Chapter 61: Protecting the calf

Before the Academy’s underground archive, lights blazed.

Normally, exiting the elevator to the archive’s glass door required a long corridor. Now, that path was blocked.

Not by an invisible barrier, iron plate, or cabinet, but by a young man.

He wore the Academy library’s staff uniform, holding a Glock. The pristine floor reflected his silver-gray bangs and the glasses on his nose.

“Come out. I know you’re here,” Hishiro Nagi said deliberately.

His gun pointed at the corridor’s end, but nothing was there.

This was a quiet, secure place, fifty meters underground, accessible only by elevator.

Only A- or S-rank permissions or select staff could enter.

Cutting the elevator cables and plummeting fifty meters was impossible—especially since the library had sealed itself after the barrier breach alert. Neither humans nor Shadow Ghosts could breach its tech-and-magic defenses.

In the 21st century, such defenses were outdated symbols.

Yet Hishiro Nagi held his gun, facing an empty, bright corridor.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He fired three shots without hesitation straight ahead.

Nothing should’ve been there; the bullets should’ve embedded in the wall.

But in an instant, all three were deflected. Two shattered corridor lights; one lodged in the floor.

An invisible wall had risen where Hishiro aimed, rendering his bullets useless.

Only a Contract could do this—perhaps number 010, ‘Xuanwu.’ But it couldn’t be, as ‘Xuanwu’ couldn’t cloak while defending.

The bullets dimmed part of the corridor’s lighting, darkening Hishiro’s view.

Once, in another underground place, he’d faced worse.

“I’m not here to kill you. Step aside,” a voice said.

Fifteen meters away, a graceful figure appeared—a girl with long hair.

Hishiro didn’t respond, aiming at the approaching girl, realizing a terrifying truth.

His Contract wasn’t working.

The principal’s Contract suppression was still active.

“Too bad, I am here to kill you,” he said flatly, emptying his clip.

Weirdly, no matter where he aimed, the bullets veered before hitting her.

As if she were untouchable.

“You’re ‘Queen,’” he said.

“No, you don’t need to know who I am. Soon, they won’t remember you either,” she said, her sweet smile dripping with menace.

“Why do you have more than one Contract?”

Hishiro stalled, reloading swiftly, but she was faster.

His Glock became scrap metal in seconds. He drew a short knife to counter.

It was futile.

He was no good at close combat, far inferior to Xia Yin.

After graduation, he’d never taken field missions, joining the library instead.

Hishiro didn’t think himself likable.

As he thought this, a blade pierced his left shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

The elevator dinged.

Gunshots, rapid footsteps, and grating metal followed, like a motorcycle at full throttle.

Struggling to open his eyes, he saw the long-haired girl now over ten meters away, fighting someone he knew.

Xia Yin had arrived five minutes ago, with Xueqiu.

Initially, he’d suspected the invasion was too convenient.

Antidote struck during summer, when defenses were lax, and the principal was overseas.

Destroying the Academy was near impossible.

If that were their goal, they’d have sent elites, not a fake ‘King.’

Xia Yin’s first thought was the underground archive, like the Investigation Team’s theft. Its records were critical.

He didn’t want Xueqiu to come.

First, she was a freshman. Despite six months of training, she wasn’t highly skilled.

Second, something was off about her lately.

At the Investigation Team, her unintended Contract effect—‘Yinglong’s’ cutting field—was strange.

Back at the Academy, where Contracts were suppressed, she’d used ‘Mirror Demon’s’ healing.

But her determined look made it hard to knock her out and have Carlos carry her back, so he reluctantly agreed.

Xia Yin was just a student with more combat experience, now facing a girl unaffected by Contract suppression.

Xueqiu fired as the elevator opened, hitting the girl’s left shoulder, not her head or heart.

She didn’t know Hishiro’s dozen shots minutes earlier had all been deflected.

“I know who you are. You’re with the guy who tried to kill me… Antidote. Your boss is that damned ‘King.’ Don’t know if his name has ‘King’ in it or he’s just obsessed with chess pieces for clout,” Xia Yin taunted, slashing.

His first few cuts grazed the girl, minor wounds.

But the next dozen, twenty, missed entirely.

Xueqiu sought a shot but couldn’t risk hitting Xia Yin at such close range.

Blood oozed from the girl’s shoulder, from Xueqiu’s initial shot.

Yet she only dodged, not counterattacking.

Xueqiu wondered how long this could last.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Two seconds later, she felt herself pressed against the wall, a familiar scent in her nose.

Xia Yin pinned her there, shielding her.

“Where’s… that girl? Snowball, got a flashlight? I can’t see. If we had Chang Mu’s ‘Ear Rat’… Right! Hishiro, you dead? If you are, I’ll use your student card for midnight snacks before it expires.”

Five seconds later, partial lighting returned from Hishiro’s flashlight.

Still pinned to the wall, he silently illuminated the two.

Xia Yin pressed Xueqiu against the wall like a kabedon, but he faced outward, one hand on the cold wall, the other gripping his sword, alert.

The girl was gone. Only the three remained.

“Someone’s coming,” Xia Yin said.

The elevator dinged again in the distance.