wave of raw power sweeping the soldiers back, shattering shields into splintered shards that rained across the floor.

Her hair rose around her like a black halo, wild and unbound, her icy-blue eyes alight with fury, veins of pink light threading through the whites.

"You will not touch my daughter," she snarled, her voice a whip-crack of defiance, the air warping around her as she unleashed another blast, the force cracking marble and hurling men into walls with bone-jarring thuds.

Kiara's wail split the air, wild and heartbroken.

"Mother! Stop! Don't hurt her! Please!" She thrashed against the servant's arms, her small body straining so fiercely it took three more to hold her back, their faces twisted in pity and fear.

Her fists clawed at the empty air, reaching desperately for the mother she couldn't save, her sobs raw and animalistic, echoing through the stone like a dirge.

But the soldiers pressed forward, relentless, their armor blazing with protective wards that sizzled against Lira's light, holy glyphs etched into their blades glowing white-hot.

For every sweep of her magic that threw them off their feet—bodies crumpling like discarded puppets—more poured in, a tide of steel and zeal, their faces grim masks of duty.

"Take her alive!" the High Mage roared, staggering upright, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead, his eyes manic with triumph. "Alive—for the pyre!"

Lira's glow faltered under the relentless press of silver, the chains coiling forward like living serpents, their runes searing against her aura with a stench of burning flesh.

She cried out, a sharp, agonized sound that pierced Silvia's heart like a dagger, falling to her knees as the wards drained her power, siphoning it into the metal like rivers to the sea.

Her hands clawed at the floor, nails splintering against stone, her body arching in futile resistance.

"Mother!" Kiara's scream was a shattered thing, her voice going raw, her small frame convulsing with sobs as she kicked and twisted, the servants' grips bruising her arms.

"Let me go! I want Mother! Please, please!"

Silvia could only watch through the lattice, her vision blurring with tears, her body wracked with silent heaves.

Her sister—her blood, her anchor—fought like a storm breaking, but the chains were winning.

Lira's glow sputtered, her head hanging low, black hair falling forward to veil her face in shadows.

Silver shackles clamped around her wrists with a hiss, biting into her skin, drawing thin lines of blood that sizzled against the runes.

More clamped her ankles, her throat, the metal glowing as it leeched her strength, her aura flickering like a candle in the wind.

The soldiers pinned her to the ground, triumphant grunts escaping their lips as they hauled her up, her body limp but unbroken, her blue eyes dimming but still fierce.

The High Mage sneered down at her, bruised and bleeding but alive, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "You'll burn for this, witch. Slow. For all to see."

Kiara's scream echoed through the estate, a child's grief made weapon, wild and piercing. "MOTHER!"

Silvia pressed her forehead to the lattice, tears streaming silently down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as she watched her sister dragged into chains.

Lira never looked her way, never once glanced at the shadows—because she knew.

If her eyes found Silvia, if she acknowledged the hidden figure in the dark, it would all be over. The soldiers would turn, the orb would flare, and the chains would claim them both.

And so, silently, she sacrificed herself, her final gift to the blood they shared: life, for Silvia. Freedom, for Kiara.